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Me, half asleep, feeding my cats: Boys. Okay. No fighting. No fighting, okay? Shakira said no fighting.

My cats:

Me, passionately: We gotta listen to Shakira, boys.

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Tonight my best friend (lives in another state I’m slowly turning her ToMoon) told me she thought Oneus’ visual was Seoho. And I’m like. A little proud because clearly she has absorbed my OMG SEOHO 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 and it has become part of her brain.

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The trolly problem is dumb as fuck because Superman would just save everyone, no on e dying required

It never accounts for “what about Superman” and that’s why no one likes philosophers

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Posting a new fanfic or even a new chapter of a fanfic is one of the most nerve wrecking things ever. It really shouldn’t be, but it is

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i don’t like being this person but here is a reminder for artists to please add IDs and alt text to their art/edits/photos. it makes the fandom experience much more enjoyable for a lot of people!

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So are we just not gonna talk about this???

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I waxed my legs because I’m planning on cosplaying Dick’s robin soon and the level of leg hair I had was just too much for someone who wore booty shorts, but wax got fucking EVERYWHERE

maybe it’s just because I’m a messy bitch, but I’ve never waxed without it getting everywhere and having to spend like 30 minutes cleaning down every surface I touched with my sticky lil wax fingers

I like waxing because it’s a lot less work than shaving in the grand scheme of things, and I don’t get the same irritation from waxing that I do with shaving, but how do I do it without making a huge mess???

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I want to scream

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It’s 4:39 am on day I don’t know of how many I can’t seem to sleep in the past few weeks. Don’t ask me where the past few months have gone or even yet, the year. I haven’t been able to make anything new apart from a smattering of scribbles that haven’t seen the light of day. Ironically, no perhaps more cliched (?) is that I’ve found some joy in diving back into Destiny 2. Crow’s a witty softie (Battegrounds dialogue is top notch) and it gets the dusty gears turning in my head on what our Guardians think of all this. Disbelief for sure, but later we find them to be seemingly soft on Crow’s new future as a guardian after incredibly unsavory (is one way to put it) previous life encounters as Uldren Sov. Coincide to this that Cayde’s death was a traumatic event for our Guardian; to see that final death of the deathless to be there helpless with all that Light…maybe it’s my own struggles with mental health, but I think it’d be difficult for even one as the Guardian to move through it without some spiraling. How did the Guardian move past that while also getting to know this new kinderguardian? Anyway this is all just rambling preface to say I *did* finally make a thing, albeit not something I ever thought I’d be doing: a small fanfic. The idea has been stewing too long to not share.

TW: self harming, implied intense depression






“Guardian,” Crow spoke softly, his voice closer to them than they had expected, “why do you always cover your right forearm?” The Guardian turned to look at him and saw that *The Crow* had scooted to the edge of his log seat and was leaning towards them slightly. The Awoken rested his elbows on his knees, hands lightly clasped with one finger pointing to the bandages covering their forearm. Their small campfire crackled in the silence. Uncomfortable with the sudden closeness, Guardian shifts, unconsciously using their left hand to hide the bandages. “Ah.” Crow’s small exclamation told them that he had noticed their actions. The Guardian lowers their hand away from the bandages. They look down at their arm instead, eyes tracing wounds that Crow couldn’t see. Lost in the moment, in their mind’s eye, the Guardian skipped through and replayed the first gouged wound. It was self-inflicted. All nine wounds were. But the first was the only one they ripped into their own skin with their nails. Each came after they had silenced a Baron. Then another after they had killed Uldren Sov. After the violence from their vengeance offered no further alleviation of their grief, of the guilt they had felt…plunging the knife back into their arm over and over until that feeling too became numb and their vision blurred from the blood loss seemed to help. Ghost learned the hard way not to revive them without the scar of each initial cut.

Crow watched the Guardian still and grow increasingly more tense. Hesitantly he reached out a hand to…to what? He wasn’t close enough to clasp the Guardian’s shoulder and he definitely didn’t know the Guardian well enough to offer a hug. Hand already out and moving though, he settled on loosely clasping the Guardian’s wrist. Crow felt the Guardian jump at his light touch as his fingers brushed over the edges of the bandages. Looking up into the visor of their helmet, Crow speaks gently, softly, hoping he would be heard with the sincerity he felt. “You don’t have to tell me anything, you don’t want to.”

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im moving my dark logan thoughts to my analogical blog

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or a little bit more loudly. 

I’ve always been told that mistakes are a part of life. that we all fail…and yet, in this social media driven world, it is damn near impossible to see people making mistakes. to see people failing. or having missteps. taking wrong turns. 

we dont really talk about it. we are told to hide it from the world. from our bosses. from our family and friends to the point where it can end up feeling like we are the only ones that make mistakes. the only ones struggling. the only ones doubting ourselves. 

it sucks. I made a mistake at work…a pretty big one, one that had me genuinely thinking I was going to get fired and I felt like I had no one to talk too that could relate. the logical part of me knew that was untrue but it had been drowned out by all this anxiety and fear and embarrassment. 

maybe one day :)

side note: I wasnt fired and it turned out to have a pretty easy solution.

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