#Tumblr ate another paragraph every time I looked away

[sea-salted-wolverine]

I'm violently obsessed with the salmon plushie, is there absolutely any way we could get even a very rough pattern? Like rough ideas of shapes/sizes/placements? It wouldn't have to be super detailed, or even complete, I'm mostly interested in how you did the head/jaw and fins. I would be willing to pay you for it. You are the BEST auntie ever!!!! 🐟💗

@benevolentbirdgal you asked something similar i just haven't got around to answering

I have had people in real life ask for a pattern of how I did this and unfortunately I don't even know how to read/follow a pattern much less write/arrange/format one. If you scroll back through my blog a bit you can find all the progress pictures, they should all be tagged with both #plushie and #neice creature.

I suppose if you wanted a write up of the process it would go something like this.

Step one, become intimately acquainted with fish. Be born in a place where a large chunk of the state charter is about fishing rights. Go to kindergarten in a place where they not only teach kids about every phase of the life cycle but also raise salmon fry in classroom aquariums. Catch and clean alot of fish, like alot, like get up into the thousands. Become so quick and efficient at cleaning fish that tourists stop to watch you and people ask for lessons and knife sharpening.

Step two, now that you have the anatomy of a salmon ingrained into the fibers of your soul, just, draw one in its entirety on the inside of a pair of jeans that never fit. Make it half size, for baby hands, about the size of a trout. I literally never put a ruler anywhere near this thing, but like, 12-14 inches tip to tail.

Step three, make the pectoral, pelvic, anal, and dorsal fins as well as the caudal fin(tail). Make vague plans about the adipose fin and then give up and ignore it because no one cares about the adipose fin, including the fish themselves. Turn all the fins right-side out and stitch their rays on, giving them a little bit of structure and shape. Get to the tail fin and realize you are not stitching 20 fin rays on there and find a happy medium between accuracy and ease.

Step four. Fuck. Fish are hollow. The whole point of cleaning a fish is to cut it into lots of little pieces, some of which you eat and some of which you discard, which is not something you want of a child's toy. You could. But you don't want whoever is cleaning up after this toddler to run around picking up lil fishy organs. Rethink the way you filet a fish. Cringe at the thought that the most efficient way to make this plush is the least efficient way to filet a fish.

The filets themselves are easy, or at least, they're easy if you've done step one. It's an oblong shape with the belly color stitched directly to the denim, about the width of a hand. The meat is a safety orange tee-shirt that is now a crop top (insert long rant about the correct color of sockeye salmon meat here. It should not be fucking pink. Do not let anyone tell you it should be pink.) Stitch everything inside out and turn the seams in, then stuff them with shredded tee-shirt scraps because batting and stuffing is for people who can plan projects before they do them.

Step five, carcass. The dorsal fin gets seamed between a pair of denim strips to make the back. The adipose fin is a useful reference point for the locations of everything else but I couldn't figure out how to get the seams to work the way I wanted them so I ignored the adipose fin. Rip. The meat color gets seamed to the back and then the belly color to make a funky looking tube shape with fins sticking out. There was some finagling to make the fins sit in the places I wanted them to but everything sits in a seam except the anal fin which was easy enough to shove in a dart.

Step six, fishheads. Uhh, okay, there's how I did it and then there's how I would do it again. What I did was make a head out of a single piece of denim with some darts to make it the shape I wanted. Then I made the gills a sort of half moon shaped pocket with a redish pink color and seamed the pectoral fins in where the red met the orange. The jaw was a stuffed tongue of material attached to the belly and inside of the mouth, which is when realized I forgot to stuff the body. I do like how I stuffed the body because I took 6 layers of tee-shirt material tacked together in the vague shape of a fish and crammed it inside so it laid flat. It held more structural shape without being rigid or puffy. If I could have remembered to do that before I stitched everything close it would have been ideal.

If I was gonna do it over I would have made the head hollow and lined it with the red gill color and made the jaw a continuation of the belly so there would be an opening all the way through. I would also add some gill frills and fill them with rigid plastic to maintain the structure. I would also rearrange the pectoral fins to seam them in right behind the gills rather than below them.

Eyeballs this time around were buttons and finding sew on eyeballs is harder than I thought it would be but thats the obvious upgrade.

Guts were just a simple blob hand-sewn on, but with a bit more planning, I could actually do a digestive tract gas bladder, liver and roe sac. If I was gonna get that in depth I would rearrange the piecing order to have correctly fileted belly, so it would better explain how to harvest roe and belly meat. Plus as long as I was planning things rather than just slapping things together I would do some quick machine embroidery for muscle separations and a midline on the scales, mostly to make it pretty but also as a reference and indication of musculature.

Oh. Step six, the damn Velcro. Every craft store in Alaska is out of Velcro at the moment. Okay, maybe not every single one but all of them in between Fairbanks and Anchorage. And Home Depot. I found the stuff to stick on walls at Lowes which did not work nearly as well as I hoped it would. I had to force the needle through by bracing it against the floor and forcing the plush down on top of it. Forget a thimble, I was considering pliers. I was rushing (and also finishing it at my moms house) by the time I got to this part but I would get more creative and cut it into a shape more reminiscent of a spine next time.

I was gonna vacuum pack it before I wrapped it as a present because it would have been hilarious but I was slapping wrapping paper on while getting squawked at about being late, so we can all mourn the joke that never got the chance to land.

In conclusion, winging it gets you some crazy places and wild results but there are trade offs to careening speed, mostly in missed opportunities. But if you have a lot of pre-existing knowledge like general understanding of how seams work and also how fish work, you can pad out a lot of the inevitable fuck ups. If you are just jumping into raw dog a plushy pattern, I recommend starting out with something you are innately familiar with, rather than something that strikes you as cool.

[existslikepristin]

Please, No Virginity Puns

The most recent thing I posted before tumblr. It was on Choerry's birthday, and I am proud of that.

Tags: TheLounge, Loona, Choerry, male reader insert, it's her birthday!, 100% butt stuff, I ate a thesaurus

~~~~~

It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you get there?

Well, moments prior, you were sitting next to Choerry at your small dinner table. She’s always insisted on sitting as close to you as possible in order to enable near-constant snuggling. It’s gotten a little annoying here and there, but you can’t help but concede to her innocent demands whenever she smiles.

Of course, and not that you’ve ever complained about this, that’s not to say that her demands aren’t always entirely innocent. Most of the time they are, but not always.

That day, for example, you woke her up with breakfast in bed. It wasn’t tradition, but you were just getting her back for the last time she did it for you. And what better day to present her, prone, with a pancake, pulverized potato, and porridge parfait platter… with toppings… than her birthday?!

It can be hard to tell if Choerry is acting or not at times, but you’d like to think that her cartoonish level of enthusiasm for the treat was entirely real. She carried that sunshine throughout the rest of your day, skipping through the park, greeting everybody on the way to, inside, and on the way out of The Lounge, at the surprise party that you helped all of her members get her with, and when she dragged you to her room.

Not a drop of alcohol had touched her lips that night, so it was all the more surprising when she shoved you onto her bed and stated matter-of-factly-but-also-vaguely that she wanted you to put a thing in her butt. Her words came out of her mouth like shimmery soap bubbles.

You had to pause for a moment to process her words. You were certainly up for some sexy times with Choerry. You had anticipated it was going to happen when she put your hand down her pants near the end of the birthday party with no attempt at subtlety. But her exact word choices had you rubbing your temples out of exasperation, even as she stripped herself down to her ridiculously cherry red lingerie.

Your chance to admire that rare view was lost to history, however. She removed the lingerie from her body while she claimed your lips. Your disappointment at not getting the opportunity to remove it yourself quickly faded when she popped back up though.

Her breasts were as perky as her attitude, and also your dick. She was quick to notice the latter and made quick work of your clothes too. She sighed satisfactorily at the sight of your sword and stooped to supply it with a suck and some slickening slobber, so you suspected the sex was starting summarily; more swiftly than standard, it seemed.

Concerned for her well being, you made sure to ask if she had lube available. Again, you weren’t going to complain about her gusto, but she lacked the anal experience that some of your mutual friends had, at least you assumed. Sure enough, there was a bottle mere feet from her reach in her drawer. She grabbed it and jumped back on top of you, pouring it generously over her ass crack and your cock with surprising accuracy for someone so engaged with a hot and heavy kiss.

You were sure you had something to say on the matter. Perhaps some additional words of caution, maybe some other words of encouragement. It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you-- come back around to the exact same thought that the story began with?

“It’s okay, right?”

You attempted to blink away your stupefaction. “O-okay?”

“Mhm! For me to�� you know!” She leaned in and whispered directly into your ear, “Put your penis in my butt.”

Ah, yes. The demand that you had nearly forgotten in her flurry of kisses, now slightly reworded to include your dick in the equation. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking!”

“We’ve… done this before.”

“I know!” Choerry swooped back in to continue kissing you, implying that she had no intention of expounding further. Her fingers wrapped around your cock, massaging the whole length to ensure that the lube had maximum coverage.

Your breath caught as you felt her readjusting you, tapping you around between her legs as she tried to match you up with her intended target purely via exploration. Your cock was ground between her ass cheeks, the tip slid over her clit, and dipped briefly into her pussy. A groan was the only complaint you could give to only being given a half second of her fantastic heat.

You didn’t have to wait long to get it back. Her ass opened up to the pressure she applied against it with your dick, but exceptionally slowly. Choerry released a series of little exclamations into your mouth as she pushed. She tossed the lube bottle to the side and snatched your hand, curling her fingers into your palm.

Finally, the last pop came, and was followed by a short slide. With no more manual guidance necessary, she grabbed your other hand as well, which promptly slipped out of her grip considering the amount of lube present.

Choerry released you from your kissy bliss to look at her slippery hand, a mixture of anger and amusement on her face. She tried a couple more times to hold your hand with it, but you liked this look. You easily slithered your hand out from under hers every time she slapped down. It was like watching a cat trying to catch a laser pointer.

It was just another reminder that no matter how deep inside Choerry you may physically be, she’ll never stop bringing a goofy-ass smile to your face.

Finally, you relented and entwined your fingers with hers, locking your knuckles together so you wouldn’t fall apart. She glared down into your eyes, but a grin still crept through. “Thank you,” she said, lips tight and nose scrunched up.

With you fully in her grasp, Choerry straightened herself up, allowing you the opportunity to look up and down her sublime figure. Though her movement caused her to cause you to penetrate her a bit further which caused her to flinch slightly, she kept herself aloft on her knees to not go too far all at once. She closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths there, as calmly as if she was meditating.

As much as you wanted to go ham on her ham, you didn’t want to hurt her, so you contented yourself with watching her chest rise and fall. “Happy birthday…” you whispered.

“You’ve already told me that today,” Choerry intoned, eyes still closed like she was drifting off into her own little world.

You laughed. “I was saying it to myself! Have you seen you?”

She smiled again, and said three words in a voice that made it seem like she was speaking to an audience on the edge of their seats, “Okay, I��m ready.”

Her fingers constricted around yours, so you questioned if she was, in fact, ready. But you wouldn’t be the one to stop her.

Choerry’s tight tush trucked its way toward the top of your tower twice to tighten her take on the task at the time, before torturously trending testicle-ward. She temporized without taking your entire tool.

So hypnotized were you with her graceful movement that you didn’t even notice the frustrated moan coming up your throat until it was too late.

Her eyes popped open. “I’m sorry!” She sounded like she meant it, too. “This is… tough.”

“Take your time,” you said, straining your voice for comic effect.

“Could have used that four paragraphs ago,” she said, continuing her extremely slow descent down your shaft.

The odd statement distracted you just long enough for Choerry to finish her drop. No longer did space separate your pelvises. You grew concerned again when she winced and bit her lip from the inside.

“Choerry, we really can do something else. Don’t hurt yourself please.”

She gave you an exaggerated, indignant gander. “Rhetorical question: Who gets to choose the cake on her birthday?”

You held in your “cake” joke.

“It’s me,” Choerry’s voice was far too chipper to make this talking-to sound as stern as you were sure she wanted it to come across as. “As birthday lady, I get to pick the cake, and I get to feed it to you if I want to.”

You held in your “cake feeding” joke.

“And tonight, the cake I pick is my bum.”

You opened your mouth to comment on her most excellent selection of the word “bum” in the midst of a scenario where your cock is fully inside of said bum, but you instead gasped a sharp breath.

Choerry ground forward, pulling your dick with her and anointing the lowermost part of your stomach with the juices being lightly sprinkled from her clit.

“Besiiides,” she continued, re-angling her hands to she could tickle the backs of yours, “We have all the lube! Even some that’s got a certain special flavor to it!”

“Just some?”

“Yeah, ooh,” she crooned, apparently quite enjoying the grind back down your pelvis, “I didn’t get it all at once. Now guess the flavor!”

You waited for her grinding to pause again to be able to think straight, “Does it start with a ‘C?’”

Her smile grew. “Yes!”

“Is it a fruit?”

“Yes!”

“Is it… cherry?”

“Failure!”

“Wha--”

“It’s coconut!”

If you weren’t so established in your hand holding with Choerry, you’d have palmed your face. Thankfully, thoughts of how she could have possibly expected you to guess that were pushed to the back of your mind as she resumed her removal of your breath with a series of fanciful body rolls.

Finally fucking her fanny felt fictional. For while not the first foray there, far-fetched was the philosophy that it was fielded often, the front being the favored fornication fissure for the foreseeable future. Unless, of course, you could make this an especially special session.

But woe was unto you. Choerry had the upper hand(s) figuratively as well as literally. But, perhaps, you thought, this was exactly what she wanted and you could wait your damn turn to take control.

And you liked letting her anally probe herself this way, so, you know, what were you to do but enjoy the ride?

Over the course of her self-imposed ravaging, Choerry’s meditative breaths became ragged. Her eyelids fluttered at regular intervals. Through it all, she held her phantasmagorical demeanor. A couple of times she reached for the lube bottle and shotgunned it somewhat inaccurately between her legs, but it did the job. You were happy to see that she was still considering her own comfort.

In fact, to your surprise, her mouth opened wide in a silent shout. Her core trembled anticipatorily. Her hands held yours with a colossally increased lewdness. And those two mystical words trickled from her tongue with a high-pitched susurration, “I’m… cumming…”

Choerry’s grinding came to a grinding halt. Her body jerked and she fell onto you. Your cock sprang free of her ass in, and as a result of, the same motion.

You untangled one of your hands to stroke her back in the most adoring fashion you could muster. After chewing on a thesaurus for the prior hour, you were sure neither of you really needed any more words.

She stayed there for a spell, and you were happy to let her. It was so late it was nearly no longer her birthday, but her birthday it still was. She deserved the rest, along with the rest of your undivided attention.

Her whole movement consisted of her back going up and down as her lungs attempted to revive her fighting spirit, and her thumb lovingly shifting over the divinatory lines on your palm. You wished she would do something about her hair plastered on your chin, but ninety-nine percent of paradise is paradise enough.

You were disappointed when Choerry rose once more, slimily straddling your stomach. She detached her hands from yours to give the hair on either side of her face a good backward flick over her shoulders, and she sighed with contentment.

It was a shock to hear her speak again after such a prolonged reticence, but her unerringly cheerful voice was entirely welcome nonetheless.

“More please.”

You couldn’t then, and you still can’t help but concede to her innocent demands. Her smile just touched the corner of her lips. Sure, some of her demands aren’t so innocent, but… How did you get here again?

[kyidyl]

Kyidyl Explains Bones - Part 3

Well, I had this halfway done and then TUMBLR ATE IT, so let me start again.  UGH.  

(These posts are collected under the KyidylBones tag. Do with that information what you will, lol.) 

So what are we getting into today? Sex determination! 

Ethical Note: I’m adding this bc not everyone who sees this post saw my post yesterday and this is important info, especially on Tumblr.  Anthropologists of all stripes are well aware that sex and gender are extremely complicated.  Trust me, we know.  But we still do sex determination for a few reasons.  First, because missing persons databases are arranged on a male/female binary, and if we’re comparing a set of remains to that database to identify the remains then we need that info.  Second, demographic info for populations that have disappeared is important, even if those populations are historical.  This might shock you (<--sarcasm), but written records are usually either lacking or inaccurate.  Third, if we know the sex of the skeleton we can compare that to the grave goods and learn some interesting cultural things, including possibly being trans, because none of the signs of being trans survive physically in the skeleton.  So I am going to be using male/female binary language, but it isn’t to exclude the wide variety of sexes and genders that don’t exist on that binary, it’s because it’s what I’ve got to work with.  And if you have questions about this, feel free to ask, but please be respectful.  

Alright, so there are some vocab words for today’s post and I had them all nicely written out in an easy to read paragraph, but it got eaten, so I’m just gonna present them in list fashion this time: 

Characteristic - All physical markers of human variation exist on a spectrum because humans are varied and we invented the categories to begin with.  If something is characteristic of, say, a male? It means that it is very, very distinctly male.  It matches the stereotypical expectation of what you’d see in a male.  It’s a standard for an obvious example of a given thing.  

Landmark - A landmark on your bones is a feature of the bones that is always in the same place.  We use this to help us identify a bone and to help us know what side it is on.  IE, your lesser trochanter is a bump on your femur (thigh bone) that is on the inside towards the back.  It’s always in that spot, so we know which direction it should face and ergo which side it would be on.  Landmarks are unique to the bone in question.  

Foramen - A hole on a bone.  The big one in your skull that your spinal cord goes through is the foramen magnum and it literally means big hole.  But there are a lot of little ones all over your skeleton so your nerves and blood vessels can do to your skeleton what the weirwood did to Bryden Rivers.  I said what I said. ;) 

Bilateral - Both sides.  Humans have bilateral symmetry and so one side is symmetrical (externally and WRT your skeleton, but not always your organs.) to the other.  You can split us down the middle and the two sides are basically the same.  

Ok, so there’s another set of terms that you need to know, but I’m going to be copying and pasting this into every post going forward so I’m making it separate.  Anyone who works with any kind of anatomy uses these terms to be very specific about the location of something on the body.  They are: 

Anterior/Posterior - Front and back respectively.  I remember them because my mom used to say posterior when she didn’t want to say butt, and because A comes before P the way front comes before back.  Sometimes people say dorsal and ventral, and I remember that because a dorsal fin is on a whale’s back.  

Proximal/Distal - Near and far vertically in relationship to the center of your body.  I remember it because one end of the bone is in close proximity to me and the other one is distant.  

Medial/Lateral - Near and far horizontally in relationship to the center of your body.  I remember it because medial is closer to the middle of my body, and lateral isn’t medial.  Also, if you are reading left to right L comes before M and you’d get to a lateral body part before a medial one.  

So, where to begin? How do we know what sex people were assigned at birth from just their skeleton? Let’s start with what everyone is most familiar with: 

The Pelvis

The pelvis of an adult human is a really common thing for an archaeologist to find.  And by the time we find it, it’s usually in three pieces (excluding your tailbone aka last vertebra).  Your left and right hip bones, called the innominates, and your sacrum.  Mind you, the pelvis is made up of a number of bones, but they all fuse in adulthood except these three (fun fact: I’m so used to using the individual names for them that I had to *google* the word innominate.), so this is what we usually find.  If it’s a kid, they still survive well because they’re thick, heavy bones, but they aren’t fused.  Another fun fact, the bumps of bone that you feel under your ass are called your ischium and I’m only telling you that because I think it’s a fun word to say.  Your hop bones, like the actual entirety of the flat bladed part at the top, that’s called the Illium.  I like that word too.  Aaanyway, here’s a human pelvis: 

(Source)

These are actual bone specimens in the top down view, both are women, but they are of different ethnic origin.  

(Source)

This is a cast (IE, plastic), front view of a male pelvis.  

You can see those 3 pieces I’m talking about.  The only joint there that remains unfused is the sacroiliac joint, IE, where the two halves of the pelvis join the sacrum.  However! You sacrum is technically a series of fused vertebrae and your spinal cord runs almost all the way to the very tip.  There are some conditions which cause these not to fuse, or to not fuse properly, or to not properly encase the spinal cord and it causes all KINDS of issues.  But anyway, yeah, your sacrum is a really tough hunk of bone because it carries a lot of weight.  The bit in the front is called the pubic symphysis and, despite what certain tumblr posts would have you believe, having children does NOT leave a notch on the inner side of it from the muscle tearing away tiny chunks of the bone.  In fact, it is hotly debated whether or not pregnancy leaves behind any skeletal evidence at all.  

Alright, so basically speaking, females make da babies and males don’t, so the different equipment is differently shaped......

.....wait, no, that’s not right.  Let’s back up.  Male and female humans are differently proportioned and their center of gravity is, on average, different.  This is the whole thing about men having upper body strength and women having thighs that can crush watermelons.  This is on *average* (I will be saying a lot about averages in these posts.) true.  And so the physics of the forces exerted on your bones is different.  Males are top-heavy, and so their pelvis is shaped in response to their gate and muscle structure because the pelvis supports and distributes the weight of your entire body.  And bipedalism means that the shape of the pelvis is very, very different depending on the weight distribution.  These changes to the pelvis are really obvious, which is why we can tell from just a few bones whether or not a hominin was bipedal.  It changes the *entire* body.  

It is true though that the pelvis of a female is different than a male, because a female pelvis has to be able to support the weight of a developing child while still allowing the individual to walk.  So the interaction of average size, a uterus, and the bipedal gate means that male and female pelvises are a different shape.  

Here is a comparison: 

(Source)

So firstly, that angle is called the sub-public angle, and because a females pelvis is wider and flatter than a male’s (when viewed from the front) it’s wider in the front.  This also gives any babies more room.  Secondly, you can see the difference in the tilt of the sacrum - in the female you can’t see the tailbone.  This, again, is due to the confluence of weight distribution and the necessity of passing a baby’s head through that space.  It would be a lot harder to push it out if you had a tailbone in the way.  Lastly, you can see that the shape of the circle when you look top down and bottom up are different - wider on the woman because of the same reasons I’ve already mentioned.  There is one more major difference between the male and female pelvis, and that’s the sciatic notch: 

(Source)

Characteristic of male on the left, intermediate in the middle, and female on the right (and dang, she was young, too.).  Thinner is male, wider is female.  Usually you can fit your thumb in a female’s notch but barely or not at all in a male.  I personally find the subpubic arch and the sciatic notch the easiest to use because, fun fact #2, those 3 sections are a bitch to hold together with your hands and that makes it hard to see the other shapes.  The amount of sacrums and pelvic bones I’ve accidentally dropped while trying to determine sex....it’s a lot, ok? It’s a lot.  I only have two hands and pelvises are big.  

There are also several less obvious ways of determining sex from a skeleton, so you guys should definitely visit the source for the above image because they go into it deeper and there are several excellent images of public bones.  

So how else do we determine sex? The next easiest way is from the skull, because the features are distinct and skulls survive well.  

The Skull

In my opinion the easiest landmark to use on a skull for sex determination is the jaw.  There are several features of the jaw that can be used here - and, mind you, when determining sex we measure every small and large sex-linked feature according to a scale and then average it all out.  We never look at any single thing (although sometimes the individual has something so characteristic that you can’t help it.  The individual in my position has a brow like a neanderthal, so it was pretty obvious.).  Anyway, there are several features here but the easiest is to look at the shape of the lateral distal posterior portion of the jaw.  It’s called the masseteric tuberosity.  Basically, it’s a little bit of bone that sticks out of the back of your jaw.  It’s one of the attachment points of the masseter aka chewing muscles attach.  Because males have stronger muscles pulling on that part of the jaw and exerting more force, it flares out further for them when you look at it from the front, like this: 

(Source)

It’s that sticky-outy thing thing that I circled in red.  Here is an example of the same thing on females: 

(Source)

Female jaws are rounder, and so that bit is less defined, flares out less, and is not as sharp as it is on males.  And this is a reminder that these measures aren’t absolutes - humans have a lot of variance in them.  The female asian and the male on the right both have somewhat atypical structures, while the female european and the two other males have a very characteristic structure.  

The two other easiest to identify are the shape of the brown line and the shape of the chin (the mental protuberance).  Here is an image of the comparison: 

(Source: Pinterest, but this images are from the Human Bone Manual text that I use and I used this image so I wouldn’t have to make my own. :P) 

You can see in the profile that the female skull has a higher, more vertical forehead with less pronounced brow ridges.  If you look, you can also see that her chin protrudes less in profile, and is softer and less pronounced in the frontal view.  The angle under her teeth is less severe.  

So these three things, the chin, the brow, and the jaw, are the easiest to identify the most likely to be characteristic of the sex of the individual.  But, if you compare the images I’ve used here you’ll also notice that there are other differences in the skull.  Females have more of a slope to the bottom of their jaw, the bump on the back of their heads (the occipital protuberance) tends to be far less pronounced; and this is the case for all muscle attachments generally speaking.  On average, males are more easily able to build muscle mass and are larger, and so their muscles pull harder on their skeletons and create larger muscle attachments.  The round, blunt thing to the right of the back of the jaw that sticks out from the skull (the mastoid process), is also at a different angle and is larger in males.  This is another case of the muscles being bigger and stronger - the mastoid process is where several of your jaw and neck muscles attach.  

There you have it, then.  The easiest ways to tell the sex of a skeleton.  :) 

This post has been approved by Gage the science doggo: 

[aerynwrites]

The Hidden (8)

Chapter 8: What The Future Holds

Author’s Note: okay y’all so Tumblr’s being a little bitch and making formatting a living hell for me lol. first it wouldn’t recognize the paragraph breaks from my word document so u had to fix that and NOW it won’t let me add a read more cut-off so i’m frustrated lol. BUT, I am happy with how this chapter turned out and I hope you guys are too! As always feedback is greatly appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! <3 (Apologies for any grammar errors, I’m at work and didn’t have time to fully proofread!)

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: fluff

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight (here)

/////////

It had been almost two months since the whole commotion with the bounty hunters and your injury, and everyone seemed to be settled back in nicely. You were almost completely healed, but still felt some pain if you moved to violently, but with Dyn being by your side the whole time, it made things a lot easier. He had seemed more relaxed since that night, since you both kissed, and the following night when you did a bit more. You flushed at the memory of Dyn slipping the blindfold over your eyes. You were brought from your thoughts when the high pitched squeal of a child pierced the air. You quickly looked down from the pot of stew you were preparing over the fire and saw the child reaching his little hands towards you.

“What?” you asked, a smile adorning your features.

The child just smile up at you and babbles while vaguely grasping at the spoon in your hand, “Ah, you want to taste the food?” you chuckle and spoon out a small amount of soup from the pot and blow on it before leaning down and feeding him some, “here you go -hey!” you were not prepared for the child to take the spoon in his mouth and latch on like it was his life line.

He starts to toddle away as fast as his little legs will carry him. you have to stifle the giggle as you reach out your hand using the force to stop the child mid-step. You hear him let out a muffled noise of surprise as you hold him a few feet from the ground and walk towards him. you grab hold of him, releasing your invisible grip on him and tug the spoon from his mouth.

“It’s not going to disappear little one,” you assure as you sit him down once again to return to the stew, “It will be ready soon.”

You are about to return to stirring the meal when you feel something keeping you from moving the spoon any further. You furrow your brows together and go to move your hand again but it won’t budge. You look behind you to see the kid with his hand extended and eyes closed in concentration. You laugh at his antics and it seems to snap him out of his focus. He releases his grip on you and lets out a loud giggle as he falls back to the ground. You quickly scoop him up and let him watch as you continue to cook.

“He’s getting better,” a familiar voice speaks from behind you.

You turn around, a soft smile adorning your face as you see Dyn coming to crouch by you. you stop stirring and run your fingers over the child’s ears gently, “Yeah, he is. Since I’ve been trying to teach him he seems to have more endurance when it comes to using the Force.” You comment.

Since you had started to heal, and your secret was out to the other villagers since the attack you had been using your powers more flippantly, not feeling that you had to hide anymore. You had also been attempting to teach the child, which proved difficult when he couldn’t speak, but you were making progress. As you looked down at the large eyed child in your arms you were suddenly hyper aware of the fact he doesn’t have a name.

“We should give him a name,” you say looking over at Dyn.

You hear him heave a sigh, “I know, but I’ve never…done anything like this before.”

You chuckle and look back down at the green creature who is now tugging at you hair, “I was thinking the name Faylen, fits him well.” You say wincing slightly as he gives a particularly hard tug.

Dyn nods slowly, “Faylen,” he test out the name, “I like it,” he brushes a gloved finger along the child’s head which earns him a happy gurgle, “so now I guess I have to stop calling him womp rat?”

You let out a loud laugh head falling back slightly, “Yes, I think that would be best.”

You obviously can’t see him through the helmet, but Dyn’s features soften as you laugh, still entranced by each and every thing you do. Your laugh, your smile, the way you scrunch your nose when your frustrated, everything about you makes Dyn fall more in love each day. It also makes him dread the reason he came over here to speak with you. as if you read his thoughts you spoke up.

“Oh, did you need something love?” you turned to face him once again.

Dyn let out a soft sigh, “I think we need to leave,” he said finally, a hint of sadness behind his words.

Your eyebrows knit together and your heart clenches, “But why? It’s safe here, we’ve been fine here for the last few months and nothing has happened,” you tried to reason.

He shook his head and grasped your free hand in his own leather clad one, “I know but-“ he paused knowing that you liked it here, hell you had been living here for many years, “they know we’re here now and I’m just afraid that they won’t stop coming and they will come more prepared next time. I don’t want to put your people in danger any longer. And if-“ he has to force the lump in his throat away, “if you want to stay I understand, but I won’t put anyone else in danger because of my selfishness.”

You don’t say anything for a long time, you just look down at the child, and for a moment Dyn is worried that you won’t go with him, and all his plans for the future would turn to ashes. You finally look up at him a smile once again adorning your features and you squeeze his hand, “I’ve never truly felt at home here Dyn, I mean I have Ariah but she’s truly the only one who ever treated me as fully accepted here,” You glance around the small village as people mill about their days, you look back to the man you love and press a quick kiss to the metal of his helmet, “of course I’ll go with you Dyn.”

Dyn releases a huge breath as a giant smile crossed his face under his helmet, he pulls you into a tight hug causing you to let out a laugh once more, “I’m glad,” he says finally pulling away from you.

You squeeze his hand again before returning to stirring the stew, “When were you thinking we’d leave?”

“Within the week, at least give you time to say goodbye and pack.”

You nodded, a smile still stuck in your face, “Dinner will be ready soon, why don’t you go wash up? I don’t want stinky farm hands in my house.” You tease lightly.

A chuckle escapes Dyn’s lips and he stands sending you a mock salute, “Yes ma’am,” he says before retreating to the home.

You roll your eyes and look down at the child again, before grabbing the pot from above the fire and following Dyn to the house, “What am I going to do with him?” the child just lets out a curious sound, “Yeah I don’t know either.”

///

At first, after you and Dyn had finally confirmed your relationship, it was odd to eat in separate rooms or facing different directions. However now it was normal, as you and Dyn sat with your backs touching and facing opposite directions. You knew it took a lot of trust on his part to do this, to be in the same room with another person without his helmet and trusting that they won’t try to look. You both ate in silence only the occasional sound of clinking silverware and sounds from the child interrupting the silence, so you were surprised when you heard Dyn moving around behind you.

“Are you done eating already?” you had just dished out the stew so he must have been hungry.

The only response you received was two arms snaking around your waist. You gasped and quickly snapped your eyes shut as one of the hands took your bowl and set it aside, “Dyn, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t say anything as he lifts you up as if you weighed nothing and positioned you so you straddled his lap, “I just care about you so much,” he finally offers, voice cracking slightly.

With your eyes still shut you wrap your arms tightly around his midsection and lay your head in the crook of his neck, finally able to open your eyes. he speaks up again.

“I never thought that would have this,” he admits, pulling you tighter against him, “I never thought that I could wake up every day happy and excited to spend it with someone.”

You felt tears burn behind your eyes and you buried your face in his neck, “Oh Dyn,” you whispered leaving a chaste kiss to his neck, “I love you too.”

Dyn had yet to return the words, but he told you in other ways. In the words he said, or the things he did for you, or the quick kisses he would give you before you woke in the morning. You knew he loved you even if he didn’t say it directly. You continued to stay tangled together for several moments, relishing in the rare intimate moments you got to share before Faylen’s cooing brought you back to reality. You closed your eyes as he pulled away from you and donned his helmet once more. You frowned slightly as you opened your eyes and were met with the same beskar you had come to know. While you we’re not upset with him in anyway and you understood that it was The Way, you still longed to actually see the man you love. But you don’t push the subject. You look over to Faylen to see him holding his empty bowl out to you, you smiled and spooned a second helping into the small bowl and giggled as the child cooed happily.

“You know, for a tiny little thing he eats more than you do,” you comment.

Dyn lets out a chuckle and nods, “Yes he does, and I don’t even want to know what his appetite will look like when he gets older.”

You feign a shiver, “we’ll go broke trying to feed our kid,” you joked but stopped short when you say Dyn go rigid. You look to him questioningly.

“Our kid?”

Your eyes widen at the realization of what you said but then relaxed and you shrugged, “Well yeah. We’re together and we both take care of him, we’ve basically adopted him so…” you trailed off now self-conscious of your slip up.

But Dyn just hums lowly before picking up Faylen careful not to spill his food, “our kid…I could get used to the sound of that.”

You blush and duck to start cleaning up the dishes, silently admitting that you liked the sound of it as well.

///

The end of the week had come sooner than you had anticipated and you watched with a slightly heavy yet hopeful heart as Jaleer and some of the other villagers helped Dyn load up the razor crest with your belongings. You had donned your cloak, staff slung over your shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you so much!” Ariah nearly knocks you over as she throws her arms around you, squeezing the life out of you. you hug her back just as fiercely, “There’s nothing that says we won’t visit, or that you can’t visit us.” You assure.

You friend pulls away tears in her eyes, “I know…but now who’s going to help me put Jaleer in his place?” she whines.

You laugh and see Jaleer approach from the ship and sling an arm your shoulders, he had seemed to warm up to both you and Dyn after the whole Chroig ordeal.

“Well I for one am thankful for one less pest hanging around,” he jests rubbing your head playfully. You groan and shove his arms off of you, “Whatever you say Jaleer, I know you’re secretly going to cry when I leave.”

Jaleer rolled his eyes but brought you into a hug anyway, “You know you will always have a home here. If you ever need it.”

You nodded as you pulled away from Jaleer, not missing the newfound respect in his eyes, “I know.”

Dyn walks over and places a hand your waist, “Everything’s ready to go,” he looks over to Jaleer, “thank you again for letting me stay here, and I’m sorry for any ill I may have caused.”

Jaleer shook his head and shook the Mandalorians hand firmly, “Like I said, you both are welcome back anytime. Don’t be strangers.”

Dyn just nods before he looks to you, “You ready?”

You nod a smile creeping onto your face as you hug Ariah one last time before walking with Dyn onto the ship. You wave to the other villagers as they call out various well wishes before the ramp to the ship hisses closed, a certain finality behind it. You let out a small sigh and turn to see Dyn climbing up a ladder and you follow suit, you had never been on his ship until now surprisingly. You watched as he took a seat in the piolets chair and started up the ship. You looked around spotting Faylen sitting in one of the chairs and smiled before picking him up and placing him on your lap as you took his seat.

“So where are we headed? How long will it take us to get there?” you ask.

“It’s actually fairly close, but it’s a surprise.”

“Oh a surprise?” you wiggled your eyebrows, “What has come over you Dyn?”

The Mandalorian just shrugged his shoulders not giving you a definite answer before the ships lifts from the ground. You look out the window as the trees and landscape shrinks further and further away until you are among the stars. Even though you had been in space several times it never ceased to amaze you. You watched as the stars turned into blue-sliver streaks as the ship launched into hyperdrive and it felt like mere seconds before you were dropping out of it. When in reality it had been close to an hour, you were just too deep in though to realize. The planet you were approaching was not as green as you previous planet but it still had some green, with some brown and orange mixed in. And if you thought it couldn’t get any better your breath was sucked from your lungs as Dyn landed the ship near a small cottage nestled among rolling hills and plains. You held onto the child as Dyn grasped your hand and led you from the ship and towards the small, what looked to be a farm. As you approached the small cottage you felt tears well in your eyes, you had never seen a planet so beautiful and calm before. Apparently Faylen agreed because he seemed to let out and awe filled gasp.

“How did you – where did you-“you stumbled over your words, still In shock as you looked at the man beside you.

He shuffled nervously under your gaze, “I still have some connections with a friend that’s still with the Mandalorian’s and she was able to do this for me, for us.” You saw him raise his hands and grasp the rim of the helmet to remove it.

You once again close your eyes, confused as to why he was doing this now. You held Faylen tightly as you grasped for Dyn blindly, unable to find him.

“Dyn what are you doing?” You hear shuffling for a brief moment before a short stint of silence.

“Open your eyes.” his unmodulated voice meets your ears and confusion flow through you.

“But your helmet Dyn, I can’t-“

“Just open them,” he insists, “Please.”

You feel your heart racing, blood rushing in your ears. You were about to see Dyn, actually see him, and for a moment you were scared. This would ruin The Way. He wouldn’t be able to put the helmet back on again. But he’s asking you -no – begging you to look.

So you do.

You slowly peel your eyes open and your hand immediately shoots to your mouth to stifle the gasp that slips out. You quickly scan his face and immediately feel your heart flutter at the handsome man kneeling in front of you. His brown locks tousled from removing his helmet, and dark stubble adorning his face and warm brown eyes looking up at you, a nervous fear in his eyes – wait – Kneeling!

Your brain finally registers what is happening as you see the simple silver rings held delicately between two ungloved fingers. You look from the ring back to Dyn, your brain still trying to catch up with what is happening. But Dyn speaks before you can.

“(Y/N), I had a whole speech planned out, but as soon as you looked at me it flew out the window,” he chuckled nervously before clearing his throat, “You are the love of my life, you have brought me so much happiness and life since the day you saved me in those woods, and I know that we haven’t known each other that –“

“Oh shut up, you idiot, “ you blubber past your tears, “Of course I will!” you throw your free arm around him careful not to squish Faylen, as you nearly knock the man over.

Tears are streaming down your face as Dyn gently pulls away from you, his thumbs wiping away the wet tracks on your face. A watery smile crosses his face as he takes your hand in his own, slipping the ring over your finger.  You let out a breathy chuckle before looking at you future husband and crash your lips to his for what felt like the first time. Dyn smiles into the kiss as your lips move in sync, and it feels like fire is running through his veins. He pulls away from you somewhat reluctantly and rest his forehead on your own, and you rest your newly decorated hand on his cheek, a wide smile on your face once more.

“I love you Dyn Jarren.”

And for the first time Dyn says it back.

///// Tags: @readsalot73 @theforceofdarkandlight @stylelovechild @amazingiam00 @so-chee @candipuff​ @stillreadingfantasy​ @taman-a​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @maryan028​ @cateyesinlove​ @dizzydazed​ @the-silentium​ @sinon36​ @somehow-lovable-trash​ @lirinchi​ @katialvi @junkersandroadies-son​ @osric-the-l3m0n-l0v3-demon​ @arwallace​ @tiredjedi @duckqueenzoe​ @mxrvel-fxnxtic​ @livasaurasrex​ (For some reason it won’t let me tag some people, I’m sorry!)

[sunshinetoshi]

hand over your human rights.

ok let's start from the very beginning. i was writing iwa angst. i lost motivation. opened tumblr to gather some motivation. scrolled and pt 5 was the second post on my dash. the way i screeched pls. i read till the part where oikawa asked if they can get back together. i cried. left to shower. cried in shower for like 20 minutes before going to play genshin. i came back. read it all over again and i'm crying while writing this.

IT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL LET ME INHALE AMAYA I'VE NEVER READ SOMETHING SO PAINFUL YET SO AMAZING

i'd be lying if i said i hoped for a happy ending 🧍‍♀️but the ending you gave? that was realistic. i think a realistic ending is better than a happy ending. i've read a lot of cheating fics, trust me as an angst lover, no fics deliver angst the way cheating ones do. and when i read the part where oikawa asked for another chance? i knew where it was going

hate me for saying this but my mind really went "not this shit again." because i know how it goes in stories. they ask for another chance, the reader knows they're still in love, yada yada and they're back as if nothing happened. i don't hate that, but if it were me, i won't get back to someone who cheated on me.

but then i read the part where the reader tells about their insecurities. the ones questioning the probability that oikawa won't cheat again while in Argentina. anD LET ME TELL YOU THE WAY I GASPED AND THEN A REALLY BIG SMILE TOOK OVER MY FACE LIKE— you never fail to surprise me, amaya :>

those words, about insecurities and not cheating again, those are the only thing on ones mind when someone who cheated on them asks them to get back together. i know that's not easy to say, it can either lead to a healthy conversation or build even higher walls but i love how to decided to put it in the story and give it an ending that seemed realistic. remember the other ask i sent you about it? the one where you said that you try to put yourself in that situation? it's hard to do that, specially when you're writing angst.

and i really see that you wrote this whole fic from yours and the readers' perspective and not just for the happy or the sad endings. when i say i relate to every word you wrote, i mean it. no one cheated on me, of course, but those are some words that come to my mind if someone who cheated on me asked me to get back together with them

oKAY ENOUGH WITH THE EMOTIONAL THINGS, THIS ASK IS GETTING VERY VERY LONG I'M SORRY. I JUST WANT TO SAY THAT IT WAS WORTH ALL THE WAIT. FOUR MONTHS, I GUESS? I REMEMBER YOU POSTING THE FOURTH PART AROUND THE TIME I JOINED TUMBLR LOL GOD I AVOIDED THE FIC FOR SO LONG BECAUSE I KNEW IT WON'T END WELL. I HATE MYSELF FOR THAT >///<

overall, i loved it. i'll read it again, i just know i would because it's really amazing. i think this gives you enough reasons for why i look up to you. you're just amazing. aND WHAT IF I TOLD YOU THAT THIS FIC IS GIVING ME IDEAS FOR AN OIKAWA SMAU 💀

anyway, i hope you're doing well. those 5.1k words were some of the best i've ever read and i love them a lot. please take care of yourself, stay hydrated, give yourself a treat because you did great. i love you <3

i s w e a r if tumblr ate this 🗡

if t*mblr ate this amazing message before i was able to respond i'd fight em 🤺🤺 ajdghss

okay wait i will treasure this ask forever and ever i'm screaming!! fr when i read this my smile kept growing and growing and i was near tears bc of this (also you made me want to REREAD my own work even tho i JUST proofread it and posted it HAHAHA the power you hold). but wow this whole ask has my heart so so much

i saw you posted the iwa angst!! it's saved to my drafts and i'm excited to read it!! and PLS not me making you cry oh no. free hugs for the tears i made you shed ahh </33

i'm so happy to hear your thoughts on this omg!! i think the whole 'if it were me, i wouldn't go back if they cheated' is really the struggle that was on my mind from the second i started this entire series. i kept going back and forth but i know i personally wouldn't or couldn't go back if someone did that to me. at the same time i struggled between a happy or sad ending so i kept going back and forth until i eventually realized that just like how the reader had to stick to their beliefs i felt i needed to do the same. that's why i really really appreciate that this shone through to you wow my heart.

honestly i think the part with the insecurities was one of my favorites especially in contrast to the things they miss and how much they still wanted to be with him idk something about it made me tear up while writing akhdjshdhd. i cried a lot writing this series tbh EYE-

i really wanted to get at the struggle of a real cheating situation even if i too have never been cheated on lmao so being able to convey this even a little is really making my heart do cartwheels oooo

wait don't apologize for the length i loved this so so much. IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT?? seriously such a high compliment wahh. dont worry i would've done the same like i love angst but sometimes my heart cant handle it

you're just so sweet oh my goodness thank you so much for your words. i am blown away by the support you give me. AND AN OIKAWA SMAU?? INSPIRED BY MY FIC?? i am ascending 😩😩 if you do decide to work on this i will be a puddle of tears on the floor and will support the heck out of it. pls just you mentioning that is an honor but no pressure to do it bb you write what you want to heheh <33

that last paragraph is just so nice i can't do this 💓💓 tysm bb ily

[stevesnailbat]

for the first time: part one | steve harrington

summary: A series of events through Steve’s relationship with the love of his life; their first date & kiss, their first ‘I love you’, their first time, and their first fight.

warnings: fluff, smut, and the slightest bit of angst

word count: 4.3K

a/n: Hi everyone! Thanks for giving me feedback on whether I should post this!! I did end up having to split it into two parts because I had too many paragraphs for tumblr, so part 2 can be found HERE :) Enjoy part 1!

She was all things good and pure when she moved to Hawkins in the blustery cold January of 1984. The perfect girl with a perfect family, perfect body, perfect grades. She was everything that every high testosterone teenage boy at Hawkins High wanted. But nobody seemed good enough for her; she knew what she deserved, and that was the best.

It wasn’t until almost a year later, November 1984, when someone finally caught her eye. Steve Harrington piqued her interest when she heard rumors of Nancy breaking his heart. He seemed softer after, like less of a douche. It was like the breakup had knocked his confidence a bit, and that excited her.

A few weeks after the news of their official breakup had spread, Steve noticed a girl that everyone drooled over begin to pay attention to him. She would ask him for a pencil in English, then go out of her way to bring it back to him at his locker. When walking in the hall, she would say hi, or even brush her fingers across his arm gently. He didn’t think much of it all until it was brought to his attention by the basketball team.

“So are you gonna fuck that girl or not?” Tommy asked Steve one day while they showered after practice.

“I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about.” Steve said curtly as he stood underneath the scorching water and letting it flow down his face.

“Shut the hell up, pretty boy. Like you haven’t seen the way Y/N Y/L/N looks at you. She’s practically begging for you to take her back to your bedroom,” Billy Hargrove sneers as he turns his shower off, grabbing his towel. “If you don’t fuck her, I will.” Hargrove’s comment made Steve’s blood boil, he despised the way he talked about girls, even though they were falling all over him all the time.

After that day, Steve paid attention to the way she acted around him. It took nearly another two weeks and constant backhanded flirtation from the two of them, but he finally asked her out. She played hard to get at first, always saying that she was busy, but he eventually got her to agree. He took her to dinner at the nice Italian place in town, Enzo’s, then brought her to the outskirts of town. He parked his car near a park, where they laid together, laughing about the stupid things Steve would try to point out in the stars.

“Look! It’s the little clipper.” he said as they laid on the roof of his car.

“I think you mean the little dipper, silly.” she joked in return, rolling over slightly to look at him.

Neither of them said anything after that, their eyes locked and Steve froze. He freaked for a moment, but took his chance when he saw it. His lips pressed against hers perfectly as he pulled her body closer. The kiss was short, but they both felt something real when their lips collided. It was like they had kissed before, the way that they felt so comfortable yet so alive with passion in the moment. That night seemed to be the best night of their lives thus far, and she thought it was the start of the rest of their lives together.

—

Steve tapped his fingers on the steering wheel of his car impatiently after honking his horn for almost a minute, waiting for Dustin to come out of his house. She sat in the passenger seat and laughed, resting her hand on top of his to stop his impulsive and incessant tapping.

“Would you calm down? He’ll be out in a minute.” she says to Steve, who only sighs impatiently in return.

Not even five minutes later, Dustin waltzes out of his house with the biggest grin plastered on his face. He was wearing white sneakers and his best dress clothes, his collared undershirt adorned with a black bow tie. His hair was curly as ever, but the curls were sprayed down and slicked slightly towards the back of his head.

“Looking fancy, Dusty!” Y/N teased as he stepped in, craning her neck to look at him in the back seat.

“You ready to impress some girls?” Steve asks, taking the car out of park.

“The girls aren’t going to be able to get enough of me, they can’t resist these pearls.” Dustin replies, a smirk and purr added to the end of his sentence. The two in the front seat laugh uncomfortably and Steve warns him to not do that at the dance. The car ride was filled with playful banter and some girl advice from Steve to Dustin. He explained how Dustin should ask a girl to dance and how he should talk to her, which made Dustin shake his head and laugh at his serious tone.

“Is that how you got Y/N, or as you called her yesterday, the love of your life?” Dustin questioned after listening to Steve’s advice in the parking lot of the middle school.

Steve’s eyes go wide and and he furrows his brow, trying to act confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?” he tries to bring a confused tone to his voice as a small smile and blush play on her face.

“You know exact-“ Dustin starts but is cut off by Steve’s hand covering his mouth.

“I think it’s time for you to go in, yeah? You’ll be late if not.” Steve warns, unlocking the doors to his car.

Dustin grumbles shithead under his breath but obliges, moving towards the door as he says a quiet goodbye. Y/N lets out a giggle when he closes the door, meeting Steve’s nervous gaze with her excited one.

“What’s so funny, Y/N?” Steve questions, his hand resting on her thigh once more as he moves closer to her.

“You should have just told me, Steve.”

“Told you what?”

“That you love me.”

“Dustin is just being an idiot I sw-“ he begins nervously, but is quickly shut up when her lips meet his in a soft kiss.

“Steve. I love you too.” she mumbles against his lips before looking into his eyes once more.

He feels as though a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders and he grins widely. Steve has been wanting to tell her for a little while not. Really, he realized he was already falling for her after their first date. His hand cups her cheek gently as he pulls her in for one more kiss.

“Thank God, because I love you a lot.”

—

Y/N and Steve had been dating for three months now. They both were madly in love with each other, and he wanted to prove his love for her even further. Steve worked for hours to make their night perfect, he knew it was the night he would take her virginity. Her parents were gone for the weekend and he knew that his would be gone for the whole night, so he set up a night in since she could get away with staying over. He picked up her favorite movie, The Outsiders, and made her favorite chicken alfredo pasta. He set up candles at the kitchen table with Chardonnay poured into two wine glasses in front of their filled plates. His room was cleaned, for once, and his bed made as comfortable as possible for the sake of her comfort.

Steve was as ready as he could be when she knocked on his front door. He takes one last look in the mirror as he straightens his sweater around his neck and makes sure the zipper of his khaki pants is up before fluffing his hair one last time. He opened the door to see his beautiful girlfriend smiling up at him, shivering lightly in the blustery cold of an Indiana winter. She had on a tight, maroon wool turtleneck underneath her black winter coat with black high waisted mom jeans and white sneakers. She had on a white, wool hat and her was adorned with a thick gray scarf but he knew that underneath was a necklace that had ‘Steve’ written in small cursive on it; he had gotten it for her last week and she hadn’t taken it off since.

“Hey! Come inside, you look freezing baby.” Steve says warmly before pulling her inside gently, kissing her forehead as he pushes the door closed.

“Something smells good, did you actually cook without burning the house down?” she jokes, removing her scarf from around her neck and coat from her body, placing them on the coat rack near the door.

“Very funny, Y/N. But I made your favorite and rented The Outsiders for us to watch.” Steve says with a grin playing on his lips. “Do you want to eat or watch the movie first?”

“Can we do both?” she asks, a hint of excitement tinges her voice as she speaks.

“You made a mess last time we ate in the living room-“

“I know but I promise I won’t this time!” she practically begs as she cuts him off, “I’ll be careful baby. I just wanna watch the movie.”

She walks close to Steve, standing on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck. Her lips form into a pout as she looks up at him with hopeful and begging eyes. He sighs with fake annoyance and pecks her lips quickly before pulling her to the couch to sit down.

“I had a candlelit dinner at the table ready for us, but it’s fine. You’re lucky you’re cute.” he says before walking to the kitchen to grab their plates and drinks.

The movie finishes after they’ve both finished the pot of pasta Steve had made and a whole bottle of wine. She looks up at Steve as the credits begin, her hand tracing his bicep through his sweater lightly. Her expression puzzled Steve; he couldn’t quite figure out what her eyes were trying to tell him. In reality, she wanted the same thing that he did, but was too nervous to convey it in any way.

“Are you tired?” Steve implores quietly, his hand brushing a few stray locks of hair from against her cheek.

She said nothing and shook her head, her eyes focused only on his soft, kissable lips. Her heart seemed to be beating out of her chest almost, she was surprised that Steve couldn’t hear it. Her palms were sweating lightly as she adjusted herself to face him, sitting off to the side of his lap when she kissed him fervently. She had desire building up inside of her from the time he told her about them having the house to themselves for the night; she knew what was going to happen and she was ready.

Steve was her first real love. Sure, she had dated before. But nobody compared to Steve Harrington. He was everything she could have ever wanted in a boyfriend. She had found someone who treated her like she wanted to be treated and someone who would hold her when she was at her best and her worst. The butterflies that she had when she first realized her feelings for him were still there months later, and that was what she had been looking for all along.

Soon after she kissed him, Steve pulled her onto his lap, his hands roaming her body slowly. His fingers danced along her bare stomach gently under her shirt until he reached her breasts, palming one lightly through her bra. A small moan escapes her lips as she presses her lips deeper into his, her tongue running along his teeth as she does. Her legs wrap around his waist to pull herself closer and her hands are tousling his perfectly done-up hair.

About five minutes pass and their shirts are both strewn across the floor, both breathing erratically from excitement. Her hand travels down to Steve’s belt and she begins to unbuckle it. Before she can unbutton his pants, she feels a hand against hers. Steve kisses down her neck gently, sending shivers down her spine.

“We can take this up to my bedroom if you want baby.” he breathes out after pulling away from her neck, looking into her eyes.

She nods slowly, biting her lip nervously as she does. She starts to pull herself off of his lap but he laughs, his hands gripping her waist. Steve stands up with her in his arms and begins up the stairs as she giggles. She pulls her legs to wrap around his waist fully and she continues to kiss all over his neck, jaw and face until they reach his bedroom. When they get into the room, he turns the cassette player on that was in the corner of the room, which had a mixtape that he had picked for the night in it. He lays her down on the bed and hovers above her, holding his body weight up with his elbows as he presses his waist against hers.

“Steve.” she calls out, her voice cracking slightly as she says his name.

“Y/N.” Steve mimicks, a smirk on his lips as he stares down at her.

“I want you. No — fuck. I need you, Steve.” she whimpers out.

Her typically confident and happy tone was replaced with a very innocently nervous one in the moment. Nobody had ever made her stutter and feel as nervous as Steve did, she was vulnerable for him and only him. Steve loved that about her; he was the only one who got to see the real her. She came off as an independent girl who would kick a boy’s ass if she really needed to. In reality, she needed a specific someone around for support. He saw her during her breakdowns about school, during the crying sessions when she was on her period, during the times where she laughed hysterically until she cried about stupid jokes that he would tell her.

The whimper that escaped her lips turned Steve on to no end, he wanted to take her right then and there. But he knew that he needed to build her up to it. She was nearly shaking underneath him as she spoke, trying to hide her fear of pain that would come from the special moment. He nodded and smiled down at her sweetly, pressing a kiss to her lips gently. His hand snakes around her back as she arches it knowingly, springing her bra open with expert skill.

“I want to make you feel good first, because you know this is going to hurt, Y/N.” Steve whispers against her skin as he presses his lips against the skin of one of her breasts, looking up at her for a response.

She only nodded in return, her hand resting in his hair as he continues to kiss along her breast before eventually making it to her nipple. A small gasp leaves her lips as he does and he gets her pants unbuttoned. He somehow gets her jeans far enough down her thighs for her to kick them off the rest of the way, leaving her in only a pair of black lace underwear. Her breath hitches when she feels his hand slide into her underwear, fingers sliding between her folds slowly.

Pure ecstasy overtakes her body as Steve pleasures her, he had made his way down to between her thighs and seemed to be going to town now. His expert tongue was making her feel things that she had never felt before in her life. Although the couple had done things together before this night, he had never done this for her. It was like he had been saving everything good for the night that she had been waiting for so long to experience. Her hips buck slightly every once in a while but Steve presses them down with a rough hand to keep her in place.

Everything becomes too much soon and she feels as though she can’t hold it anymore. As if Steve can tell without her saying a word, he looks up at her and nods slowly, his free hand making its way to her clit as he uses his mouth and fingers as well. She almost immediately hits her climax and lets out a string of loud moans and whimpers, clenching around Steve’s fingers inside of her.

Steve pulls out of her once she finishes and gives her a satisfied smile, pulling himself up to her face once more. He gives her one small kiss before standing up from the bed. Y/N whimpers when she loses contact with Steve’s body, but stays in place. He quickly moves to his dresser and grabs a condom from the box in his top drawer. She watches him carefully as he moves back to the bed, pulling his pants and boxers off of his waist. He straddles her and presses a kiss against her lips before pulling away again.

“I love you, Steve.” she whispers to him, as if to reassure him that she was ready.

“I love you too, Y/N.” Steve says in return after sliding the condom onto his member. He positions himself against her slit and looks up at her momentarily. Her eyes were filled with fear mixed with overpowering passion as she stared down at where their bodies met. Steve grabbed her chin gently to get her attention and she locked eyes with him as he asks her, “You still want this, right?” He wants to take extra care to make sure she won’t regret anything that happens in the next hour. She nods, whispering a small yes and gives him a reassuring smile, her hand cupping his face as she kisses him once.

Steve lets out a nervous breath as he slides into her, pushing his hips down slowly. He stops when he hears her let out a gasp of pain, seeing tears begin to sting her eyes. She digs her nails lightly into Steve’s back as he stays still inside her, letting her get adjusted to the feeling. He whispers sweet words into her ear as he runs his fingers through her hair. After a moment he looks up at her and she nods, wanting him to move again.

He pushes the rest of his length into her and stops once more when she lets out another small cry of pain. His thumbs gently wipe the tears from her cheeks and he kisses her lips once more. She breathes heavily, sweat building up on her chest and brow as they sit there in silence.

“Move...please Steve.” she whimpers out eventually, getting used to the feeling after a while.

Steve nods and pulls out slowly, only to thrust back into her gently as (I Just) Died in Your Arms by Cutting Crew played softly in the background. Eventually the pain that was once tinged with the slightest enjoyment is replaced with only pleasure as Steve begins to quicken his pace. Y/N moans sporadically and Steve realizes that she is enjoying it more than not now, so he continues to speed up slightly. Although he had been with other girls plenty of times before her, Steve felt like he was in a different world with Y/N. She felt different around him, and he didn’t know how long he would be able to hold out.

Thankfully, Steve holds out long enough for Y/N to near her second climax of the night. Her moans grow louder as she moves her hips in unison with his, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“I’m...gonna cum, Steve.” she whimpers out, staring up at him as a string of moans escaped her lips.

“Cum with me baby, now.” Steve says into her ear, his teeth running along her neck for a moment.

The couple finishes together and becomes a moaning, panting mess on Steve’s bed. He pulls out of her afterwards and collapses on the bed next to her. She looks over at him and giggles softly, her eyes fluttering open and closed every once in a while. After laying together for a moment, Steve stands up from where he laid to throw the condom and wrapper into the trash can. He pulls his boxers over his waist and grabs a t-shirt from a drawer, handing it to his tired girlfriend who laid half-asleep on his bed.

“I love you.” she says as she takes the shirt into her hands, smiling happily.

“I love you too, Y/N.” he says, kissing her gently. “At least put the shirt on before you go to bed, baby. I don’t think I’d be able to stay asleep if I knew you were completely naked next to me all night.” Steve joked, which made her laugh.

She slips the shirt over her body and pulls her lace underwear on before laying down on the bed once more, sliding underneath the covers. Steve slips out of the room momentarily to grab her clothes and bag from the living room, so it would be ready for her in the morning. When he makes his way back to the bedroom, she was already fast asleep and cuddling into a pillow peacefully. Steve shakes his head and laughs, turning the lights and cassette player off. He then gets under the covers behind her and wraps his arms around her waist and they fall asleep together.

She was as happy as can be, and so in love with Steve. He was as happy as can be, and she thought he was so in love with her. Everything seemed perfect in the moment, and it would seem that way for a while.

—

Y/N noticed that Steve had been on edge for the past few days and it bothered her. But, she wasn’t one for confrontation. So, she let the eye rolling, less affectionate, distant Steve run his course for a while. After a week of Steve acting like everything she said was stupid, Y/N had dealt with enough.

“I’m tired of studying. Let’s go do something, baby. Let’s go to that burger place that’s close to your house!” she said, flipping through the pages of her Chemistry textbook as she laid on Steve’s bed after school.

Steve’s attention doesn’t waiver from the paper in front of him as he shakes his head. He sits with his back facing her at his desk, never turning around to look at her as he bluntly says “Not right now, Y/N.”

She lets out a sigh of annoyance and shuts her book quickly, tired of being ignored. Shoving her books and pencil into her backpack, a string of curse words is mumbled under her breath. “I guess I‘ll just go by myself and you can stay here and be an ass by yourself.” she breathes out, slinging her backpack across her shoulders. She makes her way to the door and still hears or sees no sign of Steve moving from his spot at his desk. Y/N lets out a loud huff and swings the bedroom door open, bounding down the stairs towards the front door.

“Hey! Y/N! What the hell?” Steve finally calls out from his room before following her down the stairs.

“Really, Steve! You’re gonna say what the hell to me? I’m tired of the way you’ve been acting this week!” she shouts out when she feels Steve grab for her shoulder when she gets to the front door.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been a grade-A asshole! I ask you if you want to do something and you tell me no or that it sounds boring. I say something at lunch to just add to a conversation and you come back by saying that it’s stupid or that I don’t make any sense. You’re not in the mood to do anything, you don’t even want to have sex with me! Which is very unlike you I might add. I haven’t gotten a real kiss from you in a week. I may be your girlfriend, but you’re not treating me like I am right now.” she says, her loud and strong voice wavering towards the end of her spiel.

Out of what seems to be nowhere, she starts crying. She never cried about stupid things like this, but the accumulation of everything took her over the edge. To top off what seemed like the worst week ever, she was about to start her period and was ultra emotional. She leaned against the front door and hid her face in her hands while she shook her head. Steve’s eyes went wide at the sight of her crying. He only knew her as a strong girl who could handle anything. He had seen her cry before, but never because of him.

“Shit. Baby, I’m so sorry. Don’t cry, hey. Look at me.” Steve says in a hurried voice, his heart hurting as he watches her cry.

He pulls her into a hug and she leans into it, wrapping his arms around her waist. Her face buried into his chest and she lets out a small sob as he whispers ‘I’m sorry’ to her over and over again. After a while, he gently grabs her shoulders to pry her off of his chest, then lifts her chin up and leans down to kiss her forehead softly. Her lips form into a pout and she wraps her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his hand.

“I know I’ve been an ass and I’m sorry for that. I’ve just been really stressed out from school and these stupid college letters I’m waiting on. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you and you don’t deserve that.” he whispers to her.

“Yeah, I don’t.” she laughs, slightly rolling her eyes as he presses another kiss against her cheek.

“It won’t happen again, I promise baby. Now how about we go get those burgers and some milkshakes?”

She nodded at him, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She believed that he would never intentionally try to hurt her, thinking that he was everything she could ever want in this moment of her life.

[sides-of-demigods]

The Forest Incident Pt. 3

Word Count: 1,723

Warning(s): Blood, injuries, cursing, infirmary/hospital

Author's Note: I am upset. It wasn't supposed to be this short but I reached the damn paragraph limit and had to go pretty far back for the most natural cutting off point. I was gonna finish it all this chapter but I guess I'll have to wait a day to two. Ugh. So yeah, there'll be a part Fours that basically just an epilogue. Thanks Tumblr.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Virgil muttered an apology and fully slapped the boy across the face and desperately shouted his name again.

Finally, Roman slowly opened his eyes and Virgil let out a little laugh of relief.

“Did...did you slap me?” Roman questioned, his voice weak.

“Well you wouldn't wake up,” Virgil said. “Didn't leave me much choice.”

He dragged Roman over to the nearest tree and propped him against it, flinching when Roman launched into a coughing fit.

“Hold on, hold on I've uh…I've got some first aid stuff just hold on,” Virgil muttered, practically incomprehensible. 

Virgil tossed his sword and shield to the side so he could take off his backpack and rummage through it.

He ended up just taking everything but the protein bars out, because he still wasnt sure exactly what he needed.

He was no Patton, but he was pretty sure he could buy enough time to find Patton or get back to camp. Only problem, they had been following the tracks, so Virgil actually wasn’t sure which way Camp was.

But that was definitely a problem for later. For now, he had to keep Roman from bleeding out in the middle of the woods.

“Okay, here eat this,” Virgil shoved a large square of ambrosia into Roman’s hand and made sure he was starting to eat it before he used his sword to cut open Roman’s shirt.

He had to get it off in order to actually treat the gash and there was no way Roman was taking it off anytime soon.

“You know,” Roman started before coughing again. “If you wanted to see...see me shirtless...you could have just said something.”

"Shut up idiot," Virgil muttered. He opened the First Aid kit and began to use the cleaning gauze to wipe away as much of the blood as possible because at this point he couldn't even see the cut.

Roman looked on the verge of passing it again, but Virgil remembered something about keeping the patient awake by talking or something.

"You saved my life you know," Virgil ended up saying, inwardly cursing himself. "Throwing me my shield I mean. That was some quick thinking."

"You're welcome." Roman tried to laugh but ended up coughing again and slumped against the tree. "You, you saved me too...you know."

"I think all the blood suggests otherwise."

"But after that you…you got me out of the way...that stinger... remember?"

"Yeah I guess. Everything happened so fast." Virgil wasn't fully paying attention to the conversation. He had given up on the blood and reached for the rubbing alcohol, putting some on the left over gauze. "I've gotta clean this out. It's gonna hurt like a son of a bitch though, so try to just keep talking. Ready?"

Roman nodded and visibly braced himself, so Virgil pressed the gauze to the wound. Roman hissed loudly and his head fell back against the tree with a dull thunk. Virgil mumbled an apology under his breath. 

"Not to mention, ow ow ow, this," Roman said, trying to follow Virgil's advice and just distract himself.

"What on Gaia's green earth are you talking about?" Virgil raised an eyebrow. 

"Nursing me...back to, ow, health or whatever. Maybe you're...not an evil, ow, villain."

"And why's that?"

"Ah!"

"Sorry."

"Well if you really wanted me...ya know...dead...this would be the, ow, perfect opportunity. Secret…secret mission in the...the woods...crazy monster….already hurt…"

"I think you're in shock Princey."

"M'not in shock...you're in shock…. you're so...so calm."

Actually, if Virgil thought about it, the delirious demigod may be onto something. 

Usually Virgil would be freaking the fuck out and definitely not treating a wound methodically and carefully and ESPECIALLY not since he himself was injured and exhausted, though the adrenaline coursing through his veins at the sight of Roman's cut and the blood on his own hands was probably to thank for that.

"Okay done with that." Virgil used the last scraps of gauze to get at least some of the blood off his hands before tossing it away. Usually Patton would scold him for something like that but Virgil couldn't bring himself to care about littering at the moment. 

He reached for the bandages instead and helped Roman sit up so he could wrap that bandages around his torso and occasionally his shoulder to help keep them in place.

He used on hand to hold up Roman and the other to wrap the bandages, alternating which hand was doing which as he went.

"Hey Virge? I think...I think I'm gonna take a little nap now."

"Like hell you are," Virgil growled. "Don't think I won't slap you again."

"That's not nice," Roman pouted. He was getting increasingly delirious from a combination of blood loss, exhaustion, and pain, and Virgil wasn't sure how much longer he'd last. 

Virgil had skills limited to basic First Aid and it wasn't professional quality either. If Roman didn't get help quick, Virgil wasn't sure he'd make it. He'd lost so much blood…

Plus Virgil would have to carry him back to camp and he had no idea which way that was. 

Worse still, he didn't think his body could handle that. 

He was bruised and battered as well, he was pretty sure he'd at least crack a few ribs, and was running on nothing but adrenaline at this point. 

Virgil tucked the end of the bandage and secured it with medical tape, but that was about as far as his skills went. Now the other problem.

"We've gotta find Logan and Patton or figure out how to get you back to camp," Virgil was mumbling again, searching fruitlessly through his bag as if a miracle would suddenly appear. In fact, he was actually praying to every god he knew that that exact thing would happen. Because he was out of options.

"I could...do a spell," Roman suggested, his voice quieter and weaker than Virgil had ever heard. 

"No, no way," Virgil argued immediately. "There's no way you have enough energy for one of those."

"I would if you gave me...gave more am..amber...ambrosia."

"You are just a FACTORY for bad ideas right now, aren't you? I already gave you a risky amount, anymore and you'll probably burn up!"

"I don't think we have another choice."

He was right of course. As much as Virgil hated it. If they did it Roman at least had a chance of survival, however slim. If they didn't...well Virgil didn't see a scenario where Roman got out alive.

"Damn it." Virgil cursed, begrudgingly taking the smallest square of ambrosia he could find. He held it up to Roman's lips who obligingly ate it, understanding he needed to conserve as much energy as possible.

They waited a few seconds for it to kick in. Roman schooled his face into one of determination and began to run through songs in his head.

"Go for finding Logan and Patton. I don't think I can carry back to camp," Virgil suggested and sat against the tree next to Roman, their shoulders pressed together. He was exhausted but he still wanted to be close enough in case something happened.

He winced at the movement, his hand coming up to his ribs as he hissed in pain. Roman looked at him questioningly but Virgil rolled his hand to get him going. 

"Don't make fun of me for the song alright? It's the only thing I can think of."

"No promises." 

"And I'll probably pass out after this so-"

"Just get on with it Sir Sing-A-Lot."

Roman took a breath and began to sing. Virgil had no clue what he was expecting, but he was pretty sure it wasn't Gotta Find You from fucking Camp Rock.

"I need to try to get to where you are," Roman sang. "Could it be you're not that far. You're the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I'm singing. I need to find you, I gotta find you. You're the missing piece I need, the song inside of me. I need to find you, I gotta find you."

His voice got weaker and weaker as he sang, to the point where by the end even Virgil could barely hear it.

Then Roman slumped over and Virgil caught him, propping him against the tree as best he could, but Roman still ended up leaning on him. 

Virgil looked around and began to panic, as it seemed like nothing has happened.

He blinked and there it was, a ball of light almost like fire just floating there. 

And then it zipped off through the woods, leaving a trail of light behind it. 

A few seconds later:

Logan and Patton had found the other two serkets and had managed to dispatch them. 

They weren't unscathed, but since they had managed to take the serkets by surprise instead of the other way around, they were much better off than Roman and Virgil. 

Both were shocked when suddenly a ball of what looked like fire burst out of the trees and stopped in front of Patton then just…hovered there. 

The two shared a curious look, having a conversation without words. Eventually Logan nodded and Drew his daggers as Patton turned to the ball.

Slowly he reached his hand out toward it, closing his eyes just before he made contact with it, preparing to be burned or worse. Instead he heard some sort of shimmer and opened his eyes just in time to see the ball explode into an image of Virgil and Roman leaning against a tree. 

Roman had bandages wrapped around his torso that we're already covered in blood and was pale as snow, Virgil was covered in scratches and bruises and seemed to be gingerly cradling his ribs. 

Patton gasped audibly at the image, his hand flying up to his mouth while Logan cursed under his breath. 

"Patton, look," Logan said, pulling Patton's gaze from the image in front of him and to the glittery trail leading into the woods that the ball had left behind.

The two looked at each other again.

"You don't think…?" Patton trailed off.

"One of Roman's spells," Logan agreed with a firm nod. "He's leading us to them."

"We have to hurry!"

"Agreed."

The two sprinted into the woods.

[karmenxxkarma]

5 months since you left

I never gave a 4 month update, which I guess is pretty good news. I’ve barely even been on tumblr at all. This was my safe place, I could get out my true feelings, try and heal from what you did.

I started dating someone new. I guess he helped me get my mind off of you. He was the first guy I have been remotely interested in since you. And we click. I mean he’s actually perfect. My type (he kinda looks like you). He’s one of those good guys, you know the type no girl really believes exist anymore. Also everything about his personality and views fit into mine. And he loves me so much to the point I’ve cried on more than a few occasions.. because I don’t feel the same way. And I don’t get why I can’t love him. I mean he’s the type of guy girls pray for. He’s the type of man you could never be half of. But I just can’t love him. I keep waiting and waiting for it to hit me. It hasn’t. I get pissed off at myself because how could I love someone like you, but not be capable of loving him?

Everything about him in every since is better than you. But nothing he does ever compares to the feelings you gave me when you did it. I think about you every single time I leave his house. And it’s not in a longing way, you’re just on my mind. I don’t know why. I feel wrong for it. Because he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve a girl who lies when they say I love you. He doesn’t deserve a girl who thinks about her ex when she leaves. I’m selfish for staying with him, I know I will never find someone better. So I stay.

I know you’re hurt seeing us together. My new guy is in the same friend group as yours. I’ve heard you keep talking about us. We saw each other again a few days ago. I was driving, with him in my car. We passed you, I didn’t look at you, but he did. He said that you both made eye contact and you had an angry look. That night I almost unblocked you.

But I didn’t. One click away, but then I remembered all the pain you caused me. I’ll never forget the day I found out about you and her and almost flipped my car on the highway. Or the time you shoved me so hard I fell. Or the time I found other girls nudes on you phone. Or all the weeks I ate next to nothing cause of the damage you put me through. Or the fact I unknowingly spent two weeks laying by your side after you cheated on me. So I didn’t. I don’t want to boost your ego when you see i’ve unblocked you and you’re still on my mind. I hope it burns everytime you hear about me and him.

I hate the fact you made it impossible to love him. I hate the fact that you were the one to have loved me first. I hate the fact I constantly have to ask him if he still loves me because every single second i’m waiting for him to tell me he doesn’t. Because that’s what you did. Remember? Remember how I asked if you were falling out of love with me and you wrote paragraphs and how much you “truly” loved me. Then you left two days later. Then one week later I found out you cheated. Then another week later I had found out you were dating the girl you cheated on me with. Remember that? I sure as hell do. Now all he has to do is breathe wrong and my mind is ready for him to tell me he doesn’t love me. So thank you. So thank you for ruining my ability to love and to trust.

... I know you’re sorry. You’ve already cried and apologized to me for it. I know you never intentionally wanted to hurt me. I know you got your karma, i’ve heard about you’re life now. Alone. The home wrecker couldn’t even last more than a month with you. You’ve practically pushed all your friends away. You spend all your time working your life away. And to top it all off, the only girl who ever truly loved you, cared for you, was out of your god damn league is now with someone new. I know it hurts.

Our story is over. I’m as moved on as I think i’ll ever be. I’m starting a chapter with someone new. Life moves on. There won’t be anything more to give updates on. So, I guess this is it.

-I once told you I will never love anyone more than I loved you. Even though you didn’t deserve to hear those words, it still holds true.

[sweet--tides]

some friends of mine are posting their own stories for mental health day on fb, so i’m inspired to write mine. i’m not brave enough to post on fb, so this little corner of the internet will have to do.

4 years ago, i suddenly lost my nuna. she was my best friend and biggest cheerleader, so her loss hit me hard. hard enough that my job performance was suffering, and i went to a therapist for several months. the grief of losing her is something i carry around to this day. there’s so many things i wish i could share with her and it hurts my heart that i can’t. nuna was always supportive of every choice i made and losing that support left me feeling completely unmotivated and empty.

**tumblr ate the next paragraphs and idk why. oops.

several months after losing my nuna, my relationship abruptly ended. it was a shock that after almost 2 years of being told i was loved and that he was going to make the big move to live in the same state as me. he instead ghosted me for days while i was begging him to answer me. he and his sister were bragging on fb about his move... that was in the opposite direction from me. he finally waited until he thought i was asleep and broke up with me via text, with paragraphs upon paragraphs of straight up lies.

that loss has been easier to take, but has also left me weary of attempting another relationship when even though in hindsight i should’ve seen the end coming, i refused to acknowledge it because his actions matched his words until only about a month before. eventually i’ve come to an agreement with myself that what he did doesn’t need an explanation. it’s not for me to understand. if i even came close to understanding, that would mean i would be able to empathize with him which i refuse to do.

**ok end tumblr snack

so with both of these losses occurring within months of each other, i was miserable. i lived alone and my sister, the one person would understands me, was living hours away. working 12 hour nights meant i was almost constantly alone (except sirius, he saw me cry a lot and became my cuddle buddy.) i also stopped going to therapy because my therapist was completely useless and just let me ramble for 45 minutes, tell me it’s time to go, and collect my copay before sending me on my way.

it wasn’t until several months after my relationship ended that i was on the phone with my sister. she knew her roommate was moving cross country the next year and wasn’t sure what her housing plans were gonna look like. the idea had been forming in my head, so i finally asked her.

“why don’t i move up there and live with you?”

she thought i was kidding, and if i was her i probably would’ve thought so, too. so the ideas started forming, and within the year i moved 300 miles to start my life over.

while the move here didn’t go quite according to plan, and i had to adapt and change some of my long term goals, i’m still proud of myself for making a major life change that didn’t revolve around another person. moving here was MY choice; no one asked me to.

i made the choice to live in the mountains, to live with my sister, and to be closer to family. i have zero regrets.

there’s still days that i struggle. where the weight of the world and responsibilities keep me in bed mindlessly scrolling or watching youtube. where i wish i could just turn off my brain and not think, not feel. but overall i see the choices i made that brought me to where i am, and i can’t help but be proud of myself.

[shinygemstone]

I have no preference, probably ariel?

Yes, I used to do that before I got my chromebook

Sit wherever with 3.4 billion tabs open and go back and forth between writing three words to a paragraph and the 3.4 billion tabs. Anyone who sees my search history will break.

Flutist. WHY IS THAT PRONOUNCED LIKE IT'S OU AND NOT JUST U AND WHY DOESN'T IT SOUND LIKE FLUTE???

Nah

Being unable to finish anything

Posting stuff

Without action is soooo much easier.

No lmao

Yes. It was cursed and vaguely creepy in hindsight and stAY AWAY FROM MY 7TH GRADE FANFIC WE'RE ALLOWED TO BE CRINGE IN MIDDLE SCHOOL

I- NO

I would wish for a magical, self-sustaining farm that I own and the government cannot take from me, to end global warming and for once a month, for the richest person on earth to be k*lled until there are no more people with over ~500 million net worths left.

I struggle to write manipulation. It's meant to be subtle, but when I write it it's so overt. Healing, on the other hand, is a piece of cake for me.

People don't usually borrow books from me. I have one book that I let a girl borrow in 5th grade and then we graduated and I haven't seen her since soooo

No, but I might annotate a book at some point. For fun. And I don't judge people who do these things, unless they're doing it with library/other people's books. I'M LOOKING AT YOU, KID WHO TORE THE SIDES OF PAGES OUT OF WARRIOR CATS BOOKS. I HEARD A RUMOR THAT YOU ATE THEM. KEEP YOUR DIRTY PAWS OUT OF THE LIBRARY

A stick of gum.

Well, the love interest is a reboot of a reboot of a character who was based off of my friend in 7th grade. The friend has since come out as genderfluid asexual and the current version of the character is an evangelical christian, so they couldn't be more different.

Uhh there's this moment where a character convinces another character to get drunk by making her viscerally uncomfortable. I'd been planning that scene for ages and it was honestly kinda disappointing and made me drop the WIP.

I've always wrote, I guess, but my writing was kinda dog shit for a long time. I didn't know how long was "normal" so I was cool with ~500 word long chapters on Quotev. Then I went onto AO3 and learned that you want to be more than double that. I have posted some fics on AO3 but those are a fandom I don't think my Tumblr moots will enjoy. I also don't post about it on here because the source material is kinda dog shit.

Eternal happiness, thanks. My WIPs don't need to be finished as long as I can write a oneshot every now and again.

No and no, it's just not something I think about

I use sheets if I have a lot of characters and that's about it.

Anywhere, anytime. As long as nobody's looking over my shoulder.

Prep is for NERDS, the story half writes itself in the first draft. Then I edit it and make it good.

Pandora would get along very well with Luz Noceda

I just think about them. No and no. It's really simple.

Definitely Eleanor Earl, because she requires a lot of research to make her both historically accurate and not a racial sterotype.

Syretia Longfoot, because she's just such a vibe. Syretia does as she pleases while being loyal and is not afraid to challenge someone but also won't get herself killed. She's so fun.

Everything around me, I suppose. AUs are a very fun spot to start, especially in my head. For example, remember Syretia? She was originally Undyne from Undertale but the narrative changed and distorted and warped until she became herself.

I do not remember my dreams sooooooo

Hahahahhaaaaa what readers

Sic semper tyrannis is overused in my fandoms and I love it. It's the last words of one of my OCs.

Yes, I also draw. Especially my OCs. I can't make comics, though.

YES. YES. IT IS SUPERIOR. FUCK NOREDINK AND IT'S IRRATIONAL HATRED OF THE OXFORD COMMA.

Never end or start a sentence with the word "and" or "or".

Honestly nothing in this context. Except maybe band shit.

That I was incapable of finishing anything.

My writing process is so random that I couldn't say, but I think cats think I'm weird 'cause I shower so much.

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[hellforcertain]

i like how one of the few reasons i can pinpoint when about i got sick is that i can use snowmageddon (late 2014/early 2015) as a starting point 

this is really long and i’d appreciate you not reblogging this but i don’t think i’ve ever written any of this out, and i would keep it private somewhere else but i kinda want to feel idk. validated? i never really put it into words like this until now. would also appreciate if you respond to this in some way (either a like or a reply) if you read it.

[cw for suicidal ideation in one part; skip the paragraph that begins “at some point that spring...”, after i talk abt my grandpa, if you don’t want to read it. it’s referenced in the next paragraph too. idk if there’s anything else i really need to warn for, but tell me if i do.]

i injured my knee thanksgiving 2013, when i was a sophomore. i was hiking in the hills around my parents’ house with some of my cousins, and it had snowed recently so everything was slick and slippery, and at one point my feet slid out from under me and i tumbled down an incline until my right knee connected with a tree. that thankfully stopped my fall but like, at what cost.

it was so bad that jo had to half-support me walking the couple blocks from our dorms to tufts to have an x-ray done in december 2013, which had been recommended by emerson’s health center (which was a joke; when i saw... i think an NP, she had to flip through a book until she found the “knee” section before she examined me). i couldn’t attend several classes of one of my courses the rest of that semester bcos it was in the building furthest from my dorm and i could barely walk there; i barely made it to the final. i never heard from the health center about the x-ray, so i figured that at least it wasn’t broken. it still bothered me but it became more manageable than it had been (not entirely tho bcos iirc i failed or didn’t complete two courses spring 2014, but that was also bcos of the undiagnosed adhd).

i moved directly into the studio from my sophomore dorm in may 2014, and lived there until june 2015 (which encompassed my junior year until i dropped out in november 2014).

my parents wanted me to fly down to spend a week in florida with them in august 2014, and i think this is what happened: the morning before i left on that flight i rolled off my futon badly and banged my bad knee against the (hardwood) floor really hard. i was in pain for a lot of that trip -- flying certainly didn’t help matters -- and when i got back it didn’t get better so i bought a cane a couple weeks before classes started back so i could get used to it before i had to use it to get to class.

(at the end of that trip, my mom forced me to let her clean out my ear with a qtip, jabbed it in too far and fucked up my ear, and then the next day i got on a plane back to boston and the issue got so bad i couldn’t walk down the street without holding onto a wall. i don’t think my eardrum burst or anything because it was better by the time i actually got to see a specialist about it and i haven’t suffered any permanent effects from it as far as i can tell, but at times it felt like it.)

i bought a cane in mid august 2014, and i know bcos i ordered it off amazon. the florida trip might have been in mid august, so there’s a possibility i banged my knee on the floor before the florida trip, and bought the cane when i realized i wouldn’t be able to walk in florida without it.

i know i reinjured my knee in august 2014, and i know i bought a cane then, and i know i also damaged my eardrum in august 2014 when i was in florida (well, my mom damaged it). i’m not sure exactly what order those took place in.

it got worse as the semester progressed, and i started doing less and less well in my courses, because not only was i dealing with the still-undiagnosed adhd, i was also in a lot of pain all the time. i remember making the conscious decision to stop going to my spanish class bcos the professor would have us stand up and walk around the class and talk to each other a lot and i couldn’t manage standing up for even that long, and i was so scattered and so fucked up from middle & high school that i couldn’t ask for help and the easier option was just to stop attending. i made the decision to go on medical leave late that semester -- probably in november or december 2014, i can’t remember which. there was the death of a family friend who i had been close to around that time too, and i was in too much pain and too swamped with trying to catch up on all these courses i hadn’t been attending to fly to florida and attend her funeral, which was another stone on top of all the others weighing me down (when i told my parents i had dropped out, i told them that it was her death that sent me into a breakdown, which wasn’t entirely a lie; i just didn’t tell them i’d been having a breakdown for months up until then).

i started getting sick and feeling pain that i couldn’t explain at all -- sure, i knew why my knee hurt, but i didn’t know why my joints were stiff and painful, and why i was hurting randomly separately from the joint pain. it got so bad that some days i had to crawl to get to the bathroom, and it was only a handful of steps away from my bed. i stopped doing my t shots bcos it was too much effort when i hurt so much already -- it got to the point that my periods started back up again, though i only had them very rarely. i think the only thing i managed to do was go to my shifts as desk guy in one of the dorms on campus.

when i went to visit my parents at some point, my mom thought it was just bcos i needed to get in shape and lose some weight to lessen the stress on my bad knee. tbh i don’t know when that happened, i just knew it was when i was still a student bcos i went to the gym once with a friend and it was really fuckin painful and terrible and just made everything worse. she might have said that when we were in florida, actually. idk.

living in the studio meant i lived totally alone, but jo was there a lot bcos i had an extra bed (i’d bought a loft bed bcos i wanted one and had never had one as a kid and this place had high ceilings, but i’d also bought a futon for cheap off a guy who was moving out of the building, which turned out to be a real blessing when i couldn’t make it up the ladder to the loft bed; when jo stayed at the computer labs late working on projects, they’d come crash on my loft bed bcos my building was near campus and by the time the labs closed, the t had stopped running) and i made kinda-friends with the security desk guy

that fall and winter i’d say i saw delivery guys more often than i saw my own friends (bcos i literally couldn’t handle the walking that grocery shopping would have required, and i didn’t know abt grocery delivery services at the time. idk if they were even a thing at the time). all “groceries” were bought at the cvs down the block, bcos they had things like butter and shredded cheese and tortillas (i ate a lot of tortillas that year) and pre-cut fruit, and the walgreens across the street from cvs had frozen burger patties that i think set off the smoke alarm every time i cooked them; anything else i ate was from delivery guys. i dissociated a lot that year, very very badly, and some delusional tendencies i’d had in high school came rearing back up. 

bcos i couldn’t do much else i threw myself into this site (esp on one of my sideblogs), and if you look at the amount of stuff i reblogged/posted then vs now you’d see that i had p much no other life. which was... not good but i also made some really good and valuable friendships then -- including em so like, not everything from then turned out bad. sadly, a lot of irl friendships stagnated, and it wasn’t the other party’s fault. i also played a lot of skyrim bcos it was one of like. two games i owned for my ps3, and even though the rest of me hurt a lot, my hands were surprisingly okay.

(i also went through a series of nb identities and pronouns that never really fit bcos that was the heyday of tumblr’s whole “if ur a trans man ur evil for wanting to be a man, u should be nb instead” phase and i was far too concerned with all that bcos like i said, i didn’t have much of a life outside this site at the time.)

i don’t recall much of thanksgiving or christmas breaks at my parents’, except that i got my name legally changed during i think christmas break 2014. iirc we had to reschedule my flight back to boston bcos i had to wait an extra day to be able to get everything done that i needed to, and bcos we needed to change the name on the flight. i remember crying at some official bcos they said that they couldn’t get me a new... driver’s license maybe? until a couple days down the road, but i had to be back for college by then and i have everything else done please just let me get my license today. and since it’s a small town in the south they totally folded, thankfully. i was just very stressed at that point, i hadn’t even meant to cry at them.

then snowmageddon happened in early 2015, and classes were cancelled and roads were closed and the t like, half shut down until like may. it was especially bad for me because most of my friends were in allston and they couldn’t exactly get downtown to hang out with me much. iirc, my friend who was an RA left college around the same time i did, maybe a few months before? i think i was still working desk shifts when they left, so it had to have been before i did.

march 2015 was good and bad: during jo’s spring break (and what would have been mine if i had still been in college), we escaped the snow and took their car on a roadtrip down the blue ridge parkway (well. that was the plan but it was closed thanks to the snow, so we drove down I-95 and ended up in asheville nc like two days after our leisurely road trip started. i turned 21 on that roadtrip, and so no longer had to rely on my friends to buy me alcohol, which was nice. we celebrated it at this local restaurant in whatever town we’d stopped at that night, and all i remember is that you could buy steaks from a counter at the front, and the drink i ordered for myself was incredibly orange.

my grandpa also died that march; he’d actually been dying since february, but i didn’t go to see him then; jo and i were in knoxville tn at one point, and my parents wanted me to drive up since knoxville is only like three hours from my hometown, but by then he was p much in a coma so it wouldn’t really be visiting, would it, and also it would have been mega unfair to drag jo into that mess. iirc his funeral was that april, bcos there was a funeral service at my parents’ church where he occasionally preached at, and then one at the mennonite church he attended after moving in with us, and then they had to get him to ohio for the big service (which was the one i attended).

(this was the grandpa who thought i was possessed by a demon for being trans so like. lmao. didn’t mourn him much then, and still haven’t.)

at some point that spring, after the spring break roadtrip and grandpa’s funeral, my dysphoria got really really really bad, bad enough to trigger the most suicidal episode i’d had since middle school/high school. it was a culmination of the negative thoughts and feelings i’d been having since i moved into this place (which had only worsened as i got sicker and when winter hit). i didn’t do anything, but i had to call a friend every time i left the building for like a week so that i didn’t walk into traffic. 

i moved out of the studio at the end of april or may of 2015, and went back to live with my parents for a bit because the lease for my text apartment didn’t start until september 2015 (since i was living with friends/former classmates who were still in school and weren’t going to be in boston until classes started back up in september). moving out was an Ordeal bcos my dad came up to help me and brought my sister, who hated boston so much that she was on the edge of a panic attack the whole time, which made her impossible to deal with. at one point we got into a fight over something super minor and it escalated and ended with her screaming at the top of her lungs, in my empty echoey studio that had the door open so god and all my neighbors could hear, that she wished i was dead. this was not the first or last time she expressed this sentiment, and was tame compared to some (like the time she said she’d stab me in my sleep). i told her i’d been suicidal weeks earlier and she left the building to go take something to the car and when i didn’t follow her (bcos i was cooling off), she freaked out and had a panic attack all over our dad. she didn’t tell him why, or that she was at fault, and when i came down a few minutes later he ripped into me until i stopped and told him what she had said. so, yknow. a fun final memory of that apartment.

i think that was when my mom finally acknowledged that my pain wasn’t just a weight thing, and that i should actually see someone when i got back to boston. my symptoms got worse too: i started having horrible pain in my hands, to the point that i couldn’t move them, and none of us really knew what to do. i found some compression gloves online and begged my mom to let me get them but she kept refusing because she was worried i’d mess my hands up worse with them, and i still don’t entirely understand that train of thought, because i was like, screaming crying at them because i was hurting so so much, and some compression gloves couldn’t have been worse than that (and i finally pointed out that they were gloves; i could take them off if they were hurting more than helping). they finally relented, thankfully. 

june 2015 was the first time i met em in person; i decided, almost on impulse, to take a week and drive down to florida and spend the week with them bcos they were living with their grandparents at the time and their grandparents were going to be out of town for like a week. they played a lot of fnv on their ps3 while i played don’t starve on my laptop. the place had a guest bedroom that was technically mine, but i don’t think i ever used it except to get changed; we tended to pass out in weird positions on em’s bed. we didn’t get much else done bcos i discovered that florida weather + my joints wasn’t a great combo, but it was still an amazing week.

that same summer i also got fitted for my knee brace. i think that same summer i got some treatments from a sports medicine doctor my mom is friends with. possibly steroid injections? i’d have to ask her. 

i moved into the medford house with some friends in september 2015, and dear lord was that a mess. the roommates were great, don’t get me wrong, but the house had mice we had to take care of, there was a gas leak at one point bcos the stove’s knobs didn’t work right and didn’t shut off the gas when we turned them off, the boiler was a broken leaky piece of shit that would shut itself off every like two days bcos the water level got so low (contrast the place we’re living in now, where we had to go put more water in the boiler maybe like. three times all winter), the landlord and his wife were total creeps and freaks -- he would only respond to my email even though my roommates tried to open lines of communication at various times, and one time i woke up with her in my bedroom bcos she was checking the radiator (which wasn’t working bcos the boiler wasn’t working and they refused to fix or replace it until winter was over) and she had the audacity to chew me out for my space heater. i was fucking sick, lady. give me a fucking break. the best thing, hands down, about the medford place was there was a corner store with a good deli across the street, so i could go in my pajamas to get a good sandwich and a box of fries. great place, great people.

i got referred to a rheumatologist that fall, and my first appointment with him was in november (i also at some point... i think in spring of 2015 started using testogel, because i wouldn’t have been able to get the stuff for injections refilled while i was in kentucky. i don’t remember when i switched back to injections but i did at some point while living at the medford house, which i once again was terrible at keeping up with).

at the time, my deadname was still on my insurance bcos even tho i’d changed my name earlier that year, i was still on my parents’ insurance and my dad wouldn’t fucking change my name there and wouldn’t give me the information to do it myself. my rheumatologist took one look at me and how i was responding to being called my deadname, and he asked if there was another name i went by that i’d be more comfortable with, and i was rarely called my deadname again after that (and only by a couple nurses until they got to know me better). ofc that stopped being an issue when i switched to my own masshealth plan (in early 2017 i think?).

he listened to the whole mess of a story, felt my joints, and then poked at the middle of my chest (which i now know is a common fibro trigger point). when i recoiled back bcos that hurt far more than it should have, he said “yep that looks fibro-y.” i don’t remember if i suggested fibro and/or rheumatoid arthritis, or if he did. he prescribed me some medications -- including tramadol, my savior that winter. i’d been taking tramadol already bcos i’d had some left over from... i think lasik, and a friend had given me some percocet for very bad days. i was so unused to the tramadol back then that it’d throw me for a loop, occasionally make me nauseated, and also knock me out. it was p great.

back then i’d have to ask my roommate danny to open like, water or pop bottles nine times out of ten bcos i just couldn’t. now, i can’t remember the last time i had a serious problem opening bottles on a consistent basis. there have been some bad days where i couldn’t, but it’s not like that’s all the time.

i improved in fits and starts after that; i can’t remember all the meds i tried with him, but i’m sure they’re in a file somewhere that i could request. i still wasn’t doing anywhere near good, but it was better than before -- if only, maybe, bcos i wasn’t dealing with this totally on my own. but you know what didn’t help? that house’s terrible fucking boiler. we’d wake up some days in the middle of winter and it’d be in the 50s inside the house, and i was the only one who knew how to fix the boiler (i’d taught the roommates, including the subletter we got when danny left for a semester in LA, but apparently the only one who could go down the stairs to take care of it was the fuckin cripple).

spring 2016 was awesome bcos i’d gotten a ps4 and destiny for christmas, and the subletter we got had two cats who i loved and who loved me, and everything was beautiful even tho i definitely still hurt a lot. i can’t remember much of note during this period, health-wise. it was mostly more of the same, but on top of it was trying to balance playing a shooter and having shitty hands that didn’t want me down anything with them.

summer 2016, when i was still in the medford house, em came to visit me (among other people -- they roadtripped up over the course of a couple weeks) and spent several days there. i had plans to take them to do touristy stuff in boston, but that never happened haha. and like we don’t have a solid date on when we got together bcos long-distance stuff can be fuzzy about things like that but that visit was our first kiss.

in september 2016 i moved into the allston apartment, and the less i say about that the better. i started back with a therapist in like february 2017; i hadn’t been to a therapist for years by this time, bcos my previous therapist had moved to a different office in the network and then left the area and i had never gotten back in touch with her after she moved to the other office. i also started on testopel, because injections were once again not working out.

that apartment was p much like living in the studio bcos even tho i had two roommates, it was an apartment i’d found in an emerson group centered on finding roommates, so i hadn’t known either of them beforehand; i wasn’t really living with them; we just happened to share some common spaces. health-wise i improved some as we found medications that worked for me, but i was still not doing even close to good. i had trouble going grocery shopping even though the grocery store was only a handful of blocks away because various parts of me would hurt too much to handle it, and by the time i was halfway home i would be almost dead. so, yknow. not a great time overall.

in september of 2017 i moved into this house with em and jo, and it’s been a fantastic decision bcos im finally living with people who care about me and will kick my ass into shape if i need it. em finally made me go to my rheumatologist and be like “so i know i’ve been saying i’ve been fine but i moved in with my partner recently and they’ve pointed out that im doing less fine than i said bcos i’d brushed off a lot of things as normal that they’ve told me are not, in fact, normal”, which was when he prescribed flexeril, and i think that’s helped me more than almost anything else has. holy shit. im taking a higher dose than my father (who’s like 6′1″ and has at least a hundred pounds on me) can handle but it’s working for me. i also went back to t injections a couple months ago bcos i didn’t enjoy missing everything for a week bcos it took forever for the testopel spot to heal, and i couldn’t sit on the spot until it healed; plus now that i’m living with em, they can remind me when i forget to do my shot. also, after a lot of fits and starts and panic over the last few years, im finally talking with a surgeon about top surgery. 

overall like, i went back and looked at a lot of posts i made several years ago to get dates for this point, and i can barely recognize myself in some of those posts. my illnesses had ground everything else away, until all that was the physical pain and the emotional anguish, and i wish i could tell my past self that it gets better: that he’ll find medications that work for him and he’ll move in with people who he loves and love him back, and that it’s not all sunshine and rainbows here in 2018 but it’s so much better. 2015 me definitely deserved that.

and that’s true: that i’m not cured, and i still have very bad days, but i’m also having more and more good days -- days that were unthinkable back then. i’m on medications that help me physically, and i’ve been diagnosed with adhd and am on a medication that helps me mentally. when i flew down to kentucky earlier this month to attend my sister’s graduation, my dad remarked on how much better i was walking and moving just compared to thanksgiving. i can’t even imagine comparing myself now to myself a few years ago. i think i’m going to save this post so that when i’m feeling down about being sick, i can remind myself how far i’ve come, and how much i’ve weathered so far; whatever storm comes next, i think i’ll be able to handle it.

idk where i was trying to go with this, but it ended up a super overly long chronicle of the last few years. so uh. yeah. like i mentioned before, i’d appreciate if you show that you read all this, either with a like or a reply, esp if you get to the end

[pathfindersemail]

For writing: I like to *think* I’m good at writing with emotion but at the same time, I guess I tell the emotion a hell of a lot instead of showing... any tips?

So I was originally going to answer this with a LONG ASS post but uh… tumblr ate it. Here is my 2nd attempt at writing it?

First of all, thank you SO much for this ask. What a fantastic and topical question, given the myriad of writing advice you get on tumblr (and wow omg someone’s asking ME for writing advice *__*! I’ve made it! I’VE FUCKING MADE IT ALSDJKSDJKLASK!asjdklaskjda okay sorry I’m gonna calm down now).

Dispel yourself of any notion that “show don’t tell” is a hard and fast rule.

Surprise! Like most writing techniques, tricks, and advice, they don’t apply for any and every type of writing. The mark of a good writer with good technique is being able to discern when one needs to either “show” and/or “tell.” Think of other forms of expression… heck, forget expression. Think of the range of emotions and your ability to express them. 

Here’s an example I just made up:

Sometimes, I cry a hearty and vengeful sob. It’s an effusive type of weeping where i flood the gates with the salt of my unending tears, and when my heart beats like a melancholic drum, heralding the inevitability of suffering. My breaths are harsh, interrupted even. And my fingers clutch with an iron grip the already drenched fabric of my shirt, as I try to hold onto the gnawing emptiness in my chest.

Other times, sadness is a numbing. You don’t know how to hold it, much less understand it. So you settle for what you can say: “I’m sad.” 

Do you see/can you read the difference between those two paragraphs? One is lengthier, just jam-packed with imagery (albeit cliche and cheesy). It’s absolutely theatrical, where the color, texture, and sound of every experience is taken to the extreme. On the other hand, the second paragraph is jarringly short. Sensation is toned down to the minimum. In fact, there is barely anything sensory about it. It is a mere “telling” of one’s sadness. But it is precisely in its minimalism and abrupt shortness that one is punched with the destabilizing force of loss and bereavement. The second paragraph is an expression of one’s inability to cope; one’s inability to feel, so they tell in the hopes that reality will settle in.

Now, I don’t want you coming away from this thinking that certain emotions can be “shown” and others can only be “told.” A lot of times, the same emotion can be conveyed with either and/or both. You have to ask yourself what you want to achieve. In a longer story, most of the time your goal is to build character (psychologize them as a human being) whose habits are within the realm of plausibility and relatability (sp? idk how to spell that lol).

When you think of someone you’ve known and loved for a long time, you don’t remember them for their exact speech and dialogue on any given day. You remember how they say the things they say over a span of numerous days. Likewise, a character must exhibit a pattern in their behavior and speech that can be ascertained from either the showing or telling of their emotions.

Now, I’ll use a more serious example from one of my Reyes fics. I’m not like using this example because it’s the best one I can think of, but it’s readily available and I wrote it somewhat more seriously than the passage above.

Another sigh flitted from the drooping frown of her mouth. She too set her tea down, but more gently than her son did, before placing both hands flat on her knees. Bobbing her head to the side, she stared out into empty space and let her gaze hover out beyond the small window of their kitchen. The sheer curtains blew inward with the breeze, and for a while the vermillion color of dusk in Omega brightened to a paler sheen within the room.

“He wanted to be someone,” she said.

To be someone? Reyes opened his mouth as if to press her further.

But the taut pull of her frown showed just how cryptic it was to her. She shrugged, as if she had long ago stopped pretending she had any hint or clue to a proper interpretation. “He was someone to me. He is still someone to me.” Her eyes looked to him with something of a plea, brows straightened by the weight of the words she was conveying to him. “Just as you are, Reyes.” Her hand drifted over his, squeezing the palm of his hand with her cold, wrinkled fingers. “You are someone now.” Just as she said those words, warmth radiated from her hand. “A good man with a better life.”

__________________________________________

She died five years later.

A kindly mortician handed him a ceramic jar when he had arrived that morning. “We found her alone in her apartment. The neighbors reported a smell.”

Reyes clutched the urn. It felt cold in his ungloved hands. Uninviting even. 

So I show the end and beginning of two different scenes: the first is a scene where Reyes’s mother, Teresa, expresses her nostalgia and regret on the day they celebrate her son’s achievements. In the second scene, the perspective shifts to Reyes upon his discovery that his mother died.

The earlier scene is riddled with sensory description. The imagery is softer, lighter, and warmer. For instance: “The sheer curtains blew inward with the breeze, and for a while the vermillion color of dusk in Omega brightened to a paler sheen within the room.” I may not be describing Teresa’s emotions, but I am describing the mood and tone pervading the room. 

Later, when she discusses the cryptic revelation of her late husband, I show the textures of her facial expression: “But the taut pull of her frown showed just how cryptic it was to her. … Her eyes looked to him with something of a plea, brows straightened by the weight of the words she was conveying to him.” 

I use the idea of discomfort and ambiguity to show that Teresa WANTS to say something to her son - some sort of wisdom she can impart to stop him from going down the path he is on, but she inexplicably cannot find the words. Part of it too is because she has no clue what path Reyes chose.

Then the scene abruptly jumps: “she died five years later.” Earlier we had every millisecond of the scene in description, but now I condensed five years worth of time into a sentence that is five words long. The effect is that of tragedy: an unexpected event that derails the person experiencing it.

I then use formal language (”kindly mortician”) and fragment sentences (”uninviting even”) to destabilize the rhythm of life - as loss can often do to us in our own coping with loss. Here, it is better I tell you precisely how empty Reyes feels in the whole ordeal, because one cannot show emptiness (there is nothing to be shown). But in conveying to the reader that he feels numb, we likewise sympathize with a character who cannot express grief.

In short, I’m pretty sure you are good at writing emotion, but it’s very probable that you have yet to learn how to juggle the diversity in which you can expression emotion: showing, telling… They’re both equally valuable tools that can enhance the emotion of a scene, character, or event when done right. A lot of times it’s figuring out when to use sensory (texture, sound, vision) imagery, or when to tone it down. 

[academersatz]

Travelogue - Norway 2017, pArt 1

Warning: this blog post is about art, mostly contemporary art (aka weird art that looks like a toddler ate a box of crayons and had an accident on the canvas).

Untitled (2011), by Albert Oehlen

My travels this July through Norway (and a little bit of Sweden on both ends) saw me wandering through a lot of art museums. As a rule, I tend to like modern and postmodern art, and specifically paintings. This post will mostly be a smattering of various pieces I saw and admired while chilling in Norway.

I had recently visited Stockholm and wasn’t super-pumped about spending another 3 days there at the beginning of my summer vacation, but one thing I had looked forward to was seeing Moderna Museet, the modern art museum. While my friend Bill (who will appear more in later posts) visited the awesome Vasa museum and other attractions on the island of Djurgarden, I drove to the island that housed Moderna. I parked, tried to pay for parking (alongside a family of confused foreigners), was rejected by the meter, and drove to another spot. It turns out that all the parking meters on the island were so old, they wouldn’t take my bank card. Eventually, I gave up. On the whole idea. I only had so much time to spend at Moderna before I needed to return to Djurgarden to pick up Bill, and I still wanted to go swimming. So I drove away from Moderna, cursing Stockholm and its ancient parking meters. #WhitePeopleProblems #amirite

Other than churches, which hardly count as contemporary, the first real modern art I saw was in Oslo at the Astrup Fearnley museum, which sits at the end of a wharf. The museum had two exhibits running (one more than the last time I visited with my wife 3 years prior): Chinese Summer, and The World is Made of Stories.

Are you strapped in? Good. Let’s begin with Chinese Summer.

N Kilometers towards the West, by Zhang Ding

Colosseum, by Huang Yong Ping

Love it, Bite it! by Liu Wei

Odyssey, by Ai Weiwei (on walls); and Tyres, by Dekk

And now onto some highlights from The World is Made of Stories.

Sick Skin, by Ivan Galuzin

Barren Landscape, by Anselm Kiefer

That evening, Bill and I decided to take a walk through Frogner Park, which features statues by Gustav Vigeland. I present some of those statues here with suggested titles.

THE WALL OF TESTICLES HAS JUST BEGUN

STOP TOUCHING MY FUCKING PENIS!

KAMA SUTRA, POSITION 79 - FAILURE

THE HERO WE NEED

The trip ventured west to Bergen, and while Bill walked around the back streets of the harbor, I visited the KODE art museum, which is actually 4 museums, each specializing in a couple different things. Not being very interested in kitchenware design or clothing fashion, I stuck to only two of the 4 buildings. Sorry for the shit quality, but I left my DSLR at the hostel and had to make due with my phone (OnePlus 3).

Vallauris, by Pablo Picasso

Falaise, by Anna-Eva Bergman

Cliffs, by Anna-Eva Bergman

Yony II, by Victor Vasarely

Winter II, by Bjorn Hegranes

I also learned about an art movement that rose up in opposition of the dream-like surrealists, Art Concret. Here’s a wall of some AC paintings.

Farther north, I visited the Kube museum in Alesund. This small contemporary art museum’s current exhibit is three floors dedicated to the life (so far) and works of Ørnulf Opdahl. I really liked his early work.

Untitled (1985)

Procession

Untitled (mid 1960s)

Evening

Hunter in the Snow

And finally, our trip wrapped up in Trondheim. Again, while Bill snapped pictures inside the huge cathedral in the city center, I went next door to the art museum. The first floor was made of selections from their collection, as well as some contemporary sculptures. Nothing to write home (or Tumblr) about, but when I climbed the stairs, I walked into this room.

And for the first time in my life, I literally thought YASSS! The second floor of the museum was devoted to Gruppe 5, or the Group 5, an art-gang from Trondheim that went around beating up other art-gangs and taking turf. They sold sketches on street corners and were eventually busted and sent to prison for conspiracy to enlighten. 

I may have some of that last paragraph wrong.

Die Brucke, by Lars Tiller

The works on display were great. Exactly what I wanted. The hero of the day was Roar Wold, whose every painting just seemed to jump out at me.

Landscape

Rad jord (I hope. The title card is a bit blurry in my photo.)

Untitled (1960s)

Broen

The excellent selections and quality of works on display in the various Norwegian art museums more than made up for missing out on the Moderna in Stockholm. Next up, I’ll talk about the cities in Norway I visited (as well as a brief stint in Stockholm.) Thanks for reading.

[umichenginabroad]

GHDI Presents: Welcome to Ghana

35000 ft

May 6 2019

You might think that working as an advisor in the International Programs in Engineering office for the past year would make me an expert in going abroad - or at least know more than the average bear. While you might have a point there, it doesn’t make me feel any more at ease while traveling away from friends and family for two months. I know I’ll miss my friends while they’re off celebrating their graduation and I’ll miss my family when I’m farther away from them than I’ve ever been before; but, at some point you just have to let everything go, and take the flight. I’ve been abroad before and played this game, and I’ve had some amazing experiences while doing it, so I know that travel and the immersion into new cultures can be a truly exciting time. This is chapter one of my new adventure to Kumasi, Ghana: everybody strap in.

This being the first time some of you are hearing about this, let me explain. If you don’t want to hear about the history and summary of the program I’m on, go ahead and skip this paragraph. While you’re reading this on the International Programs in Engineering (IPE) tumblr blog which is meant for students going on IPE summer study abroad programs, I might be a little of an outlier. I’m abroad with the Global Health Design Initiative (GHDI), which is a program that focuses on introducing engineering students to developmental engineering in healthcare fields. The program also teaches concepts in human-focused design or socially engaged design that looks deep into the context surrounding a problem instead of just saying that TSA lines are too long, because /everybody/ knows that’s a problem. GHDI isn’t a standard international program like the others you’ll read about on this blog mostly because the international part of the program doesn’t center around academics and isn’t partnered with a university. Instead, we partner with teaching hospitals and tertiary health clinics in various African countries. The GHDI cohort (that’s me) travels to these health clinics and communities and performs medical needs assessments where we go around and talk to people and figure out what are some of the challenges they face - or something like that, I’m still figuring it out myself. We then come back from our immersion experience and take our senior capstone design course that focuses on one of those identified problems and (if all goes well) goes back to the community when we’re done. A lot of talk for saying that I’ll be in Kumasi, Ghana for 7 weeks interfacing with a local teaching hospital there to gather information to support my capstone design course in the fall. Nod your head if you’re following along so far... okay let’s continue.

Osdahouse Guest House, Accra, Ghana

May 7 2019

This experience has me feeling a little strange because I feel like I’ve done a lot of prep for this trip and also feel like I have no idea what I’m getting myself into. Myself and the other members of the cohort have been taking a class all semester about design and cultural immersion and have worked and prepped all semester for this, but without putting it into practice I don’t know if that’ll be enough to let us hit the ground running in an environment that so completely different than what we’re used to. I’ll be sure to keep you posted on how the settling in process goes.

Speaking of keeping everyone updated, We (my partner Alex Ramer and I) have arrived in Accra, Ghana! We didn’t have any issues with customs or baggages so we sailed on through to pick up a SIM card and exchange some dolla bills. We had arranged for an airport pickup to take us to our guesthouse for the one night we’re staying in Accra, and other than traffic being absolutely NUTS, our driver did some hero work to get us where we needed to go when traffic laws don’t seem to exist. You might think, oh, Africa, must be a dry heat... it’s humid as all hell and 90 degrees to boot. I think we’re both going to have to get used to sweating wherever we go. After dropping our bags, the kind guy at reception recommended this small restaurant called Pat’s Special, who are we to know any better places so we headed out to find some grub.

Google maps has done an excellent job mapping the area, and while it might not have all the mom and pop convenience stores that are every sixteen feet, it does help tremendously just to know where the roads go. We found Pat’s with the help of the maps, and ordered some beef and rice dish that seemed to be a staple (pictured below). The food was excellent - but spicy. I am one that usually prefers milder foods (read: I am weak af) but I think I’m going to have to build up some tolerance for the spicier side of life while I’m here. Or I could starve... decisions, decisions.

Side note: They also served us hand sanitizer and a toothpick container. Kinda neat but we didn’t know if we kept them after we ate or if we left them on the table. I’ll have to ask someone later. Alex and I split a large plate of food for about $4 each, so feeling pretty good about the exchange rate.

One of the more interesting things seen while walking around are wild chickens! They seem to roam around the roads and properties like they own the place. There are cars and people everywhere, from three-wheeled trucks to six-wheeled fifteen passenger vans filled to the brim with people going about their daily commute, and people sitting outside their home enjoying life and staring at all the people walking down the street (hi hello) to groups of kids running around the side streets playing tag while their parents stare at all the people walking down the street. Kinda eerie vibes, but we didn’t a bad feeling about it, so it might just be another thing to get used to.

Neither Alex nor I have spent any time in sub-Saharan Africa, (I don’t count my one-week trip to Morocco two years ago) so everything is new to us here. It’ll be a tall order to get acclimated, but one that we have to fill if we’re going to be here for seven weeks. Tomorrow we take a bus from Accra to Kumasi and meet up with our host family for the next week and a half or so! Thursday is our first day at the hospital, so lots happening in a short amount of time. I’ll be sure to send updates all along the way.

Thanks for hanging with me,

Scott

—

Scott Vanden Heuvel

Mechanical Engineering

GHDI Immersion Experience, Kumasi, Ghana

[leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid]

That’s Not Fine

Pairing: Dean x Reader; Charlie Bradbury, and ofc Seraphina

Word Count: 3228

Warnings: Symptoms of Bipolar 2 disorder, depression, hypomania, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation, negative self image and thoughts. If any of this is triggering or possibly triggering Please Do Not Read!!!!

Author’s Note: Written for the Mental Health Awareness Challenge hosted by @letsgetoutalive. This is an AU where Dean is not a hunter but he is the reader’s husband. The reader has Bipolar 2 disorder and she is me. This story is based on true events that happened over the summer between myself and several others. They know who they are and I hope this gives them a little peak at what was going on in my head at the time. I can never apologize enough and to some I can’t apologize at all for the things I did while having an episode, and its completely inexcusable. Things are different now and if you feel like things are getting out of control or those around you keep saying, get help, please seek treatment. No one deserves to deal with a disorder like this without help. It’s awful for everyone involved. My birthday gift to myself today is truth, to lay myself out for you all to see. My name is Sundae, I’m bipolar, and this is my story. Italics are inner thoughts, Bold italics are IM messages.

There it was again, that thought, the nagging, constient voice whispering in your ear. ‘They hate you. You pissed them off. They just put up with you and your crap because they feel bad for you. You have to make it up to them, fix it. Fix it. Fix it!’ That little voice was back and it was getting louder and louder everyday.

“Hey babe, you okay?” you husband Dean sat down next to you on the bed, wonder in his beautiful green eyes.

You looked up from your laptop screen, putting a fake half smile on your face as you nodded. “Yep, all good. Was just messaging Charlie back.”

“Oh, tell her I said hi and I’m gonna get dinner going. Thought I’d let you know since I know you are trying to write in here.”

“Yeah, not much writing going on today but alright. Let me know when it’s ready. Love you.”

Dean leaned closer, “Love you too.” his pink plush lips brush over yours before he jumps up and walks out of the room.

Your eyes went back to your screen, the message to Charlie still sitting unsent in the IM window. ‘It’s just I feel like I’m bothering you all the time and I don’t want to do that. I never want to do that to you because I love you. You are one of my best friends and if I’m too much to handle you are welcome to drop me out of your life.’ You reread that message three times before letting your fingers fly over the keys again. ‘I completely understand and I encourage you to distance yourself from me. It would be a lot better if you did.’ Sent.

There it was finally, in black and white, and you hoped when Charlie read the message she would see it was for the best for her to walk away from her friendship with you. You’d always told her that you were trouble. That being friends meant that she would be dealing with a crazy person and she had laughed it off thinking it was just a joke. It wasn’t and now you waited for when she’d read the message and get back to you.

Clicking over into another tab sat the unfinished story you had been working on. A challenge a friend had given you that when you said you’d do it had inspired so many things. A rockstar falling in love and getting addicted to heroin, using with her bass player/boyfriend, the highs and lows of stardom making them chase that high higher and higher until they couldn’t chase it anymore. You’d planned it out, knew what was going to happen, but here you sat staring at just the first few paragraphs, all energy to write it gone.

“Come on Y/N, you can write this.” you whispered to yourself. You’d been writing for years, the last year of which had been your most productive, writing and releasing stories onto your blog multiple times a week. Most of your nights spent wide awake, fingers flying over the keys to bring to life new pieces of storytelling and filth for the masses to read along with you. You knew you could do this, you’d finished every single challenge you’d been given so far, and you were not about to let this one be a failure.

Rereading what you’d written though sparked no inspiration and when you clicked back into the tab for Tumblr you saw a message from Charlie.

‘I’m not going to do that and you aren’t bothering me. I don’t understand why you feel like that but we’ve been over this again and again. Please, Y/N, let this go and move on.’

She was mad at you. Clearly she was mad and you felt tears starting to burn behind your eyes. You’d done it again, made a friend mad when you were just trying to fix it. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just how I was feeling is all.’

‘You have no reason to feel that way.’

Charlie’s response didn’t make sense to you and you reread it half a dozen times before replying again. You did have reason to feel that way because she’d been distant and you knew you’d been bothering her because she’d told you earlier in the week she’d been busy with work. You needed to make her see that you were no good for her and you were a cancer in her life that needed to be eliminated.

‘But I do and I’m just sorry.’

There was no reply after that and you knew your friendship was over. Fat, hot tears ran down your cheeks as you sat in bed waiting for a reply that never came. Dean hollered from the kitchen that dinner was ready and you wiped at your face till you were sure he couldn’t tell you’d been crying.

The smell of steak filling your senses as you wandered slowly into the kitchen. “Smells great babe.”

Dean turned around, a smile gracing his gorgeous face. “Thanks, did you need more time to write after dinner?” He asked as he started to portion out the plates.

“No, wasn’t getting much done anyway.” You were a failure and all you could do was stuff your face and hope Dean didn’t decide this was when he wanted to walk away from a fat ass like you.

Together you ate while he talked about different parts of his day at the shop he co-owned with his dad and you tried to pay attention as you kept rerunning the chat you’d had with Charlie. There had to be a way to fix it, you’d messed it up so badly.

Dean continued to talk until you had finished dinner, not once did he ask how your day had been, and as you walked to the bedroom together to watch tv your heart sank. ‘He doesn’t even care how your day was. He knows it was boring. He probably hates you like Charlie does and like Ellen does, and Jo.’  You knew everyone hated you and you deserved for them to hate you.

The next couple hours were spent watching a movie on Netflix and when Dean fell asleep without kissing you goodnight you’d turned off the tv as well as your bedside lamp, and turned away from him. You reached for your phone, the Tumblr app opening, and showing a new message from someone and you were filled with dread at who it might be.

‘Please, Y/N, let it go. I can’t keep telling you that everything is fine between us. You are my friend and I love you but you need help. Something is wrong and I can’t help you.’

Charlie’s words cut like a knife through your heart and you let silent sobs wrack your body. Something was wrong, very wrong, and every time you saw a doctor they always told you the same thing. It’s just a little depression and a few months with medication should make you feel better. And the doctor was right, it did, for awhile.

That’s when you would feel normal, you’d finally sleep and eat like everyone else, you’d spend time with Dean doing things you loved and your brain didn’t feel like it was running a marathon. The meds worked, they did but then everything would start to slip. You’d take your meds but then you’d start feeling that urge to stay awake. To write one more story, ideas flying out of your head so fast you could hardly keep up. The phrases, “did you sleep? When did you come to bed? Have you eaten today?” all became regular parts of your husband’s vocabulary.

You’d shrug him off, you were fine, and super productive. You had stories ready for when you had writers block and your follower count was up since you’d been posting so much new content. Things were fine, he just couldn’t see it. You didn’t need to sleep to be amazing or put out amazing content, this was how you were and you loved it.

But you knew, every single time, and you dreaded what you knew was coming. What you were going through right now, this low, the darkness slowly closing in around you. Every thought in your head telling you that you were a bad person and deserved to be told so by everyone. You didn’t deserve to be happy, you deserved to feel this way, and to watch your friends walk away from a crazy person like you.

You clicked over to your dash, scrolling through posts and finding nothing to occupy your mind. All that kept going around and around in your head was Charlie’s words, your brain highlighting certain parts and leaving others behind. ‘Y/N, let it go. I can’t keep telling you that everything is fine. You need help and I can’t help you.’ Over and over again your brain kept repeating it until finally you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Instead of bothering anyone you opened a text post, sticking a little asterisk in where you’d put your usual text and start venting in the tags.

Writing all that out did nothing to make you feel better and you continued to cry until you fell asleep. When you awoke the next morning, Dean was already gone, and you grabbed your phone to check for notifications and messages. A text from Dean told you he loved you and he’d be late getting home. Paperwork for the expansion was finally in and he’d need to work on it with his dad after hours.

Next was Tumblr and as usual you didn’t have any messages. The notifications were from people reblogging mostly your reblogs and a few likes on an old story back when you were actually able to write. With nothing worth looking at there any longer, you opened your dash and started scrolling. Just a few posts down was one by Charlie and she was obviously not happy.

Charlie’s post ate at you, reading it and the tags over and over again. You knew it had been wrong to put her in the tags, knew that online etiquette says don’t out anyone or say anything except positive things about others but you had to get it out. Your brain wouldn’t stop, the voice repeating itself over and over again until you posted it.

You pushed the reblog button, your fingers poised over the keys trying to think of what to say but all you could think was that she was right. You were sick and manipulating people into feeling bad for you. There was no reason for anyone to feel sorry for you because you were acting like a child, boohooing on the internet when you should just keep it to yourself.

Closing the reblog you starting planning instead. The world didn’t need you in it, messing everything up for everyone. Bothering them with your nonsense and dragging them down when they were all so happy. Dean would be home late and you knew that would give you the time that you needed to do this right.

Walking into your bathroom you took stock of what you had on hand in the cabinet. Muscle relaxers from when Dean hurt his back a few weeks before, the sleeping pills your doctor gave you for when you told him you had trouble sleeping, and your Prozac that was half full of capsules. You weren’t sure if it would be enough but you figured if you ground everything down they might at least work faster. Dean would probably get home too late to help you and it would all just end.

With a plan forming in your mind you heard a ding from your phone of a message. Opening it you saw it was from Seraphine, a friend you had made online and you sighed wondering what she wanted.

‘Hey sweetie just wanted to check in on you. I saw your post from last night and if you need to talk I’m here for you.’

‘Hey Sera I’m fine just having a moment. Don’t worry about me. I’m good.’

‘You sure?”

You chewed at your lip knowing you were lying but not wanting to worry your friend at all. ‘Yeah I’m fine. Everythings fine.’

‘Doesn’t seem fine. How are things with Dean?”

‘Dean’s good. Working late tonight which is good for me. Lets me get done what I need to do.’

There was a pause between messages and you sat on your bed waiting for her to reply so you could say goodbye and get the mortar and pestle from your kitchen to start getting your pills ready.

‘What is it that you need to do?’

You were getting aggravated, you needed to go so you could do this. You needed to end this conversation and end your sad pathetic existence.

‘Nothing you need to worry about. Just something that needs to be done. I’ve got to go. Bye sweetie.’

‘Wait! Don’t go, Y/N. Please, whatever it is you need to do I want you to know you don’t have to. What time is Dean coming home?’

You looked up at the clock and realized the day had slipped away from you. Hours of time just bleeding into one another without you even noticing, the sky outside your bedroom window already showing an orange and pink glow of the sunset.

‘I don’t know. All his text said was late. It will be fine. I gotta go, Sera.’

‘You don’t have to go. Stay and talk to me, Y/N. I’m worried about you.’

You scoffed to yourself and punched in your reply. ‘You don’t have to be worried about me. Nothing to worry about. I need to go, Seraphine. It will all be better once I do.’

‘No, it won’t. Please, don’t go yet ,Y/N.Call Dean and tell him you need him to come home. You shouldn’t be alone right now.’

You shook your head, tears burning and falling quickly down your face. ‘I’m not going to bother him and I’m fine.’

‘You aren’t fine and you need to call him. If you won’t I will. Please, Y/N.’

Your phone slipped from your hand and onto your bed where you left it to swipe at the tears coursing down your face. You were so pathetic, crying like this. You needed to stop and just do what needed to be done. Leaving your phone where it landed you stood up and rounded the side of your bed just as you heard the front door open, Dean rushing in while calling your name.

“Y/N! Hey babe, Charlie called me and said that you needed me to come home right away. Sweetheart, what’s going on?” The love and concern poured off of Dean in waves and you were overcome with despair, shame, and fear. A great heart wrenching sob leaving your body as you launched yourself into his chest, his arms wrapping around you as your body convulsed with cries.

“Whoa sweetheart, what’s going on? Come on, kid. Talk to me.” Dean held you tight to him and you just cried, not a single word could be released with how hard you were sobbing. He moved the two of you till he could sit on the end of the bed, pulling you sideways into his lap, rubbing his hand in circles over your back and telling you how much he loved you. “Talk to me, Y/N. Please tell me what happened?”

Through your tears your drew in a few deep breaths, you lips quivering as you shakingly responded. “I’m scared. I’m so scared and I-I don’t know what to do.” More sobs erupted at your confession and Dean squeezed you in reassurance.

“Charlie said you were planning to kill yourself. Where you? Please tell me she was wrong about that. I can’t lose you. Not like that.” Dean’s voice broke as he spoke, his own grief over his wife being in so much pain spilling ovel.

“I’m so scared because I want to Dean, so bad. I want everything to just stop. Make it stop, Dean. Make it stop.”

Dean pressed his lips to your head before moving his hand to your cheek and bringing your face up to look at him. “Tell me what to do to make it stop and I will. Tell me what you need and I’ll do it. Right here, right now.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you confessed, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. I’ll figure it out. Maybe we should call your doctor and tell him what’s going on. He should be able to help.” Dean reached for your phone knowing the number to your doctor was inside along with the emergency contact number for moments like this.

“No, Dean. Please, don’t call him. Not right now. I can’t. Please, just hold me. I need you to hold me and make it stop.” you turned yourself in his arms till you could wrap yourself completely around him, sobbing into his shoulder and releasing all the hurt you’d let consume you the last couple of weeks.

He held you to him, reminding you that he was there, and he wasn’t going to leave you. When you finally started to calm he leaned back and looked into your reddened eyes. “Sweetheart, we need to get you help. I love you but you need to talk to your doctor.”

You shook your head in protest. “No, I’ll be fine, Dean. Really it’s fine.”

“Y/N, that’s not fine. The phone call from Charlie telling me my wife was making posts online, talking to people about needing to go do something and everything would be better after. That’s not fine. You are not fine but you can fight this. We can fight this. Please babe, let me help you fight this. Let me call your doctor.” Dean’s olive orbs pleaded with you and you leaned around him to grab your phone.

“Help me?” A shuddered breath fell from your lips and Dean kissed your forehead before nodding.

He scrolled through your contacts and made the call to get you help.

12 weeks later

Bipolar 2, finally your doctor had listened and you had the right diagnoses. It was scary, the scariest thing a doctor had probably ever said to you and Dean stood by you the entire time. Not once thinking to walk away from you or to let you stop fighting. The medication you were on was changed and with it your activities at home. The amount of time you spent online went down considerably and you’d managed to apologize for your behavior towards Charlie at the time.

You’d told Seraphine thank you, having connected the dots that she had been the one to contact Charlie, who in turn called Dean. Together they had all saved you from yourself and now you were on the road to being a healthy version of yourself. No amount of thank yous were enough but you tried at least once a day, to return some of their kindness back into the world. Because being sick isn’t an excuse but it is a reality and with these people on your side as well as proper medical treatment, your reality was looking a whole lot better.

Tagging let me know if you want off the ride: @aprofoundbondwithdean @brooklyn-writes-flangst @duckzorz @gizmospacerocket @kayteonline @jotink78 @manawhaat @maxremixed @mrsjohnsmith @mrswhozeewhatsis  @oriona75 @rizlow1 @littlegreenplasticsoldier @harley-kitty-queen @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @lady-of-the-bunker @tardis-is-mine @nichelle-my-belle @superromijn @sis-tafics @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @mysupernaturalfics @nerdflash @waywardjoy @superisatomboyuniverse @cici0507 @beatlesobsessionlove @chelsea072498 @loveitsallineed @love-me-some-pie21 @atc74 @for-the-love-of-dean @impala-dreamer @percywinchester27 @i-dont-understand-whats-going-on @bitch-jerk-assbutt-xo @therosecolouredpost @dorky-and-i-know-it @supernatural-jackles @iwantthedean @gemini75seeyore @babypieandwhiskey @milkymilky-cocopuff @mrsbarry-allen-1031 @letsdisneythings @winchesterenthusiast @femmedplume

[linlutfi-blog]

Hey 2016!

(photos: my 2016bestnine on IG) 

I did not write a wrong number for the title, just in case you wonder hehe. Here I am going to write my report of 2016. I really am grateful for everything happened last year. How I did a few too many small changes in my life that makes me who I am today (It doesn’t change much though). 

The beginning of 2016 was the time when I desperately live my life as final year university student. I tried to figure out the best way to survive from all the hurdles ahead. My biggest struggle in early 2016 was being alone because I deliberately reduce my time of playing and meeting people just so I won’t get distracted. In those time of solitary (?), I attempt to work my hardest to finish my bachelor thesis. Of course it was never that simple, I got stuck during the process thousand times. There was also time when I purposely avoided meeting my adviser because I couldn’t write a single word for months. Turned out, my running away choice was a complete mistake and with the help of my adviser I could back to track and made up for the lost time. Due to the nature of my research, (fyi, my research was qualitative with online data gathering) It didn’t too difficult to carry out, I just need to chat with some people online and meet a few people. Actually, this data gathering process was one of my best experience of this year because I learnt and enjoyed it as much as I could, I got to meet new people and know how they see things around them. Well, writing it was a different story though, transcripting an interview, analyzing and concepting the findings were such a pain in the as*. Luckily I did it well at the end since everyone helped me here and there. For this achievement, I'd like to thank my dosbing, Mbak Dian Nasrah Marissa, for all this time being my adviser, my best research and discussion partner, A friend and older sister I will always looked up to, an inspirational figure who gives the best example on everything through her every moves. My dreams is to become a great person in heart, just as you are, Mbak. May Allah bless you and everyone dear to you wherever you are.

After finishing my degree, I experienced a really short period of internship in a telecommunication company. I learnt a lot of things and most of them were about how to survive in a big city lol. I got to taste a working life, not a real one though but at least I could vaguely understand it. I felt like I became much more independent than before after this experience. As if I can go anywhere without worry and I am becoming more open to changes. That was one big step for me. I wouldn’t be able to experience any of those things without a hand from my super kind friend, Dian :’) Thank you and I love you so much!!!!!

Not long after I returned home, I decided to leave and took an English course. Forget about studying English, I felt more like running away from reality. All I did was play around, sleep, eat, do nothing. I feel extremely sorry for my parents who paid for all of this. Good things, I met few people from different place and they made me question my self about so many stuff, and I thought I'm improving myself a bit afterward (still working on this one).

Aside from all of those mentioned above, 2016 was the most slow-paced and unproductive year of my life. I do made a few small changes though (just as I said on 1st paragraph). Remember the story about how I lived my life (it's on my old tumblr acc), well that was about the negative part like how I became too familiar with coffee and how I ate less than I supposed to. Actually, my 2016 resolution was to follow healthy lifestyle. I avoided sugary beverages especially soda, ate fruits and vegetables regularly, stopped eating junk foods, drank a lot of water etc. And let's see how I managed to accomplish it...... Well, to be honest, I was around 70% successful in avoiding sugary drinks. I, who actually loved sweets (I won't deny this fact), now used to drinking plain tea, bitter coffee, no carbonated beverages and now have a low toleration for sweets. Back when I lived alone in boarding house, Instead of eating instant noodle, I ate oatmeal and honey or boiled potato, I chose a boarding house with an early curfew so I could sleep early instead of pulling all-nighter at peacock. Unfortunately, It didn't work like that though lol, I stayed up late regardless. But yeah, at least I didn't leave my room late night. Well, my point was I already did my best to pursue a healthy lifestyle last year!!! Even though there also time when I got a terrible maag to the point that it was hard to breath due to a pain in my chest . And just as I wrote before, my eyes which was fine for the last 21 years finally needed company haha (let me cry for a sec)

Oh hey, I had another changes last year: I started reading books! Actually, I'm not a typical patient girl who could bear sitting for a long period of time reading books. I'm totally not that type but I tried and I read several books last year (you may check my goodreads list for details lol). I wish I can read more good books this year and learn more about world!

Hmm... This less than 1000 words story pretty much sums up my life in 2016. Despite the shitty political things happened lately, 2016 was such a great year! Alhamdulillah. It's time to move on and creates a better story.

 Love,

Me, with grateful feeling

p.s: pardon my grammatical mistakes. bye