#and if i procrastinate and stay stuck for too long i will NEVER PROGRESS

[electricpurrs]

im literally never going to beat portal 2 i am in shambles

[4dkellysworld]

How To Stay Trapped

This is not from my own conversations with ChatGPT but someone else's that I saw on IG and thought it was so good that I had to share it here. Except it being Satan, it's you thinking you're ego.. The comments were saying 'that's society' and 'that's life' but no, it's you buying into the mind's beliefs, own it! Take responsibility so you can actually do something about it. I wanted to highlight most of the text. It can also be used as a progress check of sorts, to check in with yourself and see where you can let go of more ego concepts and identification (healing is essentially this too).

Question: If you were Satan and you wanted to stop a young woman from meeting her potential and fulfilling her life's purpose, how would you do it?

Answer: If I were Satan and wanted to stop a young woman from meeting her potential and fulfilling her life's purpose, I would target her mind, emotions, and surroundings to create a sense of self-doubt, confusion and discouragement. My goal would be to keep her stuck, distracted, and disconnected from her true path. Here's how I'd do it:

Undermine Her Self-Worth: I'd plant seeds of insecurity, making her constantly question her value. She'd focus on her perceived flaws and weaknesses rather than her strengths and potential. By keeping her self-esteem low, she would struggle to believe she deserves success or happiness.

Create Toxic Relationships: I'd encourage her to surround herself with negative, toxic, or manipulative people who drain her energy, undermine her dreams, and discourage her from growing. Whether through unhealthy friendships, romantic relationships, or even family dynamics, these people would keep her from focusing on her goals

Fuel the Fear of Failure: I'd amplify her fear of failure, making her terrified of taking risks or trying new things. She'd stay in her comfort zone, avoiding the challenges that would lead to growth. The fear of embarrassment or rejection would keep her from pursuing her purpose.

Distract Her with Superficial Goals: I'd shift her focus away from her true calling by making her prioritize materialism, popularity, or external validation. She would chase after short-term rewards-money, status, appearance - while neglecting her inner development and long-term purpose.

Instill a Victim Mentality: I'd encourage her to feel like life is happening to her rather than for her. By convincing her that she's powerless in the face of her circumstances, I'd keep her from taking control of her destiny. She'd blame external factors instead of seeing the power she has within herself to change her life.

Create Constant Comparisons: I'd ensure that she constantly compares herself to others, feeling inferior or jealous of their achievements. Social media would become a tool for self-criticism, where she believes everyone else is doing better than her. This would sap her motivation and make her feel like she's never enough

Promote Perfectionism: I'd make her believe that anything less than perfect isn't worth doing. She'd become paralyzed by the idea that she has to be flawless in every aspect of her life-whether it's her career, relationships, or appearance-leading to procrastination and stagnation

Discourage Emotional Healing: I'd make her avoid addressing her emotional wounds or past trauma convincing her that healing is unnecessary or too painful. By keeping her unhealed, I'd ensure that old wounds and unresolved pain continue to hold her back and sabotage her future relationships and decisions.

Foster Burnout and Overwhelm: I'd encourage her to take on too many responsibilities, causing her to spread herself thin and eventually burn out. By overwhelming her with stress, I'd keep her from focusing on her true purpose or making meaningful progress in any one area

Normalize Settling for Less: I'd convince her that it's easier and safer to settle for mediocrity, whether in her career, relationships, or personal growth. She'd believe that pursuing her dreams is too risky or unrealistic, so she'd settle for a life of comfort and conformity rather than pushing toward her potential.

Fuel lmposter Syndrome: I'd make her feel like a fraud whenever she achieves success, convincing her that she doesn't really deserve it. No matter how much progress she makes, she'd always feel like she's faking it and fear being "found out," which would hold her back from fully stepping into her power.

Block Her Connection to Intuition or Faith: I'd weaken her connection to her inner wisdom, intuition, or any spiritual guidance she might rely on. By creating doubt in her own instincts or in a higher purpose, I'd keep her disconnected from the inner clarity she needs to make aligned decisions

Through these tactics, I'd aim to keep her in a cycle of self-sabotage, fear, and confusion, making it incredibly difficult for her to rise to her potential and fulfill her life's purpose.

[sorrowful-hyacinth]

Pleasure in Pain #9

[ Previous / Next ]

I’m still alive, just procrastinating on everything in my life.

Contents: On the run, Failed escape attempt, Begging, Fear of the sun, Threatened.

+++

“You’re in for a world of hurt kid!” Rojan was seething with rage. 

Cordova took a step forward, Rojan was on guard, that was until the vampire pushed all of his weight back onto the door. Cordova plummeted to the ground as the door cracked beneath him. He groaned from the impact but quickly recovered and got back on his feet before Rojan had the chance to grab him. As the vampire began to run Rojan snarled at the act of defiance... but he didn’t move, he didn’t chase after the vampire. Cordova was rightfully confused when he glanced back to see Rojan standing in the doorway, but he didn’t stop running, he didn’t stop for a long time.

It was early in the night, and Cordova covered a lot of ground. He hated to admit it, but he was lost in the woods. How far am I from home? He might’ve not been in any mortal danger, but it still wasn’t a good situation to be stuck in with his weakened state. He always remembered his parents telling him that if he followed the direction of Orion’s belt then he would always be led back home. His eyes scanned the starry night and identified the constellation with ease. 

/Time/

He felt as though he had been running for miles on end, no notable progress with the endless trees. Where the hell did these humans take me? How far away is home? If his father could hear his thoughts right now, he would be called immature, weak... is this what being homesick feels like? 

/Time/

Cordova ran for the entire night, still nowhere near home or even civilization. The sky’s color gradient shifting from a dark blue to a soft orange and pink hue. While he was running, he made sure to stay aware of possible shelter options, he new that a mile back from where he came there was a cave that he could rest in for the day. He ran back to that suspiciously carved out cave in the hill side. He couldn’t exactly be picky about his options. He sat down on the damp, cold ground of the stone cave. He finally takes a breath for himself and leans back against the rigid wall. What a day... couple of days I guess. Shivers travel through his body at the mere thought of what he had to endure. His father always told him to never trust a human, they are only blood bags. They catch you and the first thing they want to do to you is torture and rip you to shreds. Yet, he couldn’t help but hear his mothers voice echoing in his head to not hold hatred towards all humans... that wasn’t fair considering she was human herself. Cordova shook his head and tried to distract himself. He looked around the cave and noticed how moist the walls and the ceiling was, like it was dripping a continuous fluid that wasn’t exactly water. He couldn’t bother to care about his new environment when a wave of exhaustion hit him and he couldn’t help but let his eyes rest and his body go limp. 

/Time/

Cordova woke with a start as his ears picked up the faint sound of a vehicle barging through the forest. He quickly jumped onto his feet, his adrenaline started to skyrocket at the thought of humans finding him trapped in this cave during the day. Unfortunately for him, the cave was shallow and didn’t provide hiding spots so he resorted to pressing his back against the wall. The heavy, clunky, getting closer rapidly. It stopped just outside of the cave. All too familiar thick combat boots crushed the dying leaves that lead to the cave. Cordova’s heart skipped when he saw that man’s face… Rojan.

Rojan clapped his hands as he entered the cave and stepped towards Cordova. The vampire stepped off the cave wall and took a couple steps back deeper into the cave.

“Well well, good job Cordova, you made it all the way here in one night.”

Rojan kept walking towards the nervous vampire. Corodva synched his steps with the man in front of him until his back flushed with the cave wall. Rojan took a large step forward and blocked anyway for the vampire to escape.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

Corodva could feel his hands shake as he clenched them. Was it from anger, fear, anticipation? He stared at Rojans pure silver eyes. “H-how did you find m-me?”

Rojan laughed softly finding the question amusing. “Oh Cordova, I knew you were young but seriously? Did you never consider the possibility of me putting a tracker in you?”

Cordova’s eyes widened slightly at the implication that he had something foreign in his body. Obviously no scars were present to indicate that such a thing and been done, and it was hard for him to even grasp the thought. He carefully looked down at his body, examining himself as if it would explain anything.

“Tch Tch Tch, poor Corodva. Do you remember the last thing I said to you?”

The shaken vampire looked up with an anxious expression as he recalled the last encounter he had with the human. He tried to push himself impossibly further against the cave wall. Rojan leaned forward slightly, not providing Corodva with any personal space. He whispered in a sadistic manner.

“You’re in for a world of hurt kid.”

The vampire very noticeably sunk further down, as if trying to make himself smaller. His breathing hitched as his heart worked overtime from the lack of oxygen being supplied. As much as he wanted to run, to kick Rojan back and sprint into the trees… the radiating heat held no comfort for him. He considered possibly hurting Rojan, if he got all his strength and managed to pin him to the ground he could kill him… but he had never killed a person before, he wasn’t sure if he would even be willing to.

Rojan carefully grabbed the vampires arm and began to pull him as he made his way to the front of the cave. Corodva didn’t fight at first, paralyzed by his thoughts as if he was in a trance. That was until he was snapped back to his distressing situation when the sun inched closer, second by second. Cordova dug his heel into the ground and pulled back on Rojans iron grip. His heart pounding and a cold sweat evaporating in the heat. Rojan turned to the vampire with a look of disappointment that was shown with a menacing glare.

“I swear to god if you don’t come with me right now Cordova, I’ll carve you open and expose your organs to the sun. Do you want that?” His voice was stern and course.

The vampires eyes widened at the grotesque description. His fear was still overpowering his body and all he could think about was the pain he would experience right now, and not the pain in the foreseeable future. He shook his head frantically while still holding his ground. “R-Rojan… I-I r-really don’t want t-to go in the s-sun.”

Rojan glared intensely as the shivering vampire. “Do you think I give a shit if I walk you through this sun? I’ll drag you by the car and let the sun burn you to a crisp all the way back if I want to.”

Corodva pulled harder against the humans grip. For a human, his grip was unnaturally strong, maybe Cordova was just too out of focus to really break free, but either way he knew Rojan wouldn’t let go. The vampire had a pleading expression plastered on his face. “P-please Rojan, I-I p-promise to go back… I-I won’t resist, just please… I don’t want to get burned.”

Rojan unexpectedly pulled against Cordova, making him loose his footing and stumble forward. Rojan was now in full view of the sun, his skin reflecting the brightness. Cordova’s hand was mere inches away from the suns grasp, he couldn’t take it anymore. “PLEASE!” The terrified vampire shut his eyes bracing himself for the scorching pain… but it didn’t come. After a couple seconds he opened his eyes cautiously and saw that Rojans hand was no longer holding his arm hostage. He quickly pulled his arm back to his chest protectively.

Rojan sighed and kept his gaze sharp and calm. “Will you really come back that easily?”

Cordova quickly nodded his head a couple times praying that the human would believe him. He could hear Rojan sigh again as he turned around and walked back to his car. He got in and casually drove half way into the cave forcing Corodva to back up immensely. The vampire saw a hand gesture him to go into the vehicle. He carefully walked to the passenger seat and sat in the leather chair. The first thing on Cordova’s mind was that the windows weren’t tinted enough. The sun visor was too small. He pushed the seat back before pushing himself down into a small ball under the glove compartment, hoping it would be enough coverage. Rojan noticed the vampires attempts at avoiding the sun and as upset as he was with him he couldn’t help but chuckle from how amusing it looked. He put the car in reverse and pulled out of the cave, facing towards the direction back home. Hell.

It was a long, silent drive back.

+++

Date: August 15, 2023

Taglist: @turn-the-tables-on-them

[ Previous / Next ]

[ultra-deepestbouquet]

October 24th 2023

Ive never felt so relatable to those recent scenes in Physical where she is having voices and for the sake of the show full body figures -like her competitors, her skinnier, blonder, more popular enemy in the same industry.

Just happened to me. Looking around at work on Linkedin like im supposed to and who do I see. A gorgeous, successful, I just graduated, making big achievements, stunning blonde- so many of them out here and what do I have to bring? Madeline brought up education trying to figure out if I graduated so I could have a common thing. and what do I do? Post a story that im coming out- so stupid. Go to a meeting and wear my coat inside out. Stumble my words and knowledge because I dont know what I am saying.

I dont know if I can do this, my self worth is so incredibly shot. I feel guilty for partying on Sunday- like really beating myself up today. Its so hard for me to sit down and work- like i write notes for myself and then procrastinate like hell and I just dont know if I am cut out for any type of work that is going to pay me well. The impact I made last week was a start but I cant keep this up of just doing so little every day. I feel so stuck. I was paralyzed for a long time with CC too. I am very lucky its such a lax company but I need to get moving and it all seems like too much. Im just sitting here sobbing and its the end of day and Im just ready to start my evening. I know if I plan and just leave my phone in the other room I can do this. Only use it to make calls.

Im so tired of these voices or this whatever person. Ed or Eddie or this perfect blonde girl Anna Claire- like even her fucking name is perfect. I dont know how to stop these voice other than talk back or just keep telling myself that I can do this, little by little, make progress, stay persistent. But I am honestly so sick of this. Like what i wrote to Sondra last week about how proud of myself seems so diminished.

Ive never been in this place before and its because I am not hungry enough, not motivated enough and why not?

Ive had the whole summer to kinda chill and I just dont know what to do- how to change. I should chill with the weed and everything. Im so sick of feeling this way. I need help.

[i-luvsang]

hi love, i just wanted to check in to see how you're doing :)! (i hope you don't mind being called pet names? 😭 i figured you like them since you also use them, if you don't please let me know!! i'd never want to make you uncomfortable)

i was also wondering what inspires you to write? i've been trying to write myself since i come up with a lot of ideas and i'd love to create something myself, but for some reason i just get stuck at the very beginning... like i even tried just doing bullet points to not be so hard on myself but sometimes i have a hard time figuring out specifics? like for example i'd have a member and trope, possibly dynamic between the member and reader but have a hard time with scenarios you know? like for example how they meet, or little specific things like the progression in the relationship idk? i just keep procrastinating saying i'll do it later knowing i definitely won't, but whenever i try focussing on it my head just goes blank? and idk it kinda makes me upset and feel like it's impossible for me to ever actually write despite wanting too. that's it...

sorry for the long rant abt my inability to write lol. also wishing you the best for uni!! i hope you get to have a fun experience despite that uni sounds very stressful.. i'm sure you'll do well, good luck!! — 🎧

eEEK HELLO BELOVED !! i’m totally cool with pet names, hbu ?? it’s lovely to hear from youuuu. sorry it’s taken me a bit to reply but i have been oh so busy and only here for three days😵‍💫 LOL. but thank you for your well wishes!! i’m excited :)) (also you know i never mind a long rant !!! my response is even longer lmao)

as for writing advice !! as far as inspo goes, it’s a little hard for me to pinpoint specifics since depends a lot on each individual fic + i feel like i don’t have a set process. but i definitely understand your struggle!! every writer works in different ways but hopefully i can help at least a little bit!

my advice would be to focus on what you do have ideas for like those dynamics or tropes. there’s lots of different ways you can do that! i’ll try to give examples in terms of the grumpy!seonghwa x shy!sunshine!reader that you inspired me to write!! (ik it’s in headcanon format but this process can help with plot building for any type of fic i think!)

so i started off with just that trope and the cute idea that hwa is soft for the reader. so i started thinking of an image that would fit this seonghwa. how exactly is he “grumpy”? is he mean, more cold, or does he just not like talking to new people? it helps to be asking yourself questions to guide your own thinking! then i asked similar questions about reader’s characteristics! this light character planning guided me to the conclusion that these sort of characters and their dynamic would fit a college setting! and this then led me to different plot points like their first meeting. i asked questions like “what’s a situation that could display their dynamic that’s to come later in the fic that fits the college setting?”

i was having trouble coming up with something myself so i searched through college!au prompt lists and found the scenario of getting stuck outside of your dorm lol. prompt lists can be super duper helpful when you’re struggling to find a scenario (at least for me)! and i think that a lot of the time, finding just one or two plot details/scenarios to put your characters helps to let the rest flow! honestly i think candy bar part was also inspired by a prompt list! and another nice thing about prompt lists—you can change it or build new ideas off of it in any way that you want! dialogue prompts can also be a great starting point to start a creative flow! these can be from prompt lists you find, or a dialogue you’ve come up with yourself in relation to your characters! don’t worry about scenario or dialogue prompts being chronological either!! if you have inspo for any point in your story, run with it! it often helps in the long run!

other ways to stay focused on the ideas you already have are to create pinterest boards/moodboards/any time of visual representation or playlists that are inspired by your base ideas! i’ve really been enjoying these two with my wips rn. it’s fun and they help as a creative outlet for when you’re struggling to actually write or come up with new ideas while still being focused on the wip you have in mind! plus you can come back to them throughout the writing process to gain more inspiration or to keep expanding as you write!

and another lovely resource is other writers! anyone i know (and ofc me) are very willing to help fellow writers think of ideas, be a sounding board, help develop plots or make decisions! it’s a great time to collaborate and get help from/help other writers :)) so i hope this helps!! and let me know if you want any more help with anything like brainstorming for specific fics or any other general advice!! i should be less busy starting tomorrow <33

[studythenight-away]

Hello! As finals season (aka 5-research-papers-due-in-a-week season) dawns on many of you, I thought I would share the process I used to write papers in college. This made writing long research papers much less daunting (but can also work on shorter papers). I really hope this helps some of you who feel stuck. Especially during these ridiculous times, when you're stuck at home and might have other uncontrollable factors affecting your mental health, a clear framework of what to do could be helpful. Good luck, my friends! You got this.

About me

I graduated college in 2018 with degrees in Political Science + International Studies and will be starting law school this fall. I wrote nearly 20 15 to 25-page papers, never earning below an A. I loved researching about my topics but hated writing. It's tedious, takes so much time, and everything I write sounds bad at first. Plus, I was a terrible procrastinator so most of these essays were written in under a week. Talk about stress.

Over time I found a process that worked for me, one that made churning out a paper seem straightforward, like going through a factory line rather than this terrifying concept of writing 10,000 words. It kept me sane without decreasing the quality of my work (or more importantly, how much I learned!) 

I'm thinking about making a short video to show this in action… let me know if that could be helpful!

Step 1: Research

How you organize your research is a key step in keeping you sane. Usually I'll have a pile of 20 books in my dorm along with dozens of JSTOR tabs open on my laptop, and that can get overwhelming very fast. Right now just focus on collecting ideas, not developing an argument or even an outline! As with most research papers, you could be starting with little to no background information on the topic, so it is still too early to be thinking about an argument.

Put all your research in one document

Open up a new doc: this will be the heart of everything. For a 15-page paper I usually end up with around 14-18 pages of typed research, 10 pt font, single spaced, tiny margins. This seems like a lot, but essentially all I do is type up anything I read that seems relevant to my topic, so luckily this step does not require that much brain power. Just type type type!

Use the table of contents

Find the chapter(s) that are actually relevant instead of skimming through the whole book. Time is of the essence here!

Use Zotero, cite right away

You can also use easybib or whatever you're used to, but keep track of your sources. I like Zotero because I can keep a log of all of my sources and copy the footnote or bibliography version whenever needed. Before you even begin reading, cite the source and copy it into your research doc. This will save you so much time later when you have to put in your citations in the actual paper. 

Here is an example of what my research doc looks like:

Full citation is my heading for each source just so it’s crystal clear

I ignore all typos (I don’t think there are any in this part though, go me!) because my head is buried in the book just trying to get all the info down

I always start with the page number so I know what to cite when I go back

Create a shorthand 

While typing up research, you might think of something that the author didn't talk about that you'll want to write in your paper. Or perhaps a few sentences already start to form. Put them all in one place, with your research, so you know what source you'll have to cite to then lead into your idea. I type "!@#" before anything that is strictly my own idea so I'm never confused. It's fast and stands out.

This is an example: the two bullet points above are evidence from my source, which made me think of this argument I could make, which I noted with “!@#”

Step 2: Read Your Research

Now that you have all your information, go back and read through it all. Every time you read about a new theme/person/event, write it down somewhere. You may come up with a list of 20+ different ideas in your research. No matter how small, as long as there is something about it, write it down. Each of these mini themes is going to end up being a paragraph in your paper or combined with another mini theme. 

Once you’ve made your list, look for larger overarching themes. In the paper I’ve shown you, I had mini categories like “political party x” “religion” “labor groups” “little organization” and “hierarchy.” When I looked back I though, hey these are all groups and how groups are working together, so they each became their own mini paragraph under the subsection of “Alliances.”

As with most research paper structures, I try to find three general themes/subsections (like an extended version of that 5-paragraph essay we wrote in middle school). It makes the paper less messy and also makes sure I’m not covering things that are beyond a reasonable scope.

During this step, you are also searching for your thesis. It won’t be your final version. As you fill in your outline in the next step you may make slight changes. But this is definitely when you start thinking about it.

Step 3: Outline

We’re ready to outline! Once I’ve collected all my different themes and organized all my subsections and paragraphs, it’s time to fill in that outline. I start a new doc just for the outline and take advantage of google doc’s headings function to make a clear document outline.

Here comes the fun part, I read through my research one more time, this time copy and pasting all my research into each section of the outline. The document outline in google docs makes this easy because I can just click on each subheading to get me there (super helpful when you’re dealing with 15+ pages of research).

Here is what it looks like:

Let’s say I need to add something to my outline about labor groups. Boom, labor groups. Also, the typos are really abound here haha

Step 4: Write the Paper

Okay, I get it, easier said than done. BUT! You already have everything set up. Your outline is essentially just a list of your paragraphs and all you have to do is paraphrase, cite, and create a topic sentence. And that’s how you should think about this: you’re essentially transforming bullet points into sentences and adding footnotes. 

In high school my English teacher introduced us to Sh*tty First Drafts for creative writing, but honestly the same applies to research papers. Sometimes I’ll even have phrases like “wait no that’s not what I meant but basically...” and when I go back to edit, I realize that what came after “but basically...” is fine! And I keep it. So just start typing.

How do you cite while you write? Because we’re trying to get a constant stream of writing going, inserting proper footnotes after each sentence you type is too bothersome. I usually split screen with my outline and my paper so I just copy and paste a few words from my bullet point into my footnote, like so:

(This is from a different paper about cluster munitions.)

Step 5: Edit the Paper

I work best when I print out my first draft and make all edits in red pen. I feel more productive and can visually see where I want to move sentences and what I need to change. The more red there is the better I can feel the paper getting. (Whether or not that’s true doesn’t matter. We’re trying to stay motivated here!) When it’s all digital I don’t really see the progress. Plus, once I finish all the red, I get another moment of passive brain work, where all I’m doing is transferring edits rather than thinking. And at this point in the process, that kind of relief is much welcomed. 

The good thing about this process is there’s not usually a need to cut entire paragraphs or pages because the paper you end up with is just a formalized version of your outline. Because you started with such a detailed outline, the cutting and editing now is just to refine your word choices and get rid of the “but basically”s. You’re almost there!

Step 6: Replace your citations

Now it’s time to go back and replace your footnotes with actual citations. Zotero makes this easy because in Word you can just insert and add the page number, and it’ll automatically do “Ibid.” for you when needed. Ctrl+f in the original research doc to quickly find the source.

Step 7: One More Read-Through and Submit!

Congratulations!! You’ve got a fully-researched and well-backed paper! Of course, even though the process is straightforward, it’s still a lot of work. In ideal situations I would start researching two weeks before the deadline, but if need be, I believe I’ve done this all in three miserable panic-filled days as well. 

Please message me if you have any questions at all! I really hope some of you find this helpful! Good luck!

[zone916]

Third World State of Mind

Philippines has been a developing country for so many years. Never moving forward, never going any further.

Have you ever wondered why?

It is not our fault that we have been enslaved, raped and colonized by other countries, but it is our fault that we stayed in a state of mind where visions and ideas will just stay in our heads. Filipinos wished for a better tomorrow, dreams as big as the universe and dreams of a utopian future brighter than the sun.

Most are not moving forward, not ready to take chances. Too afraid to take risks, too afraid to step out of our own bubble. Too afraid to wake up from a day dream, we kill ourselves with our own procrastination.

Too comfortable in a crazy loop that leads nowhere.

It is heart wrenching to know that we are still here, in the grey area. Stuck in fields of asphodel, confused and not sure where to go.

Shall we embrace our heritage?

Shall we embrace the colonial influences?

Who is the real Filipino? What is a real Filipino?

Even the real name of our country has been stripped away from us, replaced by the colonizers who took advantage of our great hospitality.

Philippines, the name, an everyday reminder of our slavery, racial discrimination, the dark times of this beautiful archipelago. Named after a king whom we never once hailed, a king whom we never once bended a knee upon.

Who are we before these people occupied our land?

In the modern times, we are still thinking like slaves.

Playing and hailing masters, grabbing everyone by the balls with the sweet gestures of false love for the country. Big names with hunger for power, taking advantage of smallest love that my fellow Filipinos could give. Hitting us where we are most vulnerable, using our tears to fill the oceans of our sorrows and them using their money as boats to cross it to get to a land that will keep them safe and dry.

We are here again now, given another chance to take a turn to a greater good. We are here again, given enough power to appoint a champion that will potentially lead us to a new beginning.

My heart is breaking, to see my countrymen falling blind once again to beautiful words and promises. Being a herd of sheep once again led by wolves.

In the upcoming presidential elections, people will most likely to stand with the same names, same color, same political party. All of which robbed us from the true meaning of freedom. We are way in too deep in herd mentality and not having the strength to stand on our own feet.

Throwing word punches to one another, forgetting respect and humility. Calling names, lying, gaslighting and crushing souls.

We will never move forward because we're not ready.

How can we achieve progress if every time we reject propositions without understanding them?

How can we achieve success if we do not acknowledge the fresh ideas of a passionate dreamer, whose begging you to give him a chance to prove himself?

How can we achieve prosperity if we keep on blocking opportunities and keep treating people with a heart of a genuine public servant like trash? Is it because he came from trash?

We will never move forward unless we do something different.

As long as we look up to the warring colors we will never be one.

As long as we are appointing people who keeps on letting us down, we will never move an inch forward.

We have been given an ultimate power, but as long as we don't know how to use it, we will stay defeated.

💙 Win or lose, this is my stand. Because I want to give my country a chance to move up 👆

[gunmetal-magnus]

And what if I can’t?  What if I’m not worthy of my ideals?

As I stare out my apartment window and watch the drizzling sky, I’m drawn to the subtle gradient of yellow.  Clouds coasting through the sky, gray yet without dismay.  And the sun?  The sun will live to break another day, that I am confident in.  I only wish I were so confident in myself.

....

Life is strange.  Mine in particular looks like it might be going in a good direction.  I’ve been getting interviews for jobs and as someone who’s spent their fair share of time hopelessly unemployed and depressed, not knowing what to do with themselves (besides salsaing with suicide ideation), I should be elated about any progress.  I wish I could say that I am or even that I was but that wouldn’t be accurate.  The truth is that I’m a harrowing hailstorm of things - surprisedsleepybusycuriousthankfuloptimisticexposedhorrifiedcriticalnervousanxiousinsecurepressuredtired - it’s all a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?

Knocking on the looming doors of success, I find myself feeling the crushing weight of my expectations.  The walls are a deafening white with not a texture or pattern in sight.  If you try to touch them they ripple like water.  There are no windows for me to peer through.  Fog creeps around me like a cheetah stalking its prey.  It’s so thick you could choke on it.  Success is...scary.

I know I know, that sounds a ridiculous thing to say, shouldn’t I be more afraid of failing?  Welllll...no.  You see, the weight I mentioned earlier was not merely crushing, it was also comforting.  Over time failure became familiar and eventually, my friend.  I got used to failure as the status quo, smothered in its cosy embrace and the threat of change, of combing out of this embrace into the chilling embrace of uncertainty, of becoming someone worthy of their success - it’s unfamiliar, it’s scary.  But just what is so comforting about not achieving your goals - about not getting what you really want?  For me it’s because of one paralyzing question: And what if I can’t?  What if I’m not worthy of my ideals?

“But…I’m…I’m just a soldier, I-I’m not worthy.”

It’s a terrifying prospect that I could give something my all and find that I just couldn’t do it.  I don’t want to be saying “I did my best and it wasn’t good enough,” because what I may mean is “I wasn’t good enough.  I don’t have the power.”  But that’s exactly the point!  I do have the power and if that is true then I have to come to terms with my responsibility to that power - that it’s up to me to use that power because when you can do the things that you can do...and then the bad things happen...they happen because of you.  I don’t want that burden so it’s easier to cast it off and reinvent the narrative by claiming powerlessness.  It’s easier to identify as a fraud and be done with it, to say to myself “men like me should’ve never dared to believe.”

Haha…paradoxically in our journey to discover our own power we discover just how little power we hold, that our only power is in ourselves.  Time and how bound we are to what we know at present, our surrounding circumstances, and the fact that we’re only people who can only do people things - these serve to remind us that the power of what we control and free will are only so vast.  It’s strange - you are responsible for how you use your power but not the outcome because you’re not omnipotent.  Bad things don’t always happen because of you.  Sometimes they just happen.  Sometimes things in general...just happen.

Let’s say I achieve success, what then?  The pressure to maintain is immense and to exceed - it’s even more so.  Who perpetuates this pressure?  For many of us it’s society but the greater threat lies within the darkness of our own hearts.  The societal gaze is nothing without validation and that validation comes from our self-worth and how grossly entangely that is with achieving success.  There is an expectation of linearity and escalation in progress, if you get good grades you’re expected to keep getting good grades and then some, so it’s shocking and disappointing when you don't.  People wonder how that could’ve happened, you wonder how it could’ve happened, you start to doubt yourself...should you though?  Writer and retired athlete Christopher Bergland challenges the expectation of linearity in success and explained in a conversation with his daughter, “I learned as an athlete that in order to succeed and become the best that I could be, I had to fail again and again—but always keep trying. Inevitably, every time I raised the bar, and took on a new athletic challenge, I would have to fail first in order to ultimately succeed and break a record." He embraced failure as part of the ebb and flow, it was part of success.  To him, failure was no reason for doubt.  So why should it be for me?  I don’t know, because life’s not that simple I suppose?  Identifying as unworthy and fraudulent, these are not easy to shake.  Negative self-identity manifests itself in habitual self-sabotage.  Worrying about how we align with our perceptions of ourselves, procrastination via instant gratification distractions like Instagram scrolling and going back on our promises such as taking that drink we know we shouldn’t become commonplace - habitual and they will take habitual work to undo them.

Even so, is this really just about the burden of ideals?  Perhaps not.  Susanne Babbel writes in her article “Fear of Success'' that the physiological reactions to trauma and excitement over success are similar - too similar. “When we experience a traumatic event — such as a car accident or a school bullying incident — our body associates the fear we experience with the same physiological feelings we get while excited.”  Heart tensions, shortness of breath, quivering and more - they are triggered in me by both stimuli and my body cares not for the messenger, only the message and that message is “be afraid.”  

if I’m responding to excitement as if it were trauma, the question is what is my trauma?  

…

Babbel mentions that throughout our lives, we may be made to feel less than, “many of us — especially if we've been subject to verbal abuse — have been told we were losers our whole lives, in one way or another. We have internalized that feedback and feel that we don't deserve success.”  I knew someone who made me feel like this, I called her my mum.  I spent a lifetime being told by her in one way or another that I wasn’t good enough.  I remember being dragged into the unlit attic by her for losing a crayon as a child, I remember being shouted at for getting some mediocre grades in junior high school - being told that I better do better, I remember being told that she had given up hope on me - I remember, all of it.  We don’t talk anymore - except we do.  I internalised her voice and I made it my own, I began to identify with failure.  I have an excerpt from an old journal entry that illustrates this identity crisis all too well.

                                                                                                                               5.11.20

“Sometimes I really wonder

If it’s better

To be a 

Fuckup

Than a Success

Without

The Interesting Mess.

...Why do I have to compromise the things that make me who I am to be happy?...Why can’t I have my misery?...I hate doing the right thing...Maybe I like being a failure, a mess, a no man’s man.”

By this time I had long since left home but you can’t outrun your demons, only challenge them.  I have only begun to unravel this voice due the therapy I have recently completed and am fighting this battle every day.  Sometimes I lose and they gain territory.  Other times I manage to reclaim it and even add more.  It’s an endless battle.

And yet, the voice of Failure clings to me like some foul smog.  Since he doesn’t want to let me try and fall, he’ll say, “It’s comfortable here.  Flounder into the fondue of failure, it’s what you know - it suits you.  What precisely is so wrong with failure in the first place?”

…

It’s a good question.  In an ideal world, the answer may be, “nothing in particular,” because I don’t need to succeed to be valid - do the people you love need to be successful for you to love them?  I should hope not.  However, it is not so simple for me to love myself.  Failure will cost me something more than money and a career.  The price of failure is stagnation, embracing the non-linearity of progress and I hate that.  I’m grossly impatient and want to move forward with my life, not wallow in the depths of Misery Mires.  I’ve been stuck here all my life and I’ve just begun the journey out of here.  Failure, as far as I’m concerned, you don’t suit me as well as you think.  I must change sometime because I don’t want to die in the claws of the demons from which I was born.

I can’t stay in my comfort zone.  Yet I can - I’d even quite like to.  Why?  Because...because...deep down I’m still reconciling with the idea that I’m worthy, that I’m worthy of living a life worth living, that I can be what I say I am without fear that it’s all a lie and always will be.  The only way for me to challenge such a belief is to fly in the face of it - to say that “I am worthy” and to act like I mean it, whatever that means - I don’t quite know yet.  My therapist and I agreed that this would be a long road and that ideals are nothing without practice.  I guess all I can do now is drive…

“If you aren’t worthy, you’ll keep trying until you are.”   In order for me to be worthy of my ideals, I first need to believe that I even have a shot.  Beyond that, I need to believe that I deserve to take it. Being worthy means recognising my power to change and the responsibility to act that  comes with that.  Simultaneously, my power is not all-controlling as I am only a person.  Success isn’t linear and failure is a part of that.  However the burden of trauma is heavy.  The self-sabatory habits I picked up from that will require me to reinvent my self-identity and in turn deconstruct those habits.   Lastly and perhaps most importantly, I need to be willing to give the process time.  Can I?  Haha! - s-sure, why not?

Perhaps one day I will find myself staring out into the sky - maybe it’s drizzling, maybe it’s not.  Maybe through an apartment window, maybe in a lush field as the gentle breeze brushes by.  The clouds are coasting by as they always have, slowly but surely.  What colour are they?  Who cares, I don’t even know what colour the sky will be.  Maybe it’s illuminated with a lovely peach pink that reaches out and touches the heart of my inner romantic.   Maybe it’s an apocalyptic red that leaves you weak in the knees - the possibilities are endless but it doesn’t matter - it doesn’t matter what may be.  What matters is what will be and 

I will be watching.

I’ll say I’m worthy and

I will mean it.

I don’t know yet know how

But I will

Because that’s what I’ve decided.

[agirlunderarock]

Here have a piece of a WIP I've been procrastinating on. Each time I look at it I grow a little more distressed and start changing things and make no progress 😔 The goal had been space Robin Hood for Star Wars but we'll see how it turns out.

Heels of her boots just reaching over the control panel for her ship, Sas was trying to keep from falling out of her chair, and maintain the luxury of propping up her feet with little success. With a disappointed sigh she shifted her weight to her elbows and lowered her feet onto the ground. Outside there was nothing but the expanse of stars making up the Savareen Sector, in the distance Christophsis the blue and yellow glow shown through the window. To her side, her sister Crix tapped quickly on the data pad in her lap looking through the list of shipments they heard were supposed to be coming through.

Sas thought her little sister’s black hair looked almost purple in the dim lighting. If it weren’t for the soft glow of the data pad in her hands she would have appeared full Pantorian like their mother. Of course it helped that Crix had the yellow tattoos of their mother’s family etched into their skin, but her green canvas marked them as outsiders among their mother’s people.If Sas was lucky she could paint the tattoos on and they’d stay despite the sweat and dirty on her face. Those days were few and fare between Once upon a time this bothered Sas, but seeing as she was banished from her father’s home planet of Zolan, she learned to accept it. 

“What are we looking at today on the gracious Corellian Run?” Sas asked, spinning her chair. 

“Well…” Crix started, “You want the full list or you know- the manageable ones?”

“The one where we stand a chance of getting what we came for.”

“You mean the tiny cargo ships with minimal crew still docked on Christophsis-”

“Ding ding ding! Exactly!” 

Crix hummed, her long fingers moving swiftly over the screen. “There’s one Republic cargo ship docked there...Looks like it’s on its way to Ryloth with some foodstuff among other things. The Foodstuff might be good pickings, the rest we can sell.”

Sas chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment. “What do you mean ‘among other things’?”

“Looks like mining equipment... or some machine parts? I’m not really sure, you wanna take a look? There's a note here-”

“No, no, You've never led me wrong before.” She spun her chair around again, thinking it over. Small jobs like this were much easier when they had a crew to work with, however it had been a good while since Sas felt comfortable bringing anyone other than her sister for jobs like this. Sas loved working with her team on planet. She couldn’t ask for better people to work with. Sure sometimes things got too messy, but it was convenient to just steal the ship and shove the crew running it into the escape pods. The scores were usually bigger too. Still it din’t matter how much easier it made things for her, Sas felt things would work out best for everyone if they just stuck to small two person jobs. Smaller scores, meant a smaller chance of drawing too much attention, and an even smaller chance of getting majority of her team captured or killed. Sas shook her head. “We’ll just do the drop and shop. I’ll take the tether with me, so I won’t drift off like that one time.”

“You say that, but twenty credits say you forget it again.”

“I have forty credits that say you’ll catch me again,” Sas said over her shoulder as she  stood up, popped her back and went to check the main cargo hold

[the-caldwell-family]

Prompt Writing

Hey guys, what's up? I'm back and horribly procrastinating writing. The good news is that I procrastinated writing so much to the point of going back to writing. I saw a prompt I liked on instagram and decided I wanted to write it, so here it is. It's silly and stupid and really meant to be more of a writing exercise, but I liked it, so I decided you share it with you guys. Hope you enjoy it!

Based on this prompt:

Story below the break!

He had a problem.

Okay, that was wrong. It wasn't a problem, so much as an issue. Just a tiny, little issue that can be fixed in an instant. There was no reason to panic. No reason at all.

The flame reached the cabinet.

Nevermind, it was time to panic. He scrambled off the floor and rushed for his phone. His fingers shook as he put in his password and searched his contacts. He clicked the first one he saw. The phone rang against his ear before he could have the thought to check who he had called. It was unnecessary, anyways, he would have recognized the slurring voice that answered from anywhere. 

"'ello?"

He lifted the phone from his ear to check the time. 1:32 am. Shit. Drew was going to kill him for waking her up so early. He couldn't back out now, though. The flames were charring the bottom of the cabinet now and he was definitely not getting his security deposit back. He took a deep breath, and braced for impact.

"So, we may have a problem."

"A problem?"

"Yeah."

"Let me guess. You caused it?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that–" He cut off with a yelp as the stove threw out more sparks. "Okay, I absolutely caused it and now I don't know how to fix it. Hello? Hello?" He dropped the phone from his ear, and his contact list stared back at him. He groaned and threw his head back against the wall. Of course she hung up on him. Of course. The fire beside him whooshed dramatically, but he was already getting sick of it. Dialing the number underneath Drew's, he lifted the phone to his ear and waited. 

Just as he heard another, "Josh?" in his ear, the glass besides the stove shattered, the sound echoing in the relatively small kitchen. "What the fuck was that?" the voice demanded. Trust Darryl to have his priorities in order.

"Hey, so you won't believe this, but we have another problem." The words barely left his mouth before he regretted it.

"No, no. WE don't have a problem. You have a problem, and I have an idiot who keeps getting into them." Josh tried to interrupt because he did not get into that many problems, but he was cut off.

"Please, there's a fire and I don't know what to do. They never went over this in high school."

 "What do you mean fire? Hell if I know what to do, pour water on it or something. Try calling Randy, he probably knows what to do." The call ended as the other glass on the counter exploded.

He decided to do as Darryl said and rushed to the sink. The handles were warm, but they still poured water, which was a blessing he'd take. Filling a cup, he threw the water at the fire, which absolutely did not help. Why was the fire getting bigger?

He did not sign up for this. He just wanted to do the right thing, and now he was in the middle of an inferno with no friends that wanted to help. Though Darryl did have one good point: Randy would probably be able to help with this. He designed kitchens, which was close enough. Scrolling to the 'R' section, he pressed on Randy's icon. 

The phone dialed for so long, he thought Randy wouldn't pick up, but a second before he was going to give up, Randy's voice filtered through the phone. "What do you want this time?" He was screaming into the phone, and the sound of deafening party music filtered through. Josh knew exactly where Randy was. He spent more time at Elizabeth's Bar than he did at home, which was amazing because he worked from home.

He didn't even try to soften the blow. "We've got a problem."

"And it's Tuesday, what's your point?" The response was immediate that it took a second for Josh to answer. The second was enough time for another person to join the conversation.

"What's happening over here?" Kevin asked. Of course Kevin was there. Randy rarely went anywhere without Kevin, especially Elizabeth's. He didn't understand what they did there all day. They could hardly pick up strangers after they declared their relationship exclusive. He wondered if they just sat at the bar all day and made friends. He almost laughed at the picture in his head. Randy with his thick leather jacket and cowboy boots chatting about the weather at the bar. Or Kevin stuttering through an explanation of planetary orbits. God, they were perfect for each other. The smell of burning wood brought him out of his semi-hysterical thoughts and back into the conversation, which hasn't progressed at all.

"Joshie's got a problem."

"Of course he does. Give me second, I'm not nearly drunk enough to listen to this yet." Josh heard Kevin order another round and Randy ask to double it. 

"Guys, not helping." The cabinets were definitely not fixable at this point. It was sunken in a way it hadn't been this morning. "Just, what do you know about putting out an oil fire?" His words met silence, the party music louder in the absence of voices. He could admit there was a better way to have said that, but he was in a bit of a hurry. The smoke was starting to choke, and the fire was still not any closer to being put out. "Hello?" he repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time today.

"Sorry, I thought I heard you say there was a fire." Josh winced. Kevin did not sound happy, and it was never a good day when Kevin wasn't happy.

"I know, I know, but there really isn't time for your lecture today, professor. Just, any suggestions 'cause my cabinets are not supposed to look like that. I tried throwing water on it, but I think it just got bigger." A sharp laugh came through the speakers, a harsh sound compared to Randy's other laughs. Josh winced again and hoped they'd help soon. He was in for a long lecture come tomorrow, but he had to see through tonight before he even started worrying about that. 

"You idiot, water's not going to help. It's fucking grease. Here, hold on, let me get Elizabeth, she'll probably know what to do. Elizabeth!" Josh had to hold the phone away from his ear from the sheer force of the yell. It somehow managed to overpower the noise of the ever-growing blaze beside him. After what seemed like an hour, but logically couldn't be more than a few minutes, Elizabeth's complaining became clear.

"What do you bums want? I've got a job, unlike you lazy sacks of shit." Her words produced the strongest image in his mind: a hip cocked to the side, hands lazily wiping at a cup that was mostly there for show, bushy red hair barely staying contained behind her head. He wondered if he was hallucinating from all the smoke. 

"Josh has a problem. Again." Which was unfair, he did not have that many problems. Everyone was over-exaggerating a bit too much, and Kevin was just angry about the broken mug from last week. He had no way of knowing that it was his favorite mug. 

"If you meant the leaky pipe under the sink, that's the solution to last week's problem. How he managed to get a chicken bone stuck in his pipe is a mystery I never plan to solve." Josh didn't even know there was a leaky pipe under his sink, but he'd have to take her word for it until the kitchen wasn't on fire.

When Randy didn't laugh at Elizabeth's weak attempt at a joke, Josh knew he was in the dog house. Literally soon, if someone doesn't help him with this fire. "His house is on fire."

Which, no. "Not my house, just my kitchen. My stove. The grease caught on fire, and now the fire won't go down."

Elizabeth let out a string of curses that were definitely not all English. He hadn't even known she spoke another language. The more you know.

The cabinet above the stove began to make creaking noises that sounded suspicious, and he really couldn't waste anymore time. "I swear I'll invite you all over tomorrow to yell at me, but I need a house to invite you, so could someone please tell me what to do."

"You idiot! What the fuck were you cooking at one in the morning? Don't answer that, numb-nuts." Josh wondered if he was that predictable or if Elizabeth had telepathic powers. "Did you turn the stove off?"

Josh scoffed lightly. "Of course I did. I'm not that stupid."

"I wouldn't say that." Josh really needed Kevin to let that mug go. An unhappy Kevin was an unhappy Randy and he couldn't take that kind of stress in his life. Especially not with a kitchen currently on fire.

"How big's the fire?" He needed to remember to send a gift basket to Elizabeth. Or maybe he should just pay his tab at the bar.

"Well my cabinet definitely needs to be replaced, but it hasn't reached the ceiling yet, so I'm calling it a win."

"You idiot," she repeated. "Spray it with a fire extinguisher."

The sudden laughter that boomed through the phone startled him, but he should have expected it. He really needed new friends, not friends who hung up on him or laughed while he faced death. Randy spoke through his chuckling, "You really think he has a fire extinguisher at his house? The only reason he had a stove is 'cause it came with the house. He'd buy takeout everyday if he had the money." He couldn't even deny it; he really did eat takeout for a month straight until he had run out of money and resorted to stealing food from his friends' fridges. More importantly, though, was that they were right about the fire extinguisher.

"Any of you guys got a spare extinguisher I can use?" If possible, the laughter got louder, and Josh could really use some support right now.

"You live like twenty minutes away, what good does that do you? Go to your neighbors, borrow his." God, he could kiss Elizabeth right now. Wait, nevermind, he definitely could not. He would pay his bar tab, though. "God, I'm surrounded by fucking idiots." 

"Okay, stay," he said to his inanimate phone before running out his front door to his neighbor Jeffrey's door. He knocked rapidly, and only realized the time when Jeffrey opened the door with a glare. His deadbolt stayed locked, but it felt more like it was protecting him than it was protecting Jeffrey.

"If you don't give me an acceptable reason for waking me up at one in the morning, I will shoot you right now."

He felt like a naughty student being stared down by the principal. "I, uh, I have a bit of a problem."

"Would shooting you solve the problem? No? Then leave." That was not an empty threat, as he had found out last year when he had needed sugar. The landlord was still angry about the bullet hole in the wall. Jeffrey started to close the door, but Josh stuck his foot against it. A horrible idea in hindsight when his foot got painfully squished between the door and the wall.

"Just, do you have a fire extinguisher?"

Jeffrey's brow furrowed. "A fire extinguisher? What for?"

"Extinguishing a fire." Jeffrey's stare held the promise of a thousand deaths.  All he wanted was to put out the fire in his kitchen, and now he was going to die.

The staring contest lasted another minute, a minute where he really thought he was going to die, but Jeffrey just disappeared into his apartment and came back with a shiny fire extinguisher in his hand. "If you burn down the building, I will make good on my promises." God, he really needed new friends.

Extinguisher in hand, he squared his shoulders and braced for battle. The door to his apartment had stayed open after he'd left, and the light from the fire illuminated the walls. Somehow, the cabinet had stayed stable despite its completely charred bottom, but its creaking noises were not hopeful. Ignoring the screaming from his phone, he aimed the nozzle at the fire and squeezed on the handles, bracing for kick-back. Nothing. The trigger wouldn't move, and the fire kept burning around him. He decided he was going to take a fire safety class after this. Maybe even get a fire extinguisher for the apartment.

The fire grew in size with a loud crack. He grabbed his phone off the counter, and put it up to his ear. "I think it's broken, it won't spray."

Elizabeth, as always, was the voice of reason. "Let me guess, you didn't pull the pin, did you?" He stayed silent, which was answer enough. It wasn't like he'd ever needed a fire extinguisher before. Or at least, he'd never had to be the one to use it. "There's a pin in the top, pull it out, then aim and spray." She was shouting again as the music around her grew louder. It almost felt like she was in another world, his own consisting only of the room around him and the fire blazing in front of him.

He found the pin with a victorious shout and pulled it out. He yelled out a thanks to the phone as he set it down again. He managed to hear Elizabeth's final shout to spray side-to-side, which seemed pretty specific, but he couldn't fault her advice now. The sudden burst of foam almost threw him off his feet, but he planted them wide and set to spraying the fire, which was much harder than he expected. The nozzle was ridiculously hard to control, so it took a minute of trying to get it aimed at the stove. 

The room was filling with shades of white, smoke and foam mixing in a weird combination that reminded him of flying through a cloud. He pressed on the handles as long as he could, until the foam came out uneven. He couldn't see any flames left, though he couldn't see much of anything in his kitchen. 

The counter and stove were invisible beneath the sea of foam. The cabinets, previously a dark brown, looked as white as the stove below it, though he could still see the charred black surface shining through. He panted, standing in the middle of his kitchen at one in the morning, wearing pajamas and staring at the ruined remains of his once clean stove. 

A buzzing from the counter drew his attention away from the cloud he'd created. Elizabeth had ended the call, and was now video calling him. He answered, not taking his eyes off the disaster in front of him. 

"How'd it go?" Randy's voice was light-hearted, but unexplainably gruff. It barely registered in his mind, and he flipped the camera. The foam seemed to have grown in the few seconds it had been there, and the entire countertop was hidden under it. Randy let out a low whistle. "Houston, we have a problem."

He felt a smile grow on his face. Maybe he was hysterical, maybe he breathed in too much smoke and foam, but nothing could stop the laugh that bubbled up his throat. Standing in the middle of a charred, foam-covered kitchen, a stupid, wide grin plastered on his face, he said, "You call it a problem, I call it a solution."

[altumvidetur]

Good Omens: Crowley/Aziraphale Fic Recs

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

Let’s go for the Ineffable Husbands fanfics!

In Nomine, by tinsnip

The first time he’d given in to the impulse to just make up a name, he’d felt a bit odd about it. But everything had gone so smoothly. He’d been able to just go in and eat and then leave and it hadn’t mattered at all, the human hadn’t really wanted to know his name, they’d just wanted something to peg him by while he was there.

And so: Fell. Ezra Fell. Ms Azee Phale. Mme A Zinnia File. A Z Fell, bookseller.

That last one has stuck around the longest, now. He’s grown rather attached to it.

A... A... what begins with A?

Aziraphale makes dinner reservations for himself and Crowley, and is a bit thoughtless. Silly business.

swimming in your ocean (i can get pretty sidetracked), by tinsnip

Under him, Aziraphale makes a soft, deep sound.

He lets go, leaves his lips just where they are. “You’re sweet. You taste sweet.”

Apparently Aziraphale isn’t up to making words right now.

***

Three little chapters of happy smut. Immortal genderless beings assuming mostly-human forms would, I figure, have a bit of a different approach to sex. They've got no particular drive, and all the time in the world. Getting sidetracked is part of the fun.

Eyes Closed, by tinsnip

Aziraphale makes love with his eyes closed.

Crowley doesn’t.

Bad Habits, by tinsnip

Clearly, both Crowley and Aziraphale used to smoke. We know this. We’ve been told this by Mr. Gaiman.

I’d be very surprised if either of them still does. But the reasons for this, and the methods by which their statuses changed, are different.

Notably: Crowley cheats. Aziraphale doesn't.

Like light, refracted, by tinsnip

Full steam ahead, decided Crowley: “I think we should get naked.”

Ethereal/occult lovemaking of the rather fluffy variety.

tell me all the ways, by tinsnip

Crowley was out in the garden.

Aziraphale was in his study, most definitely not looking out the window.

Really. Really. One little speck of sentiment: was it so much to ask?

what a way to make a living, by attheborder

Without any more assignments coming from Downstairs, Crowley is struck with a bad case of the doldrums.

It takes a bit of trial and error, but eventually a solution is found.

(Or: the one where Crowley becomes an Uber driver.)

summer and his pleasures, by witching

for summer and his pleasures wait on thee, and thou away, the very birds are mute; or if they sing, ‘tis with so dull a cheer, that leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s near. // william shakespeare, sonnet 97

absence makes the heart grow fonder, and crowley and aziraphale’s hearts were plenty fond to begin with. a story told through phone calls while they are separated for work-related reasons.

nothing but the wild rain, by Raven

"The internet, Aziraphale!" Crowley says. "This is what the internet is for. This is, quite literally, what the internet is for."

"Oh," Aziraphale says, and Crowley knows, he just knows, that Aziraphale is going to say something about how it's jolly useful for hard-to-find first editions and tickets for the Last Night of the Proms.

or, Aziraphale and Crowley find sex confusing.

Forever, by goodomensblog

Heaven’s execution chamber was elegant, magnificent - and bare. Polished floors gleamed, immaculate; their cleanliness made it impossible to guess at the atrocities committed upon them. Clean, white walls glared, and a window as large as the room was tall, teased of freedom just out of reach.

At the center of it all, was a chair.

And upon that chair, an angel sat.

Across the cold, stark room - too far from the angel - a demon knelt, bound.

The ropes burned, and Crowley hissed, hunching his shoulders as he turned his head up. The angel, his wrists tied to the chair, met and held his stare.

No, it couldn’t - it wasn’t - this wasn’t right.

Confused and in pain, Crowley called, “Angel, you alright?”

Aziraphale’s light hair appeared white in the harshly lit room, and his face had gone pale; but at Crowley’s call he sat up in the chair, bound hands giving a feeble wave.

London. 1944., by AliceinSpace

The air ripples and stars blink in and out of existence as the fabric of the universe creates a loophole in the middle of the street. A figure drops unceremoniously from that loophole and hits the pavement in a tangle of limbs.

"-is that a gunshot wound?”

Or the one in which a fatally injured Crowley runs to the only place that makes sense: a bookshop in Soho.

Of Eclairs, Feathers and Complex Reactions to Trauma, by oneatatime

“Do you know,” Aziraphale said, his voice muffled in the shoulder of Crowley’s jacket, “that when humans go through trauma, they can be quite calm and competent throughout, but then the terror comes out later, as it must?

Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too, by Demorra

He didn’t want to think about the bookshop. It hurt in a way that was entirely too visceral to be angelic, and entirely too earth shattering to be human. It was the love of several hundred years, burned up in an instant. It shouldn’t have mattered, not if he were truly angelic. But he shed a few silent tears anyway and felt somewhat better for it. All things considered, it wasn’t the end of the world.

No, that had been much more complicated.

And yet, somehow so very mundanely human. No great battle, no heavenly sounding of horns or hordes of demons. Just a choice, a choice not between Good and Evil, but between darkness and light, hope and despair, fear and… and love…

the mortifying ordeal of being known (biblically), by FlipSpring

"Relax, angel, it's not much worse. It's just our bodies. It's not like we enfolded or anything." ~ Crowley, in 500 AD, after having physical sex with Aziraphale for the first time, blissfully unaware that he has just foreshadowed himself into a corner

*

Crowley procrastinates on his feelings by taking a 5-year nightmare nap after the End Of The World. Aziraphale comes in like, "dude wake the fuck up, also, do you wanna metaphysically bang maybe? no pressure." and then Crowley loses his goddamn mind, because he is a delicately-stacked bundle of neuroses in black skinny jeans.

Also they have breakfast and check in on Tadfield.

Re-Recalled, by Jennistar

Halfway through an argument, Aziraphale gets accidentally discorporated and doesn't come back. Crowley does the sensible thing and panics.

Luminosity, by bethagain

A quick trip to bless someone with a miracle takes a wrong turn, and Aziraphale and Crowley are stuck overnight in rural Iceland. The northern lights are beautiful, but it turns out demons, cold-blooded, tend to seize up when it's freezing out. Aziraphale finds a way to get him warm again.

i don’t know how to stay tender with this much blood in my mouth, by Princex_N

(Summary by me: the one in which Crowley has been living with chronic pain for thousands of  years.)

Queen’s Greatest Hits, by BuzzCat

Good Omens fanfic with no coherent through-line between fics aside from each one is inspired in one way or another by a Queen song, listed in the notes for each fic.

i know i’ve kissed you before (but i didn’t do it right), by gallantrejoinder

They'd given it a go once. Ages ago. And they'd both agreed it wasn't for them.

the whole damned world seemed upside down, by citadelofswords

(Summary by me: facing the odds and moving on with the world.)

Leaves of Grass, by Laura Shapiro

(Summary by me: the world is saved, and now they’re left to explore each other.)

The Sacred and the Profane, by afrai

(POPULLI.NET link) Somewhere else, the happy ending was different. AU.

Be Ye Therefore Merciful, by AmberDiceless

Crowley does something utterly unexpected, and Aziraphale must face an opponent who cannot be thwarted. Hints of pre-A/C.

Full Circle, by Hekateras

Nothing lasts forever and the final Apocalypse can only be delayed for so long.

There is a school of thought that says you cannot fight fate.

And another that claims there's no such thing as predestination, only those powerful enough to make your choices for you - if you let them.

Aziraphale puts both to the test.

Living Arrangements, by afrai

(POPULLI.NET link) Everyone is more or less human, even when they aren't.

Nanny Knows Best, by DictionaryWrites

Summary by me: an exploration of Crowley’s experience as Warlock’s nanny. 

From the Top (Say Your Lines Once More), by CoffeeStars

Crowley lives and dies and wakes up to repeat the cycle. And every single time Aziraphale is there, a different face and new memories.

Manchester Lost, by Moczo

(FF.Net Link)  -an ensemble sequel to the novel- Our heroes have managed to make things worse, as the Apocalypse is starting up... again. Drama! Action! Humor! Adventure! Tea! Suspense! Snark! Romance!

[kaelinaloveslomaris]

Whumptober 22: Hallucination

Oh hey, look, I’m really late with this! But I’m determined to finish these, so here we go.

Also, I wanted to post something for the 3rd birthday of FFXV, so I’m sliding in a little late for that too, but here it is.

Ignis has a fever. Noctis fusses.

I’ve discovered that Ignis is actually really hard to write for some reason. This one gave me so much trouble, and I almost considered skipping it altogether, but I didn’t want to just have one prompt that I didn’t do. The completionist in me wouldn’t allow that.

So I stuck it out, though I didn’t quite get to the actual prompt. I was planning on having Ignis deal with fever hallucinations, as those are something that plague me when I have a fever, but I couldn’t find a way to work them in. So. Yeah.

I also have a cold right now, so it seems fitting to write a sick fic.

—

Ignis never got sick. He simply couldn’t afford to, not with his schedule as busy as it was. And although Noctis often complained that Ignis always managed to stay healthy whenever an illness swept through the Citadel occupants, and Gladio teased that it must be because the bacteria or virus was too scared of Ignis’s wrath to even think about infecting him, he was sure it was simply a combination of his strict preventative measures and a healthy immune system.

As it was, he could count on one hand the number of times he had had anything more than a slight sniffle, while Noct seemed to come down with anything and everything on a regular basis, and Ignis could count on both hands the number of illnesses His Highness had contracted in just the last year. Ignis supposed it just made him all the more qualified to be Noctis’s advisor and would-be caretaker when he didn’t need to fear catching whatever it was he had come down with most recently.

That morning Ignis had woken with a mild ache behind his eyes and a bit of scratchiness in his throat. Nothing some better hydration and a decent amount of sleep couldn’t fix, and he thought nothing of it. No one else was sick, after all, and Ignis was never the first one to succumb on the rare occasions he did get sick.

But by the end of the day it had progressed to coughing and shivers and a full headache. He pushed through it, determined to just drink some tea when he got home and go to bed early, and stopped by Noctis’s apartment on his way to drop off a stack of political reports and make sure he wasn’t procrastinating on any of his duties. To his surprised relief, Noctis was sitting at the table, surrounded by papers that at a glance looked like calculus notes, and focused enough he barely acknowledged Ignis’s entrance. It was… a marked improvement over last month, and Ignis was pleased.

Not wanting to distract him or give him an excuse to abandon his studies, Ignis set the stack of reports on the edge of the counter and tried to slip out again before he could notice anything that needed cleaning. But his body betrayed him, and Noctis looked up from his homework to raise an eyebrow at him when he attempted to stifle a cough.

His prince’s eyes turned sharp in a way few people knew they could as he examined Ignis’s face, took in the slight flush Ignis could feel on his cheeks. Ignis put on his best disapproving glare, intending to direct Noct’s attention back to his homework so he could make his escape, but the effect was ruined when he coughed again. This time it evolved into a full coughing fit that had him bracing himself with a hand on the edge of the counter.

Noctis shot to his feet. “Ignis, you’re sick!”

“Nonsense,” Ignis said when he could breathe again. “Merely a tickle in my throat.” He turned to leave and found Noctis blocking his path.

“Yeah, I’m not buying that.” He reached up to rest the back of his hand against Ignis’s forehead, but Ignis swatted his hand away before he could touch him. Noctis frowned. He pointed at the couch.

“Sit.”

“I really should be going -”

“Ignis Scientia. You will. Sit. Down,” Noctis commanded, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Ignis his Serious Face. Really, Ignis found it endearing rather than intimidating, considering he knew that if he pushed the matter, Noctis would fold, but he decided he was feeling bad enough that sitting down on his prince’s admittedly comfortable couch couldn’t hurt.

Still, he waited a moment, holding eye contact, to see if Noctis would back down. Ignis was pleased when he didn’t and instead only narrowed his eyes further.

Ignis sighed, pushing his glasses up on his face as he made a show of surrendering. “Very well. I will stay long enough to have a cup of tea, if that will satisfy Your Highness?”

Ignis kept a stash of tea, and Ebony, at Noct’s apartment, and he knew the other boys kept various food and drink items here too. Useful, considering how often they all ended up staying here unplanned. But Ignis didn’t want to impose on Noctis on a school night, especially if he was actually coming down with something. He idly wondered if it could be considered treason, intentionally exposing the prince to whatever sickness he currently had.

He headed back towards the kitchen and found himself cut off by Noctis once again.

“Sit, Iggy,” he all but growled. “I’ll make the tea.”

“That won’t be necessary, Highness. I am perfectly capable of -”

Noctis put on his best haughty prince face, the one he reserved for especially irritating politicians and reporters, and switched tactics. “I don’t want you coughing on my dishes.”

Ignis internally grimaced. He knew Noctis well enough to know that that was the last thing he was concerned about, but was instead appealing to Ignis’s logical side since the emotional approach had proven fruitless. Noct was a lot more interpersonally savvy than most of Lucis gave him credit for, when he was motivated. And Ignis supposed he should reward that attempt at diplomatic negotiations, even if Noctis’s subtlety left something to be desired.

He raised his hands in surrender and retreated to the couch. He let himself relax for a moment, closing his eyes to give them a break from the bright lights of the apartment. It eased the headache marginally.

He didn’t open them again until he heard Noctis approaching and a warm mug was pressed into his hands. When he did, he found that Noctis had turned the lights off, save for a dim lamp in the corner of the room, and Ignis was oddly touched.

“Thank you, Noct.”

Noctis shrugged. “There’s honey in there. Should help with your throat.”

He leaned over Ignis and pressed his hand to his forehead before Ignis could stop him.

“Six, Iggy, you’re burning up!”

Well. A fever would certainly explain the shivers. He frowned, shifting away from Noctis’s hand and placed the mug of tea on the coffee table.

“I should not be exposing you to whatever this is,” he said, preparing to stand. “I will just go home and sleep it off and -”

He stood too fast, the floor suddenly tilting to the side, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the dizziness. Familiar hands grabbed his shoulders and forced him back down on the couch.

“You will do no such thing,” Noctis said. “You’re staying right here tonight.”

“Noct, I do not want to get you sick,” Ignis argued, feeling panic rise in him. He never should have stopped by the apartment at all. He should have had Gladio deliver the reports, or simply left them for Noctis at the Citadel. It had been foolish and careless to come here, he should have known better than to ignore the earlier symptoms and put Noctis at risk.

Noctis cut off his rapidly spiraling thoughts. “Ignis, if you’re sick, I’m going to get sick, no matter what you do. You know my immune system is crap.”

As much as he wanted to protest, he knew Noctis had a point. It was likely too late now to avoid it, so despite everything in him screaming at the irresponsibleness of it, he allowed Noct to get him settled on the couch.

It was weird, being on the receiving end of the fussing. Normally he was the one doing the fussing, making sure Noctis or Gladio or even Prompto, though the blond was more reluctant to let him help, almost skittish in his attempts to avoid being taken care of, and that opened up its own set of problems, was comfortable and had everything they needed when they were sick or hurt or upset. And though it made him feel somewhat useless, he had to admit that it was kind of nice to be the one being taken care of for once.

He just needed to make sure he didn’t make a habit of it.

[pandospeaks]

Lahsun (and other teachers from my kitchen)

There are many lessons my kitchen teaches me - every day I’m in it, and always in earnest. Some lessons I learn instantly (like don’t salt the meat AND the gravy). And some I am still learning, more and more clearly each day. I’m still, progressing step by step as if I’m following a recipe being made entirely from a distant memory. I’m uncertain of what I’m doing, and almost bubbling over (but never actually doing it).

Each day in the kitchen gives me a new teacher. One that I will never recognize instantly, but once I do I can’t see it as anything else. Here are a few lessons I’m learning from my new favourite room in my home.

LESSON 1: FOLLOW THE MUSIC

My first teacher was the humble lahsun (lasoon? lehsun?). I was sitting at my living room balcony and peeling garlic. My mind was racing, as it had for every single day and night of the lockdown. As it has for you, and you, and you, and YOU. I was almost in tears because I just wanted 5 minutes.

5 freaking minutes of quiet.

Where I wouldn’t think anymore. Where my mind wouldn’t recite the day’s list of failures of our collective race. And I wouldn’t play tug of war with my confidence and my own day’s to do list.

‘You can do this. No you can’t. You can do this. No you can’t. You can’t do this. You can’t do this.”

“You can’t do this. You. Can’t. Do this.…”

And slowly, much to my surprise, it all faded into silence. I’m not kidding, everything went quiet. Not an eerie silence; but a calming one. It was confusing at first, but I sunk into it eventually. I made it my home for those 30 minutes of peeling garlic. Because as long as I was peeling clove after clove of garlic, digging in with my nail and removing a glossy pearl from its papery cover, as long as I kept that on, I could silence the world.

It was then that I learned that a quiet meditative state can come from the act of repetition. When I peel garlic, I can forget everyone out there. And I can just watch the bowl fill up, piece by shiny little piece. And when it’s all over the thoughts all come racing back, angry at being shut out for so long and deafeningly loud. But I have my bowl of garlic. I had those 30 minutes.

This was the same calm I derived from my time as a singer. I’d sing for hours and shut out more than my fair share of shit. Drink with me sometime and I’ll tell you why I don’t do it anymore. It’s a story for another day. But the truth is I stopped singing and tried to fill that void with lots of other immaterial things, people, habits, and coping mechanisms. It was an absence I didn’t realise I had. And it had felt like the deafening discouragement in my head had always been there, sitting on my shoulder.

But 30 minutes with garlic made my feel the same calm of repetition that singing ‘sa, re ga ma pa dha ni sa’ a hundred times did. I know, it is silly, but I really didn’t know I needed to shut out my head as badly as I did until that morning. It’s also why I’m writing right now. And while writing isn’t as effective as singing, I’m not sure I’m ready to go there yet.

LESSON 2: SORRY IS A BITTER PILL

At my sink, in the corner of the kitchen near the window, I learned that sometimes things will get gross. And that’s okay. I have never been someone who likes doing dishes. I used to make a mess whenever I was in the kitchen. But this lesson was actually really simple to learn because it came at the end of a 3 day streak of defiance that ended with me washing every dish thrice.

If you make a mess, you clean it up. Because if you don’t, it doesn’t stay the same mess. It festers. Like a wound that becomes septic. Like an insult that is only said to demean but winds up destroying you if not followed up with an apology and care. If you make a mess, clean it up.

Because it doesn’t stay the same mess.

People are messy. Emotions even more so. And they need the right care at the right time. Without which, they turn putrid – just like dirty dishes. But there’s another lesson here too. At the end of the 3 days and triple wash of every vessel, everything was clean again. All that scrubbing, water, and Vim eventually worked its magic. And I learned that oftentimes, to make things squeaky clean again, you need elbow grease. You need effort, and you need to be okay with things being really, really messy. Because if you do dive right in, the end result is very satisfying.

LESSON 3: KINDNESS TRUMPS AMBITION

My third teacher is an old favorite with a new lesson.

The mighty Indian curry.

Growing up, chicken curry and rice was my favourite meal. Hands down, I could (and did) eat it every single day. Whenever I made it at home, which was rarely ever (in the before times), I always followed the same foolproof recipe.

Fry the whole spices, onions, ginger-garlic paste, and tomatoes until it’s all pulpy together.

But now, after I had to make some form of curry every day, I realized that there’s a bit more to this whole thing. The typical Indian curry is two steps. First you make the base, then you make the curry. Every recipe has the same fundamental base (well, almost every recipe). And without it, no curry is complete. And even though the base has the same ingredients and steps, no curry has to be the same.

Because here’s the thing - we can be as ambitious as we want or as laid back as we want, but the core of all of us is the same. We all need to be good people. Honest, kind, empathetic, and considerate. You can be anything – ANYTHING – you want to be. But without your basics in place, you will only be an almost-version of it all.

The thing about a curry base is that with the right one, you can make something spicy or tangy or earthy or mellow. You can make any version of the curry you want. But you need to make sure you have your basics in place. Because if your onions aren’t browned or the tomatoes haven’t let off all the water, if you didn’t work on the basics, if you didn’t take the time to make sure that what is at the core of YOU was done cooking, it doesn’t matter what you eventually made.

Nothing will turn out the way you thought it would. 

The mightiest ‘Do Pyaaza’ will turn out insipid, without the core of it cooked through. Just like the most ambitious life will feel empty without the core of you, fully formed.

These are all the lessons my procrastination allows me to write about for now. Perhaps with more time and less chores (LOL), I can write about some more. If you stuck around till the end, thank you. I hope you are safe and sound, wherever you are.

[peepingtoad]

// @asaraltu 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐩).

『 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 𝟙 ... As you're reading this, please don't be alarmed by the suspicious stains. As it happened, that chakra receiver I stashed turned out to be useful, although the judgement behind it was questionable on the impulsive front… and unfortunately, just a touch messy. But don't worry—I only used it for that second you may well have already felt. I can only hope you didn’t take it as motivation to zap away to another dimension for good. That would make the frog delivering this rather irate with me.

So while I amend to ‘as you’re hopefully reading this’… please also rest assured that it won’t contain anything explicit to avert your delicate gaze from this time. I just… need my words to reach you in a way that can’t be muddled. There’s a lot to say that I wasn’t able to when you left me here, all soggy and crestfallen, and I hope you’ll bear with me because I don’t intend on editing these pages at all between now and sending. I want this to be from the heart.

Having said that, I’ll have to begin in earnest a little later. There are things I must do first. I apologise. ... 𝔼ℕ𝔻 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼』

         ______________________________________________________________________          

『 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 𝟚 ... As you’re reading this, it’s now some time after I originally started, and I’m currently sorting through my possessions. Luckily Tsunade kept them when my house was sold off, although I effectively ended up moving back in when I offered the new owner double its worth. After all, one could consider this little place my ‘ancestral home’, by which I mean my mother bought the plot and built it with her own two brawny hands.

So I’m sorting through my possessions, most of which were kindly unpacked for me already by way of very direct contact with my person, or the surrounding ground. She isn’t happy with me, to say the least. But at least it’s not like these are things I’ve missed—well, except maybe for all the magazines…

I’d like to say that Konoha has changed, outside of the modernised elements. Well... I suppose it has, in that the kids nowadays aren’t quite so aware of the concept of dying in a senseless war. But as you probably know already, the system is still in place in a lot of areas. Thanks to Naruto, though, it seems to be improving. My only worry is that he still doesn’t fully appreciate the violent history that the village still needs to make amends for. He’s a little like me in that respect. Takes him a while to catch on... but once he does, he’s on it like wildfire.

I’ll have to write you properly a little later on—and before you start thinking anything like my old editor would’ve, I’m not procrastinating. ... 𝔼ℕ𝔻 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼』

          ______________________________________________________________________          

『 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 𝟛 ... As you’re reading this, I’m in one of my favourite old bars on the main road, not far outside the village itself... on my way back from Otogakure, of all places. While I was surprised by Orochimaru’s turning of a new leaf, what didn’t surprise me was his response to seeing me on his doorstep, alive. ‘It’s about time’ he said, with that raspy chuckle of his, as if he somehow knew all along. No anger, no grand exclamations of how he’d grieved... just that amused glint in his eyes, and a factual rundown of what he’s been up to since—over a few drinks, of course. He’s always been a truly weird one. Difficult to read. But in this case particularly, it was more than appreciated.

This bar. It’s always been here—about as long as the village has, as far as I’m aware—and the seats are just as battered as I remember them. I spotted some graffiti I carved into the table from when I wasn’t by any stretch old enough to be here… gods, do I feel ancient now. I can’t help but wonder if you ever sat in this place once, too? Don’t be alarmed by the suspicious stains, by the way… I have company showing up and I’m already a good few drinks down...

*

I shouldn’t be writing when I’m like this BUT HERE I GO.

You are so obsessed with this phrase: ‘the villain of the story’. I’ve considered it every time you’ve said it—do you realise exactly how many times you’ve said it?—and it’s always like some last ditch effort to limit yourself more than anything else. It must be, because it doesn’t convince me one bit! How can it, when I’ve seen your smile? Felt how instinctively you lean into me, like you’ll sink into the earth if you don’t? Seen you nurturing those funny little fledglings like some walking, living, breathing nest? I’ve talked with you about the stories I want to write, and you’ve been interested in them, encouraged me all the way. You helped me grow stronger in ways I thought impossible for someone like me. I’ve still got that damn antler you picked for me, and my hair always looks great.

I’d just love to know, in what part of that story are you the villain??

It’s just frustrating to me because you’re not completely wrong, but at the same time you blind yourself to so many parallels. 

I held myself back in Myōbokuzan because a certain task was fulfilled, and I didn’t know where to go from there. I still do believe that particular story is now complete, done and dusted. It was a tragic story, with a bittersweet ending. But this is a new one—and you’re the one who helped me realise it, you know that? You were the one to make me see that the past shouldn’t withhold me from what I want and need now, in the present. Only, you’re confusing your role within it, because you’re so rooted in your old tale even while you tell me that I’m stuck in a rut, stuck in my need to redeem both you and myself. As if it wasn’t both of us trying to find our way through each other, you kept being ‘the villain of the story’.

And where are you now? Still doing nothing to suggest you are that same old villain, as always. I have my ways of knowing these things, Madara. You told me a long time ago what you hoped to achieve, and I hear that things have progressed smoothly. So it seems a bit fucking ridiculous that I can’t be part of it. All of these people coming to this new haven of yours, they probably weren’t left unscathed by all your ill-doings either, and yet towards you they flock. 

You’re just afraid of what might have been, had we faced these new horizons together, and I don’t think it’s just the fear of having it all stripped away. If that was the case, you would be withering away alone instead of surrounding yourself with loved ones. Look—I was afraid, too. Still am! But I’d still look that fear in the face and tell it to go screw itself if it meant we could—

… 

Fact of the matter is, this story of mine—it started off so slow and directionless, a stream of consciousness going endlessly onwards to nothing. But I woke up, and it became something real and vital and new… because of you. Someone who was previously nameless, faceless—the big plot twist last time, somebody I didn’t know or even consider… 

You are the face of my story now, you get that? You. And I can’t get that face of yours out of my head.

Just 

wake up.

【𝕊𝕀𝔻𝔼 𝟚】

As you’re reading this (extremely long piece of paper—which no way am I gonna reread), I’m really feeling the punishment for last night. You know that feeling of an encroaching hangover while you’re actually still drunk? Well, maybe you don’t. But it’s fucking dreadful. Tsunade goes as hard as ever.

... Is it strange to say that she and I have too much history, comparing it to all those things you told me you’ve done? Last night, after she begrudgingly forgave me for staying away for so long, we were exactly the way we always were. You don’t know what that means, but I’ll take this opportunity to explain it to you.

We’re those friends that constantly abuse each other, but only because we know each other so well, and know exactly how to avoid opening up too far at the risk of all those messy emotions running riot. We’re the friends people would constantly look at and marvel at the fact we weren’t already married. Once upon a time, I was insistent that we would eventually be together—at least, until she met the love of her life, only to lose him within a short few years. This was one of the most devastating things to witness, both as one who was in love with her and as her best friend. Something within her was broken. I think she might even have secretly loved me, but she would never consider it because of the pain she was growing all too familiar with. The pain of losing a brother, a lover… it creates all sorts of impenetrable barriers inside.

Throughout all the times I was rejected by her, it never hurt too badly because we were friends. I always had her in the way that meant the most, that I treasured most, and the way it always will be. ... 𝔼ℕ𝔻 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼』

          ______________________________________________________________________          

『 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 𝟜 ... As you’re reading this, I hope you’ll forgive me for going back on my promise on the first page of this letter.

I can’t help it. Whenever I find myself with a lapse in activity, you come to me in the smallest and most maddening ways. The smell of your hair, your nails pressing into my skin, the tang of sweat on your face and neck. I’m consumed by the phantom heat of your body, a constant weight of longing that grips my bones like a demon perched on my rib cage, sucking out my soul in the night. 

If that sounds dramatic, that’s because it is. 

Nothing ignites me the way you do, even while being deprived of you besides what my stupid, sad mind taunts me with. Nobody provokes in me that same, raw, sweltering heat that comes over my entire body in a deluge. But more than that—more than the fact I need to be inside you like I need air—it’s everything afterwards that I miss the most, that hurts the most to remember. Your lips, bruised, curling into a smile that you think is cocky, but is much too soft every time. The lazy kisses as we come down from that glorious high, melting bonelessly into each other like a whole new being made up of tangled limbs. Gazing into your eyes and feeling that profound connection deepen further and further, seeping into my very foundations. 

How could you—scratch that, how dare you—tell me that you love me, but I was confused? 

You don’t think I know love? I’m a man who has spent his life in love—if not with somebody, then with love itself. I’ve expressed it in books to fill the void of something real and tangible, pages upon pages of vulnerability that I wasn’t ever capable of sharing with anyone in the flesh, only for you to tell me that all you were to me, all I opened myself up for, was a fantasy. A distraction. A project. And look at me now—still here and still very much alone because I’m so wrapped in a love that can’t be fulfilled, an absence that has manifested once more as a few feverish lines on a page to ease an ailing heart. 

You said it yourself once: nobody makes me feel so possessed. ... 𝔼ℕ𝔻 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 』

           ______________________________________________________________________           

『 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 𝟝 ... As you’re reading this, it’s been over twelve months since you left, and seven since I started putting pen to paper. That was also about the time I decided to take your advice, leave Myōbokuzan myself, and reconnect with my loved ones in Konoha. I’d actually hoped this would be sent long before now, and certainly before your birthday, but as you can imagine there was a whole lot of other things I had to work through. I was glad to be informed that my gift made it to you and you were found well (at your age, one can never be fully certain of these things). 

More than anything else right now, I want you to know how proud I am of what you’ve done. I don’t need to elaborate much further on that, but it leads me to something I remember telling Naruto a long, long time ago: that ‘home’ is where someone thinks of you. 

Looking back, I think that was rather naive of me to say, placing importance on the place itself rather than the people within it. People drift. Not always far, but others have callings to distant lands that can’t be ignored—I know this better than most. What you’ve created… yes, that certainly is home to you, isn’t it? You have people there, all of whom think the world of you. 

But that home could be somewhere entirely new, and it would still be home because those who hold you dear will always bear a part of you, and you them. The place doesn’t matter. Konoha is my home, but between here and this place in the Land of Lightning that I’ve yet to even see, my heart is painfully stretched due to circumstance. Just as I know that Konoha is no home in your eyes, yet as long as I’m here you are always, always here with me—whether you like it or not. 

Am I still with you, too? Is this path one-way? Is there only one of us who wants to ‘return’?

I have to know. ... 𝔼ℕ𝔻 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼』

[thehappymessproject]

100/100 - 5 steps to make the most out of our life

I started this essay months ago... Writing about it made me frustrated and sad : by taking stock of my thoughts ont the topic, it was all too clear that I had lost my way on several of them. It was the perfect time to write about it for many reasons, but also the worst for many different reasons.

So I followed my own principles, and let it sit, while exploring them one by one, reclaiming them. Real deep growth means getting back to beginner’s state over and over. Overdoing it is part of the process too. So are feeling lost, afraid, doubting ourselves and the process while trying to trust it. All of it and more. Change (and life itself) is a big mess.

Here are some signs that you may not use your time in a way that is satisfying to you (one is enough, especially if intense and persistant) :

Sleep issues (including fine quality of sleep but constant fatigue)

Reduced functional time : someone fine can function for 10 hours on average before being really tired. Anxiety or depression and other disorders can reduce this to 1 hour in severe cases.

Frequent/permanent bursts of sadness or fear (especially if ‘unexplained’).

Feeling like time tends to fly by ‘too quickly’, even if it can seem way too slow as well sometimes.

Feeling like it’s impossible to do what really matters to you because you don’t have enough time or energy.

I was checking 3 out of those boxes, and in an intense way until a few weeks back. I realised that I had slipped into this territory again, the one of being caught in so many vicious cycles that it feels like it may never stop and I may never have time to do what’s important to me. So I went back to basics and made sure I would embody these words, not just aspire to them. 

Here are the steps I am following to reset and ease back slowly the way I spend my daily time.

Pausing and listening

Stillness and reflection are absolutely key in this process. 

Without them in our life, everything feels way too blurry to take on real deep change, or even to understand what we are experiencing. And trying to change the way we use our time is definitely real deep change. 

To learn how to pause, we need to start from what we consider as a pause. Meditation is one of the surest, fastest and strongest way to learn stillness and to connect to ourselves. But many people have even difficulty to stay a few moments doing nothing in silence. For them, meditation is simply too hard right now.

This specific difficulty is in itself a symptom of deep underlying emotional struggle. It shows us also how much we struggle to accept ourselves the way we are. But be sure of one thing : we can all find our way back to stillness and delight in our own company, which is our deep natural state... As long as we start from where we are at. 

When stillness isn’t available to us yet as a safe practice, we can already benefit from simply slowing down. Doing activities that make us feel almost still, or at least calmer helps greatly. 

Taking breaks without getting our phones out. Taking a deep breath from the belly and slowly letting it out through the mouth. Practicing staying silent with people, just enjoying each other’s company or even just being bored together. Walking and letting our thoughts wonder. Listening to music while daydreaming. Stopping for a few instants once in a while during our commute to simply observe the world going on without us… There are many ways to progress back towards that childlike and very wise ability of staying in the moment. 

(check this essay for more ideas on how to train your mindful muscles)

Daring

To live the most out of our life, we will need to change regularly, either to adapt to the environment we choose, adapt to life itself or simply to follow out deeply human need to evolve. Change is the only real constant we’ll ever face. 

That change (especially when it’s deep) will always requires that we get out of our comfort zone, which will always have that scary vibe that accompanies vulnerability. When we change, we take risks, and real risks are scary : we need courage to take them on.  

We will need to find out what we really want, which can be scary enough as it is. We will need to explore what it is by doing all sorts of new unsettling things. We will need to learn how to listen to ourselves more and better. We will need to fail miserably every so often (the bigger the goal, the more frequent the failure involved). We will need to face how little we know about ourselves and how paradoxical we really are. We will need to embrace the awkward messes that we are. How much we suck, we are wrong, imperfect, incompetent, uncomfortable, scared, intimidated, self-limiting we can be… 

Change is a journey that can be as great, liberating and empowering as it is humbling, unsettling and subtile. One big happy mess when it’s taken on fulll speed. 

More on the courage to change and be who we really are in this essay.

A little bit of everything

If I had to choose just one word to characterise deep change, it would be balance. No life lived in any kind of extreme is sustainable or even really appreciated on the long term, most of us know that deep down... 

But humans are also really bad at finding balance, even more in our fast paced world. Instead, we tend to have some sort(s) of cycles, going round and round between being too self-indulgent and too harsh on ourselves. 

We often call them “being reasonable” and “letting ourselves live”, but rarely truly do any of both in the end. There is something very disheartening in living stuck in those cycles. 

Life stuck in cycles doesn’t feel at all like we can have an impact on our destiny, like what we do actually matter in the grand scheme of things. We feel stuck and discouraged. Often bitter too. 

That is why there is something so liberating in finding ways to balance everything that is important to us. Even if it will never be achieved as a goal : even if we do find some sort of balance, life changes, circumstances change, WE change no matter what we do. So balance has to be found over and over, the way our courage or what we think we know about ourselves does. 

I’ve met so many people betting their life on something big in their future, ready to sacrifice things they know are important (like time with our loved ones, their passion, their sleep…) for things they think they really need first in order to be happy (generally money, status, diplomas…). I have yet to meet someone who really “won” that kind of bet. 

What I’ve met a lot, are people who lost their dreams, their will to live or simply lost themselves in that game. They will need more, always. They will keep procrastinating what they deem as really important in their heart, until something breaks. Their bodies, their soul, their spirit… Or simply until they die.

How many cautionary tales and tragic anecdotes do we hear about those people who were waiting for their retirement or these other big things (money, status, power, diploma...) to ‘really live’ (be it travel, make art, spend quality time together…) until they actually got retired and couldn’t do any of it, because they were too sick, physically shattered, depressed to have lost all that was their daily life, or tragically lost their spouse? Or, they got the job, money and status they just don’t have more time, jut more responsibilities? Young adults who will have spent their lives between mental health issues and studying before tragically passing in an accident? 

It might sound morbid, but like many people who have faced death in a very intimate way, I use my mortality as an incentive for being brave and go after what truly matters to me.

Don’t get me wrong though, there is nothing wrong about making sacrifices for our bigger goals. We will always have to sacrifice things to get what we deeply want. 

I’m just saying, don’t forget to also live : paint on the week end, write that book on stolen minutes, learn/practice that craft 10mn of practice at the time, go on dates with people you love and create actual memories with them, take time to breathe and look around you, to connect with nature, to dance and listen to music, to read good books and taste great food... 

Learn to know yourself and the world around you. Switch your phone off and use your senses to live your life. One meaningful moment at the time. LIVE!

You can have more of the life you really want, right now. Allow yourself to make a bit of it happen. 

And if you already do that, and know deep down that you really love what you already have and wouldn’t change a thing, but still feel like life is passing by : make bigger bets. 

Decide that you will save money for that thing you really want to do someday, NOW, give that thing a deadline. Take some risks. Evening classes. Online classes : thanks to the Internet, we can learn everything we want NOW. Look for things you might want to explore, start where you are, and bet on yourself. 

Start making your dreams happen bit by bit. One step at the time, we will make the hard things happen. Don’t wait for the perfect time to do what matters. STEAL the time, it’s yours anyway. DARE!

More on balance on this essay.

Make room for play

I don’t know you, but I’ve been raised with the idea that play is for children and immature adults. And I always hated it. 

Play was such a privileged time of my childhood. Its scarcity as I got older really made me very sad and slowly infused bitterness. The day I watched the TED talk on the power of play was very joyful and dare I say, life-altering.

Humans are wired to play until they die. When we don’t play, our brains work less efficiently, we are more prone to depression, anxiety and all sorts of things that make life MUCH harder than it already is. 

Play is like putting on happy glasses : everything is slightly lighter and easier when we play, even the hardest things. 

After a few years making room for play in my life and learning more about it, it takes me very little time to diagnose a lack of play in someone’s life : they simply lack “colours”. Even when they are joyful and lively by nature, there’s a sadness in their eyes and voice, in their words. 

I can hear their inner child calling for help. Some kind of soft “There must be more to life, that can’t be all there is to it, can it?”. Yes, there is more to it. 

Play is some of that “it”. We all need it in several forms. Humour by itself isn’t enough. Entertainment either. We need to enter some kind of games, to be active in that process, find engaging activities that bring us joy to share with people close to us. 

Video games, board games, rough and tumble play… alone or with company : pick your favourites, and don’t be afraid to experiment with the ones you don’t know well. You might find a new love hidden there. 

There is no way around play, we all need some : it reminds us of our aliveness. So : what are you playing at lately?

(Find an essay on play here)

Honour pleasure

Another thing that is often missing in our lives. We hear so often in many different ways that we need to be productive. That our duties and our ability to own up to them define how well we “got it together”. And boy, do we want badly to get it together…

How many of us feel ruled by our to-do lists and duties? 

Here’s one little secret about to-do lists : we will always have more things to do than we have time, they should be directions, not orders. They are certainly not the boss of you!

If we focus on doing everything more than on choosing what things we want to prioritise, life tends to feel a lot like a permanent run, feeling late and overwhelmed. 

If we focus only on minimising the to do lists to diminish stress, we always end up cutting out things that are in reality more important than the ones we actually do. 

Do not focus on the to do lists. Focus on balance instead. And never forget that pleasure must be a part of that balance. 

Pleasure doesn’t need to cost anything, use huge chunks of time or anything really. Pleasure is about perceived luxury : things that make life fuller, more worth living. 

 It can be as simple as getting up 10mn earlier so we can really take our time drinking our coffee in the morning, changing your commute to walk in that area you enjoy, taking 10mn everyday to walk with someone you love (even in complete silence), switch technology off so we can really enjoy that meal, that break, that moment; taking time to dance recklessly, calling someone you love and didn’t hear from in a long time… 

Pleasure is about not taking life for granted, making sure we are not just machines working, taking care of logistics, and surviving. 

What are tiny things you can do often that would bring you pleasure? What things do you love but don’t do as often as you like? What makes your days special? 

So here it is. 

I am lacking words to describe how much working on those tiny but big things more seriously has been helpful for the past couple of months (and the past decade) to come back to myself. I finished my 100 days project exhausted, overwhelmed, sad for it to end and a bit lost. 

Even if I still had really hard and stressful days, and I’m currently in the middle of some of the biggest and deepest change I experienced in years, I’m putting an end to this essay that much more centered and calm. 

Life doesn’t have to be different (not even less stressful or painful) for you to be able to enjoy it more. All those things are small and big at the same time. Making sure we check on them and incorporate them can make our experience of life much richer and more satisfying, even if we don’t enhance anything else. No matter how life has to be stressful or hard, those are tiny things in our control that makes it easier to manage. 

So... What does this essay inspire you to try?

[putschki1969]

How do you live on knowing for the past few months there has been no signs of our old Kalafina after the news broke out? (｡•́︿•̀｡)

I’ll be honest with you, I have been procrastinating and putting this off for the longest time. I am having such a hard time with this question, on the one hand I have so much to say about this topic but on the other hand I don’t want to open pandora‘s box.

Anyways, I will try to do your question proper justice. And I will do my best to keep this as short as possible, no need to bore anyone with my endless blabbering. Without further ado, let’s get to it…

I live on because I know that in some way, shape or form Kalafina will come back together.I don’t know when, I don’t know how, I don’t know for how long, I don’t know in what capacity but I am 100% sure it will happen. This is not the end of Kalafina. I don’t care if it takes months or a year or even longer, one day there will be some sort of reunion and I will be here waiting for them.

I live on because they share a strong bond that cannot be easily broken.Just because we don’t see them together in public doesn’t mean they are not still very close. They are a tight-knit group, they love each other, they respect each other, they support each other, they share a passion for music. Nothing has changed about that. I am sure that they are still spending lots of time together and I feel like they might even enjoy it more now that they are not constantly stuck together at work. I remember all these interviews where they talk about how they hardly spend any time together anymore on their off-days because they already see enough of each other at work. 

I live on because all three of them are incredibly strong women and I know they each chose the path they are now on.Yes, I do think it was their choice. No one forced them to do anything. I firmly believe that they chose what they thought was best for them….and how can I NOT support that? I want them to be happy and healthy and if that means things have to change drastically then so be it. 

I live on because they now get the chance to fulfil their individual dreams.They have dedicated ten years of their lives to Kalafina, to Yuki Kajiura and to their audience. Together they have achieved lots of great things and fulfilled many of their dreams. Now it’s time they explore other areas. Wakana can go the more classical route, Hikaru can finally do some solo work - something she has always dreamed of. Or maybe she can do a musical? Keiko can do pretty much anything really. She has always said she wanted to dedicate her 20s to Kalafina, I am curious to find out what her 30s will be dedicated to…

I live on because the three of them are super excited to see each other’s dreams being fulfilled.Reading how Wakana is so excited to see Hikaru’s and Keiko’s dreams come true makes me equally excited. I just can’t wait to see what’s in store for all of them. And I will do everything within my power to support them. They deserve to live their dreams and if that means they have to live a life outside of Kalafina then so be it.

I live on because they finally get to relax a little after working hard for 10 years.Just read the final section of YK’s most recent interview and you will get an idea of what’s been going on for the past ten years. Then take a look at last year’s schedule. It was crazy. Take a look at some of the things they said in their interviews and blog posts from that time. About not getting any breaks. About not having time to enjoy any summer activities. About constantly traveling. About living out of suitcases. Then we have Wakana’s and Hikaru’s voices which have gone through so many changes throughout the years. That has made them subject to all kinds of fan-hate, they surely must have felt a lot of pressure. Also, have you read Keiko’s solo interview in the 10th Anniversary Film Pamphlet? Have you seen her solo interview in the movie? She has carried the heavy burden of silent leadership for ten whole years, that interview clearly showcases that this burden took a major toll on her. You can almost see her tear up. No one has invested more into Kalafina, no one has worked harder to keep them together. It’s about time she gets a break. And hey, we all know she is still passionate about Kalafina since she applied for the registered trademark.Either way, they definitely deserve this break and while it’s super tough as a fan to hear so little - or nothing in Keiko’s case - from them, I totally get it. 

I live on because I accept the fact that they don’t owe us anything.They have always been distanced, always been quite reserved. They have never been a hands-on group. It was a horrible experience for me and most other fans to see Keiko just suddenly disappear like that but it was obviously Keiko’s choice to leave in silence. Watch Keiko’s behaviour in that Toyama live scene from the movie. She does everything within her power to hide her emotions. She doesn’t want to show this part of her to the audience. I respect that. While I would have loved a proper goodbye, a proper explanation etc I accept the fact that I can’t always get what I want, Keiko doesn’t owe us an explanation or anything else for that matter. If she prefers to lay low for the time-being that’s fine with me (although I am suffering from a horrible case of Keiko-withdrawal). Btw, the same goes for Wakana and Hikaru. I am super happy they post on the blog once in a while and I truly wish they would interact more with us but really, I understand why they don’t overdo it like last year. Like I said before, they deserve a break and who knows what they are working on right now (aside from their upcoming projects that is).

I live on because I focus on the awesomeness that is Kalafina’s 10 year history.Yes, like most of us, l miss them like hell but they have given us SO MUCH throughout the past ten years; amazing music, amazing lives, amazing interviews. With their great and unique personaliities they have inspired me to become a better person. I am beyond grateful for all of that. Ten years is a long time. It’s much longer than they could have ever imagined to be active. It’s much longer than most groups actually get to be active. Let’s be real here, deep within myself I always thought their 10th year might be their last one or at least a very major turning point. It’s a natural progression. Of course I expected it to happen differently and I certainly didn’t expect it to happen so early in their 10th year but hey, I guess I was wrong.

I live on because I choose not to be too negative about the whole thing…Yes, it’s frustrating, yes, it’s sad, yes, I have many regrets…there are days where I miss them like crazy and all I wanna do is cry. But keeping all of the above points in mind, I try to stay positive. I really try my hardest not to see negativity everywhere. I am not frantically searching for someone to blame. I try not to wallow too much in self-pity. I try not to read too much into every post, every picture, every interview.