Do you have any advice on dealing with violent urges as an antisocial?
Thank you for your ask.
I’m going to take this question personally, because I have no degree to speak from.
Some nice ways I cope with violent/sadistic urges would be through
- Music (heavy metal is good, but for calming yourself, I suggest something soft like classical) listening/playing.
-Expressing it through whatever art form is useful at the time.
-Working out (try not to harm yourself)
-Exercise or whatever movement is effective (running, swinging, playing an instrument, ect ect)
-And munching on ice cubes or something cold helps.
These are just some of my coping skills; they key is to find whatever is helpful to you. This takes time and patience (I sound like Mod Step, I know) and make sure your quest isn’t including anything harmful to you. If you need further help with this, it’s alright to message us.
I’ll walk into a room and forget what I came to do. I’ll go to brush my teeth and realize I haven’t put toothpaste on the brush. I’ll put the kettle on and wonder what is that sound when it whistles. I open my mouth to sing and I find I can’t remember the lyrics or even the tune. I keep reaching for light switches that aren’t there.
When I tell Cal, he says, “You’re tired. I don’t know why you stay up so late.”
“No later than you,” I tell him.
“I don’t get up in the middle of the night,” he says. “I’ve seen you, Jinny.”
I’d thought he hadn’t. Most nights he’s snoring so loud the windows in our cottage shake. But I’m up every night, almost with a start, like I remembered something that I had to do, but I can never remember what it is once I’m awake. I slip out of bed and take my shawl and sit by the window, watching the waves crash over and over, water hissing and whispering like it has something to tell me.
“You need sleep,” Cal tells me, rubbing between my shoulder blades. “You need to be healthy if we want make a family.”
Cal wants children—two boys to help him with the fishing and two girls to help me with the house. But we haven’t been married that long and even though I cook and wash and clean and scrub, I still feel like a girl myself. I feel like I haven’t been a woman for that long. When I try to remember myself as a girl, it’s like trying to peer through the dark ocean to see a glimpse of something at the very bottom.
When Cal and I got married, everyone from the island came to the ceremony. Even though they filled my half of the church, I hadn’t known any of them for very long. I was an orphan, or I must have been, because no one who looked like me was there. Cal told me it was okay because we were family now. “The islanders love you and I love you and we’ll make a family of our own,” he said. He was bright and shining and handsome and all the island girls regarded me with jealous eyes when we danced our first dance. He was kind and gentle and when he looked at me, his eyes were soft and loving.
But even when we held hands and spoke our vows, I still felt like my hands were empty. Like I knew what it felt like to have my hands filled.
Cal strokes my hair and kisses my forehead. “Get some sleep and you’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Yes,” I say, “you’re right,” but I’m glancing out the window to where the ocean meets the sky.
Everyday I take Cal his lunch, when he and the other fishermen return with their catch. They’ve been on the sea for hours now, since well before dawn, so it’s always something hearty—bread and cheese and meat and fish and an apple if we’re lucky.
The other men nod and tip their hats at me. “Good morning, Jinny,” they say. To Cal, they grin.
“Now that’s a good wife,” one says.
“Lucky you caught her,” another says.
The fishermen care a good deal about luck, the good and bad and what little they can control. Wearing green is bad luck, because it makes the boat seek land. Blue paint on a lobster boat is bad luck. Seeing a dolphin is good luck; seeing a shark is bad luck. It’s bad luck to have a woman on board, so I always wait on the dock.
When Cal kisses me, his mouth is stiff. “Thank you, Jinny,” he says. “I’ll see you at home tonight.”
I don’t go home right away. I walk along the shoreline, watching the gulls dive and the waves rub against the shore like a cat. The sky is grey as the sea and the clouds are stretched like sheets. A storm on its way.
How do I know? I’m not the daughter of a fisherman, raised to recognize the signs of a storm, but I feel it coming.
There were so many things I don’t know, I lose count when I think of them: how much tea is in the tin, where I left the pin cushion, how many years I’ve been on the island, what happened to my family, on and on and on.
The things I do know are easier: how long to leave the sheets on the line so they smell like fresh water, that Cal likes an apple with lunch when we’re lucky enough to have them, when the tides move out and in again.
I can’t remember swimming, but I know I can swim.
now now now now the waves whisper to me.
I don’t take off my dress, just my shoes. I waded in until the waves curl around my ankles and knees and wrists, until the water lefts me up and I feel light and happy and strong. In the distance I see sleek heads bob in the distances—seals. For a second I think they’re off to follow the fishing boats, but they stay, watching me.
I dive beneath the waves and when I surface again I’m not gasping but laughing.
When I trudge out of the ocean, there’s a small crowd of women watching me from the distance. I pretend not to notice them as I gather my shoes and march back to the house.
I tell Cal about swimming when he comes home that night. It’s not a secret, and I expect him to take it as a joke. Instead he paces around the kitchen with his head against his head.
“Jinny, you can’t do that,” he says. “What if you’d drowned?”
“But I didn’t,” I says. “I know how to swim.”
“Of course you do,” he says. “But the ocean, you don’t know what it’s like. Not really. In a moment it can change and you’re swept out to see. I’ve seen it—men, strong men, good swimmers, swept away never to be seen again. You’re young; you don’t know these things.” He kneels before me, taking my hands, eyes shining with desperation. “Please, never go in the water again. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m fine,” I say, but his hands tighten around mine. “I’m right here.”
“Promise me,” he says.
My mouth flaps open like a fishes until I manage to say something like, “I won’t go swimming again.”
His hands grip tighter, even as his voice is soft. “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you,” is what I tell him.
That night the rain taps against the roof of our cottage and Cal’s snoring and I’m at the window again, watching the sheets of water against the sky and the churning ocean. And when I realize it, it’s like surfacing from the water.
It was a night like this when I met Cal.
I’d been lost and the ocean was stirring under the storm and I crawled ashore. I was young and lost and confused. I shed my skin and waited for the storm to pass, but once it did I saw Cal walking across the beach, and I left my skin behind and forgot about it.
I forgot about everything.
These legs and arms are mine, but they’re meant for dancing, not for cooking and cleaning and sleeping beside a human.
These legs are for running.
I hear Cal shouting my name behind me, but I’m already outside and running silent and fast through the storm. “Don’t leave me!” he shouts. “Please don’t leave me!” I don’t turn around and eventually I his voice fades into the rain and thunder and wind.
Cal knows many things. He knows that killing an albatross or gull is bad luck. He knows to coil a rope clockwise, not counter-clockwise. He knows that if you take a selkie woman’s skin and hide it, she will become your wife, that selkie women make excellent wives.
And he knows that we leave.
It’s on his boat, where I’m not supposed to go. He stuffed in in a trunk, under nets and rope and fishing line, as if he was afraid it would swim off on its own.
I remember dancing with Cal at our wedding, how his eyes shined with candlelight when we sat together at dinner, how he was young and bright and handsome. I remember how he told me I was tired, that I was young and foolish, that I had no family except for him.
When I slip my skin on, all the things I remember everything. I remember the rock of the ocean, the flash of my teeth, the shine of a school of fish, how the starlight reflects off water, how I am made of starlight and ancient and fierce and no one’s to keep.
Some time ago I was wondering about fairy tale that would fit as crossover for Rintori, but couldn’t think anything… But then I recalled about this wonderful fairy tale-like anime Princess Tutu!
Princess Tutu seems totally like created for Nitori and Rintori because the main character there is…
such cute duck!!! Who thanks to magcial necklace can transform into beautiful girl who as Princess Tutu magical girl helps a charming prince to recover fragments of his heart.
And as we know Nitori’s official spirit animal is after all duck… so it feels totally like Nitori’s fairy tale. ;)
So about Rintori in Princess Tutu version…
I see this like that:
Nitori is a duck and once day spending time in the lake he sees beautiful prince Rin. Nitori is enchanted by him. But saldy Rin isn’[t happy, is emotionless and seems almost lifeless. The truth is that Rin was once very brave, kind and full of life prince but he sacrificed himslef to save others by sealing dangerous monster and when he was doing this his heart was crushed into many fragments. So Nitori duck decided to do anything what is in his might to bring back the life and happiness to Rin. Then before him wizard Kisumi appeared (Kisumi in some way will have role of Drosselmeyer but much moooooore kinder ;) and hotter hahaha). Kisumi gave Nitori magical necklace that will change Nitori into human boy and also will give him possibility to change into magical girl boy Prince Ai who will have a power of finding the fragments of Rin’s heart and giving them back to red-haired prince. So Nitori in his human form enrolled to Rin’s school and try to get close to him and supporting him and of coruse searching for fragments of Rin’s heart. Unluckily for Nitori this school it’s a ballet school and Nitori is very clumsy dancer but when he dances with Rin who is very talented dancer (even in his emotionless form) their dance is beautiful and full of emotions and passion. What’s important Nitori can’t ever say Rin that he loves him beacsue if he would do this the power of necklace will vanish and Nitori will be duck again. Will these two find their happy ending in this fairy tale? Will Rin recover all fragments of his heart? Will Ai be able to stay human forever? Will their love win with all osbstacles? Will Kisumi help them or will make their fairy tale more twisted and complicated? All this will be in hands of our adorable, loving and brave little Ai and charming prince Rin. Good luck Baby Duck! :* Good luck Shark Prince! :*