#very weird!! philosophy makes me want to tear out my brain but it's also. really nice bcs i like my brain (???)

[astrxealis]

lowkey just got a therapy session from my philosophy teacher ohmy

#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚ #<- I ANSWERED A QUESTION and it's like 'how easy is it to share the real you' and then. okay. okay #miss is right fr hfhfhdhshshwhsjsh #okay to say my answer here a bit! i answered that uhh its hard bcs its kinda like theres a Lot of layers #and i sort of put out a different persona for everyone i meet. and its hard to tell what really is. Me #i feel a bit embarrassed sharing but also ty miss /gen LMAO </3 <3 #tbh i am really such a big fan of philosophy #but it's weird for me too bcs my. inherently nihilistic mindset is in such a clash w my also inherently hopeful and positive mindset too #very weird!! philosophy makes me want to tear out my brain but it's also. really nice bcs i like my brain (???) #humans are so interesting. the world. everything #i love psychology and philosophy so much hehe #Zhdhrheheh IDK IF I EVEN ANSWERED CORRECTLY TBH GOOD GODS I HOPE I DIDNT JUST REALLY EMBARRASS NYSELF #<- OVERTHINKING. dw imm okay #but my glasses are so uncomfy rn uhghghhhhhhhhhh. also i want a haircut soon fr

[notmrskennedy]

The List

(Spencer Reid x GenderNeutral?Reader)

A/N - In order to curb the crushing weight of being bested by a vacuum cleaner at work and stressing about my calc test, I’m posting this. I hope you all like it as much as the last one. Y’all are just the fuckin sweetest. 

Also, this was inspired by @definitelynotkatesblog and her awesome work Something to Cry About. It’s the cutest freakin thing. 

Summary - A little list on what makes Reader fall asleep at night...

Word Count - 2.2k

Warnings - swearing, but what’s new?

----

1. A Podcast Episode on Epicurus and the Hellenistic Age

“Spencer, christ,” you laugh, fluffing your curls. “I can assure you that I am not touchy and sharing a bed won’t kill us.”

Spencer fidgets in his spot in the doorway, crossing his arms to keep from shaking too much. Is it wrong to be jealous of your casualness surrounding this? Is it wrong to wish away that massive crush he’s got? Just at least for one night—pretty please with a cherry on top.

You wait with a half raised eyebrow at the side of the bed he clearly doesn’t sleep on. Your hand poised above the comforter like it’ll make his decision any quicker. Like you can’t see the turmoil that has to be written across his face.

Because what does this mean? What does it mean to sleep in the same bed with your best friend for the first time? What if you end up snuggled up in the morning? Is that bad? Is that good? Is he totally secretly wishing that’ll happen and spur you in falling in love with him just as much as he’s fallen for you?

He glances one more time between your calm eyes, the made bed, the clock, the giant college t-shirt you’re wearing, finally back to your face. He nods. Adds in a dash of blushing. A teaspoon of agreeing words.

You shake your head, smile at him like he’s an idiot—though he supposes he is with you—and wrench the covers back. Like you belong. He wants you to belong.

There’s still time to back out and sleep on the couch. Does he really want to?

He wills his feet forward. Tries to tell himself that this is just like every night. Sets his watch on the nightstand, plugs his phone in, slips into the covers.

“Hey, bud?”

He hums as he turns his head to look over at you. He’s still sat up in bed, hand poised over his stack of books. Are you going to tell him to turn out the light?

You smile, shifting your weight ever so slightly. You’re the restless sort and he wonders how you work the boring middle management job that you do. Pulling your lips back into a nervous smile, you gently say, “I can’t fall asleep to the quiet, do you mind if—“

“Do you want me to read to you?”

He hopes the excitement goes unnoticed. It seems to as you chuckle. “I wish it would work. You’re too interesting, Spencer Reid. Podcasts on Hellenistic philosophy however—do you mind if I listen? It won’t be too loud.”

He shakes his head. “Not at all.” Never for you.

“Thanks, Spence,” you chirp through a stifled yawn. And as you turn the podcast on and flip over to press tightly onto the pillow, you say, “and don’t worry. I promise I keep to my side of the bed.”

And unlike the liar he wishes you are, he wakes up to find that you are very true to your word.

2. Discovery Chanel, Documentary on Revolving Door Manufacturing

He’s never seen you cry before. You make it a point to keep saying between sobs, “I hate crying in front of other people. I’m so sorry.”

He can’t fathom why it’s you that’s sorry, not after you asked him to pick you up from your mother’s. The same mother who’s apparently found it within her purview to explain just how much she hates you over a nice dinner. He’s buzzing with anger on your behalf—anger that clearly isn’t shared, though he knows it’ll come later.

It takes roughly 20 minutes to get you over the hill, trading tears for tissues. Snot for begrudging smiles at his bad jokes. He’s promised himself that he will listen—for once in his goddamn life—to your whole story without interrupting. You seem to appreciate the sentiment, punctuating the whole experience with asking for one of those hugs that just never ends.

You try to explain it—“like cats, Spencer, you know?”—like he doesn’t already empathise completely.

And weirdly enough, it gets to a point where you two switch positions without breaking the crushing amount of contact you have. It gets to a point where you insist on watching the most boring documentary he’s ever seen on revolving door manufacturing. It gets to a point where you pass out after 15 minutes and turn over into his chest.

He doesn’t dare move. Not until he’s effectively sure you won’t be waking up anytime soon. Spencer falls asleep with your soft breath fanning across his chest and his hands tangled in your hair.

5. A Librivox Recording of ‘The Five Orange Pips’

Now this is ridiculous. And he says as much as you roll your eyes. You’re both sweaty and exhausted and he’s sure he’s never met someone who looked this awake after a romp at one AM. Your eyes are twinkling the same way someone does after they’ve run a mile and feel like they need to run another. You’ve got energy and he can’t fathom it.

“Spencer,” you whine, falling back into the bedsheets. It’s really the first official time you’ve spent at his house as more than a friend—much more. He’s gotten accustomed, understanding even, to the little podcasts you listen to to fall asleep. There’s no sense in understanding your sleeping habits, not yet at least, but he understands the boring, droning voices you let lull you to sleep.

But this! Sherlock Holmes?

“Y/n, I literally have the story on my bookshelf. I could read it to you if you’re so choosy!” he mirrors your position with a huff, already reaching out to drag you over into his side. The feel of your skin is addictive. The safest kind of high he can get. The only one he really wants.

You pout, sticking out your lip. It’s adorable and breaks the tweak of frustration resting hard in his features. “Love-bug, with you talking to me, I’d never fall asleep. It just doesn’t work like that and I don’t make the rules.”

“Fine,” he mutters, effectively pulling you close enough you can share the one pillow. You giggle, kiss his nose, and reach behind you for your phone. It takes five seconds for the Librivox recording to start and he realises that as he listens to the intro, he’s already dropping off. It’s understandable—he guesses—but he hopes that one day you’ll pick a story he hasn’t read already.

9. News in Slow Spanish

Listening to you get ready for bed will never be tiring, Spencer thinks. Not when he’s playing a game with himself. He’s so terrible at guessing what you’ll choose to listen to. There’s never any rhyme or reason. Never a solid thought process that he can decipher. He’s kept to making a list—half because he likes lists, half because he wonders how long it’ll get.

Four months in and he’s at number 9—more or less.

This one shocks him though. Has him poking his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush still stuck in his mouth. You’re pulling your hair out of a pony tail, humming along to the intro music for a newscast in Spanish. Do you speak Spanish?

“Sugar plum—“ he loves every weird nickname you’ve given him over the months— “I can hear the whine of your brain from here.”

It’s then you turn to really look at him. Smirking. Gleaming in the shadows of the bathroom light. Wearing nothing more than a sports bra and shorts. His mouth runs dry as he tries to keep his thoughts present and clean.

He takes the toothbrush from his mouth. You giggle as he speaks through the spit. “Do you speak Spanish?”

“I must not talk about work enough,” you mutter to yourself, slipping into bed. Like you belong. “My entire job is setting up relationships between the hotel company I work for and Latin American, well, anything. Hotels, river cruises, restaurants—I speak Spanish more than I do English some weeks.”

He nods, finishes brushing his teeth to process the thought. No, you don’t talk about work enough, and he’s suddenly worried about what you don’t talk about. It suddenly feels suffocating. Like he doesn’t know a single thing about you. Like he’s never known anything about you.

But as you drag yourself into his side once he’s beside you, as you kiss his cheek and settle in, he’s reminded that he doesn’t need to know everything to care. For you to care back. There’s enough time in the world to figure out all the other stuff. He’s content to learn as it comes. Appreciate every new thing he can get his hands on.

And, hey, if you listen to this podcast enough, he might learn Spanish too.

11. Whose Line is it Anyway? Reruns

“No, absolutely not. I’m putting the kibosh on this. The applause will drive me wild. Please, y/n, anything else.”

15. Spencer

If there hadn’t been a nightmare involved, it wouldn’t have been as terrifying to find you not in bed. To hear the door latch click with someone’s arrival. Or someone’s departure.

He’s out of bed before he can process. Before his brain can calm down enough to remind him that it’s fine. That there’s no way a burglar is going to be as loud as you’re being in the next room over.

He jumps out of the bedroom, ready to strangle the intruder with his bare hands, when you give a startled shout, “Jesus christ!” 

Spencer settles. Realises that it’s just you in a sweatshirt and slippers. You look utterly exhausted in the dim light of the apartment. Fidgeting and restless despite the slump to your shoulders. He vaguely wonders if he should make you a pot of coffee to calm you down.

The world catches up to him and he slumps into the wall. Is it so wrong to be this decidedly tired after a nightmare that he could’ve sworn wasn’t coming back? The two of you stare each other down, both equally apprehensive to the other for decidedly similar reasons.

Spencer’s entire body is beginning to light on fire. He doesn’t want to burn you in the process.

You’re buzzing and tired and angry and there’s no reason to take any of that out on him.

“Can’t sleep?” he finally prompts.

You scrub your hands over your face, fluff your curls, in response. “I walked the stairs four times, bug. I’m so—“

“Frustrated?”

“Yes.”

He nods his head, waves you over. You half heartedly trudge over to him, lean your head into his chest and feel at least a tiny amount of frustration drift away. He pulls you both back to bed—he can’t believe he’s functioning this well, but maybe it’s just because he’s fulfilling the need to think about anything else. There’s a hesitance as you lay back down and he knows that you’ve probably tried everything. That you don’t believe you’ll get any sleep at 2:45 in the morning.

“You’ve worked through the list then?” he asks. Your eyebrows pinch as you settle onto your side, giving him your full attention. “The things that make you fall asleep,” he clarifies, “you know, that list.”

“Do you—do you keep a list?” your voice is almost judgemental, but decidedly too curious. He nods. “I’ve never had anyone care that much.”

“So where are you at?” he says instead. There’s too much to unpack. Too much for his still swimming brain. He needs something concrete. “What’ve you tried?”

You go through your list, letting every inch of agony you’ve faced for the last four hours creep over your face. Spencer watches as you turn over one more time and groan into the pillow. “I think I’d rather just suffocate at this rate.”

He chuckles. “Stop being dramatic. Come here, let me try something.”

“But—“

“Just—please, y/n?” he doesn’t understand your refusal to trust him sometimes—it’s always about such strange things, like how he does the dishes or what brand of milk to buy. You scoot over to him, settle into his chest with an indignant huff. As if you aren’t tightening around him like a vice.

He clears his throat, drags his fingers softly up and down your spine, and picks the most boring thing—for you at least—he can think of to recite: quantum physics. He feels you relax after a minute. Your eyes close and your nose sinks a little deeper into his shirt. It takes nearly two chapters to get you to zonk out. Long enough that he’s worried you were right, that he was just too interesting for you. Even if he was reciting quantum physics literature.

He keeps droning for a little time after he thinks you must be—have to be—asleep. And just as he settles, just as his eyes are closing and he could drift off peacefully, he doesn’t miss the ever quiet, ever gentle words, “You’re too interesting, Spence, too goddamn interesting.”

You roll over, your back pressed against his side. He wants to laugh. He doesn’t, just ends up dreaming of something nearly as peaceful as falling asleep beside you.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #Criminal Minds

[mydriases]

Silent cry

Jamil Viper x Reader Warnings: Spoilers for episode 4, Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 3 600 Summary: In the aftermath, you wonder if his love for you was nothing more than another lie.

Winter break was a bit too long for you. You loved holidays but being away from your love for so long weighed on you. You remembered how warm his lips were when he kissed you goodbye before you went through the mirror. You wished you could have went along with him in the Country of Hot Sands but your family wanted deservedly to have you home. It didn’t ease your longing for him though. The desire to be reunited with him increasing the more you thought about him and the last smile he had given you.

You had finished your homework in a short time, putting in practice every study tips Jamil had gave you. Passing the time while getting lost in the colorful world of Magicam, the notification that rang in your ears easily caught your attention to inform you that Azul Ashengrotto had started a live stream on his account. With nothing better to do and wanting to avoid continuing to drown yourself in the gloom of this endless day, you pressed the screen without thinking.

You were surprised when the face of your love appeared in your field of vision. As far as you knew, Azul and Jamil were only classmates, so to see the latter on Azul's account was odd to say the least. The focus of the camera became a little blurred, highlighting the scenery instead of  your beloved. You recognized the walls as those from the Scarabia Dorm. What were they doing there? Jamil didn't tell you anything about staying at Night Raven for the holidays. Had he received orders from his parents telling him to stay with Kalim in Scarabia?

The camera stabilized again and you were able to see Jamil more clearly. You expected to see his usually serene look, but what left you speechless was that Jamil’s expression showed a confusing wickedness. A sneer deformed his mouth while his arms made grand gestures as he spoke to someone in front of him. You found a look of resemblance with the face he did after winning against you at your favorite game. Nonetheless, you never had witnessed Jamil having on his face such a frightening contempt. Did they decided to organize a friendly competition in Scarabia’s dorm ? No, Jamil would have invited you if so, he always did.

The person who was filming zoomed out and you saw Azul, blank stare and dangling arms, direct opposite of Jamil's threatening aura. You immediately figured out the situation and prayed that you were mistaken. He wouldn't dare, would he? There was no more friendliness in the air, everything indicated a confrontation that took a turn for the worst. That was the only logical reason Jamil would have used his unique magic on someone, especially Azul with who he had a polite relation. But none of them had a hot temper so it didn’t make any sense in your eyes.

And then Jamil spoke.

What scared you, even more than the hatred that seemed to consume your beloved on every side were the words Jamil articulated without trembling. Revealing his desire to bring Kalim down from his position of dorm leader, he seemed drowned in joy as it was clear that his plan was working.

He had spoken without shame, his voice betraying that he believed in every word he said. You didn't understand, you didn't want to understand. In the hope of finding a logical explanation, your gaze slipped on the title of the live: "The dark side of a certain famous magic school". There was no information on the nature of the current events. So was it not a joke? Jamil was not the type to participate in this kind of thing. But maybe if Kalim had asked him he would have accepted ? But you were certain he used his unique magic and he had always been so secretive about it, there’s no way he would have used it in front of thousands of people. You didn’t know what to think anymore.

Jamil kept talking, spitting his venom on Kalim and on his position as vice dorm leader which he seemed to hate with all his heart. As hard as his words were, you couldn't help but feel your heart clench at the sight of the triumph that lit up his face. He had suffered so much that he felt liberated by the simple thought that Kalim would soon no longer be a part of his life. All this sick euphoria was the result of a pain you never knew anything about.

He used the word ‘free’, as if he'd been imprisoned in his role and his sentence was about to be served. He believed that the downfall of Kalim would be his ascension. Suffocating under the most negative emotions he saw only his own hatred, reason disappearing little by little.

Before you knew it, tears had begun to wet the corners of your eyes. Comments from other users were all expressing their shock at this student's behaviour. They were talking about how unacceptable his attitude was and that he was the one who should expelled from this school. Horrible. Everything you saw was horrible: Jamil's expression and words as well as the comments from people who didn't even know him, who didn't know anything about how he felt. Then, you wondered.

Did you know him as well as you wanted to believe?

One of Octavinelle's twins entered the camera field, accompanied by Kalim and Ramshackle Dorm's student. Jamil's face decomposed as he realized he had been tricked, in front of more than five thousand spectators.

You listened carefully to their conversation, their voices muffled by the rapid beat of your pulse. You saw Azul break out of his false hypnosis and Kalim ask, on the verge of a breakdown, if Jamil was really betraying him.

Jamil laughed. He laughed and it seemed to be liberating for him. He had lost, but there was no more pretending anymore. His laughter became a cry of hatred towards Kalim and, as it was apparently still possible, his face sank deeper into this malevolent expression as he conjured up his unique magic: Snake Whisper.

His unique magic was a secret for everyone in school, except for you and Kalim. When you took your relationship to the next level, he had accepted to entrust you with the real nature of his magic. Because you were equals, because you loved each other. And now, while witnessing his actions, you wondered what was left of this mutual trust.

A flash flooded your screen and you heard a voice uttering the beginning of the word "overblot". Then the broadcast was over and you were left shaken in the solitude of your bedroom.

Your brain filled with thoughts, each one more heartbreaking than the last. Your boyfriend was a manipulator (was he ? or it’s because you didn’t manage to see through him ?), he has just overblotted (thanks to someone who failed to alleviate his suffering) and was going to hurt loads of people (and to think that you could have avoided all of this). Did you fall in love with this person? Did you have any responsibility for his actions? (yes and yes).

Your conscience was being torn apart. Split between guilt and fear and incomprehension. You needed to do something, anything. You needed to go there so as to reason with him, so as to get explanations. Time suddenly seemed to accelerate as you hurried to put on your shoes and get your coat on.

You left a note on the kitchen table, summarizing the situation in a handwriting that betrayed a nervous tremor of the hand. You came out of your house -gasping for breath before you even started to run- and headed towards the nearest public transport.

Everything was long over by the time you got here.

You’ve asked everyone you encountered, pleading for someone who knew where Jamil was. The student from the Rhamshackle Dorm was your savior. Explaining along with their weird cat what happened in details and telling you that he was now resting in his room. You thanked the two of them and started to run to where you knew he was.

You stopped to hurry halfway through.

Loads of the damage he’s made was because of the fact he overblotted but that didn’t explain his disturbing scheme. If during all this time he had only been forging a perfect image of himself, hiding all his bad attentions, what was left of the sincerity you had sworn to each other? Jamil has just been unsmasked but you don’t change in the twinkling of an eye. It took time for Jamil to put up with his plan and it will take time to make a fresh start. Was everything before that a lie?

As far as you can remember, your relationship with Jamil was one-sided in therm of confidence. You told him your insecurities, your traumas and most of your philosophy on life. He told you loved you. Being evasive at the slightest question because when I’m with you I don’t want to think about bad things, you make me happy and I want this relationship to be about the love between you and me. Not my problems. I can be your confident of course, but don’t expect to me to share everything. It’s just how I am, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you, because I really do.

That was the first time he confessed to you. You didn’t answer, because you were too busy embracing him and nuzzling the crook of his neck. It was also because you were feeling a bit disappointed. You didn’t want to be clingy if that’s not what he wanted, it was fine, really. But it made you feel like you were not as close to him as you wished. His arguments were justified : when you’re with your loved ones it’s normal to want to have fun and not think about all the depressing stuff that happened in your life. But now that Jamil has overblotted nothing is the same.

You sincerely wanted to believe him, to leave behind his bad deeds and start all over again. But a part of you pointed its finger at him while murmuring in you ear that he was a liar, a hypocrite that used you to appear less suspicious. Kalim choose to forgive him, obviously, despite all the suffering he endured. He has always been very lenient after all. You still haven’t seen him, nevertheless the chances are high that he would tell you that Jamil has always been at his side. Helping him through the hardest times, having been raised with him. That’s wasn’t your case.

If you wanted to leave him you’re sure he would understand. You could find another person to love and build a relationship not based on lies. But first and foremost, Jamil deserved the right to explain himself.

In front of his bedroom, as feeble as the first time you knocked on his door, except that this time it was because your relationship with Jamil was about to take a turn, not because you were excited to see him ; you waited for an answer that never came. You couldn’t be patient anymore. You pushed one of the handles and were surprised to discover that the door latch was unlocked.

Jamil was sitting on his bed, his gaze not lingering on you as he fastly looked away. It destroyed you. You thought you were ready to face him. To accept that he despised you, rejected you or begged you to forgive him, but not that he ignored you. Your voice came out hoarse, as wounded as you were :

" I came as soon as I could "

You wanted to cry at his feet and plead him to forgive you for not understanding him, you wanted him to cry for hurting you and Kalim, you wanted to leave him, you wanted him to tell you he loved you.

With his head down, one hand firmly clutching the sheet underneath him, he gave no answer. For the time being you were still lovers, but within the four walls of this room you were strangers. Because of him, perhaps because of you. You took a breath and knew what to say.

" I’m sorry "

For not being there when you needed me, for letting myself get attached to an illusion, for what you’re about to say, for everything that will be left untold.

" For what ? You did nothing wrong. "

He sighed and let himself fall backwards on the bed. He gazed at the ceiling, eyelids fluttering soflty as his hand was still grabbing the sheet under him. You walked towards him, he looked up to you and you found mixed emotions in his eyes. He seemed glad you were here but also like he would prefer for you to be anywhere else. You sat on the bed in a way that Jamil could not see your face, you didn’t need your voice to become tearful and trembling. The silence invaded the room as you were pondering over what to say. You tightened and loosened your grip on your coat, which you had been forced to remove due to the heat, and decided to cut to the chase.

" Jamil, I know I’ve never told you before but I love you. "

In spite of everything that happened, it was true. You knew that your endearment for him really had evolved in something stronger a long time ago. It's a shame it's only now that you're telling him.

You had to question him about his actions, make him spill whether or not he used you. But you didn't have the strength. Your spirits had never been so low, your self-confidence so damaged. Every answer to your questions would turn out to be a knife stuck a little deeper into your wounds and you couldn't take it. He knew either way, didn't he? He was observant, you were an open book to him so there was no need to ask questions he already knew.

You remember when you kissed for the first time and that the two of you became a couple. Everything was so easy, so simple. Never you would have thought that one day things would change, that you would want to run away from him. In the span of a few minutes, your whole life had changed. Anyone could be a traitor, from the most reserved friend to the one that couldn’t stop talking. Somewhere among these people was a liar. You had hoped it would not be Jamil, that it was just a misunderstanding and a bad joke from Octavinelle’s trio, but the facts were there.

You heard the rustle of the sheets, hitting that Jamil sat up again, and felt the warm contact of skin against your shoulder. Hesitantly, you turned your head towards him and he clutch to you a bit more as a sign of encouragement. His gaze was now overwhelmed by sorrow, mirroring your own expression. He sighed once again and reached into his pocket in order to pull out a bracelet decorated with a small red stone, similar to the one that adorned the ribbon in his hair.

" Here " he said, his voice trailing off as he was finishing his sentence " I wanted to give this to you to celebrate my rise as Dorm Leader but it won’t happen. I don't think I could give you things like this again after our talk, so take it. "

He handed you the bracelet, his fingertips brushing against the palm of your hand while doing so, you started observing the red gem so as to benefit from a pause in the conversation. He seemed sincere which illuminated a beacon of hope in you : Jamil meant to give you this after his accomplishment which signified that you were not a mere piece in his plan. That was one less thing to worry about, remained his disturbing attitude.

You played with piece of jewelry, observing the delicacy of the gemstone and the golden color of the bracelet. Giving you such an expensive item as a present was symbolic, surely it wasn’t just a piece of the richness of the Asim family. Jamil would have prefered to offer you something more personal, not showy but simple. He was like that.

Your heart sank.

" I’m sorry, because I didn’t see how you felt and also, maybe, because I feel uspset to habe been deceive by the person I trusted the most. I’m sorry for myself. "

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Jamil straightening his posture.

" In a way, you’re both similar and different to Kalim " confied Jamil, " How could have you changed anything when I was the one keeping everything to myself ? " He crossed his arms, one of his thumbs circling on his skin. " That’s why I’m the who needs to apologize. Not because I regret my actions, but because I’ve abused your trust. If I had told you, there are chances that you would have tried to stop me. Now that I overblotted I guess that it wouldn’t have been a bad thing. " His hand almost went to hold yours, but he suddenly changed his mind. " Forgive me. You were the one person I didn't want to hurt no matter what. "

Although it was what you came for, his apology didn't lighten the load on your heart. You wipped away a tear you didn’t feel coming, silently hoping that Jamil saw nothing.

The light of the room was getting dimmer as the sun began to disappear into the horizon. In the silence and darkness of the place, the gravity of the situation was crushing you. Here we are, the time to choose to forgive or not. You would be a liar if you said that you didn’t still want to be with him. To hug him and run your hand through his hair like before, to work beside him -paying more attention to him than to your homework- to talk to him about whatever interests you at the moment. But it would also be a lie to say something hadn't been broken in you. If he’s lied to you once, there was no proof he wouldn’t do it twice.

" I wished there was a way I could make it up to you " Jamil mumbled and you authorized yourself to turn to him. His eyes were glistening lightly, half hidden under his locks. That was a odd thing to see him moved, as well as a huge step forward.

" It will take long before I can trust you again, Jamil " you sobbed unable to restrain yourself any longer. The back of Jamil’s hand came to wipe away the tears that escaped you. Your gazes met. His expression was worried, his movements were uncertain and his voice wavered when he whispered your name.

" Do you want anything ? Maybe a handkerchief? "

The tears multiplied, but it didn't matter when the man in front of you wore the same expression.

" Hug me. "

More of an order than a request, but Jamil complied without hesitation. His arms wrapped around your form, you leaned into his touch and the two of you sank into the bed. One of his hand caressed you head as you nuzzled his neck, still sobbing, maybe a bit less loudly. From the start, his warmth was what you were looking for, finding his embrace again and spending your time by his side. Little did you know that the moment of your reunion was going to have the bitter aftertaste of tears.

" Can I stay with you for the night ? "

" Yes, you can. Of course. " he whispered, "Does your family know you’re here ?"

" I left a note, they’ll understand. "

There was still several thing you needed to discuss but for now you let yourself fall asleep in the soothing embrace of your love. You had been deceived and hurt, Jamil had been belittled and probably just as hurt. Maybe it was necessary to pass through all of this in order to better your relationship. Regardless, that was all in the past now. You weren’t sure wether or not you forgave him, the scars being still opened and far from being healed, but you were ready to try again. And hopefully, your couple wasn’t going to be as one-sided as before.

Underneath you, Jamil reflected on the consequences of his actions. In spite of all his bad deeds, Kalim, you and so many others have decided to forgive him. He felt good, he felt awful. Mainly he felt grateful for all the kindness he received and that he didn't deserve. Things will be different from now on, he’ll be Kalim’s servant no more, at least not as much as before. All his plans had been revealed, there was nothing left to hide.

He synchronized his breathing with yours and realized you had fallen asleep. There was still a long way to go before the damage he's done can be repaired but he’ll try. Because you, and even Kalim, deserved to be happy. His arm wrapped a bit more around you as he waited for sleep to take him.

It was strange but the darkness of his room didn’t feel lonely anymore.

Hey, it’s been a while. I’m still a silent lurker who doesn’t want to bother at heart that’s why I don’t post updates, hope you didn’t forget about me. I’m still working on requests but I struggle a bit to convey what I want sometimes and end up deleting what I’ve done because I don’t think it’s good enough :’) I hope all of you are safe, my inbox is open to anon again if you want to talk.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader

[trad-masculine]

I'm dating again.

Which brings a very weird feeling to it, admiting this anonymously to people who follow me for doing a Masculine style thing on a blog. Speaking of I appreciate all of you for being interested in what amounts to one person's thoughts on being a man in the 21st century.

It might be palpable that I'm in an emotionally vulnerable headspace as I write this. Which, yeah, breakup, taking some time to myself to recalibrate, back to dating after over a year in a committed thing; it's emotionally heavy.

A bias to near prejudice, or at least strong dislike approaching disgust of mine is this; I do not like weakness in men. This is a feeling, & the idea of weakness is a felt thing, it's not born of an extensive philosophy, as most of what I think & feel tends to emerge from. This is visceral, the philosophy that it has is post hoc. I'm not sure, then, if this is the truest of beliefs I have, or the most distorted.

Weakness is not emotionality. This is a profound truth for me. As, the men I most respect, I have seen almost to a man, cry & bring forth tears to their eyes over depth of feeling, either of joy, of sorrow, or of compassion. I consider an absence of emotion a form of cowardice. Perhaps the central nature of it. As by my introspection, fear of emotion is what represses all the other emotions. Rolling off of this, I respect people who Know Fear. Being scared is an honorable place to be, if the emotion is appropriate. Cowardice isn't the act of being afraid, but of being only afraid. Having nothing meaningful within you to temper your fear.

I bring this up, because I want to talk about what the social process of dating does to men.

When on a dating app, nearly every guy is a player. Those that aren't are either very confused & naive, or are working something very specific. Player to me isn't a skill or approach, but an innate psychological state, let's call it Player Mode. There is also a psychological state which we can call Commitment Mode.

Spread your seed, or tend it, so to speak.

There is all sorts of powerful brain chemistry involved & the psychological states are deeply embedded in our psyche.

There are two very distinct ways to be a player, however. A Manipulator or a Lover. Possibly a third, I'll call a Sniper.

Before we get deep into that, let's walk through what happens when when you use a dating app, although playing the field at a bar or in the wild works somewhat the same, psychologically.

You start by swiping, liking & messaging girls. Some reply back. Let's say you come across a profile & immediately start crushing on the girl. You get nervous, so your message is shit, she doesn't reply. That's brutal if you think it through, breaking a crush hurts. You have to like/message about say, 50 girls to get a date. Breaking 50 crushes isn't a viable emotional strategy to get to step one of a relationship.

*Thus the emotional train is off the tracks, & for a deep relationship to happen the feeling must be rekindled, after you start to get to know the girl. >She needs to talk you into crushing on her.*

*This* is the central problem of dating. Because of the social process we have currently, men aren't chasing crushes, & so aren't entering a first date in the headspace that builds to true commitment.

The Manipulator is afraid of commitment, & of his own emotions controlling him, so he tells himself that the number of women he can lie to & talk into sleeping with him is the measure of his Masculinity. This is hard to argue with, man to man. The moral analysis isn't worth much. But the analysis that recognizes him & outs him as a coward, that has a better chance of productive impact.

The Lover can be powerfully passionate because his emotions are brought to the fore & made active as he goes into a relationship, as he wants to feel the love, but to balance himself, he lives in the moment. Generally, he doesn't lie or promise commitment. Regardless of the intensity of his feelings, he is still very embedded in the headspace of Player Mode. Since is isn't repressing or managing himself, after a time in a relationship, that player mode returns to the forefront as the honeymoon period ends & he finds himself drawn to a new & exciting Lover.

The Sniper can be of either type as default, but he is also looking for "the one." So he's judging women very directly between what he wants to lay short term, & who might be worth more effort & is worthy of commitment. I think I'd accurately describe myself as a Lover-Sniper.

I tried to not emotionality weight these, or apply judgement to the ideas. I simply want to be concise & analytical so there is clear understanding.

A pure Sniper is rare. The emotional insecurity of not having some form of a relationship is a powerful form of anxiety. There are plenty of guys who are "snipers" because they can't get a relationship. So they are mentally in commitment mode. This is, I think, the source of porn addiction & or simping. I know of guys who are on a high level & who had the self control to turn down offers of sex & relationships until they found someone they considered worthy. I wanted to be this, intuitively as a teen, but gave up the fantasy that I could win the girl of my dreams without having the confidence that comes from experience in realationships & in bed. This can get to a very disturbed & obsessive mindset. Stalkers are pure snipers. But there are other kinds.

*

My advice to someone in that kinda spot, to my past self. It's easy to get good at sex, it's easy to get good at being in a relationship with someone who sees the potential within you. Figuring out how to get girls to the point of willing & then to turn down those girls is useful. If purity of purpose & being is important to you, don't take the first girl who throws herself at you. The regret bites for a long time. But if porn takes you to a place where you aren't getting out & talking to girls, tossing the v card is easily worth it to get your headspace fixed.

*

There isn't a psychological dynamic that is in itself correctly healthy for men regarding approach sexuality, at least in the current dating environment. Chasing Crushes isn't scalable, & that is the root problem.

There's a type of girl who is only looking for "A Long Term Relationship Only." She isn't however, inticing. She doesn't know how to be wanted & desirable. She doesn't offer anything that brings out the crush which a man will need to be in in order to shift into a healthy commitment mode with her. I'm not certain what happens there, but I have to imagine everyone involved feels they are settling, & will hurt for the entirety of the relationship.

*

I'm writing this up as I'm trying to really think through how to solve the dating situation so that it works for more people. So relationships are successful & men & women are happy in them. It's not the most elegant or beautiful or composed thought I've had or published here, but this is deeply important to me.

Love shouldn't suck. We need to collectively figure out how to Make Love Lovely Again.

So, I have an idea I want to pitch, which has been difficult to get across to people I've talked to about this, such that the idea made sense to them. But I really think I'm close to right on this.

*

Women need game. Men have game. Fuck hookup PUA's but the actual technique tools of how to appeal to women are spectacularly useful. Women need to figure out how to appeal to men, not as sexual objects, but as potential relationships. Game for men is about getting laid. Game for women should be about getting men to fall for them & only them.

"Men are responsible for making the relationship, women for keeping it."

*

There's an ancient form of girlgame passed down generations mother to daughter. Just as there was an ancient form of guygame passed down from men to boys. We need to rekindle the dance between the Masculine & feminine in the realm of sexual relationship, dating & play. This fight thing we're all doing sucks.

Like most guys I want to find someone good enough to catch my heart, but I don't want to pretend for lifetime I've found the one when I haven't.

The love of men that isnt born of a crush is slow. The path of a crush is easy to explain, but deep love is a slow thing. I've seen love at first sight, or at least very close to it. But it's from a level of deep being that's so rarely reached mutually by two people who meet such that such a lightning connection can form. But I've also seen a relationship start from a small kernel & grow into a forest.

I firmly believe there's a lot of possible paths to True Love, I've seen several myself, but normative paths of how we find each other as sexual humans make us start in places within ourselves that make reaching True Love impossible, at least without a deep course correction at some latter point.

Those of us looking for that Sacred kind of love in fairy tales, that which we burn for, need to figure out how to survive with outselves long enough to find each other & get there together. Maybe this means breaking the rules of what we thing is "proper" dating.

Honestly, whatever we do, we need to figure this bitch out & work together to get back there. I'm tired of the men VS women game, tired of the fight being the normal way of things.

Hmu if you have some thoughts on how to do this love thing better together, I'll be listening to Hozier & watching Princess Bride. ✌️

[backpfeifenguy]

The Boy’s No Good: Chapter 1

Note: This story is a sequel to All In Your Head

TW: Emotional abuse Beast Boy was feeling… excited? Maybe? He wasn’t sure exactly what he was feeling right now, but he was feeling it, because today was definitely a special day; today was the day that Raven brought her boyfriend to the tower. Her boyfriend? You fool, YOU should be her mate! He was really happy for her; she’d had to deal with so much, it was nice to know that she had someone. She could be yours if you weren’t such a coward! His Beast… wasn’t quite so supportive. She hates you. And his anxiety issues were, as always, unhelpful. But honestly, he didn’t care; Raven was an amazing woman, and she deserved to be happy. If Raven’s mysterious boyfriend could manage that then he was alright in Beast Boy’s books.

Pathetic! You spent years trying to make her smile; years! And now someone else was having some better luck; just as long as she had a reason to smile. It’s not as though you’d ever be that reason. He really needed to meditate; ever since Raven taught him the basics he’d come to rely on it to keep himself centred. It wasn’t a daily thing like in Raven’s case, just when he really felt like he needed to; usually about three times a week. 

About an hour later, Beast Boy was feeling a lot better; his head was much clearer, and his Beast seemed to have gotten the message and shut the hell up. Funnily enough, Raven seemed to be the opposite of his relative calm; it was honestly a novel experience. She was pacing back and forth, scowling and muttering to herself; the picture of anxiety.

“He’ll be here any minute, so be on your best behaviour, okay?” Raven turned to face their leader. “Nightwing, no interrogating him.”

“I already said I wouldn’t!” Nightwing chuckled; he’d mellowed out more than a little. Beast Boy suspected Starfire was the cause.

“Cyborg, take it easy on the ‘protective big brother’ act this time.”

“I know, I know.” He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry again about the goth kid.”

“Starfire, I know that this is difficult, but please don’t hug him too tightly.”

“I will endeavour to avoid causing any harm or discomfort.” Starfire replied solemnly.

“And Beast Boy…” He braced himself; this was likely to be thorough. “You’re probably fine.”

“Wait, seriously?” Beast Boy asked, mildly stunned.

Raven shrugged. “You’re good at making friends. I trust you.” 

“I, uh… I won’t let you down.” Said Beast Boy, blushing faintly.

“I know you won’t,” replied Raven. The doorbell rang. “He’s here,” she noted, making a beeline for the door. After a moment, she walked back in, a man on her arm. “Guys, I’d like you to meet Leopold.”

He was, in Beast Boy’s inexpert estimation, handsome enough. Well, if you liked 6’2”, broad shoulders, lean muscles (they’re all for show) and a strong jawline; personally, Beast Boy considered the whole ‘classically handsome’ look to be kind of overrated. That said, he could see the appeal of those big, cobalt-blue eyes and that swept-back chestnut-brown hair, at least in theory. But he supposed that, if you were looking for the sort of conventionally attractive guy who had tanned skin and perfectly straight white (blunt) teeth, Leopold wasn’t too shabby. 

To his surprise, Leopold went right past the other Titans and walked right up to Beast Boy, hand extended. “It’s great to finally meet you; Raven’s told me so much about you.”

“That’s a loaded sentence,” Beast Boy quipped, shaking Leopold’s hand. It practically went without saying that Leopold had the sort of firm handshake that was typically associated with honesty and overall strength of character. And of course he had a relaxed, disarming smile; at this point, anything else would have been ridiculous.

“Relax,” Leopold chuckled. “It’s mostly been good things.” There was no denying it; Leopold had some serious charisma. Beast Boy had known the guy for less than two minutes and he already liked him. And yet… something about him felt a little off; Beast Boy had learned to trust his instincts, and they were telling him that something was wrong.

“So Leopold, how did you and Raven do the meeting?” Starfire asked politely.

“We met at the library,” He explained. “Our hands touched when we both reached for Fear and Trembling, we got into a conversation, and suddenly it was closing time.”

“We spent three hours talking philosophy,” Raven said, a tiny smile on her face. “After that, I figured I’d take a chance and ask him out.”

“That sounds about right,” Nightwing chuckled. “Flirting over Kierkegaard.”

“Raven’s nothing if not consistent.” Said Cyborg.

“I just don’t get why no-one beat me to it,” said Leopold. “With her brains and beauty, I couldn’t believe she was single.”

“I believe we have all expressed similar opinions.” Said Starfire.

“The dudes in this town are idiots.” Beast Boy said, firmly and confidently.

 “Yeah, but seriously; it’s just so weird!” Leopold exclaimed. “Normally when a girl like Raven’s single, you expect there to be something wrong with them.”

“Yeah, well I’m not exactly perfect,” said Raven. “I’ve got a few issues.”

“Well obviously, but I mean something wrong. Like, ‘everyone’s afraid to talk to you’ level stuff.” 

“So what do you do for a living?” Beast Boy asked brightly, eager to change the subject after seeing Raven’s discomfort.

“Well I’m working in marketing at the moment, but I’ve also been shopping some scripts around.” Successful and creative. 

“What are your scripts about?” Asked Cyborg.

“Well, my favourite’s about a brilliant, misunderstood young man struggling to make it as an artist.” Well, not THAT creative.

“Sounds great.” Beast Boy managed after a second. What must his other scripts be? A genius who’s a prick? A gay couple tragically dying for two hours of runtime? Hack. It occurred to Beast Boy that, for an entity originally composed of raw instinct, the Beast had gotten pretty good at sarcasm. 

“Very classic.” Nightwing noted, a barely audible tremor in his voice telling Beast Boy that he was struggling not to laugh.

“I’m already working on a few changes though;” He looked fondly at Raven. “The words have just come so much easier since we started dating. I think she might be my muse.”

“That is very sweet,” said Starfire warmly.

Leopold shrugged. “I’m just saying how I feel.”

They made conversation for another twenty minutes before Raven announced that she and Leopold were heading out. Moving quickly, Beast Boy was able to stop Leopold before he left the tower, the two of them alone in the lobby. “Hey Leo, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” said Leopold. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Look, I know this might sound a little weird but… just be good to her, okay?” He sighed. “Raven’s had a tough life, especially when it comes to love, so don’t hurt her.”

“Understood,” said Leopold. “I’ll take care of her. But since you’re here, I have to ask… do you have a thing for Raven?”

“WHAT?!” Beast Boy’s eyes bugged out of his skull.

“It’s just that, you know, you just walked right up to me, did the whole ‘don’t hurt her’ bit; feels kind of like you’re into her. Seriously, I’m getting some serious ‘unrequited love’ vibes.” His features arranged themselves into a confident, self-important smirk. “I’m a scriptwriter, after all; we know about this kind of thing.” Asshole.

“Relax dude, you’ve got nothing to worry about from me.”

Leopold’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Okay then; sorry if I got weird for a minute there. I know it’s dumb, but sometimes I get a little territorial about stuff like this. It’s like an instinct or something.” His face split into a grin. “I guess you’d know all about that, huh?”

“About what?” 

“You know, instincts and stuff!” He clapped a hand on Beast Boy’s back, a little harder than necessary. “I figure you’re the expert when it comes to raw animal impulse.” 

“Yeah,” Beast Boy chuckled awkwardly. Is he mocking us? How DARE he?! Tear him to shreds! “Total expert.”

“So,” said Cyborg, his tone measured. “Leopold.” 

“He seems nice enough.” Nightwing observed.

“Indeed,” said Starfire.

“Sure,” agreed Beast Boy. “But… did he seem kind of weird to you?”

“Weird?” Cyborg’s eyebrow shot up; he’d long ago learned to trust Beast Boy’s instincts.

“I dunno, I just got kind of a weird feeling from him. And the Beast really didn’t like him.”

That was worrying; as Cyborg understood it, the Beast wasn’t especially interested in most people; it viewed the world in the basic categories of friends, threats, and Raven, who it was strangely obsessed with protecting… oh. Oh! “What’s the matter grass stain?” Cyborg leered. “Feelin’ a little territorial?”

“Come on, dude!” Beast Boy exclaimed. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation here!”

“A serious conversation about Raven.” Cyborg replied, grinning hugely.

“That’s no surprise,” Nightwing quipped. “All his serious conversations are about Raven.”

“I think it is quite sweet, if misguided.” Opined Starfire, smiling indulgently.

“It’s not like that!” Beast Boy squeaked, blushing faintly. “The Beast just wants her to be okay; I just want her to be okay!”

As tempting as it was to keep teasing his best friend, Cyborg knew it was time to ease up a little. “Okay, so you’re sayin’ your upstairs roomie doesn’t like Raven’s boyfriend, so you’re feeling a little bit of totally platonic concern.” The sarcasm in Cyborg’s voice made it clear just how ‘platonic’ he thought BB’s thought process was. “Well, your instincts are usually good, so I think I’ll run a quick background check on the guy; criminal record, news headlines, that kind of thing.”

“He had an East Coast accent,” Nightwing noted, slipping effortlessly into ‘detective mode’. “Almost a Gotham, but not quite. Considering the Germanic name, I’m guessing Bludhaven; I’ll ask around with my contacts, see if anyone dangerous matching his description skipped town in the last couple of years.”

“And I will do the talking with some of the other Titans ladies,” Starfire offered. “We shall keep an eye out for untoward behaviour. I assume you would prefer that Raven not be informed of your concern?” 

Beast Boy shrugged. “I don’t want to worry her if it turns out to be nothing.” 

Starfire smiled warmly. “I keep my lip fastened around friend Raven.”

“That went better than expected,” said Raven. “Nobody did anything weird or stupid, and they all seemed to like you.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Leopold. “I was getting kind of a weird vibe from Beast Boy; I don’t think he likes me much.”

“Seriously?” Raven could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Weird; Beast Boy usually gets along okay with pretty much everyone.

“Yeah, well he seemed kind of… off around me, like he was on edge or something. Said some real weird crap to me just before I left.”

“Weird?” 

Leopold shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I think he might have threatened me.”

“He threatened you?” Raven asked, incredulous. “That’s… crazy.”

“Like I said, real weird.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” said Raven. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

Leopold smiled. “Thanks for that Raven. You’re the best.”

Well, that marks the end of chapter one! I hope you enjoyed it and, just for laughs, here’s a little game you can play; it’s called “spot the red flags”. Just read through the chapter looking for things that Leopold says or does that feels like a red flag to you, list them in the comments, and if you spot the most red flags by the time I start the next chapter, you win! Winners will be acknowledged every chapter, so have fun!

#teen titans #beast boy #raven #bbrae #The boy's no good

[izcana]

All I See Is Stars

Inspired by Instinct by Delia_Maguire. In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the quoteonlyprompts collection.

Prompt: "Please, just leave me. I don't want you to see me like this!"

Just a cute (at least, I hope so) nightmare hurt/comfort in Beacon Hills and Thominho. Minho's a werewolf. Thominho Week Prompt Day 6: Softness/comfort

This is written to Dream It Possible and it is linked below. Title is from Dream it Possible.

***

"I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am with I am with you." - Roy Croft

Minho stopped finding anything peculiar ages ago. Huh. "Peculiar". Sounds like something his Grandma (if he had one, that is) would say. Maybe Thomas was rubbing off him too much?

Anyway, as Minho was saying, he stopped finding anything weird ages ago, ever since Thomas came to the Glade and his "inner wolf" (blame Hale with his "philosophy" junk) urged him to nibble Thomas around in places he probably shouldn't, to lick him all over with his tongue, and to bite him until he was bruised. Bad Wolfy. There was also something about "mate", "mark", and "knot". Nope, Minho was totally not thinking inappropriate thoughts about his best friend...nope...

Before Thomas came to the glade, Minho had always thought of himself as straight. There was no question before Thomas, the stupid human that just had to crawl his way into Minho's heart and ruining his heterosexuality forever because Minho could not imagine being with anyone that wasn't Thomas. Thomas, who was stupid to the point that he would disregard his safety. Thomas, the boy who worked with WICKED, the organisation that put Minho and the others in the maze (yes, Minho had forgiven Thomas for that, but he was willing to bet that Wolfy heavily influenced that decision. How could Wolfy not be, though? Thomas looked so sad and Minho had to ––– Minho cut that thought off immediately before Wolfy could convince him to take the pretty boy to his bed and mate him ––– shut up, Brain).

All of those qualities should have driven Minho away or at least kept Wolfy at bay. Well, the opposite happened, and Minho fell in love, instead.

It was meant to be, Wolfy said. We're mates and he's mine and –––

Wait, slow down, Wolfy. One issue here. Apparently, Wolfy had no qualms about the consent and whether his mate wanted him, but he was pretty sure that maybe, just maybe, Thomas did. Okay, maybe he wasn't that sure, but he was at least 85% sure, or maybe 40%. Fine, scratch that; Minho was embarrassed to say, as a werewolf (who could literally smell arousal!), he didn't know.

Ugh, Thomas was probably straight, anyway. Think of Brenda and Teresa, an annoying part of Minho's brain decided to remind him. Not to mention the other girls and boys who followed Thomas around, drooling after him...Obviously, Minho's wolf complained. Thomas is so perfect! His perfect Bambi eyes and his alluring smell and ––– Can't you resist for one minute, Wolf-of-Minho?

As Derek (the creepy psycho wolf with a mate who happened to be Thomas' twin, but no one's mentioning that) said, it was "perfectly normal", but last time Minho checked, "perfectly normal" people didn't lick their boyfriends (and mates? No, shut up, Werewolf-Minho) all over. Then again, that might be because "perfectly normal" people weren't all werewolves, either. Gotta say, being a were is pretty awesome most of the time (let's just pretend Minho doesn't dream of using his werewolf skills to prove that he was the most amazing mate for Thomas and to prove to Thomas that he should totally pick Minho), but when it comes to dating, Minho didn't really fit into the "norm".

Not that much of their life was "normal", anyway.

––––––––––––––––––––

For instance, now.

Minho heard a moan come from the next room (perks of werewolf hearing). He would have been happy about it (um...bad Wolf, do you know how wrong that sounds? "But he's my mate!") except the cute moan of pain wasn't what Minho was going for (when–––no, IF he mates Thomas). Minho scampered off the bed, rushing to his mate – no, friend!'s side. "Tom?" Minho murmured, tucking a piece of unruly hair behind his ear.  

The owner of those chocolate tuffs whimpered again. His eyes flew open and he let out a sob, tensing in Minho's arms. "Hey, hey," he whispered, holding his palms up. "It's me, Minho."

"Minho?" Thomas inquired, his voice drunken from slumber. "What are-what are you d-doing here?"

Minho huffed, settling for a kiss on the forehead and blankets. Hey, it's better than Wolfy's suggestion of bundling Thomas up in blankets, licking him in the face (maybe just a couple of marks to remind others who he belongs to?) and then cuddling in his wolf form wrapped around Thomas' too bony hips. Food! Protect! Mate! Nope, bad idea. Forget it, it's not happening. "To seduce you," he deadpanned.

Thomas' face stretched into a brief smile and he giggled. Noted, Thomas didn't even know he was a werewolf...yet. Little did the innocent (and cute, and amazing, and ––– please, not now!), naive boy know...it was rather close, but Wolfy's plan of "seduction" involved a lot more licking, cuddling, and marking ("and mating," Minho's wolf supplied helpfully).

"Actually, though," Thomas asked, grimacing when he sat up. "Why are you here?" He sounded much more awake now.

Minho lowered Thomas back onto the bed gently, still wrapped in the blankets. He must be freezing his pony-loving ("I do love ponies") butt off.

Honestly, the answer closest to the truth would have been the seducing klunk and also "to be a good mate", but something told him that Thomas wouldn't believe it. Come on! He practically (scratch that) actually declared his love in Denver, and his mate (FRIEND!) snickered! He shucking snickered! Unless Minho's (self-proclaimed) "mate" found joy in breaking his heart (in which case, Minho must be a masochist, then...), Thomas actually didn't know! That's oblivious to another level (like...the tenth power or something?)

Show him, Wolfy yelled greedily. Show him how loved he is!

So, Minho did and hoped that Thomas will catch on one day.

"Because you were having a nightmare," Minho commented flatly. He regretted it when Thomas' scent went from natural happiness to anxiety and guilt.

"I'm sorry," Thomas murmured; he looked like he was about to disintegrate into tears. "Please, just leave! I-I...don't want y-you to-to..." Thomas took a great heaving breath, and Minho caught the tears that pooled at his eyes. It was unfair how Thomas could look pretty even when crying – it ran an arrow straight through Minho.

"It's okay, Sleeping Beauty," Minho teased him, berating himself as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

He was going to find out, wasn't he?...No. Thomas' composure cracked a little, and he beamed. An ignition of scents splattered Minho's sensations, the most distinguished ones being happiness, calm, and another sweeter scent that Minho couldn't place. Who needs oxygen?

"Thanks," Thomas said, giving a tired but sweet smile. "I'm not as pretty as Sleeping Beauty, though."

You're prettier, Minho's brain was prompting, but what came out of Minho's mouth was: "You're one ugly shank, indeed."

Thomas didn't seem to take offence to that, though his smile dimmed slightly. "Thanks," he repeated.

"Hey," Minho whispered. "You should sleep."

Thomas worried his lip in between his teeth. "I –––"

Minho could detect the underlying fear in Thomas' stance and smell. "It's okay to be scared," he implored softly. "You can say you're scared." He hoped that Thomas didn't question why Minho knew he was scared.

"Okay, I'm afraid. I think...I think I'm afraid of the dark?" Thomas confessed. His lip was bleeding slightly, now. Minho's thumb shot up to wipe the little smudge away.

He smelt ashamed, afraid, sad, embarrassed. Minho swiped at the blood on Thomas' lip tenderly, and (thank you supernatural hearing) Thomas' breath hitched. "There's no need to be ashamed of it, Tom; I'm afraid of the dark, too," Minho admitted. It was the first time he told anyone. "I can stay." Granted, he was taking a huge leap, here. He couldn't be sure that's what his mate (oh well, we can pretend, right?) wanted, and he wanted to abide by his mate's wishes and make him happy.

His wolf whined. "I can stay," he repeated, caressing his thumb on Thomas' delicate, scarred knuckles. Minho recognised some of them being from Griever attacks and the Scorch.

He remembered when he and Thomas drove the Grievers off the Cliff, and when Thomas curled up into a ball and burst into tears. That's when Minho's werewolf brain first started to scream "Mate! Sad! Comfort!" (or something like that. Apparently, Minho's wolf wasn't very linguistic). It happened again later when Thomas got stung. The human had been bruised badly, and Minho ran his fingers over the milky skin of his wrist, scenting him. Just for the sake of it, of course (it's not like Grievers could smell a werewolf claim and be warned to back off on his mate).

The next time was in the bunkers. WICKED had starved them, and Minho, with his werewolf traits, was able to chain the roaring demands within him that called for food. That was not to mention he didn't have his own troubles, though. His werewolf instincts, although kept him from starvation, was urging him to tear off the head of the nearest Glader and feed him to his less resilient mate. Minho almost bit off Newt's head when he came to speak with him.

When WICKED finally let them have some food, he had polished off a slice of pie first, stuffing it in his mouth while sprinting as fast as he could to Thomas. When he got there, the paler than usual boy was curled up in a lower bunk, his arm wound around his stomach. His heartbeat was slow...too slow... His wolf whined with sorrow at the almost gone flutters of his mate. When Thomas finally woke up, Minho had almost cried in relief, but that wouldn't have done for his tough image, would it?

Countless times over, he and Thomas had saved themselves in the Scorch and after. They had saved each other from death. They had made it.

However, old habits died hard. Minho would never stop looking after his fragile mate.

"Stay, please, Min?" Thomas asked, his eyes watering.

"Okay," Minho grinned, settling into the blankets. He puffed out his chest when Thomas let out a squeak and that overwhelmingly sweet scent washed over him again. "Good night," Minho whispered to the younger boy, spooning him with their legs tangled.

Thomas didn't seem to mind. The sweet scent that wasn't happiness (it almost smelt better) stayed, though it got slightly dimmer as he went to sleep.

"Good night." Minho let out a breath in the darkness, his voice passing to no one. "I love you," he added.

The small boy in his arms did not stir, but breathed softly against Minho's arm, instead.

***

Dream It Possible - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eAu4YGc0jhA&ab_channel=MVWithLyrics

#thominho week 2020 #thominho week #tmwd4 #day 4 #tmr #thominho #thomas x minho #softness/comfort

[tessatechaitea]

Wonder Twins #7

I didn't realize the Wonder Twins were Gen X.

Oh yeah! Zan had just saved the world by stopping a plot that was going to save the world.

I just realized I hadn't scanned the cover yet and as I did, I noticed the Wonder Twins fist/star emblem marks a striking resemblance to a goat.se riff. Zan and Jayna get taken off of monitor duty at the Hall of Justice now that they've stopped the League of Annoyance. You'd think that doing a good job would get you a promotion but those of use who have always done spectacularly good jobs know better. While everybody else works down to the lowest common denominator (because who wants to do more work than the next guy?! A fool, that's who!), good workers just put on blinders and do the job they were hired for until the time they're being paid for is up. Sure, that sounds like I'm describing a sucker who's been completely manipulated by the man! But I'm also describing a person who fulfills their end of whatever bargain they've agreed to! So when I say Zan and Jayna wind up giving tours at the Hall of Justice because they were too good at catching criminals, you'll understand why I went into the previous digression. Maybe? I don't know. Have you seen what state the U.S. is in?! Why are you picking apart my writing style?! Mark Russell takes a few pages to shit all over hockey fans and now I hate Mark Russell with a burning passion. Even though I'd hardly call myself a hockey fan. I mean, I loved NHL '93 (unless it was '92 (or maybe '94?)) and I loved going to San Jose Sharks games when I was still living in the Bay Area (plus my friend worked equipment for the Sharks and would get us free tickets). But it's not like I follow it much anymore. I just like the feeling of being angry at somebody for writing a satirical critique of sports fans rioting because they're so happy that their team won. Although why would I be angry when I've never done that nor think Russell's wrong in his pointed and humorous critique?! Oh, who cares why! Being angry is just more fun! Oh shit! I finally understand people's attraction to Fox News! I just watched a YouTube clip of somebody's Jeremy Roenick highlights from NHL '94 set to the song "More Than a Feeling" and it was pretty awesome. Also, that was definitely the one we played nonstop back in 1993 and 94 and maybe even into 95. Roenick unstoppable down with the puck while Sharks players lay splayed out on their back all across the ice. To stop the riot, Superman calls in Repulso! He's a guy whose super power is super stink and he's kept in a locked room with a bare table and a microwave and nobody wants to be his friend because he smells like a garbage dumb that vomited on top of the diarrhea it shit out while standing on its head so the stanky muck ran down his body absorbing all of his body odor and then somebody cut up a durian and tossed it in the mix.

Superman is a dick. Get this guy some friends with no sense of smell. Or at the very least, an Xbox Gold account.

After the hockey riots, some "the end of the world" riots take place because Zan and Jayna screw up something or other. Basically what that means is that Repulso gets to be let out of his airtight containment unit again! He's a pretty optimistic guy for being sealed away by Superman (which is just Superman's way! Is somebody a problem? No problem! Put them in the Phantom Zone!). He's so happy and not bitter about his living arrangements that I feel like Zan and Jayna had better figure out a way to give him a better life before this issue ends. Because if Mark Russell fails this character he created before this issue is over and I have to face reality after snot crying about a fictional person, I'm going to be pretty upset when I continue to buy Mark Russell comic books because what other choice do I have? Am I going to stop reading DC's best written comic books because Mark Russell betrayed poor Repulso? Of course not! What am I? A person with integrity?! Repulso winds up getting his ass beat by rioters as Repulso's handlers flee the chaotic "end of the world" downtown riot scene. Luckily the Wonder Twins are headed downtown to save his life and maybe become his friend or something? Please? After Zan and Jayna save Repulso, Jayna goes to Superman to tell him everything sucks. He gives her a big speech about how being a hero is lonely work because you don't always get to fuck the hot chick at your secret identity's workplace and also fuck an Amazon warrior while also getting to fuck anybody at all whose initials are "L.L." and also have a best friend who is the coolest guy in the world with a butler who makes the best pancakes. Sometimes you're a fat jerk who smells who even Superman won't fucking give the time of day because Superman has this speech about how being a hero is lonely and that's a good thing so you should embrace your loneliness because who wants to put up with your super stink, fatty?

Jayna is a way better hero than Superman. At least in this comic book that's all about her and not Superman so of course she's going to outshine him!

Oh yeah, the ant in the above picture is Jayna. It can't smell. Wonder Twins #7 Rating: A+. I should probably be less cynical when reading Mark Russell comic books because he's as earnest and serious as he can be while also providing lots of jokes. He takes writing seriously because what else is there? If your message isn't going to matter, why bother? (is his philosophy. I think. It's not my philosophy! I don't think? Maybe it is! I just write things that matter in a much different way than Mark Russell writes things that matter.) I should probably read Superman's speech and be inspired by the idea that you don't do good because you want adulation; you do good because it's the right thing to do, even if the entire world thinks you're an asshole for doing it. Even if all of the other superheroes think you're a stinky fuck and only keep you around to use as a tool to oppress and manipulate the masses without having to use logic and reason on them (because, let's face it, the people doing terrible things don't understand logic and reason. Or they're do but they're just selfish and greedy so nothing is going to reach them anyway (which maybe is part of Superman's message?)), you're still a hero at the end of the day. You can still be proud of your stinky self. And even if the life is lonely, you should remain positive and upbeat because Superman really doesn't want to be reminded that you exist every time you complain about the lack of reasonable living conditions. Being a hero is a state of mind, says the guy who also looks great and is invulnerable and has the best wife and a cool son and doesn't have to fear death! So inspiring!

#Wonder Twins #Mark Russell #Stephen Byrne #DC Comics #DC

[abnormalpsychology]

The Bully (part two)

[alternate title: I try to weave an in-depth metaphor abt time and fate using only a swingset and two baby gays with magical birthmarks] [WOW THIS REALLY DOESNT GET ANY EASIER OK SORRY FOR THE SPAM EVERYONE HERES SOME ty🅱️us ] [also I know TJ is a gay nerd I write him as A Very Cool Dude bc I feel like that’s how Cyrus initially sees him] [lol] [Buffy insults TJ that way bc we have to keep our PG Rating Kiddos]

T.J. was the dealbreaker. The one person who if someone liked him, the trio hated them by association.

“Anyone who’d spend time with that misogynistic jockwad is no friend of mine,” Buffy would mutter about the basketball team.

There had never been a problem with this rule of the Crew. But as fate often likes to do, to stretch morals and philosophies to their breaking point, to shock a person into seeing from a new perspective like a diver into cold water, perhaps to a way of seeing they had imitated rather than had chosen for themselves, maybe one they had even been predisposed to, a problem soon developed.

The earliest possible source, the inception, of the issue was somewhere in the lunch period Cyrus had briefly met the so-called bully when T.J. had explained chocolate-muffin-getting logistics to Cyrus, giving him both the chance to finally be assertive about something he’d really wanted and to realize that this kid really wasn’t as “Satan incarnate” awful as Buffy had described him to be. He’d dismissed it as a one-time thing, the kind of brush with an athletic bad boy that probably came along to everyone and made adults reflect back on what their life would be like if they’d been friends with kids like that instead. A simple “what if”.

But it was certainly not as rare as he’d thought, Cyrus discovered when the very same jockwad approached him on the swings one day. He was singing his original composition, with his own lyrics to match, mashed together into the piece of artwork known as “the Swing Song”. His relatives had cheered him on at live performances when he was a kid. It was weird. It was the weirdest possible way to meet someone.

Yet somehow he didn’t immediately walk away.

“Nice song,” his acquaintance commented cooly, making him bolt upright and close his mouth fast. “What do you sing when you’re on the slide?”

Cyrus, surprised, complied and tentatively sang its thrilling sequel, “the Slide Song”. “Legs go down, we say yay… we don’t go up… that’s the wrong way…”

“Huh.” He looked as genuinely surprised as Cy felt. “Did not expect you to have a song for that. Chocolate chocolate-chip muffin, right?”

Involuntarily, he felt himself smile. He couldn’t believe that this kind-of-jerky but popular guy remembered him. It was sort of… nice; he didn’t think he was somebody he would remember. Like he’d felt with Jonah. Sort of... special.

“Scary basketball guy.”

The other boy frowned, shifted. “Actually, T.J.”

“I know.” He paused, then offered, “Cyrus.”

T.J. walked past him, keeping distance, almost wary. Weirdly enough, Cyrus didn’t feel awkward. This was revolutionary! He almost always felt awkward when talking to new people! Maybe it was that this kid was being so weirdly, unexpectedly cool.

“So, do you… hang out here a lot?”

“Only when I’m feeling bad about myself,” he replied, uncomfortably aware of the self-consciousness bubbling back up at the truth in his words. “So, fairly often.”

T.J. was quiet as he pondered this. “Does it help?”

“It helps me.”

T.J. was hesitant, looking down at the swing with a self-conscious familiar look.

“Go on,” Cyrus encouraged. “You look like you need it.”

The taller boy obliged, looking somewhat out-of-place in the tiny swing. But he tried it anyway, swinging higher and higher until he felt the anxiety slip away in the wind. Cyrus watched the bully who had made his friend miserable grin like a child, soar into the air. It made him smile in return. The creaking groans of the shiny blue swingset as it shifted under their weight was a steady heartbeat in the pair’s ears, bringing back summer memories and relaxing their worries. It was comfortable and… so unexpectedly nice.

“Wow, this does kinda make me feel better,” T.J. said through his bright, genuine smile.

“What do you need to feel better about? You’re the captain of the basketball team.”

T.J.’s smile melted fast, but he kept swinging. “You don’t know me. I got stuff.”

“Betcha I got more stuff,” Cyrus replied, looking up to where T.J. was, suspended in the spring air.

“Yeah?” A competitive spark shone through in his voice. “Betcha I can swing higher!”

It was like Buffy. It made him really wish that the two basketball players had ended up as friends instead of as determined rivals. He really wasn’t too bad, actually.

“I’m afraid to swing high,” Cyrus admitted from where he was rocking haltingly, inches off the ground. “That’s part of my stuff.”

“Whoo!” T.J. was soaring back and forth now. “I don’t know why I ever stopped swingin’! C’mon, get up here!”

“This is as up as I go,” he responded, expecting the other boy to tease or laugh, but was only met with another whoop and broad smile.

T.J. chuckled at an idea, then sprung effortlessly off to land on his feet on the worn-down, soft mulch in front of Cyrus. The two made eye contact from where he was still swinging carefully, Cyrus’ brow furrowed as he watched the other proceed behind him. He trusted the kid to not to push him off or anything. At least, he thought he did. Should he? Was this just him playing a prank to make fun of him this whole time? Was this all going to go wrong now? Was he gonna—

Then T.J. reached up to give him a gentle push, and Cyrus’ whole back exploded with pain and color. They both screamed, birds fleeing from the echo reverberating through the park. Cyrus fell forward onto the mulch, arms awkwardly flying up to catch himself, hot tears pricking the edges of his blurry vision.

“Holy hell!” T.J. yelled, tripping back to catch himself on one of the cartoonish boulders nearby. “I’m sorry! I don’t know what I did!”

“Ow ow ow ow, why is this happening what’s going on?” Cyrus muttered, voice so hysterical that it bordered on a melody. His breathing was not working right, his brain coming up with all of the different ways he was probably dying.

“Cyrus, what’s wrong?” He could feel T.J. by his side now, could hear the shouts of alarm in the distance as people noticed the pair, could feel how the other boy was frantically trying to keep him conscious. He was conscious. He was fully conscious, his back was keeping him wide awake, so he tried to push T.J. away. “It’s gonna be okay, just listen to me, people are coming over… why is your shirt glowing?”

And then it hit Cyrus Goodman, as the pain in his back swelled to its worst and his eyes snapped open. Oh no. Oh no.

T.J. Kippen was his soulmate.

#my fanfic #andi mack fanfic #ahjdkahs #andi mack #andi mack gift exchange

[botanistlester]

Bluebells

Summary: Dan just really wants to put flowers in Phil’s hair. Word Count: 2,498 Warnings: none A/N: Hello! I've had this image in my head of Phil with flowers in his hair for like 2 months straight and obv i needed to write about it since I can't do art. This whole fic is basically just me gushing about how beautiful Phil is and I'm not even ashamed. See art for this fic here, here, here, here, and here! 

listen to my audiofic! read it on ao3

- There is a boy that makes Dan yearn to weave flowers into his hair every time he sees him. There is a boy with pale skin as white as snow and pretty blue eyes the colour of Bluebells. He has hair like the night sky and it sometimes glimmered in the light to form little galaxies. He wanted to thread Baby's Breath through those pretty raven locks until his hair matches the colour of his eyes.

It was an addiction, an anomaly, something that does not normally cross Dan’s mind. Usually, he doesn’t see someone and want to thread flowers through their hair. Usually, he doesn’t think about flowers at all.

But then he saw him and he couldn’t stop himself from going home and studying the names of flowers that reminded Dan of him. Hyacinths and Marigold and Sweet Peas and Lavender, all melding into one to make the most beautiful man Dan had ever laid eyes on.

He sat in front of Dan in Philosophy and he twirled his pen in his fingers as the professor rambled about existentialism. Occasionally he would run a hand through his pretty black hair and Dan would watch and wish it were his hands instead. Although, his hands were pretty too, so delicate and soft, and Dan’s own hands would probably swallow them whole.

He was a Sunflower, a friendly giant with soft, fragile petals. Ones that reflected bright sunshine and general happiness. He was a daffodil, one that brightens the room and makes everyone think, the sun is always shining when I’m with you.

His name was Phil, as he corrected the professor when they called him Philip. It was a name that surprisingly fit, one that burned into the Dan’s brain like a brand. He wanted to whisper the name into Phil’s skin as he twirled daisies into his hair.

Was that strange? Probably. But Dan’s learned by now that all of the best experiences come from just a little bit of strangeness.

The first time he did it, Dan didn’t know what he was thinking. He’d come across a little patch of starlets and thought of blue eyes and black hair, and before he could think anything of it, he was tearing one from the stem. He twirled it around between his fingers as he walked to class, his eyes drawn the the delicacy of such a flower, the bright blue colouring that made everything else look dull in comparison.

When he sat in his seat, even earlier than his Philosophy professor had been, he didn’t dare take his eyes away. He didn’t look away from the small blossom until a certain boy plopped into the seat in front of him. Dan watched in awe as Phil reached into his backpack, pulling out his notebook. The notebook had little cacti all over it and it made Dan smile slightly because this guy was just way too cute and Dan was absolutely enamoured.

Before he could even think twice about it, Dan was leaning forward. He didn’t tap on the boy’s shoulder, didn’t speak to him, didn’t do anything to really draw Phil’s attention. But he did place that starlet into Phil’s hair, unable to help himself. The blue flower was such a nice accent to Phil’s hair, and Dan felt himself fall for the boy all over again.

Phil froze, as did Dan. His mind was screaming at him, asking him why he’d done something so horribly creepy, but he couldn’t take it back and Phil was definitely going to hate him and think he was weird.

But Phil didn’t turn around to give Dan a dirty look, didn’t spit out horrible words about how Dan was weird and creepy. No, he only reached up with his hand and touched the petals with pale, slender fingers. Dan couldn’t see the expression on Phil’s face, but judging by the way Phil didn’t remove the flower, instead just letting his hand drop to his desk, Dan reckoned he could assume that he wasn’t too terribly upset about it.

Phil kept the flower in his hair all throughout class. It elicited stares from other students, but that didn’t make Phil take it out. It really did look nice in his hair, too. Dan would weave a hundred flowers through his hair if he had the chance to, just to see those bright petals against the silky black locks. When class was all finished, Dan watched in amazement as Phil packed his backpack and left, the bright blue flower still tucked in his hair for the world to see.

He just knew that he had to try it again another day.

It became sort of a routine after that. Dan would pick various flowers each day before class. He would pick daisies and jasmines and violets and weave them through black hair. Phil would never say anything about it, but each time he would reach up and feel the smooth petals with his fingertips, and Dan would capture a small glimpse of a smile before they had to focus on the professor once more.

He did it every day, and it was an absolute miracle that Phil hadn’t said anything about it yet. That anyone hadn’t said anything about it yet. Dan was being a little creep, was putting flowers into the hair of someone he barely knew, and then they would part ways and Dan would be left with the image ingrained into his mind of a beautiful pale boy with dashes of colour in his dark hair.

He wanted to paint it, wanted to share with the world how truly and utterly ethereal Phil was, but alas, Dan was not a painter. He was just a man who studied philosophy and had too many thoughts that would never be brought to light.

So he put flowers in the hair of pretty boys. He tried to analyse why the flower wasn’t plucked out of existence by his victim, why Phil kept letting him do something so completely and utterly strange. He listened to the soft tone of Phil’s voice whenever the professor called on him, and watched as Phil ran a hand through his hair, careful not to dismantle the blossoms Dan had carefully placed.

The day that Dan didn’t bring a flower to class was the day that he had been running horribly late.

He woke up thirty minutes after his alarm had gone off and hadn’t even had enough time to shower, much less straighten his hair. He cursed under his breath and got dressed in the first clothes he had seen - a very old high school jumper and some too-ripped jeans - and practically ran out the door. When he saw patches of petunias, he didn’t stop. When he saw a bush of marigold come into view, he didn’t dare stop.

He only stopped when he came to his classroom, ten minutes late, and sat down in his designated desk behind Phil. He kept his head down for most of his lecture, both embarrassed that he was late and also embarrassed that he wasn’t able to look very good that day. He didn’t look at Phil because he knew that he would only be disappointed in himself, that he would be upset that he couldn’t see bright pinks and yellows and blues against ebony like usual.

His professor was talking about Plato, about something that Dan could probably cite in his sleep. He had taken far too much interest in philosophers over the years and had even been following a youtube account that talked about every philosopher the world had to offer. Dan was too much of a nerd, but in instances where he couldn’t possibly pay attention, he thanked his nerdiness.

When class was finished at last, Dan was just about to bolt. He’d packed up his books as soon as the professor had finished speaking, and he slung his backpack over his shoulders. He wanted to get out of there as soon as he possibly could so that he could get home and wipe the grime from his hair, wipe the sleep out of his eyes that hadn’t yet seemed to disperse.

But before he could, a certain beautiful boy stepped in front of him, made it impossible for Dan to leave. Dan gazed into those blue eyes and he felt a part of him detach and leave his body because Phil was right in front of him, and he looked like he was about to actually speak.

And speak, he did. “Where’s my flower today?” he asked in a soft and joking tone, accompanied with a smile. Everything about him was so soft that it nearly made Dan want to break down and cry. Phil was wearing dungarees over a pastel yellow shirt. He had on black boots that tied in the front, and Dan noticed that one of the ties was undone. If Phil had asked, Dan would probably get on his knees and do his shoe back up, but for now he was shocked at the words that had come out of Phil’s pretty pink mouth.

“You- what?” Dan asked, taken aback. He raised his eyebrows and Phil didn’t look annoyed. He looked rather amused.

“My flower! You always put flowers in my hair, but you didn’t today. Well? Where is it, Howell?”

To hear Phil speaking his last name in such a light and sassy tone was everything Dan had thought he needed to hear. He sent a silent thanks to any God out there for blessing him with this moment, because only yesterday, he had thought he’d never have a chance like this. Yet here he was, with Phil Lester right in front of him, asking him directly why Dan wasn’t putting flowers in his hair.

And Dan was speechless. He gaped at Phil, licked his lips, opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He tried again. Cleared his throat. Gaped some more. Took a deep breath. Until finally, finally, he could stop looking like a fish gasping for air. “I was late so I didn’t have time to look at the flowers today,” he said quietly, his face surely the same shade as amaryllis.

Phil hummed and he rocked back on his heels, his hands in the pockets of his dungarees. He was too cute for Dan to function today. He just wanted to grab him and kiss his nose or something. But he held himself back. “Well then, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” Phil asked, grinning widely. Dan gave him a confused look, and Phil’s smile only grew. He held his hand out for Dan to shake. “Phil Lester at your service! If you don’t have another class for a while, I’d like to go look at some flowers for you. I won’t allow you to get away with the crime that you tried to commit today.”

Dan laughed in amazement, shaking his head. “You really are something,” he murmured, but his stomach was filled with butterflies and his lungs were filled with roses and everything Dan had thought was initially impossible was suddenly turned upside down.

“Well? What d’ya say?”

“I’d be an idiot if I said no, wouldn’t I?” Dan told him, and Phil clapped his hands together and did a little whoop of triumph. It was cute. It was pure. It was everything Dan had wished and hoped for.

So they headed out of the philosophy building. They made their way to the fields of their university, and Phil was a lot more chatty than Dan had expected. Dan didn’t mind, though. He was more of a thinker, and he liked listening to the way Phil talked, how he formed words with his tongue and lips and made every story he told come to life. Dan liked to watch how Phil’s face lit up with the brightness of a thousand suns and how his cheeks turned pink in the heat of spring.

He was so soft and ethereal and Dan was so lucky.

When they got to the fields, Phil sat on the ground and smiled up at Dan as he started to look through the patches of flowers. There was lilac and hyacinth and azalea, but for some reason none of them could rival Phil’s beauty. None of them popped out at Dan and screamed beautiful, because he already had the most exquisite specimen beside him, watching as he ran his fingers over the petals of various flowers.

Dan ended up plucking a bluebell, because they had always reminded him of Phil’s eyes, and Dan wanted to know if they were truly the same colour as Phil’s eyes, or if the flowers were much more vibrant.

Phil closed his eyes as Dan placed the flower in his hair, and then, because he couldn’t resist, he began to pluck more flowers and placed them beside the bluebell. He decorated Phil’s head with jasmine and marigold and amaryllis and any other flower that he could possibly find. It made Phil look like a faerie, Dan decided, a creature of the grass and skies, one that lived with the flowers. He was certainly bright enough in his dungarees and his yellow shirt, and now colourful hair.

“I like the way you look with flowers in your hair,” Dan whispered, as if he was telling Phil a secret. And it was kind of a secret, because he had kept this to himself for so long, but now he was able to tell Phil exactly what he was feeling. “But for some reason, I think the flowers aren’t quite as beautiful as you are.”

Phil opened his eyes and Dan was stricken for a moment, unable to formulate any of his thoughts. His mind went blank and Dan found himself lost in the colours of Phil’s eyes. There was green and yellow amongst the blue, and Dan had always thought Phil’s eyes were the colour of bluebells, but now he realised that bluebells weren’t quite as vibrant. “You’re just saying that,” Phil murmured back.

Dan shook his head, because he had never said anything truer and he didn’t think Phil understood. “I mean it with all my heart.”

Phil beamed at him and it nearly blinded Dan. He could barely process what was happening as Phil placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him down enough so that he could place a soft kiss on Dan’s cheek. “In that case,” Phil whispered against Dan’s cheek, his lips soft and making Dan’s skin heat under the touch, “I give you full permission to thread as many flowers as you want into my hair.”

“Didn’t I already have permission?” Dan mused, causing Phil to gasp in mock offense and slap his shoulder. Dan laughed, and for once, he also felt as beautiful and vibrant as the flowers, his entire body tingling, skin glowing warm under the sun.

Maybe that was just the impact of Phil Lester, though.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phan fluff #phanfiction fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #dan and phil #gay #writing #botanistfics #botanistlester #i love you phil #I LOVE PHIL LESTER #my tribute to phil

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Ep8 S1: Pharaoh’s Nietzsche Problems

I figured this would be a good show to recap since it’s got maybe about 5 minutes of content an episode...usually. But, the thing about Yugioh is that when it needs to move plot, it really moves a lot of plot. Quite a bit happens this episode, it’s a long recap, so lets just get to it. Starting with Keiba’s brother, Mokuba.

And no, we haven’t missed anything--he’s just secretly been here the entire time.

What’s kind of neat about Pegasus’ help is that they are reoccurring characters. This guy with the mustache. The one with the double spike mullet. They are very flat characters, but their presence asks a lot of questions. In this case it’s “do you really want to befriend Mokuba or something? What’s with this silver platter service? Do you guys all hang out? Do you all go to the beach together in your time off and like read magazines with your sunglasses on?”

And back in the largest drawing room and all of it’s slight perspective errors that are off just enough to cause me great pain, Pegasus is enjoying his weird ass cheese meal.

When informed that his victim has escaped, he’s not exactly concerned. He’s got cameras all over the island. Also, it’s an ISLAND with only one boat to stow away on and it is nicely guarded. So he figures he should check out how the duels are going with the island computer system. Because ya, of course there’s a camera every five feet on this deserted island. This guy is about one step removed from a Bond Villain.

Speaking of, Yugi is back to walking aimlessly around the forest with his buddies, just biding his time and blissfully unaware of the karmic retribution soon coming to him because of something his other half did.

And they run into my brother’s favorite character, double spike mullet man. He’s got a name but for the life of me I will never remember. His weird thing is that he can’t hold someone a normal way. He usually holds them like teddy bears.

Tristan finally demonstrates why he’s a member of the crew and it really threw me for a loop. Tristan has bizzare gorilla strength--but only occasionally. And predictably he gets soundly kicked by this very nimble double-spiked mullet man, who might be legit invincible.

And because the Yugi crew can’t not, they decide to take heart and do some justice, like they always do. This episode is like a big caveat for “always do the right thing, though sometimes the right thing would be to leave it alone because you aren’t as good or smart as you think you are, and you might only make things worse with your ineptitude.”

So, they decide to use the best strategy they could think of in order to catch the chip-napper, which was to just kinda...wait around or something. Turns out they aren’t very smart, which I’m really starting to think may not be entirely their fault since Yugi has only half a brain (though I’m starting to think it’s more a 20-80 Yugi-Pharaoh mix) and the rest are constantly exposed to Pharaoh psychic powers, which must be confusing. They actually do talk--in great detail--about how dumb Joey Wheeler is through the length of this episode, I just didn’t cap it.

Luckily, Mokuba wasn’t exactly hiding so we very quickly cut to the chase, although it appears Yugi doesn’t really get who this, he’s just got a card addiction and sees dueling as a great way to solve Nearly Any Problem. Including how to deal with theft.

Ah Joey, the Cassandra who called it first at the haunted Pharaoh necklace Maybe Possessing His Best Friend’s Mind.

Surprisingly, Seto Keiba’s awake. I just assumed he was in a hospital bed these past 7 episodes. But, apparently he’s walking around...sort of. He got a heavy dose of depression symptoms from the mind-wipe, and that’s not the sort of thing that this show tries to hide.

A lot of kid shows try to tread on this territory. But, this is the only one I’ve seen that goes HARD into mental illness without watering it down into some sort of cute metaphor like Elsa and her ice magic. Kieba doesn’t know how to Keiba anymore. He doesn’t want to do what he used to do. He doesn’t want to be who he used to be. He lost the thing that gave him passion and he’s PISSED.

And because it’s Yugioh, it’s gotta get Pretty Dark For A Kids Show, and so Keiba walks out of their life and puts all of his very real adult responsibilities on his very little brother who does not understand why.

While this is actually a pretty accurate portrayal of what depression can do to a family, I just wanna note that they chose to go this route. Usually in a kids show, when a character is “cured” of evil, it’s replaced with something else. Usually, it’s replaced with the goodness that character already had, deep down inside. Maybe a goodness they had as a child. In the case of Keiba...he apparently didn’t have that goodness to begin with.

Parts of Keiba are just GONE and Pharaohs take is “I fixed him, so you should be happy now.” Like, I have no idea if this show supports Pharaoh or actually wants to portray this as a character flaw, but I assume we’ll find out more later.

Also, remember how I said that Pegasus was once removed from a Bond Villian? Well, he crossed the one degree in a foot-note flashback.

I had to rewind when I watched this because this whole thing about “I’ll just kidnap him and run the company that way” was so...illegal? Even for a kid’s show it’s so roundabout. I mean we’re dealing with a Psychic so why not just mind control one of the Kiebas? O well. And then there’s the other thing--because Yugi embarrassed Keiba Corp by beating Seto, Pegasus has to prove he’s a better card player in order to seal this shady business deal.  For...some reason?

Meanwhile, Pharaoh turns himself into a Philosophy 101 major’s first thesis about Nietzsche, as he makes himself the sole definer of what is good and evil and basically ignores what anyone lesser than him might say on the subject because he is Pharaoh and Pharaohs are Right.

Does he care about what he did to Mokuba and his family? Maybe later, but he certainly didn’t really care this episode. He just seems annoyed that other people aren’t like gun-ho about his “just wipe em clean” theory when it’s like, dude, does the medicine really outweigh the cure here? You gave the guy depression.

And although the show keeps saying Keiba was evil--we didn’t see much evidence of that because this all went down in Episode 1. Maybe that’s a lot of my problem in getting to like Pharaoh. I just gotta trust him that Keiba’s evil, but the worst thing I saw him do was tear up a card that Grandpa’s heart was connected to. Keiba still doesn’t even believe in that folktale heart of the cards stuff so should he be judged on that?

This blog just came off of occasionally recapping Once Upon a Time, which is obsessed with “where does good/evil come from?” and so to see this same trope of “We’ll just remove everything evil and it’s fixed!” explored again in another show--I dunno, we’ll see if Yugioh can do a better job. The bar is set pretty low because Once totally botched this.

My opinion: this mind-wipe seems pretty temporary since it’s not like Keiba chose to get it done, but we’ll see how it goes.

I was honestly surprised to see a show like this actually deliver a good take on the Sailor Moon Moral Savior trope, where she waves her moon healing wand, and evil characters are just “good” in the flash of an eye and all problems are solved and she is heralded as this wonderful savior.

Like seriously last episode was about stabbing the moon with a stone robot, how did we get here from that?

Meanwhile, back on the island, They’ve decided to do the right thing and it’s screwed them yet again because sometimes the only way to truly fix something when you screw up, is to just never have done it. Sometimes we do bad things thinking that if we get caught we can just fix it later--but there’s a lot of things that aren’t fixable. Sometimes people won’t be available to say sorry to. Sometimes you can’t return what you’ve taken, let it be star chips, time away from your little brother, or actual pieces of someone’s soul. Sometimes you just have to live with that.

Just a quick reminder that last episode revolved around eating fish for lunch.

Mokuba has such a strong neck now because of all these weird arm grabs. Also, I just realized Double Spike Mullet Man also has Big O type eyebrows and it’s something.

speaking of freaking too late

I mean I’m not even going to pretend that’s the real Keiba because youknow it’s a dark show but it hasn’t gone that dark. With the exception of our main character who IS half a zombie but man it’s always nice to see Pharaoh get a good ol slap in the face when he’s on his insufferable God kick.

Anyway, next week we duel a zombie and also find out how this is even possible. I admit I did not see the zombie twist coming that was...I feel like I use the word “unexpected” in every recap but here we are.

#Yugioh recap #fair warning: this is a lot of plot #ep8 s1 #tw mental illness #tw depression #yeah you read that right this show is gonna dive alllllll into that #humor #yugioh #yugi moto #joey wheeler #tea #tristan #photo recap #recap #why is there a zombie now???? #mokuba #seto keiba #kieba #I'll never spell kaiba correctly

[beebsaroni]

1/30/20

I had a hard time getting out of bed today. I don’t even feel depressed necessarily; I just can’t make myself physically get up and out of bed until I think I’m going to get into trouble for it (i.e. my roommate coming back from her classes for lunch and seeing I haven’t left my bed... not that i’d get in trouble but one time she came home and she thought i was asleep and I heard her go “...still?” under her breath. It upset me a bit.)

I also just got inexplicably upset seeing one of my friend’s snapchat story and seeing my boyfriend hanging out with them. Like, my friend was his friend before she was mine so it’s not weird that they’d hang out alone (plus she’s a lesbian) (also... I don’t get relationship jealous. Like, I’d never think J would cheat on me. He gives me access to his phone and plus I’m just a trustful person when it comes to relationships; I don’t know why- I’ve been cheated on before). I got off track in the parenthesis. Uhh, anyway, I’m not upset that they hung out without me per se, more of I’m afraid that them hanging out without me is a sign they don’t like me anymore. It’s just me being overly anxious. Like seeing two people having fun together doesn’t have anything to do with me. I know that logically. But my worried brain makes me want to burst out into tears because my boyfriend didn’t tell me and ask me to come hang out with them. 

So, I missed all my classes today and I didn’t do anything social. I’m hoping to go to my boyfriend’s later because today has been kind of shitty when it comes to my mental health and it would be really nice to be held. I did go to a review session for my chemistry class.. but it felt a little bit like a waste. I don’t want to call it that though because I’d like to try to put a more positive spin on things! Going to the review session was good for me, especially since I missed class today! There were a couple things that I wrote down to make sure I remembered and I might have forgotten if I hadn’t gone. Class and review sessions are good and beneficial for my academic standing. 

Tomorrow should be a good day though. I have a lot planned and I’m ready to have a nice day. Hopefully, if I stay over at my boyfriends, I’m going to get up in the morning, go to my Philosophy discussion, get lunch with my friend Carmen, do homework, get checked in to the hackathon (which I won’t be competing in but I will be taking advantage of the food and hanging out my boyfriend and his roommate (who I am actually really good friends with now... we might be starting a youtube channel together)), go to work, and then go to a house party I was invited to. There’s a lot planned and I’m ready for it to be a good, busy day. 

Here’s hoping I don’t cry tonight. I’d like to go through today without crying at the very least. I cry far too often. I’m just looking forward to tomorrow. 

Thank you for reading, 

-Bee <3

(P.S. I did do something creative today; I played my ukulele a bunch. Really hoping to post a video soon!!)  

#update #1.30.20 #depression #anxiety #mental health #hard day :( #tomorrow will be a better one #missed class #review session #university #college #school work #school #class #classwork #relationship anxiety #friendship anxiety #working to be a better me #journal #online journal #web journal #tagging all this stuff feels kind of dumb #but the end goal is to hopefully find people like me who want to get better together

[buriedunderbones-blog]

EDGAR BONES APPLICATION

I realised that after the original main got hacked I didn’t re-post my application and I thought it would be helpful/interesting to have it somewhere that can be accessed by everyone. (It was a while ago now though so Ed now may differ a bit from my first idea of him. Also there may be some mistakes or spelling errors oops) Anyway, under the cut is my app for Ed!

DESIRED CHARACTER Edgar Bones

FACE CLAIM William Moseley 

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

I find Hufflepuffs that really defy the house’s stereotype really interesting and in particular love the dark and brooding artist vibe of Edgar. I’m a huge fan of poetry and I can’t pretend that his name alone didn't interest me because of Edgar Allan Poe (& I can imagine he would be low-key pleased about sharing a name with one of the greats), but I was just so enthralled by the character, which is strange for me because I’m rarely drawn to characters I don't know at least a little bit about. The idea of a ‘loner’ Hufflepuff is super captivating because I can imagine how difficult it would be to be surrounded by people constantly asking how you are when you just want to be alone and stewing in angst. He obviously exhibits a lot of typically Hufflepuff traits; he is very good at giving solutions to problems and empathising with people, he’s hard working, loyal, and he has his head in the clouds a lot. However, he doesn’t appreciate empathy when it’s directed towards him, he is a ride or die friend to only a few people and doesn’t really fret over the rest, and he often prefers to be lost in thought than down on earth. His issues with commitment stem from his lack of communication skills; he can write down what he’s feeling, but it’s often hard for him to verbally open up to others. He isn’t particularly quick to anger, but he often jumps into fights just to feel the thrill of it; Edgar bottles up a lot of his emotions and, while he also lets them out through artistic means, he doesn't have a physical outlet. Part of him also just finds the feeling of bones cracking under his knuckles fascinating. He was definitely the type of child who killed ants with a magnifying glass, not out of cruelty, but morbid curiosity. The poem ‘Alone’ by Poe really resonates with how I see Edgar; he just doesn’t relate to a lot of the people around him and while they all focus on the blue skies, he cannot help but see the clouds. I usually find it really difficult to match characters to an Enneagram of personality number, but Edgar is definitely a strong 4. He is very much focused on being himself and idealises sadness and fantasising, but sometimes in trying to find and be himself, he loses sight of his core values. He has a lot of Ravenclaw in him, but ultimately he isn't calculated enough to be a Ravenclaw and he doesn’t value intelligence and learning above all. He has some Slytherin qualities, but he isn't ambitious or cunning enough; he doesn’t really lie (but he does withhold truth with silence) and he’s content to keep his dreams in his head. He can seem quite impulsive, but he doesn’t have that true Gryffindor recklessness (at least not for the same reason they have it: he isn't scared of death). He fights for the cause, not because he’s particularly passionate about it, but because he knows it’s the right thing to do. He may stray to the darker things in life and have trouble figuring out where he stands morally, but he’s loyal to his family and knows he will always stand with them. I’m not sure if these are reasons or me just explaining why I love him so much. He’s weird and he’s an outcast; he doesn’t fit in, but that’s what makes him all the more interesting. While a lot of people in his situation would reject the people who made him feel that way and join more radical groups (eg. death eaters, aversio) to feel like they belong, Edgar doesn’t do that. He knows that even if his opinions and experiences differ to that of his family, he'll stick by them no matter what. It’s that loyalty that makes him a Hufflepuff and stops him from floating away into his thoughts to the point of no return. (I could really go on forever, but I’ll stop)

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

He would work well with someone who balances him out and is willing to let him have alone time, but also doesn’t let him wallow in self-pity. He find it hard not to develop an emotional connection through sex, but he has a lot of commitment issues so casual sex can be a bit of a problem. (he does it anyway though) He’s mostly homosexual; although I wouldn’t completely rule out a m/f ship, I see him working better with guys.

♔ CREATE ONE (oops) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

-A MOCK BLOG ( buriedunderbones.tumblr.com ) where you can find the following: -A MOODBOARD ( https://buriedunderbones.tumblr.com/post/160438771802/edgar-bones-aesthetic-moodboard-no-one-remembers ) -AN AESTHETIC ( https://buriedunderbones.tumblr.com/post/160440824792/edgar-bones-aesthetic-those-of-wit-and-learning ) -A PLAYLIST ( https://buriedunderbones.tumblr.com/post/160438809257/edgar-bones-playlist-listen-here ) -I also did a little past/present/future gif post  ( https://buriedunderbones.tumblr.com/post/160446099697/and-all-i-loved-i-loved-alone-childhoods-hour )

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

Edgar frowned thoughtfully, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t know if this counts really because its not an invention, as such, but it would be nice for invisibility cloaks to be more easily accessible.” He paused, unsure if he should continue. “I think- well, it’s, um, difficult sometimes to find a secluded place to think.” Edgar stuttered out, his mouth never had been quite on the same wavelength as his brain. Often people assumed he was shy, but he just struggled to get the right words on the tip of his tongue and by the time he finally managed most people stopped listening.

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

An almost fond look overtook the wizard’s features as he remembered the Forbidden Forest. Nobody took Edgar Bones for a rule-breaker, but he often found the best places to be alone were the ones off-limits. He had actually spent a night there, in his sixth year, up in a tree observing the wilderness and pouring into his moleskine. It was nice to be completely immersed in human silence, listening only to the animals tearing each other apart in the night. It was as though he didn’t exist at all. “I would go myself; as much as I love my family they just don’t get it.” He explained truthfully. “And I’d take my journal and quill, or does that count as two objects? I’m not really familiar with the semantics of the hypotheticals…” He trailed off awkwardly.

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

The hesitation on his face clearly indicated that the answer was ‘most of them’, but Edgar persevered with trying to come up with something more eloquent. “I feel a lot of emotions,” he struggled. “But I struggle to express them to other people, sometimes I don’t even want to. So, I suppose, I find it difficult to make the decisions that depend on showcasing my vulnerability.” Edgar shrugged slightly, as though to indicate he had nothing more to add.

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

“The spoken word is arbitrary; it’s what they don’t say that really counts.” His reply was more confident this time, but Edgar had always felt strongly towards the subject. Perhaps, it was because he was known to hide his own true feelings and knew exactly how cutthroat the human mind could be. Or perhaps he’d just heard whispers behind his back for too long to really worry about the sting of an insult that only reached his ears.

WRITING SAMPLE

The vast body of water rippled dangerously with life. Edgar sat alone at the edge of the Great Lake and gazed upon its magnificence. To some people, such depth and area may appear intimidating, but Edgar was no stranger to his insignificance on a universal level. He picked up a small flat stone from the damp sand and flicked his wrist, skipping it over the lake’s surface. The stars shone brightly, reflecting off of the black water, giving the illusion that the wizard was himself part of the night sky. Edgar had always been strangely calm, it was a sense of peace that others couldn’t begin to comprehend. He didn’t bother himself with questions of existence and life; he found a freedom in knowing that, in the grand scheme of things, he didn’t matter. He embraced the philosophy and sought comfort in the idea that if his actions had no large scale effect, then he need not bind himself to the morals of the many. This oncoming war, however, could serve to change Edgar’s whole being. 

The electricity in the air buzzed through him, wind whistling through his golden locks, and Edgar looked blankly at the grounds around him. Hogwarts castle was visible in the near distance, standing tall and regal as it had for many years. He envisioned the walls collapsing, turrets tumbling, silver bricks colliding with solid ground. Chaos wasn’t an unappealing idea to Edgar, but he would rather be contained by reasonable limits than let the world be overtaken in a blaze of fire. The Order of the Phoenix was supposedly a way he could stop that from happening. 

Amelia looked at him, eyes brimming with determination and hope. “We could really make a difference Eddy; this is our chance to do something.” She looked at him like he looked at the stars above, and he was powerless to resist. 

At first, Edgar was vehemently against the idea. He wanted to remain neutral. Not that he feared the danger that accompanied fighting the darkness; he had never been scared of death. Edgar spent his youth squashing insects and pulling the wings from butterflies, just to observe the consequences. His adolescent self channeled that feeling through his fists, acting out in violence to feel the emotions that escaped him. The sensation of his lip spitting and blood exploding from the gash was enough to make him grin. He wore black eyes like they were works of art speckled across his face.

The circle of people parted to let Edgar leave. He walked with a rare confidence, hands splattered purple and red. People started, open-mouthed, and he felt his anger balance out, tossing an easy ‘you should see the other guy’  over his shoulder. 

The other students sometimes laughed at him, but Edgar knew they’d all want him on their side in times of battle. He would protect his few friends with everything he had. No, he didn’t have the strongest morals, nor did he claim to, but of all the badgers his bite was the worst. 

However, for Edgar, a war, even one he wasn’t particularly tied to, could become quicksand. His embrace was wholehearted or non-existent. And, as he looked upon the place he had called home for so many years, Edgar whispered out into the open, empty air. “It’s not about the cause; it’s those standing by you that make the fighting worthwhile.” 

#he made his peace with letting go #Edgar bones application #edgar bones

[lunamanar]

I Needed This

This is something I posted a month or two ago, but it was then pointed out that almost all of the links were broken...and at the same time, tumblr enacted their new restrictive linking policy. Meaning almost no one it was directed at actually saw it. I haven’t had the chance to correct the problem until now, and in that short time, the post referred to has climbed to over 14,000 notes. Like...what? Holy crap. Okay.

I wish I could sit down and reply to everyone who responded to the post, but at this point that’s just impossible. Just know, I do see the notes, and I’m grateful for every single one.

Below is the fixed post, as it was supposed to appear in April. If you’ve already read it, feel free to disregard this and scroll on by.

So...I’m gonna do one of my weird things. This isn’t really to do with FFVIII, but...I feel like I owe people this. Because I’ve been watching this silly little writing power build and build and snowball, and...it just seems...so counter to the situation of the people I seem to be reaching, that I can’t just let it sit there and rack up “points” in the form of notes without taking a moment (well, a few hours at this point, but I had the time, and this is what I decided to do with it) to at least acknowledge the response. I’ve received messages from people, a flood of kind comments and tags, I’ve watched people reach out to one another to support them in their writing endeavors. Most of it has been outside this fandom, so...I apologize ahead of time if this is somewhat off-topic.

I really don’t know how to begin talking about this, because I’m terrified it’s going to sound like I’m trying to call as much selfish attention as possible to a viral post I made by total accident. That’s not what I want to do at all, here, and please believe me when I say that I don’t think I did anything to deserve thousands of notes on what amounts to a “top ten” post of personal writing philosophies. When I posted it, I thought it might be helpful to a few very specific people in my immediate fandom circle. I never thought it would escape that circle, much less become the...giant ball of positivity that it has. Not that I’m complaining! I’m so beyond floored that it reached as far as it has, I don’t even know what to feel about it, anymore. I certainly don’t feel like I wrote anything brilliant. More than anything, I’m just...puzzled. And flattered, by how many people have been leaving kind tags and notes for me.

The other thing that I feel about it, though, is...sadness. Sadness that so many people feel such anxiety over their writing abilities. So many personal things have been said on this post, by total strangers, about their struggles with anxiety, depression, trauma, alienation and isolation when it comes to their writing. Some people write thousands of words and post them with bated breath, only to be met with a few hits and no comments. Some people are so certain that they have nothing of value to add that they can’t even bring themselves to start. Some think they’re too old to start now, that all their peers of the same age are so far “ahead” of them, they’ll never have any hope of “catching up.” Some are embarrassed to be writing at all, then they’re unemployed and feel like they should be looking for a “real” job instead of indulging in hobbies. There are so many hundreds of ways writer’s block and blues affects people, and the reality of it is, well...I wish they would all go through the hundreds, even thousands of tags and replies simply so they could see how not alone they are in their struggles. Maybe they could even find other people who would be up to being their reading partner, so they could have someone to trade stories with. So many people posting to a void, and it’s hard to see that it should have to be that way.

So...I mean, I don’t know what this will do, if it will do anything. This makes me feel nervous in itself, actually, because I’m not only reaching out to strangers, I’m going to be tagging people who aren’t even a part of the pleasant little community that is FFVIII. A lot of them. And maybe I’ll screw up...maybe I’ll tag someone who doesn’t want the exposure. I tried to comb through bios and take out anyone who explicitly said they were selective about who they talked to. If I tag you here, and you want me to delete your name, please send me a message and I will do so as soon as I see the request.

But at the very least...I do want everyone I ping in this post to know that someone--me, at least--saw their response, and felt it, too. I want their stories to be written and I want them to find the audience who enjoys those stories. I’m here saying, “hey, I see you. I give a shit.” Even if I don’t know anything about whatever fandom you’re in, or if you’re writing a completely original story, or whatever...it’s important. There is nothing more tragic to me than a story aching to be shared that never sees the light of day.

I also want to acknowledge some potential mistakes I may have made in writing that post (and this one). Few people had anything bad to say about it--and thank you all, for such tolerance of my rambles--but I am certainly not perfect, and I want to try to improve my communication where I can so I do ever less harm.

...I guess I’ll start, then.

Tumblr is chock full of “don’ts” when it comes to writing, and it’s my opinion that there’s just not enough love out there for the simple act of writing, itself a massive investment of time, energy and brain cells. Not every piece you write will be a success, but there is much to be said for the energy it takes to carry a story in your head, let alone take that and translate it into words so others can share the meaning it holds for you.

So, take a look at this. I posted that list sometime in...October 2016? I think? And in 7 months, 11,000 people either liked or reblogged it, and most people who reblogged it left a tag or two. By far, besides your generic “writing” or “writing advice,” the most common tag of note was this:

#I Needed This

...or something to that effect. I tried to find and count as many as I could. And I really want people to see just how many accounts out there who just happened to see a single writing tips list felt that they needed the encouragement. And those were the ones who were able to work up the nerve to say so in the comments or tags. I’m sure many more were too shy (and that’s OK).

@finduilasnumenesse @amid-a-lightless-place @phan-band-fandoms @powerfulweak @kayteonline @anotherwinchesterfangirl @blue-phoenix-tears @requiemforthewolves @indi-flying-with-dragons @puppytoast @bxanxgtan @mcfuzzy20 @hexthespectre @purple-and-red-ribbons @fromotterspace @burn-it-slow @tehartmonkee @dutifullymadameashley @killiandameron @captainpoopweinersoldier @artlessictoan @purrtlepuff @chocolatebunnycake @argent-gale @nothingtoleave @nightmare-fantasia @midniallsnack @andromedas-daughter @my-write-mind @different-principles @tangeythetangerine @c-e-gold @random-alefiasolar @ellebeedarling @droid-to-the-world @xpress--urself @closeonmarksnosedive @thinkblueandr3d @novemblu @leopoldfitz @tonks42 @seraphim-of-the-finale @dragonshost-fanfiction @poketin @ofcoursetheymind @author-of-sins @peetaspikelets @officialao3fandomlastforever @randomfangirllaughs @thereddestglass @gaybirdkid @sailorgreywolf @strangesorceries @thecorruptedquietone @melifair @ganbareno @peanutbutterflutist @bi-antagonist @preciousgaby @atomicpen @mariamagica @comebacknow @reconfemmandoforares @happiestastronaut @marmaladephan @ayumichan46 @sergeantrooper @weldlys @bearlytolerable @thatnewcarsmeli @rozenly @notori @mymomthinksimfunny1 @sylvesterelle @edwardsisland @be-kita

@welkikitty

...I know people tend to not like vertical lists of @’s, but I just...want to illustrate that each of these tumblr names is a person who has a story to tell, is in some way struggling with their confidence level, and often, that lack of confidence is due to obscurity. Frequently, feeling intimidated by the work and popularity of one’s peers is just as pen-stopping.

But just by skimming each of their blogs (which I did, individually--this has taken hours of my time), I can say with certainty that none of these writers are bad ones, and I wish I had the time to sit down and read everything they all had to offer, not just to make them all feel better, but because I am sincerely curious! Look at all the fandoms! Look at all the genres here! This is a veritable cornucopia of colorful ideas and potential. Most of these people are relatively unknown. If you’re in one of the fandoms you see here, aren’t you curious about what you’re missing? Goes double for people who have original novels they’re working on, but have no one to read over their script and help them with it. Seriously, isn’t there something that can be done about that?

The second most popular tag was some variant of “thank you.” Which is very sweet, but I really don’t read that as indicating any virtue of mine so much as just another indication of need, someone who needed to read or hear that their situation isn’t hopeless, they don’t suck, and they can write that story they’re struggling with. They don’t hear anyone else telling them that on any sort of regular basis. Especially for someone who’s still trying to find their footing/niche as a writer, that’s a toxic, tragic state of being if writing is something you love. And for the record, I don’t buy for a second that love is enough to keep someone writing if no one is there to read it. Not for struggling authors and people just starting out. Silence is just as bad as, if not worse than condemnation for emerging writers. It’s one thing for an established writer to let a quiet, or disappointed crowd roll off their backs; they have the experience to know and trust in their own skill, and--largely because they already have a support network--can get back on that horse and keep writing even if they produced a lemon or two. Someone without that experience or support? Silence and strict criticism, more than anything, tends to cause a shutdown. (Yes, I’m aware there are exceptions, but in general, it’s true, and I’ve seen it again and again: “My writing doesn’t meet x standard, so what’s the point in even trying?”)

The point is that you usually have to walk before you run, and you can’t even get that far without support, encouragement, praise and redirection. You don’t even have to be an established mentor, you can be a passerby--hey that’s a nicely worded metaphor, good job...you misspelled “principle,” there--and you cannot understate just how helpful even that little interaction can be, if you’re positive about it. Even if you were flying at one point, it’s possible to fall, and if you do, you’ll need some help picking yourself back up. So when I say “don’t write in a vacuum,” that’s what I mean: even if you don’t show your work to anyone until you finish it, just knowing that there is someone out there waiting to see it, and anticipating it, willing to help you with it if you need it, and cheering you on all the while, is empowering. Isolation, on the other hand, not knowing who if anyone will even care to read your work or like it once it’s done, breeds blank pages and brain fog. Much of creativity is about communication. If there’s no one to communicate with, creativity suffocates. Unless you are a particularly talented introvert, you can only carry on a conversation with yourself for so long before all the words start to sound the same.

So, to @castiel-comatose, to @satari-raine, @referencesforpiamio... to

@blue-phoenix-tears @mama-sally @indi-flying-with-dragons @acidmatze @vanillaroses @fromotterspace @pristinepastel @blankinsidecards @nynynightmare @ruminationandtea @chocowl @chiyala @mag-i-cal @andromedas-daughter @megatraven @the-real-inu-girl @remsyk-blog @universe-apart @xmayleensyo @ellipsesarefun @internallydeceased @kigamin @sweeneymads @wepush @heartofpages @lauralot89 @franzwantscoffee @loveablelevi @poketin @maginpui @richard-of-windoor @yuri-on-ice-ice-babyyyy @azurethoughts @thunderstormsandcuddles @bekasyura @contentmintdraws @kurosakiami01 @strangesorceries @brynnmclean @howtotrainyouragents @lumierc @spywerewolf @yourcouragetothestickingplace @heuvelliedje @kateandtheuniverse @weeardo0 @ayumichan46 @silverbuttercups @rozenly @heartofwriting @darthshizuka @guardianmantis @gladnis-trash @firstorderelite @amiitens

...You’re welcome for the post, but it really was just...that sometimes, *I* feel isolated, and I feel like my writing is shit and no one could possibly care. But experience has taught me that there are so many reasons that’s simply an illogical sentiment, and those ten-ish items help me remember why it’s far more reasonable to assume I’m a good writer who faces the inherent difficulties of publishing in a vast sea of other writers on the Internet. In many ways, including with the list itself, I got lucky, got noticed by other people who already had a lot of followers, and through them I found people who were interested in my work, not because I’m some amazing writer (I’m not...just look at this structural disaster of a post at 5-something in the morning), but because I bothered to reach out in the first place. I’ve made similar posts several times in the past, and they didn’t go anywhere, but this time, I just ran into the right people at the right time. So it got to you, and you commented or tagged, and now you’re on this post with a bunch of other people you probably don’t know. Keep trying, and it happens, eventually. You will be seen.

That’s the real tragedy of all this...your ability to be seen and heard is attributable as much to chance as it is anything else. And you can’t really start to make your own luck until you have some social capital. I have a few followers, and so I hope that posting this can facilitate at least a little bit more luck for everyone I mention. So don’t be scared to respond (reblog--more people see that than when you comment), and say what you’re working on that you want people to see, or that your afraid won’t be finished, or won’t turn out right. Start a conversation about it. Say what about the story is important to you. Reach out. Let people know you have a story you want to tell, one that really matters to you. Maybe give a brief synopsis--you’d be surprised how that can pique someone’s interest. Really, anything. Just keep trying. Over time, people will find you.

Either way, point is, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but just because you left a tag on a post that helped you, someone saw you, liked you, and has every confidence that you have beautiful stories in your head that you are more than capable of putting to the keys. Whatever else you do with that information, please do not stop writing, and if you need help, maybe look through some of the people here who are or have been feeling rather invisible--there’s likely someone who shares your interests. Or just reblog, or message me, or message someone you know who maybe you haven’t thought to ask before, whatever it is you feel brave enough to do. If you want to, that is. If you don’t want to, that’s alright. I just...wanted to give everyone I saw a chance, a platform for it.

If I have one thing to add to my list--a #11--it’s that if you have a lack of support, encouragement and visibility in your writing life, you should probably treat that as a primary obstacle to your writing, before you blame yourself or your abilities. Beating yourself up for not being able to grab people’s attention without a preexisting network isn’t fair to you, although the inclination is understandable, given the expectation people tend to have for writers to do exactly that. But the truth is, you owe it to yourself to reserve judgement on your own work until you’ve seen what you can do with that support.

Now that I’ve spend entirely too many words explaining what’s probably a very simple concept, there were a few responses to the post that I felt...like I should answer, specifically. This isn’t because these people are better than anyone in the lists above (in fact many of them are in those lists), it’s simply because they said something I happened to have a specific response to. So...here goes nothing. Making friends, I hope!

@night57byrd

replied to your post

“Things I Try to Remember When I’m Nervous About Writing”

Thank you for this advice and wisdom. I have long harbored dreams of writing but have allowed my inner inner critic hold me back. This posting has given me a tremendous boost. Thank you for the gift.

This was one of the most heartwarming comments I received, and it showed up on my dash on a day where it seemed like everything was just falling apart around me. I should thank you, for giving me the synergy boost to soldier through the rest of a very difficult day. Knowing that at least I’d done something that had helped someone that much helped me make it through without breaking down. So thank you, for your gift of strength to me. I sincerely hope you enjoy getting into the wonderful, if often stormy world of writing (and I hope you’re able to get another season out of Pitch--I’ve been meaning to give that show a shot, along with Southside With You, but it just hasn’t happened for me, yet).

@wtf-and-shit

replied to your post

“Things I Try to Remember When I’m Nervous About Writing”

I really needed this cause I’ve been in a slump of sorts. Even asked myself “what do others want to read?”

And @whenimaunicorn has similar woes:

sometimes i lose my own voice trying to please the whole crowd but i'm just writing 'my' story not 'the' story i gotta remember that

Asking what others want to read (or conversely, what other want you to write) is a nasty trap I’ve fallen into multiple times. It’s not even conscious, half the time, you just start worrying if the words you’re putting on the page are just going to be too weird, to boring, or just not what people want to see. You start tweaking things to better reflect what you think others want to see, and before you know it, you’re writing something you really just don’t care about at all. I really sincerely believe that the best way to keep a story from falling over dead is to be continually invested in the content, even if that means changing the story to accommodate you when your interests change. That can sometimes lead the story in strange directions, but better a story be strange than incomplete, I would think.

Several people commented about calling themselves names:

@freestridingprinces said:

One of my very cute kouhais tagged me in this. I have a terrible habit of doing all of the negative things on this list. I’ve called myself boring many times. I will stop. I would never call anyone else who I’ve ever spoken with boring. So, I’m working on staying positive and nice to myself along with you all. Thank you for being kind to me when I needed it.

while @thecrimsonarcher is similarly inclined:

#10 is my biggest issue. Honestly, judging by the lack of feedback from my writings, I have come to the conclusion that my writings lack creativity because I am unable to hold anyone’s attention. My story is a mixture between Lovecraftian horror, psychological horror, and Southern gothic. Nobody wants to read that during this day in age.

and further notes the difficulties of competing with erotica (sorry, I switch the order of paragraphs for effect):

It’s made worse when no one gives me feedback or likes the post. Was my story really that bad? Did it suck so bad it didn’t warrant a response? More often than not, I find myself deleting my progress that I post on Facebook or Tumblr. If no one will give it the time of day, why even post it? What’s the point? The only way you’ll ever get recognized for writing on Tumblr is if you do fanfics, especially erotic fanfics.

I suspect one of the reasons fanfiction is as popular as it is, is that you automatically have something of a fan base right from the getgo, because the material in question is...well, by definition, a product of fandom. It’s also just a fact of life that people love smut, and often they love it for smut’s sake, rather than paying much attention to the quality of the writing. And that’s fine! But it does make things complicated when what you write is not smut.

One thing I would recommend is looking up some good Genfic groups. Even if you’re not planning on writing exclusively sex/relationship-free stuff, they might be a good place to start with short stories, just to build an audience and start working in the right direction to find more people who are looking for more than just getting off.

@dust2dust34 chimed in,

i've been very unkind to myself lately with blood hands     very unkind  

and @headphonesandbackpack also gives themselves a hard time,

#i need to keep that in mind #also i tend to hate my writing style #i think it's incredibly boring #i bore the shit out of myself while boring #but my french teachers seem to love what i write??? #and when i read it like a year later i think it's not that bad #i guess i need to believe in myself

There’s a lot of people out there who beat themselves up over their percieved skill level:

@lechatrouge673: I HAVE A CRISIS OF CONFIDENCE AT LEAST ONCE A WEEKAND I FEEL LIKE AN UTTER FRAUD

@ishipmyselfwitheveryone:  +sometimes i call myself 'useless sack of severed cocks' when i won't write good  +maybe that's part of my problem

(Well...tbh, yes? haha, I can think of several politicians who are far more deserving of being called that right now...*ahem* ANYWAY...)

@dragonsinparis has some strong feelings (that I agree with) while falling to #10 even in tags:

#i'm a lazy enough writer that i only actually get off my ass if there's a story i desperately want that I can't find  #(hence state of grace and this isn't what we meant especially)  #but what you're looking for that you can't find can be as simple as a style or an aspect or a moment or a choice  #which means that it is still rooted in your voice  #ANYWAY EVERYONE KEEP WRITING  #STORIES BUILD COMPASSION AND IF THERE IS ANYTHING WE NEED MORE OF IN THE WORLD IT IS THAT

So the self-berating issue seems to be pretty common, if completely unnecessary. Again the ability--or inability--to be able to get the words out perfectly is held as a measure of one’s talent or potential, and frustration with that and/or a lack of feedback leads to self-abuse--or it seems that way to me, correct me if I’m wrong, or want to add to this analysis. I’m no expert...but I remember that’s kinda how it worked, for me. I thought I should be able to just be better, and additionally, I didn’t want anyone to think I was stuck-up or pretentious about my work, so I said a lot of damaging things about myself and my writing, just to keep my expectations down so I could avoid disappointment. Problem was, the more I said it, the more I believed it, and the harder it was to actually feel like writing was worth the effort. It wasn’t until very recently I found enough support for that behavior to change, and I’m much less likely to put myself down nowadays.

Several people were just happy that kindness showed up in their feed:

@litwww:  Thank you, kind person who randomly appeared on my dash ❤

@letspartyrightnowplease:  I really needed this right now as I’ve been struggling and stressing the heck out

@zodiacdog101:  Thanks dude this helped through the slump I’m going through

@classicbkrder815:  Reblog. Thanks i needed this today. Lol I’m going to read it everyday to inspire myself.

@orcaspanielmermaids:  These are some of the kindest words I’ve received all week, after struggling with RL issues on top of fighting to get out of the corner I’ve written myself into. Thank you, OP. <3

@gymleader-nick:  You have no idea how bad I needed to hear this right now.

I swear I’m not including these to fan my ego, I was just very surprised how many people seemed surprised to find something encouraging on their dash. I am very happy that the list helped! I hope it continues to. But as @dragonsinparis opined above, encouragement and compassion in the writing world appear to be in lamentably short supply.

Guilt over breaks, unfinished work and asking for attention also seems to be a big culprit of empty-page syndrome:

@beqm:  I love the ‘You’re allowed to take breaks.“ Because right now I feel like I’m being a horrible slacker. I want to write but everything else seems to bee getting in the way.

@perpetuallyfive:  #the guilt is what makes writing the hardest for me? #any time i'm struggling with something and think ''maybe switch to another piece for now'' i feel bad #any time i ask someone to look at my stuff #anytime i want to say i'm trying to write a thing and i worry i won't finish in time and then all i can think is that i never finish in time #i sometimes try not to even post a thing until another thing is half finished because there are those times when no one cares #about that last thing you posted and it's SO DISCOURAGING #like you accept that you just write for you but it makes it hard to continue the next thing when you can't stop thinking you know #maybe you're not that good anymore #maybe you never were maybe it was just the fandom you were in was fucking thirsty #writing is the worst honestly except for those limited few times when it's the best #(i've been trying to write lately. if you couldn't tell.) #anyway i'm going to reread this list a lot right now.

@icybluepenguin: #I wish I were better talking about my stories with other writers #It always helps #But I always feel so guilty

@woodlandcrowns: I'd love to have a support circle of [fanfiction] writers--or even for original stuff at timesbut I believe I'd be a bother

@effinunicorns: I need to work on the 'talking to people about my fic' thing more but it feels so awkward

#7 of the list is a quick reminder for me that however many unfinished works I have that I never tell anyone about, there are just as many behind all the finished, polished stories I see on the AO3 pages of my friends. And hey, some people are simply more prolific than others, and that’s all right. Has no bearing on your worth as a writer if you cannot churn out chapter after chapter. Focus on what you want to do, what’s exciting for you to write right now. Then go for it. At some point, you’re going to get absorbed in one of those projects until it’s finished. It might take a while, even years, but it will happen, and you’ll find your groove along the way.

I should’ve made a 7.1: the number of finished works is not a measure of whether you’re a good writer. It’s worth considering that the purpose of writing, as an art, isn’t always to follow a story all the way to completion. If writing is a sort of “zen” thing for you, something you do to explore ideas for yourself, communicate them to others, and just enjoy and grow as a person through the process, it really doesn’t matter if the stories go unfinished, as long as you benefit from the exercise. Writing can be as much akin to meditation as it can be a job that you live off of. If that’s how it works for you, it’s still legit and you can still be extremely good at it. Even if you never finish a single piece, if it’s making your life better, don’t sweat it. Enjoy your talent for what it is. You can always hone it, but if the process of trying is both failing and causing you to lose confidence or self-esteem, maybe your writing pattern and skill is just different from that of the typical “career writer.” Maybe not, but it’s worth thinking about, and if that’s how it is for you, don’t let anyone tell you that you suck just because.

A lot of people are scared/already convinced that nothing they produce is any good and no one wants to read it:

@formsans96:  I just feel that no one does like them that much. Even my finished works.

@canadian-buckbeaver:  I keep looking at the views and kudos of other stories and it immediately affects me. “Why am I not that popular?” “Am I not that good?” But then I read everyone’s comments… immediately feel better.

@noodle-dogs:  #I HAVE LIKE....3 BIG PLOTS IN MY HEAD RN #BUT IM JUST SCARED MY WRITING WONT BE GOOD ENOUGH

@decembercamiecherries:  I get really nervous when writing WTWFI'm scared it won't turn out good and pple will be disappointed

@talentlessandoptimistic:  #the downside is I'm literally the only person who wants to read it #which is why I don't share it

@sandrasr91:  sometime I want to write but I don't know if it'll be any good

@itsactuallycorrine:  # i keep telling myself i just need to put words on the page # but i'm at the halfway point and doubting everything

This is writer anxiety #1, and I’m 100% convinced that (in addition to the effects of more uncontrollable factors such as clinical depression and other intrusive MI in some individuals) it results from a lack of support. If no one ever reads your stuff or says anything good about it, how are you supposed to know if it’s an effective piece of writing or not?

That’s another way of combating writing anxiety: Don’t judge stories in terms of “good” and “bad.” I tend to think of most stories as “good,” even if they’re poorly written. We all wrote crappy stories before we wrote “good” ones, but it was still good that we went through the experience of writing the crappy ones, and old stories still have a certain charm about them.

Rather, I try to look at stories in terms of their effectiveness: did they reach the reader on a personal level? Did I communicate what I wanted to say? If so, then the piece was a success, was effective. If not, it was an ineffective piece, and I’ll just have to work on making sure the next one comes across more clearly.

But nothing, no philosophy, no reminders, no lists can substitute for friends and writing/reading buddies. It’s so important to establish those, or you’re likely to feel isolated and distraught when you post your blood sweat and tears to a brick wall and receive nothing in response for your efforts.

If you’re not writing fanfiction, there is a group called Critters (critters dot org) that I cannot recommend highly enough. They call themselves a “workshop,” but really, they’re a fantastic resource for submitting manuscripts for (gentle, but useful!) critique. There’s a very reasonable, common-sense but quite in-depth etiquette for critting others’ work (people tell you when you do something RIGHT, too!), and you are required to critique a few short stories before you can submit your own, but it’s not hard, and gives you a lot of great practice on both giving and receiving writing assistance.  I used this group for a few years while I was unemployed, and the people there are wonderful and helped me a great deal. Do give it a look if you’re having a hard time finding anyone to read your work. You’ll make some friends!

There was one comment that caught my eye on this note:

@mamakat926:  All good things I need to remember when I’m struggling to write my first fanfic…

I wish you the best of luck! The first one is always hard. And even though you’re writing fanfiction, it’s worth having a look at Critters (critters dot org)! There’s so many resources there to help you get off the ground with your first attempts.

Of course, I have to mention the lovely @lidicores, who translated the entire post into Portuguese. I can’t read a lick of it, but that was awesome, haha!

I needed this right now. I’ve been lacking drive to write since last november. The emptiness is excrucianting. Then a week ago a friend asked me about the story and I suddenly started to think about it again. I even reread some chapters… hopefully I’ll be back soon. Hopefully…

Oh, English is not my first language, so, don’t you worry, I’m not this bad writing in Portuguese. LOL

Having two or more languages under your belt already gives you a leg up on most writers. I hope you’re able to get back into it, soon.

Several people expressed concern about coming back to writing after a long hiatus:

@mxrdins: #i wanna start writing fanfics too :( #i mean long ones in englisn #but am i too late with it #after all im 18 lol and there is a looooong break behind me in writing

@sazula:  I haven't written anything in so long but i want to

@arie-172:  # i need to remind myself of so many of these# idk but it's been so long since i've written something that i had forgotten what it was to feel this way# you know the way in which you kind of second guess everything

@dragontameroutofcharacter:  mmmmm i feel like this is · why i can't write lately tho · there isn't · anything i want to read · like honestly lately i just · want to sleep · i work and i come home and i try to stay awake until evening · i've got books i was so excited to get · that i'm still not reading · haven't even started · i miss writing ·

Just like when you’re first starting out, getting back into it is a question of connection and support, knowing who and what your resources are, and using them. And patience with, and compassion for yourself. You can’t expect the first thing you produce to be as clean as the last thing you wrote before your hiatus, so avoid comparing them. Maybe you want to try a new style or a different perspective, just for fun or to keep the results from being comparable in the first place. I really hope all of you are able to dive back in, though. And 18 is not at all too old! I skipped 3 years of writing between 16 and 19, and it didn’t take me long to get back up to speed.

One person expressed skepticism at the implications of needing/taking writing advice from a tumblr post:

@epherians:  #I DON'T FEEL SURE WHEN I HAVE TO FIND COMFORT IN WRITING ADVICE POSTS…

I understand and even share this sentiment, and of course you’re perfectly welcome to throw all this out the window with no resentment from my end! But...I’m curious, have you ever seen the movie, Adaptation? If not, you really should. Even though it has Nick Cage in it. Or because it does, depending on your persuasion.

Now, to a few slightly more personal responses. The first is more of a question, because I spotted this tag in one of the reblogs:  ableist language ...I wanted to ask, @arathergrimreaper, was this meant to note that I used such language in my post? If so, please let me know where I messed up so I can fix it! And I’m quite sorry if I injured anyone with some bad wording in there.

@theladyjanes used the tag  such powerful words for the post, and that...I dunno, it just hit me hard. Thank you. Powerful is not often a word that is used to describe me or what I say, so I appreciate it, a lot.

@americannoteven said,

#I've reread this about 15 times now #each time feels more and more personal #bc fuck #I should... stop being so hard on myself

Yes, please...if you can manage it, give yourself a break. I hope that the list helped you, and I hope you work through your writing struggles soon. My message and ask boxes are always open, to everyone. =)

@xbean wrote,

#It's taken me a while to get back into it especially when someone you called your best friend read one and made you feel like shit after the

Okay so this messed with me, because...well, because this happened to me several years ago. And I’m sorry, so sorry that that happened to you. It’s a horrible, awful feeling. I hope you can get back into the swing of writing--and if you have to, use spite and resentment to fuel your determination to write, no matter what anyone thinks about it. It’s yours. Do your thing! The best antidote for the shame and hurt is to just keep writing, and when you finally get through the pain, you will have leaned an incredible amount about what parts of your writing are yours and how to discard the pieces you put in there simply to please others. Be strong, you can make it through.

@bamfcoyotetango raged,

FUCK IF I DIDN'T NEED THIS AFTER THE SHIT SHOW THAT GREETED MY LATEST CHAPTER

29 HITS FOR A CHAPTER NEARLY 2K LONG

Another awful feeling, working especially hard on a story or chapter, only to have no one comment, and hardly anyone even look at it.

It likely isn’t that your writing is bad or even ineffectual, though. It could have been a bad time of day to post. Your normal readers just might not have been available. Did you let anyone know that the chapter was up? Try pinging them, if not. In any case, don’t immediately think that silence means it sucked and no one liked it, or that it was too boring for strangers to notice. True is, it’s really hard to make a title that gets people’s attention without designing it as pure clickbait (and if you’ve avoided that nasty habit, good on you!).

I hope your next chapters garner more interest. Out of curiosity, what’s the story about?

@takemeawaymothman said, this last one really like? got to me 

-- and it seems like, while #1 (write what you want to read) was the most popular/cited, #10 (don’t call yourself names) had the strongest reaction...a few tags suggesting it pulled some tears. I’m a little curious as to why that is...is it really so rare for anyone to tell you that you are not stupid? Gosh...I want to give all of you hugs, haha!

(also, cool account name!)

@bastian-casillas-fussballgott (omg, I spelled it!) simply said,  this means a lot to me. This seems like one of those quiet, but profound statements, and I’m happy that this little list was so meaningful. I hope it helps.

@fireferns said,  

#making a bunch of these things stuff i think and believe had helped my writing more than anything

And I wholeheartedly agree that...nothing on that list really does anything to help if you do not internalize it. It has to be something you’re just as willing to tell other people. And it’s not comprehensive! Nor is it for everyone. Many people mentioned that they actually do write better without any outside interference. That’s great--the list was just my list, and I think everyone would probably benefit from making their own, tailoring it to what works best for their writing style.

@infinitelystrangemachinex echoes my feelings:

#I am nervous about writing 100% of the time#It is the most stressful and unforgiving thing I have ever done and ever will do#but I also love it more than anything

Yes, yes! Even writing this, I am constantly thinking about how it all can go wrong, how people might be mad at me for @’ing them, or think I’m creepy for having gone through all the notes and read them...but, I just have this thing I have to get out, you know, and as terrifying and sometimes heartbreaking as it has been, nothing has ever been more rewarding to me, or caused so much positive growth in me, than my writing. And if I don’t constantly defy my anxiety, it takes hold of me and paralyzes me. So, writing is not just important. To me, it’s necessary. I imagine it’s that way for many other people, too.

@pandora15 had a conundrum:

#this is giving me inspiration to work on my clone wars fic

#but like

#i have an exam tomorrow

#so i shouldn't

#ugh but I WANT TO

#this is hard

I have to know...what did you choose?

@thetamburlaine got excited about their AU plotbunny--er, porpoise?:

this actually got me writing right away after a few weeks slump the two first points did it i think anyway for future encouragement free willy au here i come

WOW, I’m glad it helped that much--and also, wow again, a Free Willy AU? I’d never have imagined there would be fanfiction for that movie, but now that I think about it, it kinda makes sense. I’m very curious!

@irresistible-revolution said that  #i might be crying #the blogger had an emotional day y'all  and I really hope that wasn’t a bad thing. I don’t want my post to have made things worse! I hope you’re all right.

And finally, @positivelycurious writes  #needed this as I'm attempting to finally write a memoir -- A memoir, really? That’s awesome, I’ve never met anyone who’s written one, before. Good luck!

Um...okay, I think that’s all. I know that there will be more notes after this date (05/07/2017), but unfortunately it will be very hard for me to separate old from new comments and tags, so I may never be able to get to answering any more. Sorry about that, but please know that I read everything, even tags, and this post has just gone on an unbelievable journey through so many people, if only briefly. I appreciate all the feedback and hope it continues to help others get out of their writer’s block.

I also apologize if this post is in any way out of line or uncomfortable to those I’ve tagged in it. I mulled for a long time on whether or not to do it this way, rather than just sending individual messages to everyone I mention here. Again, if you want to be removed from this post, tell me and I will do so immediately. The reason I made this post is at least partially based on a post I made about two years ago, where I called out as many of my followers as I could to tell them how and why I was thankful for them. Really, that’s what I’m trying to do here, too. Although most of you do not follow me, and honestly, you probably have no reason to start, just being aware of you and your writing troubles, and the fact that I may have helped them just a little bit, makes you all very important to me. There’s so much creativity out there and I hate to see it bottled. Your gratitude and thanks have been a constant stream of comfort during a terribly stressful time in my life, and for that, I really cannot thank you enough.

Even though we’re complete and total strangers, I know you matter, and so do your stories. Do not give up on them. The world is better if they’re written, that they might fall into the hands of someone who needs them.

-Luna

#misc #writing #writer problems #response post #long post #longpost #stories are important #please tell yours #even if it's fiction #there is nothing fictional about the comfort of fictional things #not video games #essay #okay #this is my last attempt #if tumblr breaks it again...oh well #we'll see

[schematicsofhumanitas]

Dead people don’t text back.

Clara is my friend from school. I was 17 years old by then and I miss her so much. I want to tell you this story because a week ago I had a dream with her after so long and since then I feel different. Nowadays we can write things up over here. In the dream we were together as we used to, talking about school, D&D, movies and philosophy. As we were sitting by the lake, it was my chance to tell her my feelings so I finally do it: I get close to her and say "I love you Clara". My emotions are exploding, I feel my heart pounding incredibly fast until I realize she looks at me, gently caresses my cheek with her right hand, stabs my stomach with a held knife in her left hand. I slowly feel colder, staring at her asking her why but no voice coming out of me. I had been muted with a death call while she's smiling at me, jiggling and pushing harder, destroying all my hopes of living... and my hopes of staying alive. I was liking it, the idea that my life had been lost since then, and finally we could go together, somewhere. But then, all fades out except for her smile, and I can't look away, can't look away. Her smile was staring at me and I started to fear, fear so much... It felt like an eternity and I just could not get out of the dream, and all was black except for her face in front of me, smiling and watching me fall apart.

I woke up immediately after that. Sweating and crying, managed to stand up, write down the dream to not forget it and get on with my adult life. But I felt different... since yesterday I've been feeling a weird tickle within me...

She and I were really close friends, so much so that our parents knew each other: they had been somewhat close since we met in primary school. We occasionally did things together whenever she had the chance. I was of course always available for her, but she used to go out with her friends instead of going out with me and I didn't want her to do that. It was rude after what I'd done for her. However, out of all the other guys in class, she preferred to be near me, just as I had thought since the incident in the school bus when two guys were bothering her: I pushed one of them out of the window and kicked the other one out through the entrance stairs. Naturally, that suspended me from school for some days, but so it did for these two bullies. Ever since, no one else had ever bothered her especially if I was nearby.

The days after, we were talking and I told her that no one would ever be bothering her if we stayed together, because I was invincible, and it was my duty to protect her well-being. I felt this was my duty as her friend. She responded me with a timid smile. I realized she was the shy type of girl, and that she was definitely okay with that.

Our friendship long lived. And as I had mentioned, we were like peanut butter and jelly, especially the first years. We always used to hang out to the lake or to be at each other's home, even texting each other whenever it was too late to meet and talk about the usual: it seemed that we were like a couple. However, we never had a romance: I never had the courage to spit out my feelings: her silence used to defy my heart, and everything stands still whenever I was having the need of sharing to her the inexplicable. So, I always decided to keep it for a special moment.

Things changed suddenly though. I never understood why, but sometimes I used to feel resilience from everybody else towards me, particularly while being close to her. I didn't care, we didn't care. At school we would always be kinda separated from everyone else, but lately she had been joining with a group of friends I didn't know about. They seemed so rude and careless... She had been absent for some days, so I had been memorizing this speech in which I'd ask her why she'd been away from me so much, and so close to those airheads, as if they were more important than my protection. How could she forget my protection? nobody was close to her thanks to me, to my sacrifice in that school bus the year before.

I snap out and suddenly I see her in front of me, with her new "friends" behind, while we were in the cafeteria. - why are you staring at me like that? are you jealous? - she said. I stayed in silence, shocked as I could not believe the insane level of treason. I couldn't believe how she spontaneously spoke to me that way, with that tone... I had never heard her voice with that timbre, as if she was another person, another being. At some point I answer something, maybe part of my well thought speech, but I can't remember, I can't, and it hurts me so much. I want to know why everything ended up so bad, I want to know if it was my fault. I can't even remember what happened clearly, I just remember I was being constrained by three guys, as if I was some sort of monster... I also remember everybody looking at me, terrified. That really terrified me too. I felt I was like an endangered species, being threatened by humankind, so I ran away, as fast as I could. I just wanted to ask Clara why had she done that to me, why. I really wanted to, but there was no other choice but to retaliate... her well being was being compromised by those school dangers, and I had to do something about it. She didn't even realize this... but I had to be the one opening her eyes.

Some days had passed and I was suspended from school. The third day after I decided to call Clara. I had to do something as I was losing my mind. So I sneak downstairs and take the wireless phone from my parent's house, because my phone had been taken away and I call her immediately.

- Clara, is it you? - I asked. - Yes. Who is it? - Me, Ethan. I miss you. What happened? - I don't wanna talk to you, Ethan. - Why? What have I done? - Are you seriously asking me this? Ethan have you lost your mind even more? - This makes no sense, I'm coming to you. I need to know why you're being so mean to me. - Ethan... no.

As soon as we hung up, I could already feel her tears rolling down her cheeks, but not mine. Let me tell you: love is a sick thing of humans. We're quite rational, we think, but in the end things come down to desire and are dictated by some incomprehensible realizations within our minds.

I take my backpack with the board games and head right out to her house, 10 minutes walking, but I run. I arrive quite soon and I knock the door but no one answers. I feel Clara was disappearing from my life, so I started yelling at the door her name: CLARA! CLARA! and no one was ever answering me, until somebody opened the door: it was her dad. He told me I must go or else he was going to call the police. What nonsense is this? He knows CLARA is my friend, we've always been! So I push this idiot and force my entry, head upstairs. I was engulfed in a cloud of rage, I could not control myself. Clara is in her room, frightened... I tried talking to her, then hugging her, but she wasn't moving. Then I cried, and I felt the sky was falling, as I had lost the most important thing in my life: her confidence.

Apparently I was taken away that day. I then moved to an institute of advanced studies on philosophy some hours away from the city. The place is so exclusive, you don't get to go out, could you believe? You are secluded to exploit your talent as a thinker and you're paid very, very well. You also get the opportunity to meet so many great thinkers... it's a sublime environment, I really like it. Even my parents are proud of me now, before they weren't even happy with me. Maybe I was meant for this, to innovate the world with out of the box ideas alongside my colleagues, come up with unconventional solutions for the actual problems that condemn the development of humanity. In the end, not everybody can be very intelligent.

I've been living here since then, and here you have me. We have this chance to express ourselves now since some months ago. At least, to several of the researchers, me included. It's a test from some other researchers that manage the rest of us: they're considered the faculty of the institution, and sometimes they come up with these things since there are several open experiments to which all of us are subjected to in order to study the human brain superiority over the species, or so they say. In any case, it's just technicalities and I seriously understand it.

Anyway. After the dream, and since last week, she suddenly started texting me again just like before: "Hey Ethan how are you?", "wanna go out sometime?", "I miss our D&D afternoons...", "remember when we used to shatter to pieces the theories of Descartes? Really, who could believe such things".

But I don't get it. Why is she texting me after so long? Something is there telling me something's odd about this. I really wanted her to be here with me these years and now she comes to me under such circumstances? I can't leave my academia now! I have so many things to do: on top of the thinking process and development, everyday I must manage my other friends and I'm the designated opener of the cafeteria. The colleagues say that I still have some duties to do before I can be free again, which makes sense! I haven't even been able to finish my own theory of the Evil genius, and I also receive visits from my parents from time to time which is okay. Why doesn't she try visiting me instead? I really don't understand.

I go into deep introspective. There must be something I can do, right? I mean, she might be thinking that I don't want to see her again. Texting back or maybe even calling would be better, however my colleagues told me that's something so far prohibited, therefore I must wait to do so. In the meantime, I'll act normal and casually mention this event to my friend Karl.

- Hey Karl, how are you? - Ethan. It's been a while. These days you've been thinking huh?

Didn't expect that clarity from him. Apparently I've been spacing and not being myself. He is already telling me things without even intending to.

- Yeah, being in this institute sometimes makes us forget about what's around. I feel my memory fades sometimes. - That's normal, actually.

Karl has always been knowledgeable, even under dire circumstances. That's why I want to know what he thinks about these unconventional happenings.

- So Karl, you know... I've been wondering. You know this girl, Clara? the one I told you about. - yes? - Well, she's been texting me, after so long. - What? - Yeah... as if we were settled up again. I was expecting her to text me for so long! Can you believe? I need to text her back after this! I mean, and specially after that dr- - Ethan... - dream! If you'd knew about my dream, it was so scary be- - Ethan... - because she appeared out of nowhere and suddenly I was fr- - Ethan... - frozen and then all blacked out except for... - ETHAN! - what? - Ethan... Dead people don't text back.

#horror psychotic philosophy

[capturedrook]

Getting Way Too Into An Online Astrology Reading

So I decided to check out a full astrology thing with the Chaos Astology site, and while I know a lot of it is purposefully vague so as to apply to everyone...It's super fun. Now, here's a really long post of me commenting on some of the stuff it said about me!

Firstly, it's worth acknowledging that I'm a Cancer Sun. So the baseline is emotional, maternal, homebody type stuff. Nourishing and moody and all that. Post is sorted by quotes that relate to each other rather than by planet or house or whatever.

Atmosphere

There was a lot of stuff about 'atmosphere' and 'imagination'.   "With the Sun placed in Cancer, you are very good at creating the receptive atmosphere and nurturing climate necessary for desires to grow and flourish." - From Sun in Cancer Well, I've kind of heard that my whole life. I think most people hear a lot of stuff about their sun sign growing up. I wonder how much that informs the way they act, knowing what's expected of them because of something like that? "A born creator of atmosphere, especially when it comes to the home and domestic surroundings." - From Moon Trine Neptune Cancer Suns are supposed to like, super love being home (and I do) so I guess that's fair enough...But doesn't everything kind of make atmosphere? Even no atmosphere or a clusterfuck is its own kind of atmosphere.   "You have real vision and insight into the unity that ties this world together. Your brilliant imagination and enchanting manner transport all who meet you beyond the mundane and into the extraordinary regions where you spend a lot of your time. You are a seer, in the true sense of the word, and possess a waking experience of that part of us that is mystical and dreamlike. You find new ways to bring people together, to unify situations. Unusual music." - From Uranus Conjunct Neptune What a fuckin' swerve at the end there. Unity, brilliant, enchanting, transport, extraordinary, seer, mystical, but your taste in music is weird. "You tend to radiate a dream-like quality that draws others to you. You are also highly receptive to environmental influences and to other people. More positively, you have a keen imagination, intuitive and creative gifts, coupled with the power of inspiration." - From Neptune in the 1st House Again with the 'dream-like' stuff. You know what else "radiates a dream-like quality"? Head trauma. Sleepiness. Brain fog. Some medications. Any scene in a movie that has fog and trees. The room where you fight Dark Link. Music by "In Love With a Ghost" (especially "Flowers"). Rainy, sleepy days with blankets. Afternoon burn-out from an overproductive morning. Metronomes, sometimes? "A built-in sense of what the public wants and the ability to come up with just the right image." -  From Moon Trine Neptune "You have great insights into what motivates the public, crowds, and the mind in general." - From Uranus Sextile Pluto I do?! That would be really handy, if it were true. "Yours is a lightning wit. You somehow know everything about everybody."  From Mercury in Gemini Apparently I don't, since I didn't know that about me. Checkmate.

Intensity

There was also a LOT of stuff about me being, uh, intense. I did say there was a lot of 'imagination' type stuff but the amount of messages that had 'intense' in it or similar ideas is...Intense. Hm.

"You are a hard worker; however, you need to pace yourself well in order to avoid stress-related illnesses." -  From Mercury in the 6th House Okay, that's not so bad. I know that's a problem I have and I can deal with it. That's fine.

"Ambitions are backed-up by the will to get things done, but can be very driven to the point of being too aggressive." -  From Sun Semisquare Mars Yeah, all right. I've also been told that from being a Slytherin...But I never really seem to get anything done, now do I?

"Comes on strong and tends to intimidate."  From Sun Sesquiquadrate Pluto (That's absurdly specfic) Especially when I'm excited. I try to keep a cap on it but when I get happy or excited about a New Thing, I tend to get loud and energetic. I also stand up during difficult fights in video games. "Not afraid of a good confrontation. This intensity puts self and others through a lot of changes." I am *very* afraid of a good confrontation, thank you very much! I don't even like going to the grocery store if there's too many people. Or talking to doctors. Or making phone calls.

"Big heart, big love, you are seldom petty. Given to grand gestures and dramatic scenes, you love freedom and greatness of feeling in your relationships."  -  From Venus in Leo This explains how dramatic absolutely all of my characters are but yeah, that can definitely come across as intense.

"Your drive to innovate, invent, and find new ways to use things is both well coordinated and intense." -  From Mars Trine Uranus  Intense again.

"You have a relentless drive to get at the heart of things, whatever is under the surface or behind the scenes. Your relentless pursuit of anything hidden or secret makes you a researcher or investigator bar none. Emotionally you are also hot stuff, rushing into areas and handling subject matter that others would never come near. Vulnerable issues, sensitive areas of the self, and psychology are the first places you head. This amounts to a passion with you. Those around you may find you just too intense to be around." -  From Mars opposite Pluto  More intense! Does this add or multiply?!

"You can work with sensitive and vulnerable psychological areas without batting an eye, and would be good at instructing others in these areas. Your keen mind and great analytical powers always manage to get at whatever motivation is beyond apparent behavior. You can see what is behind touchy and very personal matters." -  From Uranus Sextile Pluto For all that I'm making jokes about this, this kind of is a problem that I have. I tend to just cut right into it with total strangers and most people...Don't want that. But then some of them do and seek it out themselves, and so I end up spending my lunch break at work talking someone through trauma from her childhood and we're both happier for it, and I'm still proud that I got to help someone. That shouldn't take precedence over the fact that it makes people uncomfortable, though; I need to take care to slow down, check signals, and start with just...Being chill. I need to chill.

"You work with real imagination and understanding in areas of the mind that are the most personal or private -- depth psychology. You are like a midwife of the spirit, assisting at the birth of each individual going through a spiritual or re-birth process. You accept the natural process of birth, spiritual and physical, and have dedicated yourself to helping it along. You would make a great teacher in these areas." -  From Neptune Sextile Pluto  That isn't chilling, and "Midwife of the spirit" is both a very cool and very unsettling phrase.

"An in-fighter, with animal-like instincts, you love being where the action is most intense. Your penetrating mind gets through the B.S. and straight to the bottom line." -  From Jupiter in Scorpio  1. No, I don't like intensity! I get anxious! Bad! 2. Again, with the cutting to the core stuff. This is getting absurd.

"When you do enact a change, it is always at the deepest or core level and affects everything else in your life." -  From Saturn Semisquare Uranus  I think a core might have done something to me in a previous life because apparently I'm hunting them down systematically.

"You tear through appearances in an effort to get beneath, behind, and at the heart or essence. You may find psychology, initiation, mysticism and the occult of great interest. Intense personal change and inner growth are lifelong habits." -  From Pluto in Scorpio See?? But really, the occult and mysticism are both pretty interesting to me, obviously, since I'm reading this to begin with.

"Scorpio is intense, passionate, and very personal. It rushes past superficialities and right to the heart of any matter." "Scorpio loves to get involved, going down deeper, coming up dirtier, and laying bare anything that lies hidden there." -  From Scorpio on the 11th House Cusp How many things do this? I know 'intense' is a pretty vague direction for it to take but this is getting to be a really crazy amount of the same thing being said at me over and over. Can someone else do theirs and let me know how often it uses the word 'intense'? Maybe the writer just didn't have a thesaurus. Or had a list of buzzwords.

"Sagittarius is nothing if not direct, candid, and to the point, for this sign is always concerned with the absolute truth of the subject at hand." -  From Sagittarius on the 12th House Cusp   Is there such a thing as absolute truth, though? Truth is relative. 

"You value personal contact, cutting through all the externals and getting to the heart of things. You understand and appreciate vulnerability and have no compunction about presenting your own sensitive spots to others. You enjoy working behind the scenes, getting at secret and hidden areas of the mind and psyche. Changes and transformative experiences are where you like to be most.” - From Venus Square Pluto I do actually really dislike small talk and love when people just act like we've known each other for years already. Show up and talk to me about some personal shit. Tell me if you want me to just listen, advise, or comfort. Tell me how you feel about dreams and space and stuff. Talk about how much you've changed since you were in school, and how that makes you feel.

"You have an inner need for communication of all kinds and may have too many irons in the fire at times. You can be all over the place, always trying to make one more connection. Speaking and writing are natural interests."  - From Mars in Gemini Shhhhh. Let me have my irons. It's a very big forge, it'll be fine.

Philosophy

"Outlook is mainly philosophical, optimistic and content. " -  From Sun Trine Jupiter If you have to tell someone they're content...

"You also have a great interest in ideas, the more true and lasting the better. Philosophical concepts will be a lifelong concern for you. " -  From Mercury Trine Jupiter Gee, that doesn't sound fun. Can we not do that?

"You may fear the deeper, mystical side of life and need to give more freely of both your time and understanding, for you will find that giving out to others in this way helps to lessen your own burdens." -  From Saturn in Pisces ...What did I *just* say?

Misc:

"Restless. Good memory and strong powers of recall." -  From Moon Semisquare Mercury Maybe long-term; I can remember the pattern on the fabric inside my baby swing looked like. Short-term, I'm not even sure what I ate today, let alone for breakfast yesterday.

”You are well suited to dealing with the public and could enjoy professional success in personnel work, sales, the arts, entertainment industry, or the counseling fields.” - From Venus in the 7th House

The Seventh House: "The seventh house, the descendant - opposite of the ascendant - is connected with partnerships, relationships and 'significant others'. Here is where we learn to strike a balance - the art of give and take." Oh, okay. I wonder how mine contradicts with- Cancer on the 7th House Cusp “Cancer is the mother of the zodiac, always making a home, protecting and providing a foundation for others. A sensitive sign where feelings and real experience count more than cold logic, it doesn't get any more physical and emotional than this." I have doubled down, repeat, DOUBLED DOWN on feelings. "You have stable emotions and tend to form strong attachments to the past, perhaps to the extent of making you resistant to change." - From Moon in Taurus Does this lessen the other stuff? Are we bad to a x1 emotional multiplier instead of a x2? "Capricorn is the business head of the zodiac, for it is the very opposite of the emotional Cancer."  -  From Capricorn on the 1st House Cusp Is that...Is that bad for a Cancer Sun? Am I gonna split in half? Or, wait. Does that even it out to a 0 because of the Taurus thing?

"Magnificent willpower. " - From  Sun Sesquiquadrate Pluto Roll to disbelieve. Also, can we acknowledge what ‘ Sesquiquadrate’ means? “An aspect in which two planets are separated by an angle of 135 degrees.”  It’s like the pose in Bloodborne where you show the Great Ones you do, in fact, understand math.  “-however, you may need to guard against dictatorial inclinations, as these will cause unfavorable reactions in others.” - From Pluto in 10th House I may need to WHAT "A special gift for spanning generation gaps; bringing older and younger spirits together."   - From Sun Sextile Moon I know what this actually means, but I love the idea of it implying I’m some kind of ghost relationship expert. 

Blatantly wrong, so wrong it offends me:

"You are very interested in tradition and tend to be dignified and conservative. You believe in an orderly society led by benevolent monarchs - those who can see what to do." - From Neptune in Capricorn No??? That sounds HORRIBLE. What?! Tradition is stupid, dignity is overrated, I am never conservative about anything, an orderly society is how people lose their spark, and monarchies are the worst decision you could make. Okay? Okay. "Voluptuousness and eroticism are implied." - From  Moon Square Venus I'm 5'3" and 100lb, how "voluptuous" do you think I can be?? "An optimistic and charming nature; this is a very favourable feminine combination." - From Moon Square Venus This is just flat-out gross.

And then I reopened the page to check something, and now it says the Sun is in the 6th House, not the Seventh. Is this checking where it is now, not where it was when I was born? Next I ought to use a different site and see if it says planets are in literally any of the same places this does.  EDIT: I went through and updated/removed the stuff that was out of whack. For some reason, sometimes it opened using one timezone and sometimes using another. I don’t know why. I changed it to only use info from the one with the accurate timezone. Disappointingly, none of the ones I really hate changed.  Anyway, that’s it! If anyone who actually knows anything about astrology wants to give their take on it or talk about this, let me know! It’s been...Something. 

#kit rambles #astrology #a completely unnecessary post #i wouldn't take any of this to heart but it's good for introspection #cancer sun #taurus moon #can't wait to see how tumblr murders my formatting

[theharrystyleseffect]

A long survey

Thanks @heart-attack-harry for tagging me, keeping my head a bit occupied. 😘

1 - Who was the last person you texted? Uhm. Think it was my mum.

2 - When is your birthday? 11 November.

3 - Who do you want to be with right now? Esmeralda.

4 - What sports do you play? Getting out of bed in the morning.

5 - Who is the first person in your contacts? A guy named Adam.

6 - What is your favorite song as of the moment? Meet Me In The Hallway.

7 - If you were stranded on an island, who do you wish to be with? Peter Pan cos he could fly me home.

8 - What do you feel right now? An ache in my back and a sorrow in my heart fdghj But I’m okay.

9 - What chocolate is your favorite? Ehm. I think... I dunno. Norwegian chocolate. Or Belgian.

10 - How many boyfriends/girlfriends did you have? Okay, if we’re counting them childhood love, then 3. 

11 - Why did you create a Tumblr account? This one I made specifically so I could geek over Harry’s incredible talent with other geeks.

12 - Who is your favorite blogger? I have a-many. @heart-attack-harry @linnsometimes @harryandgaga @styloffonpostlimit @harrysimpact @savage-styles @cantquitu @adorkablehazza @johnlennon-harrystyles @hazzwatch (CRY) but a lot of the others have changed their urls and I’m quickly losing track of them. Please, kids. I miss knowing who you are! 

13 - Where do you want to be right now? In a very hot tub.

14 - What do you want to be in the future? A fucking rockstar.

15 - When was the last time you cried? All day yesterday.

16 - Are you happy? Happiness is a warm gun and do you see me sitting on one?

17 - Who do you miss? My childhood. Not necessarily what went on, just... I want a way to do it over again, but differently.

18 - If you were given a chance, would you like to have a different life? Oh hell yeah!

19 - What was the best thing you were given? My love for music.

20 - Who was the last person who called you? Mum. They’re currently in a caravan, on their way to visit me.

21 - What is your favorite dish? Potatoes. Anything chips, really.

22 - Who is your bestfriend? @adorkablehazza and @linnsometimes. Very lucky to have the two of them in my life online and outline.

23 - What is your biggest regret? Bukowski said, “regret is mostly caused by not having done anything,” and so I have a lot of them, too many to count.

24 - Have you ever cheated on your partner? No.

25 - Who do you spend crazy moments with? My pals, the triforce. A fucking nerdy bunch.

26 - Name someone pretty. Harry Styles’ nips.

27 - Who was the last person you hugged? My flattymate. 

28 - What kind of music do you listen to? I...don’t know where my taste falls, I just know I don’t like whatever category Justin Bieber falls in. His music rubs me wrong. 

29 - Are you over your past? I’m in therapy.

30 - Who is the last person in your contacts? A guy named Martin.

31 - What kind of person do you want to date? A musically gifted or musically nerdy guy with lots of humour, charm and intelligence. I like to learn stuff and I love deep and long conversations. I’m not asking too much.

32 - Do you have troubles sleeping at night? owh HELL yaz, I’m a professional insomniac. Today I fell asleep at 10 am (!). 

33 - From whom was the last text message you received? Mum. She texts a lot when on the road.

34 - What do you prefer, jeans or skirt? Going naked. Or Jeans.

35 - How’s your heart? Missing dead stuff.

36 - Did you ever have a girlfriend/boyfriend whose name starts with a “J”? Janove. Where art thou. My heart is still wide open.

37 - Do you like someone as of the moment? Naeh. 

38 - What would you want to say to your latest ex-boyfriend/ex-girlfriend? I’d give him a cheeky smile and say, “Remember me?” 

39 - Do you have any phobias? Spiders!!!!!!!!!!!! Life in general.

40 - Did you try to change for a person? Oh no. Nothing in this world can ever make me change for someone else, I’m way too stubborn for that and always have been. 

41 - What’s the nicest thing you haven given to someone? My heart. 

42 - Would you go back to your previous relationship? No.

43 - Are you in a good or bad mood? I’m fine. Content.

44 - Name someone you can’t live without. Flattymate.

45 - Describe your dream date. Hm. If there’s a telescope involved then count me in. Music. Telescope. The night sky. Something nice to drink, and just a generally long fucking conversation about astrophysics, the philosophy of life, planet and stars. That, or full music geek out.

46 - Describe your dream wedding. In space.

47 - How many roses did you receive last Valentine’s? I’ve never received anything on valentines day.

48 - Have you ever been kissed? Deep, hot and rowdy. 

49 - How long is your longest relationship? 1 years.

50 - Do you regret your past? Do I have to quote Bukowski again.

51 - Can you do something stupid for someone else? I always do. Majority of my time goes away to doing stupid things.

52 - Have you ever cried over someone? Yeh.

53 - Do you have a grudge against anyone? Just my dad.

54 - Are you a crybaby? No, my childhood hardened me. But I’ve gotten a lot more sensitive in recent years.

55 - Do people praise you for your looks? They used to when I had a pinup fringe. Strangers could stop me on the street to compliment me. It was very sweet of them.

56 - Did you fall for someone you shouldn’t? He was married. Is. Still is married. 

57 - Have you ever done something bad but you don’t regret? (Insert Bukowski quote) 

58 - Do you like getting hurt? In what way?

59 - Does anyone hate you? If so it’s because of my incredible brains and nothing else.

60 - Did you slap anyone whose name starts with an “R”? Sure, why not.

61 - What hair color do you prefer? Black on myself. Red is second in line.

62 - If you can change anything about yourself, what is it? Appearance and mental health.

63 - Do you love someone as of the moment? I really don’t know what love is, but I do love my people and my cat.

64 - Have you ever thought of killing yourself? I have.

65 - Do you have issues with somebody in your school? My old classmates *grits teeth* and the old teachers who are probably dead by now *huffs like a horse* and the headmaster! All shitty people.

66 - Can you live without internet? Harry Styles is a part of the internet so no.

67 - What’s the song that remind you of your special someone? A song called Under Månen. 

68 - Are you good at holding back your tears? It used to be my specialty. I cracked a few years ago, though. Lost my no-tears diploma and everything.

69 - Are you a crybaby? Only Johnny Depp can answer this question. 

70 - Have you ever experienced being hysterical? MhM. 

71 - Are you a KPOP fan? No, but I KNOW OF BTS cos my best friend is head over her heelz for them, so I know a few songs and I can point out Suga’s face in a crowd cos he’s fucking cute.

72 - Do you study hard? I’m not studying at the moment, but if I have to study something closer like, in a magnifying glass then sure. I go hard.

73 - Have you ever sacrificed something important to you for someone you love? No, cos I am my own island.

74 - Did you ever had a kiss under the moonlight? With a brit! It was sexy.

75 - Have you ever ridden a boat? Countless of times.

76 - Did you have an accident last year? Dude, I have an accident every day. It’s called sleeping past noon.

77 - What kind of person are you? Someone very curious and very weird, and also incredibly kind with a lot of love for the littlest things. Except from fucking spiders, they can all die.

78 - Have you ever thought of killing someone? Read question number 77. 

79 - Have you ever been jealous? Probably.

80 - How can you prove your love to someone? By forcing them in a hug.

81 - What are you thinking right now? That I’m looking forward to holding my parents’ dog on Monday.

82 - Who is the 6th person in your contacts? Old classmate from high school.

83 - Do you have any memories you want to erase? A fucking lot of them but they’re a part of making me me, so I guess none unless someone can give me a brand new life.

84 - Have you been hurt so bad that you can’t find words to explain how you feel? Yes.

85 - Did you ever badmouth someone? Tons.

86 - Have you ever had an argument with someone? I’m a fucking stubborn person, so it’s inevitable. 

87 - Do you have trust issues? YeEes. Thanks dad! 😘

88 - Are you broken-hearted? From listening to Harry Styles’ debut album I was.

89 - Who’s the person who first comes to your mind when someone mentions “love”? Music.

90 - Do you think all the pain is worth it? I actually don’t. I think this world is vicious and for what?

91 - Do you believe in the phrase “If it’s meant to be, it will be”? I do. I believe you have to work for it if you really want it, but when working and if it happens, it’s meant to happen, y’know? So it’s a bit doubled edged. 

92 - Who do you want to marry? Myself. Or, y’know, I could marry Harry and take his last name. I’d like that. 

93 - Do you believe in destiny? I believe in cause and effect.

94 - Have you ever thought “I already found my soulmate”? I sometimes wonder if my flattymate is that soulmate. She’s like a twin soul to me.

95 - How do you look right now? Like I’ve been inside a tumble dryer. My hair’s full of knots.

96 - Do you believe that first true love never dies? I think the saying means your first love will never be forgotten, which I believe to be true cos first experiences have a habit of sticking to your memory.

97 - Have you found your true love? In music.

98 - What should you be doing right now? Probably something productive.

99 - Name one of your ex-boyfriends/ex-girlfriends. Can it be Damon Albarn? Please? 

100 - Did you ever feel like you’re not good enough? Yeah.

Right! Bedways is rightways now, so best we go homeways. I’m gonna be cheeky like Courtney who tagged me, and tag the ones I have mentioned so far. Enjoy the 100 years old questionnaire! I think I come off a bit pessimistic so, sorry in advance. 

#things I've been tagged in