#Do you *know* how hard it is to block out a coherent seeming transition between positions in smut

[adhd-adept]

I have self diagnosed adhd and i was wondering if you could provide some advice regarding reading. I used to be able to just pick up a book and read when i was younger, but now that I'm older it's a bit difficult to just pick up a book and read for the sake of reading. I love reading, but i just can't seem to motivate myself to.

Any advice? I'd really love to get back into reading, but I'm trying to find a way to do it easier

Hello! I’m sorry this took me so long to answer, I’ve been mostly off Tumblr for a little while. I saw this some time ago at 3AM and thought “this deserves a more coherent response than I can give right now” and then forgot that this blog existed for several days.

That said, I absolutely have some advice for reading! I was a big reader as a kid, too, and I’ve recently had to re-discover reading after a long gap in any time spent sitting down with an honest-to-goodness book. There are a number of things you might consider!

DISTRACTIONS

First and foremost, recognize the reason it is difficult to read! For me, it is because reading isn’t the most interesting thing available. That doesn’t mean I don’t love reading! If I can manage to sit down and read a book, it is immensely satisfying - but it’s the satisfaction of the effort you put into something paying off. My favorite hobbies - drawing, writing, reading - are my favorite because of that sense of accomplishment that they give me. 

I love the feeling of holding a book and watching my bookmark move through the pages each time I set it down. However, it doesn’t give me the same instant gratification of reading wikipedia, or tvtropes, or scrolling Tumblr, or checking notifications on social media; even when I am unsatisfied, or even frustrated, with the internet, it can be very hard to put down. I know that people will tell you all the time “You need to put your phone down more!!” It gets old. But they have a point. What people don’t tell you is how to do that. 

For me, that tends to be about making it inconvenient for myself to get online, or do whatever is distracting me. This doesn’t necessarily mean making it completely unavailable. The distraction just needs to be less available than the task I want to do. I am the kind of person who gets online out of muscle memory, and then gets stuck there. Thus, many of my tricks rely on disrupting the muscle memory that lets you pick up distractions. I will put my laptop charger in another room, so that my screen time is limited to its battery life. I might tie a string around my laptop, or tape it closed, so when I go to open it I will be reminded “Oh yeah, I don’t want to do this right now.” I will occasionally rearrange the apps on my phone, so when I try to open Instagram and end up with the weather app instead, the thought of “wait, how did i get here” will snap me out of the thoughtless habits that led me to pick up my phone in the first place. I’ve even gone so far as to tape my phone to the ceiling. Whatever works.

If the weather permits, I might also walk a little ways down the block and find somewhere to sit and read. This can come with its own distractions, but it gets me away from my laptop, and I get a tiny bit more exercise and sunshine than I would have otherwise! This depends, of course, on whether you have transportation and whether you feel safe. But getting yourself out of the house can be a great way to get away from the things that would otherwise draw you away from reading. If you have a local cafe or library that permits you to sit and stay, those are also great options! I will bring my phone when I leave the house, but I might put it at the bottom of my bag, or put a bit of scotch tape over the power button, so that I have my phone in case of emergency but it’s just slightly inconvenient to get to without thinking about it.

It may not be the internet distracting you. But whatever the distraction is, it doesn’t need to be less compelling than reading. It just needs to be less readily available than your book is!

ENTHUSIASM

Another thing that prevents me from reading is that it often doesn’t have the same sense of urgency that other tasks might, whether that urgency is real or not. Give yourself a time limit! I may own books I haven’t read yet, but I will get to a book sooner if I have borrowed it from the library, because I know there is a deadline to return it! 

You can also get other people involved. If you have a friend who wants to read the same book, commit to a chapter or two a week and then call to discuss it. 

Or, if you have a friend who would be interested, and you are comfortable with your reading voice, you could read to someone! It might feel weird to offer, but you’d be surprised how many people really do enjoy being read to. If you both have time in your schedules, you could try to set up a regular call to get through a few chapters at a time. 

Generally, having a friend who likes the book is great for maintaining enthusiasm, even if they’re not reading it with you - I get to books faster if someone with similar taste says “This is one of my favorites! You would love it!” If you have a friend who has read the book you plan on reading, announce to them that you intend on reading it. Their enthusiasm might help you feel more compelled to read it, and there’s a good chance that if you don’t sit down and read it, they will remind you by asking “Have you read it yet? What do you think?” the next time you talk to them.

PREPARATION

Another great way to make reading easier is to set up a reading space beforehand. It’s one thing to pick up a book and say “I’ve been meaning to read this.” It’s another thing to put on some pajama pants, make a cup of tea, and curl a soft blanket around your shoulders before you settle down to read. For one thing, it’s just nice. But more importantly, it can function as a signal that tells your brain “it is Reading Time now. We are in the Reading Zone.”

Do you ever watch a TV show or listen to a podcast, and you let the theme song play on the first episode, and then skip it for the rest? Even if I’ve watched a show before, I will play the theme song on the first episode I watch that day. It’s the same principle - it serves as a transition, an intro that says “this is where I am now, and this is what I’m doing.” Give yourself an intro for reading! Have a certain spot that you like to sit when you read. Have a certain snack you eat beforehand.

I have all kinds of tasks with little “rituals” before them that help me focus on that task, or certain items that I interact with which I associate with it. I call them “declarations of intent,” and once I’ve made a declaration it’s easier to commit to it. Sometimes that means simply saying out loud, “I am going to do the laundry now.” Sometimes it means I wear a certain shirt if I’m planning to go for a walk that day, or drink from a certain mug at breakfast if I want to get some homework done. I have a specific hat that I put on when I want to write a certain character. Try to find something you can do to act as a cue that says “When I do this, then I will read a book.” Because of this, it can help to really lean into whatever the “aesthetic” of reading is, in your mind. Embrace a reading atmosphere!

It may also help to recognize that reading is something you can work your way up to! There is no shame in being out of practice with a hobby. I took my reading proficiency for granted for a long time because it was just a part of my life. It may help to think of reading as a skill! Start with something smaller and work your way up. Pick up a book of short stories or folktales before you tackle that six-book series you’ve heard good things about! Set achievable goals for yourself when you’re setting out. An early success can make a huge difference to morale, and it’s much better to start “too easy” and accomplish something than to jump in at the deep end and be frustrated by an early setback.

FORGIVENESS

On the topic of working your way up to things, I would like to say a word about mindset. It is easy to feel self-critical about things. Things that you think should come more easily to you. Things that you feel like you have no reason not to be able to do. One of the biggest things I’ve done for my ADHD is recognizing that there is always a reason why I behave a certain way. Accepting that allows me to actually address my struggles, rather than just feeling ashamed of them. I’ve had to accept that I won’t always do things that I set out to do the way I set out to do them.

I bring this up because not all of my advice here may work for you. In fact, some of it doesn’t work for me every time - a technique may work once, but I might fail to make a regular habit of it. I may make a regular habit of something, only to have it become less effective as the novelty of it, or my enthusiasm for it, wears off. I may eventually talk myself out of implementing an effective strategy because there is some part of it that I find unpleasant; or an intentional unpleasantness I once found motivating may eventually become intolerable.

That’s okay. I’m telling you now, it’s okay if that happens. It’s okay if the first method you try doesn’t work. Don’t set yourself up to feel frustrated. If you become frustrated, take a step back. If you borrow a library book and you still haven’t read it by the due date, just give it back. If you don’t actually enjoy the first book you pick up, put it down and try a different one. If you feel badly about not reading something your friend wants you to read, be honest and tell them you have a hard time sitting down, and that you don’t want to disappoint them if they keep asking, but that you will let them know once you have started it!

It can be easy to convince myself that feeling badly about something means it’s important to me, and that maybe if I feel bad about not doing something, it  motivate me to do it. There is a balance between making commitments, and not committing to anything that is just going to distress me. Sometimes there is a benefit to a sense of pressure, but I have to recognize when the pressure I create turns into frustration. That’s a fine line to walk! For all I speak of inconveniencing yourself, or holding yourself accountable, your strategies should ultimately feel satisfying, and show results fairly quickly! You may not see immediate results, but if it has been several days and your strategy isn’t working out, change tactics! And the moment you feel apologetic or ashamed about the thing you are trying to do, drop that strategy. Again, this can be easier said than done, but it is so worthwhile to learn how to allow yourself to “give up” on things that aren’t actually helping you, without feeling like you’re giving up entirely.

You want to get back into reading again because you want to enjoy reading again. If you set it up to feel like homework, or a chore, or an obligation, you may make it more difficult for yourself! Getting back into reading is about focusing on what you love about reading.

And hey, I’m always happy to help! I do only check Tumblr every couple weeks right now, but I’ll do what I can to be supportive. If you’ve tried these suggestions and they don’t work out, no worries! Everyone is different, and it’s no insult to me if things that work for me don’t work for you. But feel free to reach out again, let me know anything you have learned about how you function best in the meantime, and we can reevaluate your strategies!

I hope that helps! Happy reading!

[shegoesbyarose]

𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒍𝒍 𝑨𝒔𝒌 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝑴𝒆 ⟨𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑘.⟩

Words: 4.5K

Warnings: Some angst and intense scenes

Song Inspo: You’ll Ask For Me by Tyler Hilton

A/N: Lemme know what you think. I have two specific scenes for this pairing in my head. Not much more after that. This is a “whim” fic. OC is a WOC. 

❖❖❖

“Do you really live on a plane?”

Artemis smiled as she tucked the brown carry-on into the overhead bin. If only she had a dime for every time she received that question.

Securing the bin, she placed a hand on her hip and wiggled her brows. “Maybe.

His green eyes widened. “Do you have your own room? I share mine with my brother.”

She feigned surprise. “You do?”

“Uh huh.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Do you have a brother?”

She paused and smiled. “I do. He’s around your age, actually.”

“Really? What’s his name? Does he like Pokemon?”

Artemis chuckled. Kids and their litany of questions, not to mention the constant bouncing back and forth between topics.

“His name is Kalep,” she answered, bending down to tap his nose. “And he loves Pokemon.”

“Awesome,” Bailey smiled, revealing the gap between his two front teeth.

Lana walked over and placed her hand on Artemis shoulder. “Bailey, just when I thought we were gonna be best buds. You switching out on me?”

Bailey grinned. “I like a lot of buddies.”

Lana and Artemis shared an amused look.

“You heard him. Stop being selfish,” Artemis taunted. “Be right back.” She moved down the aisle, answering a few questions here and there.

Artemis then moved onto checking the overhead bins. Rest assured, a couple would be incorrectly shut. As she reached for the third bin that needed to be properly secured, she first glanced down to notice that the passenger was being over, digging in a bag.

As she finished closing it and looked back down, she met striking azure eyes crystallized between black, thick rimmed glasses, and a warm smile.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

She returned his grin. “First time flying?”

“You could say that.” He chuckled. “That obvious?”

“Naw.” She shrugged. “I’m just pretty good at reading people, and you, sir, have the look of someone who’s never been privy to being 30,000 feet in the air. You’re in for a treat.”

“Well, thank you, ma’am—”

“Oh god, please don’t. Artemis, my name is Artemis.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Artemis. I’m Clark. Clark Kent.”

Her grin diminished as a flyer placed his hand on the small of her back, quickly shifting it downward to her ass. He gave a light squeeze before continuing his walk to his seat.

She retained an eye roll and resurfaced her grin, even as Clark’s dimmed.

“Nice meeting you too, Clark.”

“I’m sorry.” She paused, confused. He looked surprised too, only for a second. “The overhead bin,” he quickly added.

“Oh.” She waved her hand. “It’s the least of my problems.”

“I’ll bet,” he murmured.

“Let me know if you need anything—”

“Artemis!” Bailey stood on the seat, leaned over so he was grasping at the passenger in front of him headrest. She looked back at Clark. “Or any of us.”

He nodded. “Will do.”

That was the first time they met.

The second time would be under similar but very different circumstances.

❖❖❖

Artemis was a ready reserve for Lana who was set to fly a special first time joint venture with the air force. Artemis didn’t mind. Lana had a family emergency, and they were friends. That’s what friends are for.

The speaker was a bit of a bitch, but that didn’t bother Artemis. She’d come across so many different types of individuals, some nice, some not so much. It never mattered, though, as long as she got her paycheck.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Even with the kids on board. She didn’t quite understand why in the hell they had minors on board, but not many things made sense to her when it came to Metropolis.

She was chatting with one of said kids who was fascinated by her name. Apparently, it was the same as one of his favorite characters from some book series. She prepared to ask which one when everything went dark.

Artemis looked around. She’d been trained to respond to countless scenarios, but this was different. She quickly excused herself and stood up, moving down the aisle to correspond with the other attendants.

She knew something was wrong. Hell, she could feel it. This was something that just oozed of malfunction. That much was obvious. However, she felt all of the young, frightened eyes on her. Even though she was concerned, she refused to show it. She had to remain calm, not incite panic among the kids.

Artemis helped  children get strapped in. At one point during the flight, they were all secured and yapping among themselves. Somewhere between the taxi and takeoff, they maneuvered out of their seats and moved about.

However, that plan went to hell at the same time the power went out again, and this time, it didn’t come back on shortly after. No, conditions quickly deteriorated. One minute she was helping the children secure their seatbelts, and the next, she was holding them against her body as the plane began to violently jerk.

In the event of turbulence, there was training. There was training for everything, but the fact that she just knew that this was beyond turbulence didn’t help. Still, she managed to keep her emotions at bay. Better than the other attendants who failed to hide their concern.

They too realized that something had gone terribly wrong.

And it only continued to worsen. Infrequent jerking transitioned into abnormal shifts in directions. The plane was moving about like a rag doll, simultaneously, forcing Artemis around and against various seats, walls, and armrests. She bit back her groans and moans of pain.

Help now.

Feel later.

Screams, shouts, beeping, and all sorts of chaos occurred around her. Still, she remained calm. In the kids, she saw Kalep. What if he were there? She’d want whoever was in charge to help him remain as calm as possible, no matter how grim the outcome appeared.

But, things only exacerbated.

The plane was angled almost entirely upward, and Artemis felt the absolute brunt of the trajectory as she continued to be tossed about the plane. Her shoulder was dislocated and the red liquid coating her fingertips after feeling on her abdomen told her that her injuries were becoming more severe by the minute, second, even.

Still, she couldn’t shake the terrified expressions of the children whose cries only increased in volume and intensity.

Even the adults were becoming choked up.

It was utter madness and chaos beyond comprehension.

For a second, she contemplated the most dire and maybe realistic outcome.

Is this how she would meet her maker? Thousands of feet up in the air, bloodied and battered, completely helpless to do nothing but make everyone as comfortable as she possibly could given the circumstances.

When was the last time she FaceTime’d her family? Purchased Kalep a game off of the Playstation Store?

Hell, she hadn’t seen the inside of her apartment for almost a month.

And now, she never would.

It was all a culmination of feelings and thoughts. Regrets at what could have been. Sadness at what would never be. Anger at the finality of it all.

Death.

And then a thought, if this truly was the end, did it mean the beginning of something else? A reunion she’d longed for for over a decade?

If only she knew it would happen like this.

Her eyes slammed shut as wetness pooled and spilled. Consciousness was a battle she was gradually losing.

But nothing had ever come easy, nothing that she really wanted, anyway.

She would hold on as long as she possibly could, as long as was possible.

And she’d spend the last of her energy making the children as comfortable as she could, even if it was only a fragment of comfort.

Plastered against the back of the plane, Artemis turned to the window. Everything was whipping by with such abnormal speed, red heat and flames of the fire lashing against the side of the plane.

She didn’t even want to imagine what the outside looked like, given the bedlam transpiring inside.

But what did still her was the quick flash of something that came and disappeared in under a second.

It was far too large to be a bird, much smaller than a plane, but the speed at which it moved…… It was almost beyond human comprehension.

I think hallucinations are a sign of pending death.

A macabre thought, but not entirely inappropriate.

Her eyes fluttered moments before her body dropped, moving in an unnatural manner. At that point, she’d managed to block out the searing pain that traveled through her body. What point was there in trying to address something she couldn’t fix?

It was meritless and a waste of time.

And energy.

The ability to remain coherent enough to guesstimate just how much time they had left waned with each struggle to keep her eyes fully open. Even when they were opened, she kept looking toward the children. As if she could will them to meet her gaze. Maybe then she could try to assure them that they were going to be okay.

She took a deep swallow.

That was such a lie, but she’d rather their last minutes be filled with hope, even if it was an empty box.

They didn’t need to know that.

As her body dropped to the ground, she took a sharp breath and managed to flex her fingers. They seemed to be the only thing she could use.

Voices called her name. She briefly recognized them as belonging to the attendants.

She lifted her head and saw black shoes and sheer stockings covering tan skin moving closer.

She moaned. “I’m f—fine.” Something caught up, and Artemis choked up something. She blinked. Red. Blood. “Kids. H—h—help them.”

The walking ceased. “Art—”

“No,” she growled, fisting her hand against the ground. Seconds later, she was shifted again, thrown forward, her head colliding with something hard. She blinked several times. Her vision was good and hazy. Artemis was almost certain that she was seeing duplicates.

The descent was steady this time, downward, and fast.

Every breath felt struggled against the invisible weight of the trauma that suffocated her body. Her fingers flexed and wiggled. If only she could bring her arm into her body.

The chain around her neck, the tiny cross that hung tucked into her blouse. Not that it would do anything to help her, physically.

But the emotional comfort, the connection is reminded her of, it would dim everything.

So she attempted to pull her arm inward, a burning shooting through that immediately ceased all movement.

So much for that.

That was when the tears continued. One could only remain strong for so long.

And just like that, everything stopped.

The movement, at least.

Everything was so still.

Too still.

Was this it? Was this how it was? A noticeable void of everything that being alive represented.

It was……subpar. Far from what she’d always imagined the afterward would be.

Halfway unconscious, Artemis missed the noticeable gasps and harsh whispers that spread through the plane as the door was easily ripped and tossed aside.

The question of if everyone was alright followed by heavy footsteps and a shadowed darkness that covered her back.

Hands moved to her side, gently turning her on her back. She gasped violently, becoming somewhat aware of her surroundings.

Eyes. Warm yet cool eyes bore into hers. However, her involuntary reaction was to fight. She struggled, mustering as much strength as she could, attempting to push the person away.

Then she heard it, the quiet whisper of her name.

“Artemis.” She stilled and tried to focus her vision. Everything was just so foggy. “It’s alright.” Artemis continued to moan and groan, determined to fight, so he continued to reassure that it was fine.

But, it wasn’t.

She was dead.

……Wasn’t she?

Artemis calmed herself down enough to stop moving. The stranger took that moment to speak again.

“You’re hemorrhaging internally, and If I don’t cauterize this bleed…..” He trailed off. If Artemis was in the right frame of mind, she would have cursed him. That certainly wasn’t the extent of her injuries. She didn’t like being lied to.

Her brows furrowed. How. Who. What.

All unasked questions he somehow detected.

“I can do things that other people can’t.” She shut her eyes and gasped. If breathing was difficult now, it was unbearable now. “Hold my hand.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, placing his over hers. She calmed down, ever so slightly. “This is gonna hurt.”

It wasn’t as though she was any position to speak, and even if she did, the scream that left her mouth seconds later spoke volumes more than any word could.

To her credit, the pain only lasted for a few moments, having lost the battle to consciousness.

❖❖❖

Hospitals sucked.

Of that, Artemis was 10000% sure of, to the point where she was prepared to defend it to the very end.

Every wall, floor, building, everything about it reeked of death. If not for you, for someone you knew.

Rarely anything good came from visiting one, let alone being admitted. Sadly, that was the case for her.

She’d been stuck at Metro General for over a week, and each day brought her that much closer to seeing if she could make a break for it.

Even though, deep down, she knew that was ridiculous.

She’d been significantly injured. Artemis lost count of how many times she was told that she was lucky to be alive.

More than she’d like to count.

Really, the fact that there were no other fatalities was enough for her. Sure, there were injuries, but nothing as severe as hers. From her knowledge, she was the only one still being held hostage.

And even if the hospital itself wasn’t bad enough, the damn people were just as bad.

Maybe not the doctors and nurses, and the staff. She admired them.

No, the damn people who visited her every hour on the hour, she felt like.

Lana had been at her beside from the moment she was rushed into the OR.

Guilt, she figured.

Artemis focused her gaze on the vase of flowers on the side of the bed. They were different from the one’s she received just this morning. However, the change wasn’t what circulated her mind.

No, it was the reason she was still alive.

Him. Her rescuer. She barely remembered what occurred, but she distinctly recalled his eyes, the way he looked at her, her name on his mouth.

Who was he? What was he?

She’d first thought she’d been dreaming. How could another person do what he’d done?

Flew up into the sky and separated a damn shuttle from a plane, stopped the plane from crashing, cauterized her wound, flew her to the hospital, and who knew what else.It was all too unreal, impossible to be reality.

But everyone else had saw him.

And Artemis heard him.

Whoever, whatever, he was, he knew her name.

And he’d saved her.

She was alive because of him.

For that…..she was beyond thankful. Still very much confused, but thankful.

Unfortunately, the world was also confused, and as the only person to have such direct contact with him, she was highly sought out.

Not to mention, everyone was praising her for being so “heroic.” Whatever that meant.

Reaching over the bed, she grabbed the card and flipped it over to see two letters followed by periods. Initials.

C.K.

Artemis frowned. Who?

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She prepared to give the same scripted reply to the nurse on duty. She then paused as she was met with the same warm smile she’d first encountered a few weeks ago.

She leaned back against the pillows and paused. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He stood in the doorway. “Is it alright—”

“Oh, yeah,” she waved him in, sitting up as much as she could. Her eyes then fell on the bouquet in his right hand. “Please tell me those aren’t for me.”

He squinted. “What happens if I say yes?”

“Add em’ to the rest,” she sighed and smiled. “Thank you. They’re beautiful. I just don’t know if I’m going to have any room in my apartment if I receive anymore.” He handed them to her. She sniffed and closed her eyes. Lillies. Her favorites.

“Clark, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” She leaned and placed them on the remaining free space oo her side table. They were smaller than some of the others, but she wanted them to be the closest to her.

“I’d ask you how you’re doing but—”

“I’m sick of hearing that question,” she finished for him with a small smile. “How did you—you’re a reporter.” The bag on his shoulder, the almost embarrassed expression when she said it, it was obvious.

She prepared to send him away as she did the rest, but there was something different about him. Something genuine.

Artemis was willing to give him something. Not much.

“Look, all I know is that I owe him my life. Me and everyone else on that plane. I don’t know anything else.”

Clark crossed his arms. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s what you’re here for, right? The mystery hero?”

“Not my story.” He smiled and adjusted his glasses. “I’m actually here for you.”

She stilled. “Oh.” Well, that was unexpected.

“I work for the Daily Planet. We’d like to do a story on you. The mystery hero wasn’t the only one who saved lives. They say a lot of those kids are alive because of you.”

She shrugged. “I just did what anyone else would have done.”

“Not everyone.” He frowned.

Artemis picked at the hospital bedding. “You have any siblings, Clark?” He shook his head. “I do. Two. My brother’s name is Kalep. He’s ten. The sweetest and most annoying kid ever.” She smiled softly, remembering his big brown eyes in the FaceTime camera as Artemis reassured her father that he didn’t need to fly down.

Unnecessary money.

“Did you know that the youngest kid on that flight was eight?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Eight-years old. Hell, you haven’t even started to live when you’re eight. I can’t imagine it all ending so soon. I’ve seen enough of this world. I would have been okay. No matter what happened.” She looked out the window and licked her lips before looking back at him. “I wouldn’t change anything I did. Not a damn thing.”

Clark said nothing, chuckling softly. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I am doing the story on the hero.” A beat. “But she’s not a mystery.”

Artemis caught his gaze. There was something both familiar and comforting about him. She couldn’t place her finger on it, though.

“Okay, they sure do know who to send to get a story.” She shifted again. These beds were so damn uncomfortable. “I do hope they find him, though. He deserves it. I won’t even bitch if they throw him a parade or some shit. It’s well deserved.”

They both laughed as Artemis looked down, nodding slowly. “I just want to thank him, you know.”

“You’re not scared?”

“Of him?” She laughed. “No. Why would I be?”

“I mean, a guy who can fly. You don’t see them everyday.”

“There are a lot of things to be scared of in this world, Clark.” A beat. “He’s not one of them.”

❖❖❖

Artemis had never been so grateful to be home.

It was one thing to be away because of work. It was another to be away because she was physically unable to be home.

Thankfully, she’d been cleared and discharged. That was a few days ago, but each moment was more than appreciated.

She’d dusted, rearranged, hell, even cooked more than she had in all the time she’d been in Metropolis. Even whilst ambling around in a boot on her right leg.

Near death experiences tend to have that effect.

Not one for much television, she’d even started to rewatch One Tree Hill and was halfway through Homecoming. However, too much time in front of the screen triggered headaches, so she decided to switch out programming for a book on her wall of books.

She had so many that she’d purchased, started, yet never finished.

One of her new resolutions was to change that.

She loved to read.

It was one of the many fond memories she had. Being read to as she lay in bed, forcing herself just to stay up because no one told stories in such distinct voices as her.

Artemis settled on The Chaos of Standing Still. She noticed a bookmark toward the beginning and pulled it out. She could barely remember the plot, let alone the little that she’d read.

She scratched at her hair and made a mental note to order the bonnets that were waiting in her Amazon cart.

Ooh, she also needed to pay her cell phone bill. Maybe automatic payments weren’t so bad, because if she garnered one more goddamn late fee—

Artemis turned around and nearly fell flat on her ass. Thankfully, the book took one for the team, stumbling on her carpet. The bookmark laid next to it.

Across her room, close to the backdoor that led to the small balcony, he stood, cape lightly flowing behind him. The lighting was dimmed, but even with the lack of illumination, he stood out in the darkness. Representative of who he was, whoever that was.

“Umm, hi,” she blurted, placing her hand on her forehead. “How did you—” Her eyes shifted to the backdoor. “Never mind. Stupid question.” She got the feeling that whether she welcomed him in or not, it made little to no difference.

“Hi.” She waited for more. Nothing else came.

“Can I—get you something to drink?” She asked. “Do you even drink?” Artemis wanted to slap herself. What the hell was wrong with her? Since when did she get so easily flustered?

Maybe that was another side effect of almost dying.

“I do.” He smiled and stepped forward. She remained where she was. “But, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“Okay,” she murmured. “How—why—what are you doing here?”

“I read the interview you gave.”

“You read?” She blurted.

He shrugged. “In my free time.”

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “For—for saving me, and everyone else.”

He lifted his a hand. “Don’t. You never have to thank me for that. No one does.”

She tilted her head. “What are you?” She continued. “I mean, you’re not human. I dated my high school’s quarterback, and we were all impressed by his ability to push his truck. Yet, you’re out here lifting planes?” She hadn’t meant to babble. It wasn’t in her nature, but she was so damn intrigued. Not to mention, everyone had been searching for the man who stood a few feet away from her, only for him to find her.

“What I am isn’t important. It’s what I do….that’s what matters.”

“What exactly is it that you do? Save people? There are occupations for that.”

He chuckled. “I think we both know it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Touche,” she whispered and danced her fingers against her legs. Artemis looked him over. He was solid, muscles rippling against the formfitting material of his….uniform? Costume seemed inappropriate. Costumes were for people who feigned what he really was. A hero. “What’s the S stand for?”

He looked down and then back up. “It’s not an S. On my world, it means hope.”

She bit on her bottom lip. Artemis wanted to ask him where exactly his world was, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t answer. “Well, here, it’s just an S.”

He chuckled. “Noted.”

Her next question was instant. “What’s your name?” He stared at her. Artemis kept his gaze, willing herself to affirm her assertiveness. She was never one to shy away, to back down, to retreat. That couldn’t change. Not even for him. “You know mine.”

His gaze softened, something that didn’t bypass Artemis.

“It’s Kal.”

“Kal,” she repeated, accentuating each letter, despite the shortness. Artemis smiled. “My little brother’s name is Kalep.” She cleared her throat. “So am I your first or last stop?”

He tilted his head. “I’m sorry?”

“You know, on your grand entrance to the world.”

He offered a small smile. “No. What I do….who I am….it’s not of importance.” A beat. “I’m not yet ready to reveal myself to the world.”

She quieted. “But you did with me, and I’m nobody special.”

“I wouldn’t say that. To those kids you saved, the ones you risked your life for, you’re the hero.”

She straightened one arm and grabbed her elbow, shrugging. “The cape takes the cake. Kids are fickle like that. Besides, I just did what was right. No need to make a big thing out of it.”

He nodded slowly, stepping forward. Artemis inhaled subtly. He was so big. “And that’s why I’ve told you….and only you.”

His voice lowered toward the end of his sentence as his gaze focused on her, meeting her eyes. At that moment, she understood. She didn’t know why or how, but he trusted her. Kal trusted her.

“Got it.” A beat. “Okay, I just have to ask. Is this like a disguise? I mean, your….skin….” His eyes crinkled in amusement, tiny lines forming. “You’re not really….like green or something, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Okay, good, cause then that would be really….weird.”

His smile deepened. “You have a good night, Artemis.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “You too, Kal.”

He nodded and prepared to leave.

“Hey, Kal.” He turned to face her, eyebrows lifted. “I—uh—I’m out of work for a while. Recovery and all. So, um, if you ever want. I mean, if you’re ever around.” She pushed her lips together and pushed a hand over her curls. “I’m just here.”

He said nothing, just a smile, and a second later, he was gone.

[mentalisttraceur-software]

Okay, so, here's the resolution to the problem I got to in my last meandering ramble. To summarize where we left off at:

on the one hand, preemptive, implicit, unpredictable multitasking is awful for reasoning about code behavior any time there can be relevant side-effects, but

on the other hand, preemptive, implicit, unpredictable multitasking is fine and a significant benefit to writing code if no side-effects that could slip in matter.

Here's where I'm at now with this:

What we really need is a system which requires cooperative multitasking unless you have written code which is "pure" code. If something in the system running your code can prove or has been told that your code need not care about side-effects, then it is fine for the system to do preemptive multitasking anywhere in your logic. But, code rootwards in the call tree from your code must be able to control if preemptive multitasking happens in your code.

Because preemptive multitasking is an optimization, the dangerous kind which is liable to change behavior or introduce bugs unless properly constrained, and like most optimizations it cannot be done without some sort of dialog between the thing implementing the optimization and the people or code which is aware of the bigger picture of the specific use-case, situation, and relevant caveats.

The simplest version of this seems trivial to do.

What's left is to figure out how to best make it granular, because stop-the-world blocking of all preemptive multitasking is rarely necessary, and would probably cause problems if code regularly relied on it to prevent race conditions.

Okay, so, here's roughly the thought process, although by now I've re-ordered and re-written several chunks of this, because the original thought process was a meandering thinking-out-loud. And this still is that, but I've tried to make it at least a little coherent.

Clearly "not safe to preempt" has to be transitive, from the caller down. Even if some pure code by itself is fit to get preempted, and even if we had a system where that code actively indicated that it is compatible with preemptive multitasking or did some sort of yield-if-needed operation, if that pure code sits in a code path which cares about any side-effects that might happen when it is preempted or something else is scheduled concurrently, then it needs to be able to call into that pure code without that code being preemptible.

Caveat: for some code, timing and latency is a relevant side-effect. This is why mainstream preemptive multitasking operating systems are so terrible for trying to build real-time computing systems - you can't guarantee any upper time bounds if any number of other things can be preemptively scheduled in between all of your operations. So whatever method we use cannot even assume that code paths of entirely pure code without side-effects in the semantics of its language is safe to preempt.

Finally, part of why "coloring" functions with an `async` keyword is good is that when `async` is transitive rootwards on the call tree, we always know when something we call is forcing concurrency problems onto us. Of course, if you can perfectly contain the concurrency within your implementation then there might be a way to split your call stack into a call tree of coroutines which are concurrent with each other but isolated from all other concurrency, wait for all those to finish or get cancelled, and that's fine to not reveal to the caller. But if your use of concurrency can breach containment in any way, you shouldn't even have the ability to express your code in a way that hides that from your caller. So that is the wisdom of function "colors".

But if we have an explicit yield-if-needed operation, should it be colored async? If you're already convinced of how great `async` color which contaminates all callers recursively is, and if you've accepted the wisdom of structured concurrency that concurrency should not be allowed to breach containment or slip in under you without you knowing about it and consenting, you might be tempted to say that the answer is obviously yes. Every instance of yield-if-needed is an opportunity for side-effects, after all.

So here's the key realization: yield-if-needed isn't saying "I use concurrency here (you are using concurrency by calling me)", it's saying "I yield to concurrency (you can use concurrency while calling me)".

So they are actually really different things, that we need to handle differently. Code which uses concurrency in a way that breaches containment is non-optionally forcing you to use concurrency, and it needs to be seen and managed as a place where something else can be scheduled underneath you. But code which merely yields to concurrency without using it is just optionally concurrent.

And so we could have a system where we can tell the scheduler "hey, I'm going to execute some optionally concurrent code now, but concurrency in this case is not safe for my logic, so don't schedule anything else in the meantime (and I accept that the only choice this might leave you with is to give me a cancellation signal or just kill me if it takes too long in total)".

Also, if yield-if-needed is an async-colored operation, then libraries doing pure logic can't just call it without tainting themselves as impure, as async-colored, and compilers or other tooling might need to do smarter and more extensive code transforms to automatically put it in for you if you don't care and just want the computer to do it for you. Because async-coloring in many languages changes the implementation of a function to return something that at a minimum holds the state which must be saved between pausing the now-interruptible function and resuming it.

So if we decide that yield-if-needed is not an async-colored operation, then

only code that introduces concurrency is async-colored, rather than any code which is not harmed by yielding to concurrency, and

yield-if-needed becomes something that actually could be slapped literally between any two operations in pure non-async code.

So finally we get to the breakthrough: we upgrade the yield-if-needed operation to yield-if-needed-and-safe.

The scheduler brings the "needed". The caller brings the "safe".

Of course, the scheduler has final say, so if you try to disallow yielding for too long you get some sort of cancellation signal, and if you don't obey your process gets killed. In fact I think there doesn't even need to be an explicit cancellation signal in the simplest version of this: when code sees that the "do I need to yield?" value is no longer zero, it could consult another "is it safe to yield?" value. If that says no, it quickly bails out and goes back to the caller with a "scheduler said to yield before I could finish" error. Or maybe there is also a good argument in some cases for the code to yield in that situation, and then only upon being resumed go back to the caller with the "scheduler said to yield before I could finish" error. Either way, getting that error from something you called functions as the cancellation signal.

I really like this. I think this elegantly solves the problem:

if you have logic which really doesn't care about being preempted, you can just write code without thinking about it, and it's trivial for your tooling or the system to automatically inject preemptive multitasking,

if you are calling into pure logic you don't need to worry about whether or not it has an yield-if-needed operations, because they're yield-if-needed-and-safe operations, and your code gets to say whether or not it is safe,

yield-if-needed-and-safe no longer needs to be async-colored, because it can only introduce concurrency which the system has proven would be irrelevant if you followed its rules, or which you have told the system is irrelevant - it can no longer force concurrency onto your caller,

we can implement this in a backwards-compatible way which allows incremental migration: add the yield-if-needed-and-safe operation, and let code opt-into this mode where it can say "don't interrupt me until I say it is okay" but it will get killed if it doesn't yield for too long,

in fact we maybe no longer need the yield-if-needed-and-safe operation, because the system can do the same check that yield-if-needed-and-safe would do, and if it knows you don't want to be preempted, it can just not schedule the next preemption until the latest possible moment,

although the yield-if-needed-and-safe might still turn out to be useful, either as an optimization, or because there is a need for it which I'm not yet seeing.

And the cool thing here is that we could generalize this! We could have systems that let you take any arbitrary sequence of operations, and the entire sequence will either succeed without interruption or race conditions, or fail somewhere along the way because there wasn't enough time in the time slot you had from the scheduler. You still have to do the hard work of figuring out how to deal with any inconsistent state from partial completions, but you no longer have to worry about all the problems that can only happen if something else gets to operate on the same state at the same time.

We could even probably figure out how to do this across processes. So even shell scripts could say "hey please don't schedule something between these commands that I'm about to run". And if the shell script or its child processes take too long, the whole process tree starting from that shell script gets whacked. And it seems like it would be fairly trivial to pass information between the operating system's scheduler and any event loop scheduler or lightweight thread scheduler in user-space, so most software developers would only need to make the request once in whatever language or framework they're using, and it could apply across all the relevant nested schedulers that are in play.

The other way this generalizes is that it would be nice and probably necessary to have the capability for branches of the call tree to isolate their concurrency from all other concurrency. To let code say "I am using concurrency as part of my implementation, and I am fine with yielding to other coroutines which I spawned as part of my logic, but I need to be safe against races with other logic".

(Incidentally, the most mature and thought-out structured concurrency implementation I know of (the Python library Trio) lets you shield a branch of the call tree from cancellation by code rootwards on the call tree. And what I'm describing here is shielding a branch of the call tree from concurrency with code which is rootwards on the call tree. I imagine Trio has cancellation shielding and not concurrency shielding because in most async code, you want other stuff scheduled while you wait on I/O, and you can get away with putting off handling cancellation until you're done with something that needs to finish to keep things consistent. Meanwhile, I'm currently more focused in robustness against race conditions and how to get the benefits of cooperative multitasking while still being robust against code which fails to yield for too long, all while making guarantees about completing within some upper bound of time - so desirability of concurrency is no longer taken for granted, and cancellation is more starkly revealed to be something that needs to be a non-optional final warning. Notably though, to the extent that cancellation shielding can be permitted, it seems a lot like a special case of concurrency shielding.)

So this is all cool, but so far this solution is fairly all-or-nothing. The simplest implementation I described is absolute - there is a "need to yield" boolean (which we might consider turning into a "yield deadline" monotonic clock value) and a "safe to yield" boolean. Of course, we can implement more granular concurrency scopes/shielding on top of that mechanism. The trouble is actually coming up with how to make it more granular than "yes I'm fine with stuff preempting me" or "no I'm not fine with stuff preempting me". What we really want is a way to specify which stuff we are fine being preempted by.

And maybe the answer is almost just locks - mutexes, or read-write locks, the usual. In a sense, locks are how you say "please do not schedule anything else which uses this specific thing at the same time". Of course this was very hard for me to see because a lot of systems do not have locks for most things or actions which you might want to avoid concurrency for, and what locks they do have are often advisory. But if

everything which touched or did a thing in a way where races might matter was required to get a lock for precisely that thing, and

all locks were automatically released if the holder did not release them on their own soon enough,

then holding locks basically functions as precise specification to the system and its scheduler of exactly what you care about not having scheduled during your code.

But... I can see other avenues besides locks which I'd like to really deeply think through here.

[haro-whumps]

Group Whumpees 7: Home

CW: transphobia, shitty family relationships, alcohol and binge eating as a coping mechanism, death ment., slavery, aftermath of abuse, multiple whumpees

Tag list: @bleeding-demon-teeth @theycomeinthrees @redwingedwhump @whimperwoods @inpainandsuffering @whole-and-apart-and-between @whump-whump-whump-it-up @whumpingupastorm @newandfiguringitout @lonesome--hunter @looptheloup @icannotweave  @deluxewhump @whumping-every-day @yeet-me-out-a-window @what-a-whumpy-world @burtlederp @constellationwhump @swordkallya @finder-of-rings @fairybean101 @adventuresofacreesty @arlennil @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

Masterlist

Galo wasn’t entirely sure of what he expected to happen when his father showed up. He knew he was in deep shit--nobody just hung up on his dad, much less multiple times in a row. Screaming, probably. Ranting and raving, no doubt. So he guessed he was grateful, more or less, to whatever powers that were, that his dad showed up already drunk.

“Hey dad,” he said, forcing a tight lipped smile.

“Hey you piece of shit!” Galo’s father answered, loud and boisterous, but happy. He clapped Galo on the back and jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’ve been callin’ you!”

“Yes, dad, I know.”

“Aaaaahaha, oh shit are those devilled eggs?” 

“Yup, go enjoy,” Galo said, gently pushing his father in the direction of the horderves table and mentally thanking Sasha for making so, so many. Yeah, Galo had requested a lot, on account of him knowing his audience, but thank you Sasha.

“Heeey, lil sibling,” Esther greeted, slinging her arm around Galo’s shoulders. Since his transition, she’d pretty much refused to refer to him in any kind of gendered terms and he’d yet to hear her use, like, pronouns for him. On one hand, yes, it was nice that she didn’t insist on calling Galo a girl. On the other, it had been over a decade.

“Afternoon, Esther,” Galo greeted, “You show up with dad?”

“Yeah, Jeremiah’s parking the car. We pregamed.”

“I noticed.”

“Hey guys!” Jeremiah called.

“Hey lil bro!”

Galo felt his eye twitch, very aware that Esther had no issue calling Jeremiah ‘lil bro’ when Galo was--

It was fine. It was fine. They had a 40 minute service, some time for people to leave flowers and mingle, and then Galo could leave.

“Thanks for doing all this, Galo,” Jeremiah said, and Galo smiled a little more genuinely when he clasped his hand, pulling him into a sorta-chest-bump-ish. The motion, if not the contact itself, was there.

“Yeah. Been a real pain in the ass,” Galo admitted. He did not… get along, necessarily, with Jeremiah. But while he disapproved of Jeremiah’s spoiled nature and entitled actions, Jeremiah’s personality was probably the friendliest of Galo’s family. Definitely used to getting his way, and getting it handed to him on a silver platter (their father treated his “only son” differently than the other two), but not like, a bad dude.

“Luckily, Aunt Jude agreed to do cleanup for me, since she couldn’t help with setup.” Aunt Jude was a fundamentally unlikable person, but she made a mean potato salad and was the most responsible member of their family, with the exception of Galo himself. The phrase “control freak” was not a particularly off-base descriptor for her, and Galo knew she’d be plucking at everything “wrong” with what Galo had done in setup in passive aggressive jabs if he let her rope him into a conversation. 

Which he did not intend to do.

At all.

Fuck there she was.

“So how you been, Jeremiah?” Galo asked, leaving Esther to deal with Aunt Jude’s approach. He’d listen to Jeremiah describe every single attachable part, feature, and accessory of whatever new gun he’d bought between now and the last family reunion if it meant sticking Esther with Aunt Jude. He’d politely prompt Jeremiah to talk about golf and “owning the libs” on reddit and let him complain about his loudly eco-feminist lesbian coworker, if it meant not having to deal with Aunt Jude’s holier than thou party planning and getting deadnamed repeatedly. 

Fortunately, Jeremiah was married to the sound of his own voice, so between Galo subtly herding him towards the alcohol and giving intermittent “Mhm”s, Galo kept him going until the funeral itself began. 

Or would have, if Uncle Mike hadn’t started making a scene before the damn thing even started. Galo sighed and pressed his face gently to the wall, listening to the increase in volume as everyone got in on Mike’s riot act. It was a show, him playing the devil’s advocate or saying something provocative or “accidentally” roughhousing too hard. It was just him making sure he was the center of every fucking body’s attention. Galo needed to be sober enough to drive, two hours from now. Sober enough to have a halfway coherent conversation with his shitty fucking family, in about an hour and a half.

But for now, he could grab the bottle of vodka, cut it with some lemonade, and down the entire glass before refilling it with straight vodka. His tastebuds would hate him for it but ideally they’d not be online here in a few minutes. He knew he couldn’t keep drinking like he had been, the last week. If not for his liver, then at the very least for the continued efficiency of his T shots. 

FUCK Aunt Jude was right there.

“Sorry, can’t talk right now,” Galo said in a rush, downing the vodka (ow) and making a beeline for whatever bullshit Uncle Mike was up to. “Gotta put out this fire, talk after the funeral,” he insisted as she opened her mouth again. Uncle Mike was a rude motherfucker, but just for the attention of it all. Aunt Jude was insufferable. 

Galo got between Uncle Mike and his own father, easily solving the dispute now that Auntie Bethany wasn’t there to egg her brothers on. And, since Galo, official fun-sucker of the family, was now on the scene, the rest of the agitated crowd simmered down. A member of Auntie Bethany’s church approached him, and he forced a smile.

“Thank you, young man,” he said, and Galo’s smile went a little more genuine. 

“Sure thing, dude,” Galo said, pushing his hair back from his face. “Galo. Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine. My condolences for your loss. Bethany was a generous and upright woman; our congregation will miss her sorely.”

Don’t talk shit about the dead, Galo reminded himself firmly, before he could remark on what an evil shrieking harpy she was. He thought on the five people he’d left in that massive house, frightened and hurting, and couldn’t reconcile them with the story this man was now telling him, on how Galo’s aunt had always been the first to visit a church member in the hospital or bake something for an expecting couple.

Auntie Bethany had always worried about appearances more than anyone else in the family, Galo figured. And he was the only person in the room who understood just how far her coverups went. He rubbed at the bandage on his arm, not wanting to stand there listening to a stranger list off how good and kind and giving Auntie Bethany had been, giving Galo sympathy he hadn’t asked for. 

The funeral officially starting was a fucking mercy. He sat between his siblings, trying very hard to daydream himself away for the next 40 minutes. The pews were uncomfortably full. The entire church turned up, it seemed like, and the majority of her facebook friends. 

He forced himself to space out for most of it, thinking very deliberately about which character he intended to romance on his next playthrough, and if playing a female character would be worth it to romance the lesbian who could, in all honesty, do anything she wanted and he would thank her for it. Pros: hot video game girlfriend. Cons: Galo did not care for playing a female character, when male was an option. 

Unfortunately, after eulogies were given (more like soliloquized, everyone in this goddamn (ha) building was only interested in showing off how righteously they were reacting to Auntie Bethany’s passing) and the body was buried, there was a little luncheon and Aunt Jude finally started negging Galo about the funeral. Galo sat, body laced with tension, and forced himself to drink fluids that were not alcohol. Aunt Jude was family, he couldn’t just tell her to fuck off, especially since it’d just start a scene and there was more than one person in the building who would love to join in if Galo caused a scene.

He could really do without the continuous deadnaming though. It was like Aunt Jude was hosting an internal contest on how many times she could say the wrong name in a single paragraph. Even Auntie Bethany hadn’t gone out of her way like this.

He counted down until he felt like enough time had passed, and then called a meeting of all family members in an adjacent room.

“Ma’am, this is family only,” Galo said, halting a woman in a blue dress and pearls at the door.

“Oh, but Bethany and I were like sisters! She always said that, you know? How I was like a sister to her. We were so close.”

“That’s nice, ma’am, but I don’t know who you are, and this meeting is for the immediate family of the deceased.”

Her wrinkly, painted lips pursed, and Galo could feel the exhaustion of the pending conversation hit him before it even happened.

“Ma’am, we know you miss her, but why don’t you go speak with the others,” Aunt Jude butt in. “In this time of grieving, such a close friend to Bethany would be like a lantern in the night, guiding the others, since I’m sure you know how she would have wanted us to mourn her passing.”

Galo turned into the room, letting Aunt Jude handle it, trying as best he could to block out their holier-than-thou sympathetic tones as they discussed whatever the fucking shit they were spewing. Aunt Jude clipped up next to him in her loudly tapping high heels and said, “And that is how it is done.” And then she deadnamed him again! Great. Fan fucking tastic. 

“So,” Galo said, getting everyone’s attention as quickly as he could because he was at his wits’ fucking end, “Auntie Bethany changed up her will right before her death, listing only the people who visited her in the hospital, which turned out to be only me.” He’d summarized as much in a family facebook chat, but it was good to get everyone on the same page, especially since most of them were drunk (and he wasn’t drunk enough).

“Before anyone protests or starts making remarks,” Galo said, a little louder, “let me finish. I figure that, since I am the only one who visited her, I’ll keep her physical properties, and we the family will split her bank account evenly across all of us. Sound good?” Galo hoped his tone discouraged anyone from saying that that did not, after all, sound good.

“And how much is that? Rich bitch never did say how much she had,” Galo’s father crowed drunkenly. 

Galo made a show of counting heads. Ultimately, it wouldn’t matter. “Between the 17 of us, I’ll write everyone here a check for 2 million dollars.”

Everyone was very happy about that. Galo did not mention that, even after giving that much to his relatives (not that any one of them really and actually deserved that kind of money), he’d still have somewhere around 30 million to donate and spend how he liked. Auntie Bethany had been very wealthy. And these 2 million dollar red herrings would ensure none of them questioned after the slaves, who would absolutely not be going to any member of Galo’s family. He got out the checkbook and made his way around the room, reminding the drunk ones to make sure to cash these and not let them flutter off in the wind because Galo wouldn’t be able to write them another one (a lie, but one he’d stick by). And then, and then, it was finally socially acceptable for him to leave, citing being tired from getting up that early that morning and making a beeline for his car. 

“Fuck,” he breathed as he sank into the sweet cloth seat. His body felt ridiculously heavy, but he wasn’t quite out of the frying pan just yet. He turned his car on and drove, drove as fast as the speed limit let him, tricking his stupid monkey hindbrain into feeling like he was running away and it was working. He drove directly and immediately home.

His apartment was no different than how he’d left it. He almost expected dust and roaches, he felt like he’d been gone a year, but really, it had only been a week. One whole week, straight out of hell.

His mattress was kinda lumpy, and had an indent in Galo’s shape from where he so frequently faceplanted into it. He faceplanted then, too. The bed wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it was familiar and it smelled like him. He groaned. He took a nap.

He felt better, after. He removed his jacket and tie, rolled up his sleeves, and splashed some water on his face. Then he decided to just ditch the shirt altogether. He’d taken all his sweatpants with him when he did the preliminary move into Auntie Bethany’s place, but he still had a pair of leggings he used to wear to the gym before they got a rip in the inner thigh and so he put those on. He downloaded grubhub specifically so he could order a shitload of burritos from taco bell, plus a mountain dew slushie abomination and more of those cinnabon ball things than he could actually, personally eat. It was time to put some garbage in his body. 

Y’know, maybe he wouldn’t sell his bed. Almost all of his craigslist ads had been answered, and he intended to hand over the furniture tomorrow, while the movers were here, having set up appointments with the buyers. His bed was the only piece of furniture that he hadn’t gotten a response for. And he was, after all, ridiculously wealthy.

He pulled up his calculator app. If he wanted to keep rending this apartment indefinitely, let’s say, 20 years, it’d only cost, what, $200,000? That wouldn’t even make a dent in his inherited wealth. He didn’t have to break out of his lease early. He could keep this place, a secret little getaway only for himself, when his new life at the mansion overwhelmed him, or he needed to give those five the night off from his presence, or if he was hiding from his family, or god even knew what. He didn’t have to worry about the money. Literally, nothing monetary could ever touch him again.

And he could redecorate this place, too. Get a little retail therapy in, make it his personal project to work on here and there. That would be… nice. He couldn’t have any plants or living shit in here--it’d die--but maybe some fairy lights and a wall hanging.

He tipped his delivery driver with a $50 bill and didn’t even blink at its loss. He shoveled taco bell into his mouth and called the mansion’s house phone halfway through the meal, washing his mouth out with the toxic waste lookin’ slushie.

“Good evening?”

“Hey, Nyla, it’s Galo. Just letting you know I won’t be home tonight, so you all have permission to go to bed whenever you’re ready to, okay?”

“Yes Master, thank you sir.”

“Have a good night,” he said, and hung up. After dinner, he dicked around on his phone, wishing he’d left his game console here (it wasn’t like he was playing it at the mansion), before he turned in early for the night. 

The next day was better. The moving crew was friendly and thorough, he was happy to hand over his old junk to the buyers, and once they’d trucked his belongings over to the mansion he enlisted their help in moving Auntie Bethany’s old craft furniture and the totes of supplies Nyla had packed up into his car, which he hauled off to be donated. His family didn’t call him, likely too busy spending as much of their new money as they possibly could within a day. He went to the gym in the evening, and bumped into an old friend he’d made before he switched to mornings.

Yes, the next day was better.

--

“He said he’s not coming home tonight,” Nyla informed them, gathered together in the kitchen for dinner. It had been a quiet day. With Master Galo leaving early in the morning, the most that had happened was Evan finishing out his recitations and trying to limp feeling back into his numbed legs. “We can go to sleep whenever we want to.”

“I’d like to sleep early, then,” Greyson remarked, and they all took a look at him. Normally he just listened and went along with whatever the group, or Nyla, decided.

“Tired?” Lilah asked.

“It’s been a week,” Greyson said heavily, and they all agreed. It had certainly been a week. 

“Do you think we could take a bath?” Lilah asked, and they looked between themselves. Taking a bath in the basement bathroom, which had a tub like a small pool, was reserved for when Mistress was out of town for multiple days in a row, and only for the middling days, when there was no chance she might return from a cancelled flight or arrive early.

“Master is o-only away for the n-night.”

“But he hasn’t lied to us yet,” Nyla said. She glanced at Evan. 

They all knew she was being indulgent for Evan’s sake, since he’d had a pretty shit time yesterday and that day. Acquiescing to a bit of mischief. He smiled.

“And we’d hear him open the front door, anyway.” Evan’s voice was still a little rough from that morning. “Dude’s heavy.”

“Let’s take a bath,” Greyson agreed. 

They all showered like they normally did, Greyson first, getting off the grime and sweat of the day, and then sank into the large, gently steaming tub, soaking and talking quietly, ears perked for the sound of the front door, but enjoying the warmth, and the chance to relax. They spoke on Master Galo, collectively attempting to parse his mindgames and coming up short. They spoke on the work they had done and what needed doing, Nyla creating neat categories in her brain. Evan and Greyson spoke infrequently, one feeling too guilty to speak, the other too tired. And then they all said nothing at all, still and warm, simply sitting in the water.

Sasha started to nod off first, her head resting on Nyla’s shoulder, then jerking up, then laying on Greyson’s. He pet her wet hair and broke the silence by urging her to bed, with him. The other three, content and about as calm as they could get, in this place, were not far behind them.

They dried and dressed and climbed into bed, Greyson out in a moment, Evan asleep last, warm and with each other in their Master’s absence.

Next

[imagine-loki]

Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite)

TITLE: Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite) CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 5/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one of the fae has been helping the Avengers, jumping in to help them on missions and vanishing before Shield can bring her in.  Loki joins the team and convinces her to come talk to the team and consider joining before Shield takes more drastic measures. RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS:  This is a rewrite of the original work of the same name.  Also on AO3 here

Loki’s scarlet eyes widened in shock and horror as he tried and failed to bring his Asgardian form back.  He hated seeing the sapphire skin and the markings on his body.  He hated the suddenly colder room.  He hated that he was a monster. 

He couldn’t don his illusions again, no matter how hard he tried, not while she held him in her control.  She was only exerting a tiny piece of her abilities, just a small piece of her control.  It was only a hint of what she could do with his truename.

   She saw his eyes widen when he realized how much control she had, and how much more control she could have if she so chose.  His expression still turned hard when he realized that he couldn’t bring his illusion back, his eyes panicked for a moment before they turned harsh and angry. “Sigyn, enough!” He snapped at her, snarling in rage at what she’d done.  He hated the proof that he was a monster and her cruelty in using it as her example.

Sig snapped her mouth shut and looked down, cringing from his anger.  She’d been expecting it, but still couldn’t help be frightened by the angry powerful male.  She’d had true horrors in her past and had a hard time getting past those.  “I’m sorry,” she said softly, talking to her lap, refusing to look up at him.  “I release you,” she added, just to be safe after she’d released him from her power.  “Your illusion will be back in a minute…” she added softly and hated that she could hear the fear in her own voice. That meant he could hear it too. 

He turned away from her, turning his back to try to hide his true form until the illusion reappeared.  It was no use.  Though Sigyn hated that he seemed so ashamed of his beautiful sapphire skin and the raised runic markings, of his beautiful scarlet eyes.  

This was Loki just as much as his Asgardian illusion was.

“There’s no need to hide,” Sigyn told him just as softly, her voice gentle and loving.  She dared to look up at him while he focused on getting his illusion back. 

It took effort, but he finally managed to summon the illusion back, finally managed to look how he wanted to again.  He turned back to her as soon as he was looking Asgardian again.  He was still glaring and she shrank back from him. “There is a reason I hide behind illusions, Lady,” he told her firmly, anger in his voice and tone, snarling her title.  The way he said it, she knew that was all he was going to say on the matter.

She nodded and looked back down at her lap.  “Sorry,” she said again. She really hadn’t meant to upset him. “You needed to understand the power of names and this was the easiest way to show you…” her voice was soft and afraid.  And she hated how fearful her words were. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.  

He sighed and properly looked at her, past the haze of his anger.  He finally realized he didn’t want to lose his best friend again, especially when he’d just gotten her back again. He took a deep breath, another, before he spoke again. “It’s alright.  I was just surprised.  I did not expect anyone to be able to break my illusion…” he gave her an expectant look to explain herself.

Sig nodded and relaxed slightly, looking up at him again. “It’s part of the power of true-naming.  If a fae with sufficient power knows a being’s true name they can control at least aspects of that being, or completely control them.  Names are dangerous.  True-naming is a rare skill among the fae, so you don’t have to worry, I’m one of the very few who can do it, and none can do it like I can. But that is only a touch of what a fae can do with a being’s real name, ergo why real names aren’t used,” she explained, thoughh she wasn’t sure her explanation was clear.  She were still speaking softly, cautiously, bordering on afraid.  She may have known this man when they were both children, but that was centuries ago and she only barely remembered pieces of it. She really needed to take the time to undo the blocks on her memories. She just needed time to do so. 

Loki nodded along in understanding, figuring out what she meant from her explanation.  “Then I can live with a nickname. I actually like Lokes,” he gave her a reassuring smile. He may not have liked her method, but it had been effective in explaining what she’d meant quickly. 

“I can pick a different one if you’d like,” she offered immediately.  “I just needed one quickly for the outing. I know how it feels to be stuck with a term of address she don’t care for…”

Loki gave her a real smile and shook his head.  “Lokes is fine.  Like I said, I actually like it, especially coming from my old friend.  I’m just not used to having a…kind… nickname.  Thor’s moronic friends weren’t kind with their nicknames and Stark is… well Stark.”  Sig nodded her understanding. She’d gotten the impression already that Loki and Stark hated each other.  And that was enough to make her wary of Stark. “Is there anything else you wish to share?” Loki asked her gently, wanting more information, but not wanting to pressure her. 

 She hesitated, unsure what else he would want or need to know.  “Sorry, I’m not used to anyone taking an interest. Anything else you wanted to know in particular?” she asked in reply.  Fae secrets were secret for a reason, but she would be honest with Loki.

“How long have you been fae?” He asked and she saw the curiosity in his eyes.  He was always desperate to be able to find out answers to any mystery that he came across.  

Some things never changed.

Sigyn had to think that over.  “Well, I’m not entirely fae, but I’ve been like this,” she indicated her pointed ears, tri-colored eyes, and sidhe red hair “Since shortly after they took me.  500 or so years ago?  You seem to remember when that was better than I do at the moment…” When she’d been taken all those years ago, she’d still been a child. Maybe 6 or 7 by Midgardian reckoning of years.   And Loki was older than her by fifty years, she remembered.  She didn’t know how or why she remembered that random fact, but she knew it was true.   Aging among the Asgardians happened in spikes of aging followed by long plateaus. She’d been around 500 when she had been taken.

Loki nodded, thinking over her words.  “The whole kingdom was in an uproar when you vanished. Mother and the Allfather sent out the palace guards to search for you. They would have done it anyway, but it was even more urgent since you were so close to the princes, to me and Thor.  They searched for at least a decade with no leads. I’m so sorry, Sigyn…” he said softly, his eyes and and tone full of centuries of old sorrow.  Tears welled in his eyes, though he refused to let them fall.  

“They wanted you,” she told him softly, her eyes haunted with old memories “or Hammer-brain, but you were more fae like,”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That didn’t make any sense.  Though he was royalty, but that didn’t seem like enough of a reason to single him out. “Why me? What could I have possibly offered them?” He asked her, hoping she’d have more insight.  “I was only a child too…Yes, I was a prince, but that couldn’t have been enough of a reason…”

“An alliance between the fae and Asgard?” she suggested with a shrug.  “They didn’t tell me much of their dastardly plans. They were so angry when they realized I wasn’t a princess…” she told him, remembering their anger, their hate.  Those memories she hadn’t been able to block out.  She’d saved her family, but hadn’t been able to save herself her own pain. 

“You were basically royalty, just not officially. I doubt that Mother or the Allfather would have given into the fae even if they had taken me. Especially the Allfather,” she noted that he didn’t call Odin ‘father’ anymore and she wondered what happened to cause the rift. She’d missed a lot while she was gone. 

 “They didn’t think Hammer-brain would take to the magic or transition.  You and I, on the other hand, already had magic, since your mother was teaching us. Like I said, they didn’t exactly share their plans with me;  I’ve only put together a few bits and pieces over the years…” she explained as best she could.

He nodded, accepting her story.  It made sense that they wanted mages, which would make Thor useless for their plans. “I’ll have to let mother know. It could be important. Do you know why the fae wish for an alliance with Asgard?”

 “The Asgardians are one of the long-lived races.  And the seidr is compatible with fae magic.  The fae aren’t… dying out necessarily, but they aren’t having nearly enough children and the children they are having are with the Midgardians, since the Allfather won’t let them into his realm and it’s hard for them to get into the realms with the other long-lived races as well. The children with the Midgardians aren’t immortal and their magic is weak at best. They think the chances will be better to strengthen both the fae and the Asgardians with an alliance,” she spoke quickly, trying to get all the ideas she’d been able to gather out of her mouth in a coherent thought.  She wasn’t entirely convinced she was being coherent.

Somehow, Loki kept up, nodding along in understanding.  “I’m so sorry about what happened to you. It should not have.  I wish…I wish we had done a better job protecting you.  You were ours to defend, and we failed you,”

“Lokes, we were children!  It wasn’t you fault. We were just kids. And I’ve made it out of Underhill now…” she tried to reassure him.  All she wanted to do was cross the distance between them and pull him into a hug, but she knew instinctively that he wouldn’t appreciate it. 

“I know. I just wish I could have done more to help you. Or at least let them take me over you!  They should have taken me!” He sounded so frustrated and helpless and she knew he’d been chewing himself out over it for centuries.  He was a prince and a warrior.  It was his job to defend those in his care.

“No, Loki,” she had a slight hesitation over using his name, but customs were different here and she’d seen how he didn’t care for nicknames.  This conversation needed his real name.  “You would have fared worse there than I did, and I would not have wished that on anyone,”

“What exactly happened to you in Underhill?” His voice was full of heartbreak at her tone, her words, the past he was gleaning that she’d had.

“A lot of awful things. The fae are not kind to those who aren’t fae.  It’s only possible to gain power there by having powerful friends or being strong enough or beautiful enough to gain power other ways.  So even though I was part of the seelie court, it wasn’t safe. I told you that no one goes by their real names, everyone has monickers.  Mine was ‘mongrel’.  So believe me when I say that you would have fared worse, Prince,” she told him.  His title also counted as a nickname in her book and wouldn’t offend him.  She wasn’t saying it out of cruelty, but to emphasize the seriousness of the conversation.

His expression still looked haunted, but he nodded, forced to accept her words. “My brother and I, along with this team, will do all we can to keep you safe. You have my word, Sigyn,” he told her firmly. He sounded determined to keep her safe this time.  He wouldn’t lose his best friend again. 

Sigyn gave him a small, warm smile.  “I’m not exactly helpless,” she reminded him as her smile turned to a smirk that so very mirrored his usual one.

He grinned back at her, feeling like old times and familiar footing.  “I’m aware. You were trained by my mother. It would be an insult to her if I said she did not have the power to defend herself, or train others to do so,”

Sigyn giggled.  It was a sound she hadn’t heard herself make in centuries and was wonderful and melodic. Loki relaxed at the sight and sound of a happy Sigyn.  “And no one would dare insult Mama Frigga,” she agreed, her old form of address for the Queen of Asgard falling off her tongue automatically and it sounded perfect and like it was still correct.

His smile widened to a true smile, a smile she remembered on a much younger Loki.  “Very true,” he agreed warmly and she recognized the expression he wore when he thought of his beloved Mama.  “Very true indeed,”

[hillbillyoracle]

Divination with DnD Dice

There seemed to be enough interest in the DnD Dice Divination system that I decided to go ahead and write it up. I couldn’t fit it all on here though so I might be making more posts in the future about it. I’ve included the most important stuff here to get started. 

I’ve included a zine to download and print off if you want to take it with you. I actually recommend the zine, it’s a better format than what tumblr would let me put together. 

Please consider tipping me and definitely credit me where you can. 

I know there are other systems out there and I don’t have a monopoly on dice divination but this guide did take a lot of time to put together and is built on my own collection of frameworks, meanings. 

Dice sets can be picked up for cheaper than most basic tarot decks making the barrier to entry lower. My goal was to create a system that could get a similar level of complexity of information to tarot and oracle cards. I found in test readings, I could get roughly the same as I would get from a four card reading. So it’s a good start! 

It’s my mission to make divination more accessible, tipping me helps me devote more time to this.

Zine: https://www.scribd.com/document/380692727/Divination-With-DnD-Dice

If Scribd gives you trouble try here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/21613135

Read description for printing directions or it might not come out right. 

If you can’t print it off, the same information is included below the cut.  

Hope someone finds this useful! 

D4 - Element

1 - Air - Mental, Academic, Communication, Anxiety

2 - Fire - Spirituality, Passion, Ideals, Anger

3 - Water - Emotional, Romantic, Connection, Depression/Sadness

4 - Earth - Physical, Material, Home, Emotional Block

I use the Element dice to give an indication for the area of life the reading pertains the most too. I look for indications with other dice as to what the element dice might be speaking to more specifically, but it gives me a place to start.

 D6 - Problem

1 - Plot - drama, conflict, things outside of your control, change

2 - Character - another person is blocking/causing problems, fixation on a person, possibly even loss of a person

3 - Thought - paradigms getting in the way, not in touch with reality, judgmental, fear/anxiety, getting stuck in your head

4 - Diction - how a person talks is causing problems, speaking too much/too little, passive aggression, divisive or hateful language

5 - Song - Harmony with another, being out of sync with oneself or another, learning to join the choir/group, teamwork

6 - Spectacle - Things seem worse than they actually are, petty fights, aesthetic/surface level changes, playing with how things are perceived to achieve an outcome

The Problem dice is based on Aristotle's Six Elements of Tragedy, a dramatic and literary analytical framework. I use this to see what might be the at the crux of the problem in the area the Element dice indicated. The Action Needed dice can also refine the Problem.

 D8 - Action Needed

1 - Right View - seeing the situation for what it truly is, actions have consequences, material reality, paradigm shift

2 - Right Resolve - being intentional, recommitting, choosing what is right, dedication and ambition

3 - Right Speech - be honest/don't lie, don't be passive aggressive/be forthright, speak compassionately and for the benefit of others.

4 - Right Action -  don't harm others, act compassionately and for the benefit of others, take positive action

5 - Right Livelihood - don't profit from harming others, long term commitment to benefiting others, take only what you need and give what you do not, ethical employment

6 - Right Effort - Exert influence on your environment to cultivate a better internal world, set strong boundaries, avoid negative influences and seek out positive ones, "just do the thing"

7 - Right Mindfulness - Don't make things out to be more than they are, see them for what they are, know life is in transition, don't define the self by these external transitory states

8 - Right Concentration - unification of the mind/body, unlocking higher levels of thinking and feeling and operating, don't let desire for what might be get in the way of what is, healthy detachment

The Action Needed dice is based on the Eightfold Path of Buddhism. While the particulars of the path vary by the different schools/traditions, these seem to be the most common English translations. This dice is usually pretty straight forward, especially when taken in consideration with the rest of the dice.

 2D10 - Difficulty

Pretty self-explanatory. The higher the difficulty, the longer the process will take. Gives an indication about how important or long term the reading will be.

 D12 - Time

The number can refer to a month of the year which you may have your own associations you can pull from or classify into a season and pull meanings from that. I use the seasonal method most often.

Winter - focus on the self, rest, restore yourself, weather the storm, be the light the world isn't giving you, inner strength

Spring - new beginnings, plant seeds, the rain and the storms lead to new growth

Summer -  wait to harvest, find shade, relax

Fall - harvest, make preparations for winter, celebrate accomplishments.

You can also think of what sabbat is in that month and the lessons inherent in that holiday. It can also be time of day.

9-5 - Work related, stress, out of your control

5-12 -  Free time, friends and family, hobbies

12-9 - rest, dream, restore yourself

AM if there are more even than odd numbers and PM if there more odd than even. You can also take the month and the time to be literal if the reading calls for it.

 D20 - Lesson

1 - The Magician - jack of all trades, master of none, experiment, unfocused, learning, skilled but unrefined, beginning

2 - The High Priestess - balance, intuition, insight, between worlds, lessons learned while solitary

3 - The Empress - growing, flowering, creativity, taking what you have and making it thrive, thriving where you're planted

4 - The Emperor - expand, leader, confidence, step up and create the life you want/need, protect what/who you have

5 - The Hierophant - balance between material and spiritual, lessons learned from teachers, benevolence, structure

6 - The Lovers - connection, union, positive outlook, nostalgia, romanticism, love given freely

7 - The Chariot - power, confidence, leadership through passion/emotional intelligence, decisive action

8 - Strength - rely on internal direction/sense of self, internal strength and peace, resilience

9 - The Hermit - internal knowledge and discovery, minimalism, truth is inside you, you are capable on your own

10 - The Wheel of Fortune - things are outside of your control, this too shall pass, ebb and flow of fortune, reversal of luck

11 - Justice - objective truth, standing by/doing what is right, lawful good, cutting ties with deceivers, protect the community

12 - The Hanged Man - Insight, understanding impermanence, sudden realization, enlightenment, major paradigm shift

13 - Death - the old makes way for the new, the cycle of life, we all die in the end, reinvention

14 - Temperance - spiritual balance, abstaining from negative influences, taking responsibility for one's internal well being

15 - The Devil - materialism as bondage, enjoy pleasure without becoming victim to it, pleasure seeking as escapism

16 - The Tower - being shaken to the core, foundations pulled up, self of self overturned, ego shaken

17 - The Star - uneasy hope, possibilities, leaving and traveling, opportunities somewhere else, dare to dream

18 - The Moon - deception, things aren't always what they appear, intentions and actions do not line up, reflect, see the true nature of things

19 - The Sun - relax and enjoy your accomplishments, celebrate with friends and family, share your abundance, revel in joy

20 - Judgment - shine a light on everything, be honest, be critical and fair, lay firm boundaries, take up the old and make it new

The lesson dice is there to indicate what can be learned from the situation. Every situation is an opportunity to grow and evolve. It's based on the framework of the Major Arcana as teachers and posits that every situation can likewise be a teacher to us all. This dice can help refine the problem dice as well. It can be hard to keep this dice from getting preachy so make sure to be honest about what this dice is saying but temper it so as not to be patronizing.

 Putting the Reading Together

Like all divination, the goal is to look for patterns and craft those patterns into coherent themes. Like reading a novel, you’re reading between the lines to make the reading more useable than the raw info the dice turn up. An example of my notes for a reading are:

D4 - Element: 2 - Fire

D6 - Problem: 3 - Thought

D8 - Action Needed: 3 - Right Speech

D10 - Importance: 51 - Middle

D12 - Time: Evening/Summer

D20 - Lesson: 8 – Strength

This is the reading I gave:

“The reading suggests there’s some conflict stemming from letting passion overtake reason in your interactions with others. You believe very passionately in your ideals, but how you talk about them to others looks like it’s causing tension. This seems like it will be of moderate difficulty to grapple with, not easy but by far not the hardest thing you’ve dealt with. The reading suggests being mindful of your words and advises to concentrate on your inner power rather than seeking validation for your ideas from others. “

When pulling together a reading you want to look for conflict, strengths, and resolution.

There was a lot of fire (passion) and air (communication) in this reading, while they work great in harmony, they can really hurt the user when out of balance so that was the conflict. Passion is a beautiful thing even when it’s not in alignment and I didn’t want the reader to think their ideals were the problem since the rest of the reading pointed out their words so their passion was their strength. The resolution lay in relying on their own internal strength for validation rather than others, that that would lead to better communication and less conflict overall.

I’m still learning myself. It takes practice so don’t give up!

--

I hope this was helpful! Please let me know how this works for you. I’m totally open to people changing it to fit them better but I wanted to provide a model for how this could be done. I also got some really solid readings out of it. So it definitely has potential. 

[daysswithyou]

Proud of You

Characters: DAY6 Young K x OC

Genre: fluff, slice of life, humour

Words: 1.9k

Description: happy, tipsy Brian :’)

Inspiration: 

That the sun will rise and the storm will cease, and the aftermath will not be as messy as the calamity but it will be beautiful, it will be a glorious.

Dance

Author’s note: For the lovely @lily-blue: this one is for you – for being such a great friend and supporter :’) 

---

Tap. Tap. Tap

Drum. Drum. Drum.

Click. Click. Click.

All around you, students were waiting in anticipation for the announcement that would signal their freedom for the next three months. With every student around you playing with the objects around them, your surroundings turned into a cacophony of mismatched sounds, amplified by a hundred fold. To your left, Jae was continuously clicking on his pen, sending the tip in and out of its casing. To your right, Sungjin was shaking his leg against the table, sending mini tremors to your side. To your diagonal right, Wonpil was drumming his fingers against the table and on the other side, Dowoon was tapping his pen against the table, creating a new beat.

And right in front of you was your best friend Brian Kang, which you can see swaying his head to the imaginary music playing in his head.

As the presiding examiner turned to face the front, the entire hall transited into pindrop silence, everyone waiting with bated breath to hear the words leave his mouth.

“The examination is over, and all of you may leave now. Happy holidays to all.”

On cue, the dragging of hundreds of chairs across the polished wooden floor filled the entire hall and the excited chatters followed soon after. As you got up to leave, you caught wisps of people’s conversations; exciting plans for the holiday and new year ahead.

As you picked up your bag to leave, Brian’s voice boomed through the horde of students to reach you.

“Y/N! Are you up for karaoke tonight? I’ll call you.”

A smile spreading over your face, you showed him a thumb up sign before turning to leave.

-

“I’M LIKE TT, JUST LIKE TT!”

“Ok Brian that’s enough, you’ve had too much to drink.”

Completely intoxicated and incapable of coherent words, all Brain did was laugh really loudly before collapsing in a heap beside you, hands still clutching the karaoke mic firmly. With your hands, you tried to extricate the microphone from his fingers gently so that he wouldn’t notice. But the alcohol seemed to have heightened his senses instead – so even before you could actually touch him, he had snatched the mic back before screaming into it.

“Y/N…you…NEOMUHAE NEOMUHAE! Don’t take my mic away from me!”

With that being said, he passed the mic to Jae for safe-keeping before taking a swig from the bottle in his other hand.

As you stared at Brian with daggers in your eyes, the boys tried to stifle their laughter in the background although Wonpil was already on the floor, rolling in silent laughter.

Jae was the first one to speak up amidst the chaos.

“You know something, Y/N?”

“Hmmm?”

“Just let Brian let loose for tonight, it’s the end of the exam season and the new year is starting in a few hours anyways so…”

“So…?”

“So for tonight, just let everyone go wild, and you should let your hair down too. I know that you’re naturally a very nervous person but for tonight, just take a break. Don’t worry too much about the aftermath – I’m sure it’ll be better than the calamity.”

Before you could reply him, Brian’s excited voice broke through the system, leaving you to swim in your own thoughts.

Jae’s right, when’s the last time I took a break?

Sinking back against the soft leather couch, you blocked out Brian’s singing and transited into your own world as you reflected upon the last year.

-

As images of the past year flashed past in your head, some brought tears to your eyes but some left a smile on your face.

Having just entered university, you had a hard time adapting. This entire year passed in a blur and somehow, all you remember is sitting down in front of your readings and papers completely exhausted before tears of frustration came. Despite being near your breaking point, you refused any help from your friends, insisting that you needed the time to do work instead of taking a break. This vicious cycle eventually took a toll on your health and you felt your string slowly snap by the second.

But… despite the bad year, there were good moments to look back on as well.

Nights spent with your best friend Brian walking along the riverside as you talked about anything between the sky and earth, being able to watch their night club gigs from the front row and more recently, meeting a bunch of lovely coworkers at your new workplace.

It then dawned upon you that whilst you might have had a year filled with more downs than ups, it’s the little moments that make life worth living. Those small, little things that make you happy everyday – be it the cute little puppy that decided to walk over to you today, or a kind stranger that held the lift for you, it’s all these small, kind gestures that made the world of a difference.

And you also realised that it doesn’t pay to keep studying – someone once said: “Work hard, and play harder.”

This time round, you decided to take the advice.

So when Brian passed you the mic to sing a duet with him, you didn’t object.

-

For the rest of the night, you did exactly what Jae said: Take a break and let your hair down.

After another 2 bottles of alcohol, happy, tipsy Brian made its appearance and before you knew it, both of you were decked out in rainbow wigs and sunglasses, screeching out notes into the mics (at this point in time none of you were singing anymore). Being the good sport he is, Brian broke out into dance moves that you didn’t know he possessed.

“Y/N.”

“Hmmm?”

“Watch this.”

Trailing a finger gun down his body, Brian ended it off with a hip jerk and being the extra person that he is, he had to end it off with a lip bite at the end.

“KANG YOUNGHYUN! WHAT WAS THAT?”

“Nothing, just a little sexy dance for my best friend HAHA”

“Who are you, and what have you done to my best friend?”

“Gone is your best friend, for he has now decided to worship the dance deities as his master.”

With that being said, Brian stripped off his outer wear before flicking the material at you with a smirk on his face, leaving you breathless from the wrecks of laughter. He then continued to dance around the room by himself, seducing the boys to join him.

One by one, the rest of the boys decided to join in the fun and Wonpil’s booty dance at the end had you screaming in embarrassment as you covered your innocent eyes. Before you knew it, the boys were twirling their hips together, flinging things all around the room in a private stripping show for you. This is the wildest they had been and needless to say, you had everything videoed down to be used as blackmail in future. After all, what are best friends for if not to embarrass you from time to time?

Despite the chaos around you, your heart felt full. Seeing the boys enjoy themselves, you didn’t stop the bubble of laughter rising in you and for once, you let yourself truly feel happy without worrying about the future. You might not have had the best year, but at least you had the best night.

-

“Thank you. You can keep the change. Brian we gotta go…”

“I’m sorry…what?”

“Brian, you’re drunk. Let’s just get you out of the car first.”

Lifting his arm over your shoulders as you supported his waist with your other hand, you dragged him to his porch before seating him on the porch. He was simply too heavy for you to handle alone, and you needed a break. Placing him between the railing and yourself, you leaned him against the metal railing so that he wouldn’t collapse face first into the floor.

You saw the colours flash across his face before hearing the boom of the fireworks. Turning to look at the beautiful spectacle that lighted up the night sky in the colours of the rainbows in various shapes, your attention was only broken by Brian’s breath against your shoulder.

“Happy New Year Y/N and I’m so proud of you.”

“Happy New Year too Brian, but why are you proud of me? I haven’t accomplished anything great this year, and you know that.”

“You did, just that you aren’t able to see it.”

“Then tell me about it.”

“You might not have achieved your version of success but for those watching like the boys and I, we can see how hard you’re working. Despite the negativity, you never gave up.”

“But still… that isn’t something very note-worthy…”

“It is! Will you stop putting yourself down?”

Snapping his head upwards, he flicked his fingers against your forehead, causing you to let you a howl of pain as you slapped his chest.

“Stop abusing me!”

“I need to knock some sense into your stubborn brain. Would you just hear me out?”

“Ok ok! Carry on, your Highness, geez.”

“It doesn’t matter if all you did this year was simply to get through it. That in itself is an achievement. Have you ever wondered why everyone celebrates the new year, even if they aren’t, say, great politicians? Why, say, ordinary people like you and I see cause for a celebration when the new year arrives? That’s because we’re grateful to have been able to live through another year – and that in itself is enough. For trying your best this year to overcome your challenges, that in itself is enough – don’t you see? I’m proud of you, best friend, for getting through this year, even if you felt like all you did this year was survive.”

All this while as he spoke, you gave Brian your full attention, your eyes never leaving his face. You watched closely as your best friend poured out his inner feelings to you, sincere and absolutely raw. By the end of it, tears were dripping down your face as you hastily tried to rub them away.

“I hate you Brian Kang.”

“Hey! Why?”

“I hate you for making me emotional on New Year’s Day.”

“Wait, are you crying?”

“Yes! Thanks to you…”

“Awww don’t cry…” Cupping your face between his hands, Brain wiped your tears with the pad of his thumbs whilst whispering comforting words to you.

“Do you need a hug from me right now?”

Incapable of words, you nodded as Brian opened his arms and you gladly ran into them, soaking his shirt with your tears.

“Stop crying you silly girl…”

“Blame yourself for making me such a sobbing mess.”

“Are we really going to do this now?”

“No…”

For a few more moments you let silence envelope the space between the two of you until you spoke up again.

“Thank you Brian…”

“What for?”

“For putting up with this mess known as me.”

“I’ll always be proud of you, and I meant every word I said, you know?”

“I do, and so for that, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I love you best friend.”

“Love you too Burger Kang.”

Perhaps Brian is right.

It doesn’t matter if you haven’t achieved your version of success yet, you’ll get there someday. Even if all you did this past year is survive, that is something to be proud of.

[haunthearted]

I wanted to recommend a very good website, especially to my trans, dysphoric or dissociative followers.

Gender Analysis is a very well researched, well-sourced website about the trans experience. I take whatever opportunities I can to write polite, good-faith, educational replies to people on Reddit who don't "get" trans things, and I always rely heavily on GA because whatever the topic, there will be an article filled with the original scientific papers rebutting transphobic viewpoints. It can also be useful for supporting conversations with parents/friends, because it has the primary research right there. For example, today I learnt that all the concept of Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria ("my kid got a tumblr and now she says shes transgender because of peer pressure!") originated on three anti-trans websites, and despite its official-sounding name, has no research behind it. I knew that intellectually, but it's powerful to have the evidence clearly there for you.

Zinna Jones is one of the key writers there, and you may know her other work as she's been a prominent internet trans human for many years (how she has the courage and spoons for that, I will never know). One of her key experiences of gender dysphoria was depersonalisation: a weird, fuzzy, not-quite-thereness. On beginning hormones, it cleared up immediately: she had an "I didn't know what wrong felt like until I started feeling right" experience, as well you might if feeling oddly absent is your normal day-to-day experience. Because it wasn't a focus of how dysphoria was written about while she was coming up, she's done a lot of writing and research on it at Gender Analysis: describing what it felt like, researching comparable experiences in other trans narratives, and most recently trialing an anti-dissociative drug to see how it affected her.

Many of us come to ghosthood due to experiencing similar things to Jones - a not-quite-thereness, an oddness, a sense of timelessness and dislocation. Some of us very clearly associate it with trauma, a mental illness, or gender dysphoria; for others, it's just part of the fabric of life. I would like to recommend reading her posts on this particular topic to anyone who experiences something similar.

Now, if you relate to what she writes it doesn't mean you're transgender - don't panic - as varieties of depersonalisation can be a symptom of all sorts of other things - especially trauma and trauma-related conditions like BPD/CPTSD. But you might still find her descriptions useful.

On the other hand, if you are identifying as transgender and wondering if hormones are for you, you might find it validating or helpful.

(and because the world is horrible, there's no small chance that trans people are also traumatised. There's a great pair of posts that I'm sure you've already read, "That was dysphoria?" - but also her follow up, in which she re-experiences some of those symptoms as a depression.)

Finally, a recent post series explored an anti-depersonalisation drug, which you might be interested in exploring as an option for yourself. I had no idea there was such a thing!

In short, I was re-reading the archives this morning, and it occurred to me that a great many followers here might appreciate or find these posts useful. Make of them what you will, and best wishes to you all x

A tonne more thoughts after the cut:

This isn't meant to be "a trans blog", so I'm not going to focus on this too often. But certainly for me, Jones' posts really spoke to me and my experiences. I think there's a real danger in underselling how weird gender dysphoria feels. One sort of expects or assumes gender dysphoria is "I hate my breasts because I am a man"; there isn't so much written about how it can be "I'm tired, I don't really care, everything seems hollow and false, but I can't imagine life being any different because it's what I've always known, and it's not clearly anything to do with gender". That's been my experience - and it's incredibly hard to spot. I've been through six diagnoses since I was a teen (OCD, depression, anxiety, BPD, ADHD, autism), because while I've always been clearly unwell, it's hard to pinpoint gender dysphoria when it just manifests as brainweird, especially when that brainweird is you normal, as it was for Jones.   For example, I've never really recognised my own face in the mirror. Weird, but whatever. When I was considering hormones last year, I decided to take up weightlifting as part of my experimentation process. It would allow me to see how I felt about developing a more masculine body, in a controlled way, and as someone who *hates* exercise, it would also be a useful test of commitment: was I dysphoric enough to motivate me to go to the gym? Because if not, I probably was not dysphoric enough to transition either. Well, I went three times a week and followed the correct food recommendations for building muscle until I could no longer afford either; and then it happened. I looked in the mirror and it was like a visceral, immediate shock of recognition. And now I can't unsee it. Every time I look in the mirror, my brain immediately pings back "nice Robert Plant vibe you got there man", which is ridiculous; no one else on the planet would see me and think that. But that very small amount of muscle, and slightly-more-masculine-shoulder/arm-profile, was enough to make my brain recognise itself for the first time.

Sometimes you don't understand what "wrong" feels like until you have "right" to compare it to.

(I think those of us with early experience of abuse might also relate to that; the way that being loved and respected by a good person later in life can be both shocking, and bring on a period of processing and heavy reflection because it illustrates how very wrongly you were treated before. Even if you know it intellectually,  just the experience can be profound. Certainly, I've got a few experiences of not-being-taken-advantage-of which were absolutely shattering, like I was being taught how to love myself for the first time.)

And as you might expect, I'm also feeling very reluctant to pursue transition. This sort of nebulous dysphoria is, well - . I envy very much the "I knew I was trans from the moment I hit puberty because I hated the gender I was living in" people, who clearly see gender as their problem. It's very hard to contemplate something as life-changing as transition when its motivated by an increasing certainty that the only cure for my incurable mental ill is a different hormone balance, and as many days I have where I ask myself why I didn't transition 5 years ago already, I have others where I know I'll have to be dragged kicking and screaming through the process as my last resort.

Like, a few years ago I was at a "Even if I am transgender, I think I'd rather live as a woman [for reasons]" point; and now I'm at a "I would still rather live as a woman, but I am desperate to have enough disposable income to buy a really nice set of towels and maybe transition would make me well enough to not only work, but have a real career, and maybe I could buy a car, and go on holiday, and start buying tailored clothes instead of charity shop, and maybe redecorate my house in faux-Victorian style, and I really don't care if everybody hates me and I no longer have a coherently cisgender body, I would do anything to be able to afford unusual cheeses and teas rather than subsisting on stew" point. It sounds so shallow, but there it is; because so many of the problems I have don't feel dysphoria-related, because I'm only understanding them as dysphoria-related because nothing else has made an impact, my focus is increasingly on the little things in life I want to achieve, and maybe could achieve if my brainweird was fixed. I'm now fairly sure that if/when I do transition physically, I'll continue to recognise myself more, and realise how much of an impact physical dysphoria was having.

But it's what I know. And like Hamlet says, easier to bear the struggles we know than fly to others that we know not of.

Sidenote:

Intermittently, you'll see approaches which try to set up trans or mentally ill people as enemies to otherkin people, like the two experiences cannot co-exist, or like otherkin people ought to take the fall for the way transphobic use them as an anti-trans "gotcha". I personally find this very frustrating: I prefer approaches which are open, rather than closed off. Many/most of my followers here are either trans, mentally ill, have trauma, experience dysphoria or some other unspecified bodyweird/brainweird. In real life, I have four otherkin/therian/furry friends - and they too all meet that description. {There are also many otherkin who see their history as spiritual or religious, who aren't trans/mentally ill/traumatised, or who don't really know the source of their experiences - all of which is also OK!}.

I would always prefer to take a holistic and compassionate approach to the way experiences can overlap, rather than a combatative/competitive/polarised one; any hostile or fightin' talk messages/replies will be ignored, blocked or deleted as appropriate, because that's not a value I have for my online space. Although I'm open to discussing or exploring it, so please don't hold back if you want to talk about your experiences in good faith.

In short, there is a fairly significant overlap between people who come to identify as transgender/dysphoric/mentally ill, and those who come to identify as otherkin, or who might temporarily identify with one of those experiences while figuring things out  - and this post is for them. Politics makes things sound so simple and clean-cut, but people are messy and complex, and I'd much rather help individuals navigate and explore their experiences - even if they are contradictory, or don't support my political goals. Trying to figure out brainweird and bodyweird is challenging enough, without making people tread on eggshells during the process.

[paganinpurple]

Flirting For The Entitled - Ch 2

I really do have NO CHILL. I couldn’t stop thinking about this silly little Christmas time prompt and what might have happened next. I am not actively working on this, but I’ll write little snippets as ideas come to me. 

I’m thinking less a coherent plot and more slices of life. They may get posted out of chronological order if I think of something but I’ll try to re-label the chapters chronologically if that happens.

Ideas or prompts for this would always be welcome!

Read on other websites

Buy Me A Coffee?

<<Ch 1   Ch 2   Ch3> (who knows when? If ever)

Back To School

Nathaniel abruptly slammed his sketchbook shut with a loud groan, his head falling forward and eyes shutting.

He just couldn't draw.

This had never happened to him. He'd had art blocks before obviously, but usually he would just change the drawing or doodle silly little pieces instead of anything important until it passed. He tended to get over it quickly enough that it was never an issue. But since the party a couple of weeks ago, sketching had gotten harder and harder to concentrate on and now even the most childish scribblings doodled in the margins of his notebook were—at best—abstract nonsense.

He kept his eyes closed, hugging the sketchpad to his lap tightly as the cool January air chilled him and he began to rock back and forth lightly to the music coming from his earbuds in an attempt to warm up.

He'd tried yet again to fit in a quick sketch, this time before the first day of school after New Year and so he'd arrived an extra ten minutes before he normally would have. Finding an empty bench had proved easier this way and he'd decided to just let his hand lead him across the paper in a sort of instinctual trust exercise. He'd thought the generic face he created had been a somewhat positive step away from his art block and had happily continued to draw without thinking, adding a few wisps of hair across the brow before adding a ponytail to make it a girl of some sort. The head had looked too bare so he had added a simple Alice band, detailing it more heavily when it appeared too subtle. Before he'd realised the head piece had turned into a pair of shades and he'd changed the mouth to show off a slight smirk.

That was when he'd slammed the book shut. Because while the picture wasn't yet Chloé, it was definitely on its way to becoming her and he couldn't deny it no matter how hard he tried.

Despite what she seemed to want he didn't like her that way so Nathaniel wasn't worried that her face might keep cropping up in his drawings because of some kind of hidden crush on her. But he had to admit that the shock of what she'd confessed to him at his party had sunken into his bones now and he couldn't avoid the weight of the knowledge on him every day. His mind kept drifting back to thoughts of her regularly as he tried to puzzle out if there was a moment he could pin down when she started liking him.

He'd cast his mind back constantly, first to the days preceding her little confession, then the weeks leading up to it and he'd discovered that she had indeed been really nice to him - in her own way, of course. Though he was seriously struggling to find anything that gave a sharp contrast between the then and now. Her behaviour seemed to have gradually morphed from mean to cheeky to coquettish in such a smooth transition that he was now pressed to find much difference between her insults and her teases other than her tone. For instance, she had regularly given him nicknames, most notably calling him Red but also throwing in any reference to the colour of his hair she could (Solo cup, Tomato, Stop sign, Clifford, the list went on). He had never really liked them but they hadn't been as bad as some of her past behaviour so he had built up a tolerance to them, assuming they were just low-grade insults. But lately they had seemed much more affectionate ways of getting his attention instead.

But what had messed him up the most, he decided, was the realisation that she had been flirting with him the whole time. A smirky smile here, a light brush against his arm there. The compliments he'd mistaken for insults were delivered just a bit too coyly to be anything as simple as praise for his drawing ability or interest in how well he was pulling off his outfit.

He groaned again as hindsight made him realise that one had been a particularly obvious innuendo which he'd completely missed at the time and his face burned in embarrassment at the memory of her little eyebrow raise when he'd failed to react.

He jumped suddenly when he felt a tap on his shoulder and he looked up to see the girl herself, standing in front of him in her warm winter coat and – he gulped – smiling sweetly at him. He quickly removed one of his earbuds to hear her.

“God, just how loud do you have that stuff Netflix?” she asked once she could see he was free to listen, “I must have said your name three times before I gave in and shook you.”

“Uh huh,” he said, an eyebrow raising sceptically, “How did you know I wasn't just tuning out those dumb nicknames and holding out till you used my actual name?”

“Oh please,” she said waving a gloved hand dismissively, “I have to use them all till I find my favourite. Although I think 'Red' is winning to be honest.”

She sat down beside him and before he automatically moved his leg away from her, Nathaniel reminded his self-preservation instincts strongly that he had promised to give her a chance at being his friend. He was not going to shrink away in fear of her saying something hurtful when she seemed to be trying so hard.

“So, what are you listening to anyway?” she asked tapping at the lose earbud which now dangled limply from the other, blaring away into the crisp air.

“Oh,” he said as he picked up the wire to ease the extra weight on his other ear, “It's a prog-rock band. I like a lot of their stuff but it's, uh a bit weird if you're not used to it.” Hesitantly, he offered her the other earbud. “Wanna see what you think?” he asked.

Chloé's eyes and smile widened and he swore the blue of her irises brightened as she looked at him. She gently took the offered wire from him, her clothed fingers brushing his bare ones as she did. She blushed heavily but didn't shy away like some girls might have and Nath suddenly felt his insides squirm uncomfortably.

He forced himself to refocus as he watched her reaction to the music playing in her ear. He couldn't hold back the snicker that escaped as she frowned and turned back towards him with a confused pout.

“What the hell?” she asked, puzzled, “What language is this? It's not French and I grew up around Daddy using English often enough to know it's not that either.”

“It's a language the band made up just for their music,” he told her, “Told you Magma are a bit strange.”

His laughter halted as her face turned suddenly devious and she leaned in towards him till he found himself leaning back in order to keep a comfortable amount of personal space between them.

“Magma?” she asked slyly, relenting in her invasion of his personal bubble and sitting upright again slowly as she watched him right himself as well.

“Uh, yeah?” he asked, brushing his hair out of his face in a nervous gesture to distract himself from how close she had gotten.

“As in red and hot? With a fiery interior hidden under a shy mountain?” she asked almost too innocently, the corner of her mouth tilted up to belay that she knew exactly what she was implying.

“Uh, um...” he said eloquently.

“I think I've found a new niiiiicknaaaame,” she sing-songed, her head bopping left and right.

“So, Lava boy, let me hear your favourite track before class starts already.”

Nathaniel fumbled for the controls on his phone while simultaneously fighting down the flush of pink dusting across his cheeks and darkening with every second. He had just started the song he liked best when Chloé rested her head against his shoulder to listen. He jumped a little and his phone flew out of his hand. He grappled with it comically for a second as he desperately tried to get a good hold of it before it finally hit the courtyard floor, pulling the buds from their ears as it went.

He groaned as Chloé moved to let him pick it up, eyeing the nasty crack in the screen as he did so. He ran his finger across the raised line and wondered if it would affect the functions or just be an eyesore for the next year until his parents let him have a new model.

“That was my fault, wasn't it?” she asked with a tremor to her voice.

“Nah,” he said, “you didn't do anything wrong. Don't worry about it.”

“But, I... surprised you,” she said, sounding guilty, “If you're free after school I'll take you to the person daddy has fix my phone when I drop it. They can usually fix a small crack like that in a couple of hours and I'll pay for it since it was my fault? I'll even buy you a coffee to make up for it?”

“Um, okay. Thanks,” he said blinking back at her genuine look of remorse.

“Great!” she squealed as her face broke out in a victorious smirk. She jumped up from the bench and moved backwards a few steps away from him as he watched with bewilderment. Her sudden movement and squeal had attracted a few onlookers from the courtyard and his eyes flickered around to make brief contact with some of his classmates. Amongst the small crowd he spotted Ivan, Mylène and Juleka who all regarded Chloé with barely hidden suspicion and Adrien and Nino who simply looked confused. He glanced back up at Chloé as her gaze completed the same circuit of people watching them before she narrowed her eyes seductively at him and winked.

“Then it's a date!” she announced loudly before turning on her heel and heading for the stairs to head to class.

There was a moment of complete, utter silence as everyone processed the blonde's words before turning in unison to stare at the red-headed, red-faced boy sitting wide-eyed and stunned on the bench before them.

So... Chloé had just sort-of asked him on a date. And he had unknowingly agreed. Which was sort-of terrifying, but not in the way he expected it to be. Which in of itself was vaguely terrifying too. And on top of that, she'd made sure everyone had known about it. Chloé Bourgeois wasn't trying to hide the fact that she liked him.

“Come on,” a gruff voice said.

Nath felt a hand rest on his shoulder and looked up with dazed eyes at Ivan.

“What?”

“It's time for class,” the larger boy told him, “You can freak out after roll call when no one can see you behind me. But right now, you're going to be late.”

“Right...” he said, still not in full control of his mental facilities but allowing his friend to guide him towards the stairs and the classroom.

Now if he could just make it past Chloé's desk without collapsing he could at least tally up one win for the morning.

Buy Me A Coffee?

Thomas Astruc has pointed out that the emblem on Nath’s t-shirt is based on the band Magma’s symbol so I glanced at their Wikipedia page and discovered they have their own language for their music. I thought it appropriate that Nathaniel like their music.

[stagesiren]

I have a headcanon in which Jessie helps James to overcome his PTSD about dancing, and he suddenly feels not only comfortable dancing with her but safe, and realizes it's something he doesn't have to be afraid of anymore, because he's with her.

Inspired by this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASWcIZWmXfk

And now of course every time I draw something that isn’t smut, my brain is all like “WRITE A STORY!!” So, there’s writing under the cut. 

HAPPY ROCKETSHIPPING DAY WEEK. <3

James fidgeted nervously as he waited for his partner. He had never been more anxious in his life.

It was Jessie’s birthday, and she’d made a rather specific and unusual request – she wanted to go dancing. She knew James didn’t care for it, but he’d complied all the same. It was her birthday wish, after all, and he’d be damned if he was going to let her down. Besides, even if he managed to screw it up, she couldn’t be angry with him for trying.

Still, it was all he could do to keep from losing it as he stood there in the dimly lit ballroom waiting for her. Thankfully, he was alone. He did think it a bit odd that no one else had shown up yet, but considering everything else he was feeling, he didn’t let it worry him too much. He looked down at his hands and willed them to stop shaking. No use.

Okay, breathe, he thought. You can do this.

Trying to concentrate on the music, he closed his eyes, and almost immediately regretted it.

“James, mah dear, wah haven’t you asked me to dance yet? That’s no way to treat a lady, let alone your future wahfe!” the southern lilt rang out in his head, clear and high as ever.

“N-no!! Stop! DON’T!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!” he cried as he turned tail and tried to run toward the exit, which was quickly blocked by his parents, who looked down at him disapprovingly.

“Come on now, boy. You have to learn to act like a gentleman, and part of that is courting your lady.” His father scolded.

“That’s right, dear. Now go on, dance with her.” His mother urged. James gulped and, having no choice, turned to face the horrific nightmare that was his fiancée. He broke into a cold sweat as he begrudgingly extended a hand to her.

“That’s better!” she squealed in delight, grabbing his hand and pulling him back into the middle of the room. “Naow, ah’ll teach you to dance like a gentleman!” James simply allowed himself to be flung across the floor and made the most minimal effort to keep up with her while he tried to think of something, anything else. He thought to call for Growlie, but knew that it would only result in further punishment later, once they had the Pokemon locked up again.

No more. I can’t take it anymore, he thought. I’m running away. Tonight.

James opened his eyes and practically fell backward. He was breathing hard, cold sweat running down his forehead.

“Okay, okay. Get it together.” He mumbled to himself. “They’re not here. She’s not here. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. We’ll be…”

“Ahem.”

He whirled around to face his partner, and was almost instantly calmed by the sight of her. She was a vision in midnight blue silk, accented with long black gloves and heels. Her hair was pulled back with a few soft curls framing her face. She smiled at him softly.

She was stunning.

“Jessie. Wow. Hi. I… happy birthday.” He said, returning her smile.

“Thanks.” She said, now standing before him. “Who, uh…. who were you talking to?”

James nervously rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Oh, no. I wasn’t. I mean, I was just…… hey, look! No one else is here yet!” he said, gesturing to the empty room around them. “That’s weird, right?”

Jessie smiled and looked down to one side. “Well, no, it’s not.” She said “That’s the part I didn’t tell you about.”

James raised an eyebrow.

“I, um. I reserved the room just for us. I… wanted us to be alone.” She said, bringing her eyes back up to meet his. James blinked twice and felt a blush beginning to creep across his face.

“Well, that’s … why though?” he asked. Jessie’s brows drew together, as if the question upset her. “Not that I’m complaining.” He said quickly.  “I’m just asking – is there a specific reason?”

“Yeah.” she said. “Um. Well….” She reached forward and took hold of his hands. “I know that…. I know dancing isn’t your thing. I know you don’t like it. But I thought since you were willing to put in the effort for me, I should at least grant us privacy. I figured if we were going to do it, there’s no real reason for us to do it in front of people. And if…” she paused, looking crestfallen again “If you hate it so much that you …. have to make an emergency exit, no one else will know.”

James was taken aback. He hadn’t expected her to be this considerate of his feelings. It wasn’t the most considerate thing that she had asked him to do it at all, but at least she was being mindful about it. Furthermore, he certainly hadn’t expected the feeling that was now beginning to settle over him. A feeling of comfort, of ease, and of complete and utter trust.

“That’s…. very thoughtful of you, Jess.” He said, giving her hands a squeeze. “And very sweet. I appreciate it.”

Jessie smiled, and James could swear he saw her cheeks begin to turn pink.

“Well, um… shall we, then?” she asked. She took a step back, keeping one hand in his and bending her wrist upward toward him.

Does this mean? Oh Lord, it does…. James thought. She wanted him to kiss her hand. Okay, easy enough. It’s no big thing, it’s really… God, just do it. He quickly realized that he had to quit psyching himself out if he was ever going to make it through this. He bent down, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to her hand. The smooth fabric of the glove greeted his lips. He fleetingly wondered what her skin would feel like against them, and just as soon realized that he could probably guess. Before he could stop it, a myriad of sounds and images began racing through his mind: Jessie slipping those gloves off. Whispering in his ear. Her hair brushing his face. Pressing against him. Kissing him.

“Um. James?” Jessie giggled lightly. “Are we dancing, or…?” He opened his eyes as reality came flooding back.

“Yes! Sorry, I… Sorry. Yes.” He cleared his throat, and stepped close to her again. “That is, Oui, Mademoiselle.”

He wrapped his other hand around her, and they began a simple two-step sway. He couldn’t help smiling at how easily they fell into it. How well they understood each other.

“You look amazing, by the way.” He said. She grinned back at him.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

They spun around as they made their way across the floor. The music transitioned into a soft, lovely violin and cello waltz.  James had never heard it before, but something in it struck him on a deep emotional level. As he looked into her eyes, everything suddenly seemed perfect. Almost impossibly so. He realized then that he was no longer afraid. On the contrary, he had never felt so safe. Doing something that had once terrified and choked him with fear now made him feel free and unburdened, because he was doing it with the woman he loved. For the woman he loved.

His mouth fell open slightly as his brows furrowed, and he exhaled in a breathy laugh.

“What is it?” Jessie asked.

“I just… I never thought. It would feel like this.” He said.

“That it would feel like…what?”

“Good. Enjoyable. Exciting.”

“That’s how it’s always felt for me.” She said. “Ever since I was little. And I’m glad you feel that way now too, because….. that’s what I wanted. I wanted you to feel what I felt. And for you to want to do it…. with me.”

“Well, yes…. I do. I’m…. so happy right now.” James said. “I feel like…. I could dance with you forever.”

Jessie couldn’t fight the heat rising in her cheeks any longer, nor her desire to be closer to him. She drew him closer and rested her head on his shoulder.

“James….”

He interlaced their fingers as he leaned his head against hers, sighing with contentment. He was completely lost in her.

“Thanks for doing this…for me. I’m so happy it’s changed the way you feel.” She breathed against his neck. Her warm breath tickling him sent a pleasant shiver up his spine.

“I’d do anything for you, Jessie.” He replied.

“You….would?”

“Yes, because….” James swallowed hard. It was now or never.

Jessie closed her eyes, waiting.

“Because, what….?” she asked, her lips brushing against his neck. He closed his eyes, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp. He brought a hand to her cheek and pulled back slightly so that he could look at her again. Her face flushed and her breath quickened.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

Jessie’s mouth fell open and the corners turned up into a smile. For a moment, she was unable to speak and could only breathe as she stared at him. This beautiful man whom she’d spent over half her life with, now finally telling her what she’d been waiting to hear, seemingly forever.

“James…” she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. He returned the kiss, now holding her face with both hands. She wrapped her arms around him with a sigh, an intoxicating warmth filling her senses.

After a moment, they broke the kiss, looking at each other with heavily-lidded eyes. James’ breathing intensified as she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved in again, this time opening her mouth and letting his tongue brush against hers. He moaned softly into her mouth, reveling in her taste. She tightened her grip on him, not wanting to let go.

Several minutes later, they broke apart again. Staring at each other open-mouthed and slightly out-of-breath, they smiled.

“I…take it this means you feel the same.” James said, his voice husky. Jessie laughed.

“Yeah, you could say that.” She said. She leaned her forehead against his. “Yes, James. I love you too.”

Too overwhelmed to say anything more, he pulled her in for another kiss. Somewhere in the barrage of ecstatic emotions that were now surging through him, one more coherent thought emerged before he let himself get completely lost in her again.

We’ll have to go dancing more often.

[williamlwolf89]

18 Writing Tips That’ll Actually Make You a Better Writer (2020)

If you search Google for writing tips, you’ll find a lot of big promises.

Here’s the truth:

There’s no magical writing tip, trick, strategy, or hack capable of turning a bad writer into a good one.

But if want to learn how to write better, if you’re looking up your writing game a level or two, a few good writing tips and tricks (combined with hard work) can help make it happen.

Here are eighteen such tips:

1. Find Your Unique Voice

Serious question:

If we all listen to the same experts and we all follow the same writing advice, how is it possible for anyone to stand out from the crowd?

The trap many writers, especially young writers, fall into is they believe if they mimic a popular blogger or writer, they’ll be popular too.

Imitation is indeed the sincerest form of flattery, but it’s a no-win proposition. Even if you succeed, you’ll be indistinguishable from all the other parrots out there.

There’s only one you. You have unique DNA. Your hopes, thoughts, and dreams are unique. Even the face you make when you accidentally walk into a spider web is unique.

Want to stand out?

Develop your own writing style. When you sit down to write, tap into what makes you… well, you.

Learn More: In my guest appearance on the Biz Mavens’ podcast, I discuss the importance of finding your unique voice and offer three writing exercises to help you find it.

2. Edit Like Crazy

Many first drafts are clumsy, sloppy, and difficult to read. This is true for most writers — even experienced, well-known ones.

So what separates great writing from the nondescript?

Editing.

The hard part isn’t over once your first draft is complete; on the contrary, it’s only beginning.

To take your work to the next level, you need to spend just as much time editing your words as you do creating them.

It’s ruthless work. It’s kind of boring. But it’s vital.

Learn More: Proofreading: 7 Editing Tips That’ll Make You a Better Writer in 2020 will show you the editing secrets popular bloggers and writers don’t want you to know. And if you need some tools to help you, Grammarly and the Hemingway App are two good grammar checker options.

3. Supercharge Your Subheads

Most readers stick around for fewer than 15 seconds.

Heck, most will stick around for fewer than 5 seconds.

Why? Because readers are experts at scanning. They’ll click your headline, quickly scan your content, and — in only a few seconds — decide whether to stay or go.

Writing a great introduction is one way to convince readers to stick.

Another?

Write masterful subheads that create curiosity, hook your readers, and keep them on the page long enough to realize your content is worth reading.

Learn More: In The Ultimate Guide to Writing Irresistible Subheads, Gary Korisko shares the four ingredients of a killer subhead.

4. Write Like Superman (Or That Guy You Know Who Types Really Fast)

Whether you’re blogging, crafting short stories, working on a creative writing assignment for your high school English class, or writing the backstory for what you hope will be a bestselling non-fiction novel; most of us are limited in the amount of time we have available to write.

So, if you want more time to write every day, you only have three options:

Say goodbye to your family and lock yourself in a room;

Invent a time machine;

Learn how to write faster.

Your spouse and children won’t like the first option, and the second option requires plutonium.

But the third option? That’s doable.

Learn More: Want some actionable tactics to boost your writing speed and up your word count? Check out Linda Formichelli’s How to Write Faster: 10 Crafty Ways to Hit 1,000 Words Per Hour.

5. Craft Irresistible Headlines

Smart Blogger’s CEO, Jon Morrow, recommends spending at least 20% of your time on the headline for your content.

That isn’t a typo.

If you spend 10 to 20 hours writing an article, 2 to 4 of those hours should be spent writing and re-writing the headline.

Why so many?

Because if your headline sucks, no one is going to give your content a chance.

In short:

Headlines are important. Practice writing them so you get really, really freakin’ good at them.

It’s a writing habit that’ll pay off again and again.

Learn More: In How to Write a Blog Post in 2020: The Ultimate Guide, Liz Longacre goes over the 8 rules for crafting amazing headlines. And in 10 Ways to Exploit Human Nature and Write Amazingly Appealing Headlines Robert van Tongeren shares tips for writing irresistibly-clickable headlines.

6. Avoid Filler Words

Too many writers dilute their writing with weak, empty words that bring nothing to the table.

Worse?

They silently erode your reader’s attention — one flabby word at a time.

Spot these words and eliminate them from your writing.

Learn More: In 298 Filler Words & Phrases That Rob Your Writing of Its Power, Shane Authur shows you how to tone and trim your prose.

7. Write with Rhythm

You know short sentences and short paragraphs are your friends.

But that doesn’t mean every sentence and paragraph you write should be short.

Too many short paragraphs in a row and your writing will bore your readers. Too many long paragraphs in a row and you’ll overwhelm them.

So, mix things up.

Let the rhythm of your words dictate when each paragraph begins, and you’ll strike up the perfect balance between short paragraphs and long.

Learn More: In How to Write a Paragraph in 2020 (Yes, the Rules Have Changed), Mike Blankenship looks at why variation is important and offers a few rules of thumb to follow.

8. Kick Writer’s Block in the Buttocks

When you’ve been staring at a blank page for what feels like hours, writer’s block can seem insurmountable.

It’s not.

Savvy writers have a collection of tried-and-true techniques to bust out whenever writer’s block starts to rear its ugly head — techniques ranging from turning off social media to asking Alexa to play “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” by The Proclaimers.

If you want to be a better writer, find a writer’s block technique or two that works for you.

Learn More: Henneke Duistermaat has 27 refreshingly-original writer’s block techniques you can try. Pick a few favorites, and don’t be afraid to break glass in case of emergency.

9. Make Your Words Burst to Life in Readers’ Minds

If you aren’t using power words or sensory language in your writing, you’re missing out.

Smart writers and copywriters use power words to give their content extra punch, personality, and pizzazz. And great writers from Shakespeare to Stephen King use sensory words evoking sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell to paint strong scenes in the minds of their readers.

Both types of words are effective and super simple to use.

If you’re tired of lifeless words sitting on a page, try sprinkling power and sensory words throughout your content.

Learn More: Check out 600+ Power Words That Pack a Punch and Convert like Crazy and 581 Sensory Words to Take Your Writing from Bland to Brilliant. Besides being the definitive guides on their topics, they each offer huge, bookmarkable lists you can reference again and again.

10. Be Funny

Some writers won’t like this, but…

Your content can’t simply teach — it needs to entertain too.

Or, to put it bluntly:

If you don’t entertain while you inform, your audience will find a writer who does.

Thankfully, there are numerous ways you can make your content more interesting and entertaining.

The easiest way (and my favorite)? Sprinkle in a little humor.

Learn More: Marc Ensign’s How to Captivate Your Audience with Humor (Even If You Don’t Think You’re Funny) will show you how to be funny (without looking like you’re trying to be funny).

11. Write with Clarity

It doesn’t matter how amazing, profound, or revolutionary your ideas are, if you can’t express them in a clear, coherent way, you might as well have written them in an ancient language no one understands.

Ask yourself this question:

Could I explain my content to someone in one sentence?

If the answer is no, your work is probably too complex. It’s time to simplify.

Learn More: In 20 Rules for Writing So Crystal Clear Even Your Dumbest Relative Will Understand, Smart Blogger’s COO, Glen Long, shares his best tips for writing with clarity.

12. Master Transitional Words and Phrases

Do you want to keep your readers glued to your content?

Want your posts to be so effortless to read people can’t help but absorb every word as they glide down the page?

Experienced writers are meticulous about making each sentence flow seamlessly into the next, and they use transitional phrases to help make it happen.

If you want people to read your writing, from beginning to end, you need to do the same.

Learn More: Smart Blogger’s How to Use Transitional Words and Phrases to Make Your Writing Flow (with Examples) breaks down transitional phrases and how to use them to give audiences a smooth reading experience.

13. Learn SEO (Like a Boss)

Whether you write for yourself or as a hired hand, being able to create content that ranks on Google is a valuable skill.

(In fact, if you’re a freelance writer, companies and agencies will happily pay you extra for this skill.)

Consistently ranking on Google doesn’t happen by accident. It happens when you understand the basics of SEO — keyword research, user intent, UX signals, etc. — and purposefully create content with SEO in mind.

If you already know the basics of SEO, you have a leg up on the competition.

And if you don’t know the basics, you need to learn them.

The sooner, the better.

Learn More: Brian Dean of Backlinko has a thorough SEO resource list you should read. And if you’re a total beginner, my friends over at Ahrefs have a newbie-friendly SEO guide.

14. Sleep With Your Readers

Remember when I said subheads should create curiosity? This is a good example.

What keeps your audience awake at night? What has them tossing and turning at 2 o’clock in the morning?

Answer this question and then write about it.

Follow this one writing tip and you could (almost) ignore the rest.

Learn More: “Sleeping with readers” is one of the metaphor examples Jon used in his epic article, Copyblogger Editor Admits to Sleeping with Readers and Recommends You Do the Same. For more insight into why knowing what’s keeping your readers up at night is so important, give it a read.

15. Keep an Obsessively Detailed Log Book

Record details of your writing sessions in a notebook. After a few weeks, look for patterns.

Are you more effective writing in the mornings? Afternoons? Evenings? Do your get more writing accomplished after your first cup of coffee or your fourth?

Find the method in your madness and use it become a better writer.

16. Just Open the Darn Document (Then Keep Going)

Oftentimes, getting started is the hardest part about writing. So, start small. Just open the Google Doc or Microsoft Word document. Then write your first sentence.

Momentum will take it from there.

17. Throw Linear Writing Out the Window

Remember the movie Memento (aka That movie from Christopher Nolan that told its story in reverse)?

If you’re stuck, try writing your piece of content in a non-linear order.

Don’t start at the beginning of your post. Start in the middle. Or the end. Start with your last subhead. Or your seventh.

In short, mix up your writing process.

18. Challenge Yourself to Write in Weird Places

Having a designated writing space (especially when you’re working from home) is important.

However, writing in different places from time to time can spark creativity.

Give it a try.

Learn More: For a deeper look into the 4 unusual writing tips we just discussed (plus 6 more), check out 10 Unique Writing Tips You Absolutely Won’t Have Heard Anywhere Else Before from Ali Luke.

Back to Top

Now It’s Time to Put These Writing Tips Into Practice

Most who read this post will smile, nod their head in agreement, and implement precisely zero of these writing tips.

But not you.

You know knowledge that’s not put into practice is wasted. That’s why you’ve already picked out a few favorites, and it’s why you can’t wait to start writing.

On their own, even the best writing tip is incapable of catapulting you to superstardom. But each of them, little by little, will help you hone your writing skills.

So, are you ready to be a better writer? Ready to take what you know about the craft of writing and turn it up to 11? Ready to go from a good fiction writer (or blogger, or freelancer, etc.) to a great one?

Then it’s time to get to work.

Let’s do this thing.

The post 18 Writing Tips That’ll Actually Make You a Better Writer (2020) appeared first on Smart Blogger.

from SEO and SM Tips https://smartblogger.com/writing-tips/

[claudeleonca]

How to Become a Better Writer: 14 Tips to Up Your Writing Game in 2019

If you search Google for tips on how to become a better writer, you’ll find a lot of big promises.

Here’s the truth:

There’s no tip, trick, strategy, or hack capable of turning a bad writer into a good one.

But if you’re looking to improve your writing skills by 5%, if you want to go from average to good or even good to great, a valuable tip can help make it happen.

Here are fourteen such tips:

1. Find Your Unique Voice

Serious question:

If we all listen to the same experts and we all follow the same advice, how is it possible for anyone to stand out from the crowd?

The trap many of us fall into is we believe if we mimic a popular blogger or writer, we’ll be popular too.

Imitation is indeed the sincerest form of flattery, but it’s a no-win proposition. Even if you succeed, you’ll be indistinguishable from all the other parrots out there.

There’s only one you. You have unique DNA. Your hopes, thoughts, and dreams are unique. Even the face you make when you accidentally walk into a spider web is unique.

Want to stand out?

When you sit down to write, tap into what makes you… well, you.

Learn More: In my guest appearance on the Biz Mavens’ podcast, I discuss the importance of finding your unique voice and offer three exercises to help you find it.

Back to Top

2. Edit Like Crazy

Many first drafts are clumsy, sloppy, and difficult to read. This is true for most writers — even experienced, well-known ones.

So what separates our writing heroes from the masses?

Editing.

The hard part isn’t over once your first draft is complete; on the contrary, it’s only beginning.

To take your work to the next level, you need to spend just as much time editing your words as you do creating them.

It’s ruthless work. It’s kind of boring. But it’s vital.

Learn More: 7 Editing Tips That’ll Make You a Better Writer (with Examples!) will show you the editing secrets popular bloggers and writers don’t want you to know.

Back to Top

3. Supercharge Your Subheads

Most readers stick around for fewer than 15 seconds.

Heck, most will stick around for fewer than 5 seconds.

Why? Because readers are experts at scanning. They’ll click your headline, quickly scan your content, and — in only a few seconds — decide whether to stay or go.

Writing a great introduction is one way to convince readers to stick.

Another?

Write masterful subheads that create curiosity, hook your readers, and keep them on the page long enough to realize your content is worth reading.

Learn More: In The Ultimate Guide to Writing Irresistible Subheads, Gary Korisko shares the four ingredients of a killer subhead.

Back to Top

4. Write Like Superman (Or That Guy You Know Who Types Really Fast)

Most of us are limited in the amount of time we have available to write.

So, if you want more time to write every day, you only have three options:

Say goodbye to your family and lock yourself in your office;

Invent a time machine;

Learn how to write faster.

Your spouse and children won’t like the first option, and the second option requires plutonium.

But the third option? That’s doable.

Learn More: Want some actionable tactics to boost your writing speed? Check out Linda Formichelli’s How to Write Faster: 10 Crafty Ways to Hit 1,000 Words Per Hour.

Back to Top

5. Craft Irresistible Headlines

Smart Blogger’s CEO, Jon Morrow, recommends spending at least 20% of your time on the headline for your content.

That isn’t a typo.

If you spend 10 to 20 hours writing an article, 2 to 4 of those hours should be spent on the headline.

Why so many?

Because if your headline sucks, no one is going to give your content a chance.

In short:

Headlines are important. Get good at writing them.

Learn More: In How to Write a Blog Post in 2019: The Ultimate Guide, Liz Longacre goes over the 8 rules for crafting amazing headlines. And in 10 Ways to Exploit Human Nature and Write Amazingly Appealing Headlines Robert van Tongeren shares tips for writing irresistibly-clickable headlines.

Back to Top

6. Avoid Weak Words

Too many writers dilute their writing with weak, empty words that bring nothing to the table.

Worse?

They silently erode your reader’s attention — one flabby word at a time.

Spot these words and eliminate them from your writing.

Learn More: In 297 Flabby Words and Phrases That Rob Your Writing of All Its Power, Shane Authur shows you how to tone and trim your prose.

Back to Top

7. Write with Rhythm

You know short paragraphs and white space are your friends.

But that doesn’t mean every paragraph you write should be short.

Too many short paragraphs in a row and your writing will bore your readers. Too many long paragraphs in a row and you’ll overwhelm them.

So, mix things up.

Let the rhythm of your words dictate when each paragraph begins, and you’ll strike up the perfect balance between short paragraphs and long.

Learn More: In How to Write a Paragraph in 2019 (Yes, the Rules Have Changed), Mike Blankenship looks at why variation is important and offers a few rules of thumb to follow.

Back to Top

8. Kick Writer’s Block in the Buttocks

When you’ve been staring at a blank page for what feels like hours, writer’s block can seem insurmountable.

It’s not.

Savvy writers have a collection of tried-and-true techniques to bust out whenever writer’s block starts to rear its ugly head — techniques ranging from brisk walks to asking Alexa to play “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” by The Proclaimers.

If you want to be a better writer, find a writer’s block technique or two that works for you.

Learn More: Henneke Duistermaat has 27 refreshingly-original writer’s block techniques you can try. Pick a few favorites, and don’t be afraid to break glass in case of emergency.

Back to Top

9. Make Your Words Burst to Life in Readers’ Minds

If you aren’t using power words or sensory language in your writing, you’re missing out.

Smart writers and copywriters use power words to give their content extra punch, personality, and pizzazz. And great writers from Shakespeare to Stephen King use sensory words evoking sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell to paint strong scenes in the minds of their readers.

Both types of words are effective and super simple to use.

If you’re tired of lifeless words sitting on a page, try sprinkling power and sensory words throughout your content.

Learn More: Check out 600+ Power Words That’ll Pack Your Writing with Emotion and 581 Sensory Words to Take Your Writing from Bland to Brilliant. Besides being the definitive guides on their topics, they each offer huge, bookmarkable lists you can reference again and again.

Back to Top

10. Be Funny

Some writers won’t like this, but…

Your content can’t simply teach — it needs to entertain too.

Or, to put it bluntly:

If you don’t entertain while you inform, your audience will find a writer who can.

Thankfully, there are numerous ways you can make your content more interesting and entertaining.

The easiest way (and my favorite)? Sprinkle in a little humor.

Learn More: Marc Ensign’s How to Captivate Your Audience with Humor (Even If You Don’t Think You’re Funny) will show you how to be funny (without looking like you’re trying to be funny).

Back to Top

11. Write with Clarity

It doesn’t matter how amazing, profound, or revolutionary your ideas are, if you can’t express them in a clear, coherent way, you might as well have written them in an ancient language no one understands.

Ask yourself this question:

Could I explain my content to someone in one sentence?

If the answer is no, your work is probably too complex. It’s time to simplify.

Learn More: In 20 Rules for Writing So Crystal Clear Even Your Dumbest Relative Will Understand, Smart Blogger’s COO, Glen Long, shares his best tips for writing with clarity.

Back to Top

12. Master Transitional Words and Phrases

Do you want to keep your readers glued to your content?

Want your posts to be so effortless to read people can’t help but absorb every word?

Experienced writers are meticulous about making each sentence flow seamlessly into the next, and they use transitional phrases to help make it happen.

If you want people to read your writing, from beginning to end, you need to do the same.

Learn More: Smart Blogger’s How to Use Transitional Words and Phrases to Make Your Writing Flow (with Examples) breaks down transitional phrases and how to use them to give audiences a smooth reading experience.

Back to Top

13. Learn SEO (Like a Boss)

Whether you write for yourself or as a hired hand, being able to create content that ranks on Google is a valuable skill.

(In fact, if you’re a freelance writer, companies and agencies will happily pay you extra for this skill.)

Consistently ranking on Google doesn’t happen by accident. It happens when you understand the basics of SEO — keyword research, user intent, UX signals, etc. — and purposefully create content with SEO in mind.

If you already know the basics of SEO, you have a leg up on the competition.

And if you don’t know the basics, you need to learn them.

The sooner, the better.

Learn More: Brian Dean of Backlinko has a thorough SEO guide and resource list you should read. And if you want to learn what not to do, check out Jon’s 6 SEO Mistakes That’ll Make Google Hate You Forever.

Back to Top

14. Sleep With Your Readers

Remember when I said subheads should create curiosity? This is a good example.

What keeps your audience awake at night? What has them tossing and turning at 2 o’clock in the morning?

Answer this question and then write about it.

Follow this one tip and you could (almost) ignore the rest.

Learn More: “Sleeping with readers” is a metaphor Jon used in his epic article, Copyblogger Editor Admits to Sleeping with Readers and Recommends You Do the Same. For more insight into why knowing what’s keeping your readers up at night is so important, give it a read.

Back to Top

You Now Know How to Become a Better Writer (but Knowing’s Just Half the Battle)

Most who read this post will smile, nod their head in agreement, and implement precisely zero of these tips.

But not you.

You know knowledge that’s not put into practice is wasted. That’s why you’ve already picked out a few favorites, and it’s why you can’t wait to start writing.

On their own, none of these writing tips will catapult you to superstardom. But each of them, little by little, will help you hone your craft.

So, are you ready to be a better writer? Are you ready to get 5%, 10%, or 15% better? Ready to go from a good writer to a great one?

Then it’s time to get to work.

Let’s do this thing.

About the Author: When he’s not busy telling waitresses, baristas, and anyone else who crosses his path that Jon Morrow once said he was in the top 1% of bloggers, Kevin J. Duncan is the Blog Editor for Smart Blogger.

The post How to Become a Better Writer: 14 Tips to Up Your Writing Game in 2019 appeared first on Smart Blogger.

from SEO and SM Tips https://smartblogger.com/how-to-become-a-better-writer/

[imagine-loki]

Soulbonds and Fairy Dust

TITLE: Soulbonds and Fairy Dust CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 5/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one of the fae has been helping the Avengers, jumping in to help them on missions and vanishing before Shield can bring her in.  Loki joins the team and convinces her to come talk to the team and consider joining before Shield takes more drastic measures. RATING: T (so far)  NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 here

Loki’s scarlet eyes widened in shock and horror as he tried and failed to bring his Asgardian form back.  He couldn’t while you had him in your control, even just this tiny piece of control, this tiny semblance of what you could do with his truename. His expression turned hard when he realized that he couldn’t bring his illusion back. “Sigyn, enough!” He snapped at you, snarling in rage at what you’d done.

You snapped your mouth shut and looked down, cringing from his anger.  You’d been expecting it, but were still frightened by the angry male.  “I’m sorry,” you said softly, talking to your lap, refusing to look up at him.  “I release you,” you added to be safe.  “Your illusion will be back in a minute…” you added softly and hated that you could hear the fear in your voice.

He turned away from you, turning his back to try to hide his true form until the illusion reappeared.  

As if he were ashamed of his beautiful sapphire skin and the raised runic markings, of his beautiful scarlet eyes.  

This was Loki just as much as his Asgardian illusion was.

“There’s no need to hide,” you told him just as softly, daring to look up at him while he focused on getting his illusion back.

He turned back to you as soon as he was looking Asgardian again.  He was still glaring and you shrank back from him. “There is a reason I hide behind illusions, Lady,” he told you firmly, anger in his voice and tone.  The way he said it, you knew that was all he was going to say on the matter.

You nodded and looked back down at your lap.  “Sorry,” you said again.  “You needed to understand the power of names and this was the easiest way to show you…” your voice was soft and afraid.  And you hated how fearful your words were. 

He sighed and properly looked at you and realized he didn’t want to lose his best friend again, especially when he’d just gotten you back again. He took a deep breath, another, before he spoke again. “It’s alright.  I was just surprised.  I did not expect anyone to be able to break my illusion…” he gave you an expectant look to explain yourself.

You nodded and relaxed slightly, looking up at him again. “It’s part of the power of true-naming.  If a fae with sufficient power knows a being’s true name they can control at least aspects of that being, or completely control them.  Names are dangerous.  True-naming is a rare skill among the fae, so you don’t have to worry, I’m one of the very few who can do it, and none can do it like I can. But that is only a touch of what a fae can do with a being’s real name, ergo why real names aren’t used,” you explained, thought you weren’t sure your explanation was clear.  You were still speaking softly, cautiously, bordering on afraid.  You may have known this man when you were both children, but that was centuries ago and you only barely remembered pieces of it. You really needed to take the time to undo the blocks on your memories.  

Loki nodded along in understanding.  “Then I can live with a nickname. I actually like Lokes,” he gave you a reassuring smile.  

“You can pick a different one if you’d like,” you told him quickly.  “I just needed one quickly for the outing. I know how it feels to be stuck with a term of address you don’t care for…”

Loki gave you a real smile and shook his head.  “Lokes is fine.  Like I said, I actually like it, especially coming from my old friend.  I’m just not used to having a…kind… nickname.  Thor’s moronic friends weren’t kind with their nicknames and Stark is… well Stark.” You nodded. You’d gotten the impression already that Loki and Stark hated each other.  And that was enough to make you wary of Stark. “Is there anything else you wish to share?” Loki asked you gently, wanting more information, but not wanting to pressure you. 

 You hesitated, unsure what else he would want or need to know.  “Sorry, I’m not used to anyone taking an interest. Anything else you wanted to know in particular?” You asked in reply.

“How long have you been fae?” He asked and you saw the curiosity in his eyes.  He was always desperate to be able to find out answers to any mystery that he came across.  Some things never changed.

 You had to think that over.  “Well, I’m not entirely fae, but I’ve been like this,” you indicated your pointed ears, tri-colored eyes, and sidhe red hair “Since shortly after they took me.  800 or so years ago?  You seem to remember when that was better than I do at the moment…” You’d had the physical appearance of a 6 year old by Midgardian standards when you’d been taken.  And Loki was older than you by fifty years, you remembered.  Aging among the Asgardians happened in spikes of aging followed by long plateaus. You’d been around 200 when you were taken.

Loki nodded, thinking over your words.  “The whole kingdom was in an uproar when you vanished. Since you were so close to the princes of Asgard, Mother and the Allfather sent out the palace guards to search for you. They searched for at least a decade with no leads. I’m sorry, Sigyn…” he said softly, his eyes and and tone full of centuries of old sorrow.

“They wanted you,” you told him softly, your eyes haunted with old memories “or Hammer-brain, but you were more fae like,”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why me? What could I have possibly offered them?” He asked you.  “I was only a child too…”

“An alliance between the fae and Asgard?” You suggested with a shrug.  “They didn’t tell me much of their dastardly plans. They were so angry when they realized I wasn’t a princess…” you told him, remembering.  Those memories you hadn’t been able to block out. 

“You were basically royalty, just not officially. I doubt that Mother or the Allfather would have given into the fae even if they had taken me. Especially the Allfather,” you noted that he didn’t call Odin ‘father’ anymore and you wondered what happened to cause the rift.

 “They didn’t think Hammer-brain would take to the magic or transition.  We already had magic, since your mother was teaching us. Like I said, they didn’t exactly share their plans with me;  I’ve only put together a few bits and pieces over the years…” you explained as best you could.

He nodded, accepting your story.  “I’ll have to let mother know. It could be important. Do you know why the fae wish for an alliance with Asgard?”

 “The Asgardians are one of the long-lived races.  And the seidr is compatible with fae magic.  The fae aren’t… dying out necessarily, but they aren’t having children and the children they are having are with the Midgardians, since the Allfather won’t let them into his realm and it’s hard for them to get into the realms with the other long-lived races as well. The children with the Midgardians aren’t immortal and their magic is weak at best. They think the chances will be better to strengthen both the fae and the Asgardians with an alliance,” you spoke quickly, trying to get all the ideas you’d been able to gather out of your mouth in a coherent thought.

Somehow, Loki kept up, nodding along in understanding.  “I’m so sorry about what happened to you. It should not have.  I wish…I wish we had done a better job protecting you.  You were ours to defend, and we failed you,”

“Lokes, we were children!  It wasn’t your fault. We were just kids. And I’ve made it out of Underhill now…” you tried to reassure him.  All you wanted to do was cross the distance between you and pull him into a hug, but you knew instinctively that he wouldn’t appreciate it. 

“I know. I just wish I could have done more to help you. Or at least let them take me over you!” He sounded so frustrated and helpless and you knew he’d been chewing himself out over it for centuries.

“No, Loki,” you had a slight hesitation over using his name, but customs were different here and you’d seen how he didn’t care for nicknames.  “You would have fared worse there than I did, and I would not have wished that on anyone,”

“What exactly happened to you in Underhill?” His voice was full of heartbreak.

“A lot of awful things. The fae are not kind to those who aren’t fae.  It’s only possible to gain power there by having powerful friends or being strong enough or beautiful enough to gain power other ways.  So even though I was part of the seelie court, it wasn’t safe. I told you that no one goes by their real names, everyone has monickers.  Mine was ‘mongrel’.  So believe me when I say that you would have fared worse, Prince,” you told him.  His title also counted as a nickname in your book and wouldn’t offend him.

His expression still looked haunted, but he nodded. “My brother and I, along with this team, will do all we can to keep you safe. You have my word, Sigyn,” he told you firmly. He sounded determined to keep you safe this time. 

You gave him a small, warm smile.  “I’m not exactly helpless,” you reminded him with a smirk. 

He grinned back at you.  “I’m aware. You were trained by my mother. It would be an insult to her if I said you did not have the power to defend yourself,”

You giggled.  It was a sound you hadn’t heard yourself make in centuries and was wonderful and melodic.  “And no one would dare insult Mama Frigga,” you agreed, her old form of address falling off your tongue automatically and it sounded perfect and like it was still correct.

His smile widened to a true smile, a smile you remembered on a much younger Loki.  “Very true,” he agreed warmly and you recognized the expression he wore when he thought of his beloved Mama.

You couldn’t help jumping with Jarvis announced that dinner was ready.  You glared up in the direction that the voice seemed to be coming from while Loki chuckled.  “I am not much of a fan of the computer myself. Primitive technology,” he scoffed.

You raised and eyebrow at him.  “You haven’t upgraded it yet?” You asked as you stood from your bed.  Dinner sounded like an excellent idea.  You had also come up with at least three different upgrades to do on the stupid primitive technology without even seeing it. 

Loki shook his head.  “Stark is very protective of his technology. I tried upgrading it when I first arrived but Stark seemed to be prepared for that and has banned me from his lab,” Loki whined.  

You giggled and gave him a mischievous smirk.  “Maybe I’ll do it instead,“

He returned your smirk and it felt like old times.  “Be my guest,”

“We should probably get to dinner before Hammer-brain eats everything,” you reminded Loki. Your magic shimmered purple around you for a moment and you were in a forest green floor length gown with a golden belt that looked gorgeous with your coloring.  Loki gave you a look you couldn’t quite identify.  “What? do people not dress for dinner around here or something?” You asked at his expression.  It seemed almost longing?  Delighted?  Impressed by your looks maybe?

“Not usually. People are much more casual nowadays.  Well, at least on Midgard. Asgard still has their feasts every evening,” he clarified.

 You sighed, missing the court dinners you were used to and let your clothes shimmer back to the baggy second hand clothes you’d been wearing earlier. "Shall we, then?” You asked him softly and started to leave your room to head back to the main floor where you assumed dinner lived.

Loki held out his arm for you to take.  “Will you allow me to escort you to dinner, old friend?” He asked with a kind smile.  He was so relieved to have you back in his life after so long. 

You smiled and took his arm, placing your hand lightly on his sleeve and gave him a warm smile.  “The honor is mine, prince,” you replied just as kindly. It seemed so comfortable with Loki and you were finally starting to feel like this could be home.  

Until you stepped out of your room.  “Brother! You cannot monopolize the affections of our old friend!” Thor boomed in his usual jovial way.  Your hand tightened on Loki’s arm and you sidled closer automatically. You were getting comfortable with Loki, but you were still shy and skittish around the others and Thor surprised you with how loud he was.

Loki glared at his brother. “Quiet, you oaf. You don’t need to yell when I’m standing right here,” he grumbled and rolled his eyes.

Thor ignored Loki’s glare as per usual.  “My point remains that you cannot monopolize our Lady Sigyn’s affections,” he said and took your free hand to kiss your knuckled. 

You saw Loki’s glare hardened and he tensed up at Thor’s teasing.  You squeezed Loki’s arm reassuringly and huffed in annoyance at Thor.  “Can’t you stop antagonizing your brother for five minutes, hammer-brain?” You asked, rolling your eyes.  He huffed at the nickname.  "Healing stab wounds is such a pain,” you whined at Loki, easing his tension with your joking and teasing.  Just like old times indeed.

Loki chuckled.  “Very true,” he agreed, the threat to his brother clear. 

“Some things have not changed it seems,” Thor told you warmly and walked down to dinner with you.  The rest of the team was already sitting around the dining room table and your hand tightened on Loki’s arm again, shy and skittish of all the people.

Loki shifted his position slightly, drawing you slower reassuringly. /I’m right by your side, Little Sigyn.  You’re safe/ he reminded you telepathically.

/They don’t like you either/ you reminded him as Loki pulled out your chair for you and seated you at the table.  You smiled at him, acknowledging his courtesy.  

The team went around the table giving introductions.  When they were finished, they looked at you expectantly.  You hesitated and thought over what to tell them, unsure how far to trust these people.  Just because Thor liked them didn’t mean anything.  Thor liked everyone.  Finally you settled on the truth.  “I’m Sigyn, lady of Asgard and lady of the seelie court of the fae,” you told them softly.  They all seemed surprised to learn you were of Asgard and Thor told them how he and Loki knew you as children before the fae stole you. 

/Darling, are you there?/ Frigga asked her son while you were all eating dinner.

His eyes unfocused as he concentrated on answering her. /I’m here, Mother. Is something wrong?/

/I’ve been trying to find Sigyn’s family…/ she started, sorrow in her tone. Loki dreaded the information, but waited for her to continue. /Her father died in the battle on Alfheim shortly after she went missing.  Freya… Freya died of the heartbreak of losing her daughter and husband in such a short time.  I’m sorry, darling, but we’re the closest thing to family she has left…/ Frigga was clearly upset at the news and at having to tell Loki.

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed as he thought over what she said, his heart breaking for you and knowing he would have to tell you before you returned to Asgard. /What does this mean for her?/ 

/What do you mean, darling?/

/I mean, does this make her a princess of Asgard? Should we return home? What does the Allfather think?/

 /No, she is not a princess. I simply meant that we are probably the only ones she has a chance to remember as her parents are lost to us and she was their firstborn.  She retains her title as a duchess. There is no need for you to return home until you are ready to do so/ she paused, wondering why her son was always so suspicious of his father.  /Your father is grateful she has finally been found, of course, and would like to see her when she is up to coming here, but has not said anything about her/  she paused for a long minute before she asked.  /By the way, darling, is her hair an unnatural red color now?/

Loki’s expression hardened even more at that question. /It is. Why?/ he demanded, instantly jumping to try to protect you, though he didn’t know from what or why.

 /That simply explains a vision I had many, many centuries ago is all/ she explained, and her tone made it clear that she wasn’t going to tell him more.  

His curiosity could be felt through the link, but he was smart enough not to pry into things Frigga wasn’t prepared to tell him.  She knew he was curious, but she equally wasn’t going to give him more of an answer right now.  Some visions would not come true if the subjects knew about the vision. /Alright. I will be sure to let her know that she is welcome to return to Asgard whenever she wishes. What should I tell her about her family?/

/I would suggest telling the truth for once, darling/ she teased him and she could feel Loki’s smirk and laughter across the link. /However, if you do not wish to tell her, I will when you inevitably come to visit/

/I can tell her. I just might wait until she is more comfortable here. She was already forced to uproot her life to move into the tower. I don’t wish to spring this news on her as well, not so soon with everything else/ He hadn’t done well with sudden revelations in his own life and he didn’t want the same to happen to you.

/Of course, darling.  I just thought you should know sooner rather than later.  I love you, my son/ Frigga told him warmly and ended the connection. It wasn’t the easiest thing to maintain across the realms.  

While they were talking, the team had been asking you questions, mostly things you’d already told Loki.  However, you’d gotten tired after one too many snarky remarks from Stark and even more tired of being talked over.  “Hey! Listen to the fae when you ask her questions!” You snarled at him.

Stark stared at you for a moment before he burst into laughter, nearly falling out of his chair he was laughing to hard. “Whatever you say, Navi,” he teased.

You sighed heavily and glared at him.  “Of course I get nicknamed after the most annoying fairy in history…”

Loki blinked a couple of times, pulling himself out of his daze.  He looked concerned at your glare.  “What?” He asked dumbly, trying to catch back up.

“Nope, you said the line.  You’re officially Navi!” Stark replied gleefully, grinning and ignoring Loki. 

You huffed in reply. “Stupid shellhead,” you growled in his direction. Loki chuckled at your name for Stark, a small smile forming on his face and you gave him a conspiratorial smile at his chuckle.  

The team told stories for the rest of the meal, giving you a break from answering questions.  Though at the end of dinner, before the dessert was brought out to appease the Loki, Nat turned to you.  “I’m taking you shopping tomorrow,” she told you firmly, but her voice was kind.  “You need clothes and Stark’s buying, so no complaints,” she added, leaving no room for arguments in her tone.

Loki raised an eyebrow at that and turned to you. /Do you wish for me to accompany you? I know you don’t feel very comfortable around many people/

/It’ll be ok/ you reassured him quickly.  You knew you needed Midgardians clothes.  And you knew men on every realm hated shopping, especially for clothes and you didn’t imaging Loki, even your genderfluid Loki, would be any exception. /Nat’s nice enough/

Loki nodded, accepting your decision.  /If you need anything, you only have to call for me. I will be there/ he promised.  You were going to have to teach him about making promises in your presence, but that was a lesson for another day.

/That’s appreciated/ you replied warmly.  You had a thing about names, but there was also the thing about directly thanking someone.  

You were all distracted when Clint brought over the giant chocolate cake he’d made to go with dinner and he gave Loki a tentative smile.  It seemed he may have been blatantly bribing Loki to like him by giving Loki desserts.  It was an effective strategy.  Loki’s eyes lit up in delight.

Your eyes lit up too.  “That looks delicious,” you oohed over it.  Nat cut the cake into slices and made sure Loki got the biggest one.  She shared a conspiratorial smile with him and was clearly also not above bribing the god with food to be friends

“Kid, you up to showing us what you can do?” Stark asked you once you had all devoured your cake.  

You glared at him down the table.  This group someone was already feeling like a dysfunctional family.  “I'm not a kid.  Just because I look like the youngest person at this table doesn’t mean I am,” you told him firmly.

Loki glared at Stark too.  “She is not a test subject for you, Stark,”

“Why don’t we let her get settled in before we start assessing her skills for the team?” Cap suggests placatingly.  It seemed he was the peacekeeper of the group. 

“How about movie night?” Nat suggested kindly instead.  It was clear the group wanted to get to know you, but you were peopled out by that point and could see that Loki was too.  

“Maybe another night,” you said softly, tired of dealing with so many people bothering you for information. The second the dishes were cleared, you left to head back to your room and solitude.  You changed into pajamas and unpacked your things before you got bored and decided to explore the tower and get to know your new home.

Loki was in his room, enjoying his own solitude and privacy and he heard your bedroom door open and close, since he lived across the hall from you. /Where are you off to, little fae?/

You stiffened a little at being spied on, tension running through you as you fought not to draw your blades. /Checking out my new home/ you replied curtly, defensively.  You weren’t supposed to be a prisoner here. They shouldn’t have sicked Loki on you as a babysitter. 

Loki felt the tension in the link. /Don’t fret, I’m not spying on you. I just heard your door open and was curious. Do you wish for company?/

 You followed the link to the door across the hall and padded silently on bare feet.  Loki hadn’t told you he was across the hall from you, but someone you weren’t surprised.  That did explain Stark’s behavior when he told Loki where you’d be living.  You cracked his bedroom door open with only a tap of a knock as warning.  “Only if you want company.  You like your solitude, right?” You asked softly from the doorway.  You’d also been working on unlocking your memories before you went wandering.

He gave you a bright warm smile.  “I do, but you are the exception to that rule, old friend,” 

You gave him a warm smile in return. “I know it’s probably a lot to ask, but is there anything actually worth reading in this place?”  These people all seemed like the active Thor-types who wouldn’t know a good book if they were hit in the head with it.

“I’m actually not sure. I haven’t taken the time to look, since I brought my own reading material,” he paused and summoned a book, offering it to you.  You took the invitation and entered his room properly to take the book from him.  “This is one of my favorites.  I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve read it,” he told you warmly.

You took the book from him and couldn’t help the bright smile on your face.  “Hiccup! I haven’t seen a copy of this in-” you trailed off, settling comfortably next to him on his bed and diving straight into the rune-written tale, revisiting characters you hadn’t read about in centuries.  His smile widened at your familiar behavior and he returned to the book he’d been reading himself.  

It was hours and hours later when you finally broke your gaze from the book and realized it was the early hours of the morning “Odin’s beard!  Sorry! I shouldn’t have infringed on your solitude so long.  You should’ve kicked me out hours ago.  I blame the book!” You told him nearly frantically at the impropriety of your actions.  You scrambled off of his bed to go find your own and let him get some sleep.

He chuckled. “Believe me, Sigyn. I very much enjoy your company,” he told you warmly.

You gave him a bright smile in return. “And I yours, Loki.  However, the hour is late and I should find my own bed,” 

Loki nodded and stood as well to open the door for you and see you out safely. “Goodnight, little fae,” he told you warmly with a kind smile. You returned the smile, cradling the book to your chest. You weren’t giving the book back until you finished reading it.

“Goodnight, prince,” you replied before you left his room.

*

Nat woke you early to take you shopping and it was a whirlwind of an adventure, but by the time you returned to the tower, you’d become friends with her and had an entire new wardrobe.  Nat made you change out of your grungy old clothes into something new before you returned.  Nat had caught both of the Asgardian’s interest in you and had a feeling they’d appreciate you being dressed in flattering clothes for once.  So you were wearing an adorable purple sweater dress, black leggings, and boots when you reentered the common room just after lunch.

Thor jumped to his feet when you entered the common room and smiled appreciatively at you wearing something flattering instead of baggy second hand clothes. He took your hand to bow over it and kiss you knuckles, the actions of a polite gentlemanly prince and something you’d more expect his brother to do.  Which is when you realized he was teasing Loki by doing it before his brother could.  “You look lovely, Lady Sigyn,” he told you warmly. 

Loki glared at Thor before unfolding himself from his couch and joining the pair of you, maneuvering Thor aside. Thor stepped aside with a smirk, enjoying teasing his brother.  

Loki took your bare hand in his and bowed elegantly over it, placing his cool lips against your knuckles. “Resplendent, lady fae, as always,” he told you.

The second Loki took your hand in his, the first time your bare skin actually touched, a flare of magic passed between you, etching lines of power in beautiful swirls from the backs of your hands left hands up your arms to their elbows. Purple on his arm and green on yours. 

A soulbond etched in power on your  email