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cookerypokery · 2 years

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I Thought I Was Ruined

We all have a dark side, but most days I am pure angel. So it came as a surprise when I became my own inverse. For four days, I hated food.

It all started when I decided to go shopping on an empty stomach. I drove to the Chinese store. I piled my cart high with daikon, fish cake, bok choy, fresh shiitake mushrooms, tofu. And as I turned the corner to stand in line for checkout, I decided I needed a snack. I’m not talking some cookie-cake you use to distract children. I wanted something you could hang a skeleton on. So I wheeled my cart back around and bought half a cooked chicken.

This chicken had a name. “Scallion Oil Chicken.” “葱油鸡”。It had the model good looks of any Cantonese charcuterie. Plump, juicy meat. Glossy, perfect skin. In fact, the skin was a golden yellow, which Cantonese-style chicken often is. I don’t know how they do it, and it’s probably just food coloring, but humans wear makeup too to look more enticing, so who am I to judge?

[An Internet photo of the chicken -- not what I ate.]

I thought, very briefly, about driving the 15 minutes home and eating it on a plate in my kitchen. I decided against it and scarfed it in my car. I didn’t eat all of it. Half a chicken in one sitting is too much for one person who sits all day for a living. But I ate strategically: some thigh, some breast, the drumstick. I even had the discipline to eat some of that dreaded back meat because you never want be stuck with only back meat for leftovers. After I finished it, I wiped my hands on some napkins that a wise person (likely Rebekah, given how much she prioritizes clean hands more than I do) placed in my glove compartment.

I didn’t know it then, but that chicken was the Trojan horse that would be my downfall.

I got food poisoning. Or a stomach bug. Or stomach flu. These are imprecise words for the mess than ensued, as I had no formal diagnosis. But I had the symptoms, and because Cookery Pokery has already been reported once for graphic content, I am not going to describe it for you. The one thing I will report is that when I first started to feel disgusting, the first thing I did was stick a meat thermometer in my mouth because I didn’t know where the body thermometer was. The meat thermometer was not precise enough to take my temperature, but I later learned that I had a fever of 101 degrees.

My lifelong love affair with food also fell apart. On the first day, all I could eat was a few bites of boiled apple, a sippy cup’s worth of plain rice congee, and a bite of banana. I didn’t want smells or textures or flavors. Food was a barbaric army invading my land, and I just wanted peace.

Rebekah made me a hard-boiled egg with a jammy yolk, and it was like masticating caulk. As she delivered me progressively blander foods to my bedside, I croaked to her, “Did you throw out the chicken?” To which she would say, “Not yet,” and I would shiver feverishly.

I tried to distract myself from the roiling battle in my gut by looking at my phone, to realize that 90 percent of my Instagram feed featured cooking-related accounts. Everything looked absolutely disgusting. One particularly memorable post was a close-up of a steaming hot fresh-baked pepperoni pizza, with cheese still bubbling and beads of grease collecting on the sausage. It violated me to the core. Even still, over the next few hours I kept reflexively opening the Instagram app in pursuit of the dopamine hit it usually delivered. But my online feeds were tailored to a self that no longer existed. I grimaced and buried my phone in the blankets.

In physics class, I learned that our hearing is logarithmic. This means that we are more sensitive to the fluctuations in quiet sounds – for example, you can discern whether a cricket is louder than a whisper more easily than you can discern whether a trumpet is louder than violin. My taste buds, too, felt logarithmic. I became unbearably conscious of subtle changes in taste and flavor and texture. It was all disgusting.

But day by day, I found myself able to look at, and stomach, more foods. I impressed myself when I ate an entire unripe banana. (To avoid flavor.) I impressed myself more when later I ate another banana that was actually ripe. I ate several jammy hard-boiled eggs, with soy sauce. The breakthrough was when I ate some mustard stem pickles, which my mom used to give me when I was sick, with my congee. Then I ate miso soup, with tofu and daikon and udon noodle.

“I threw away the chicken,” Rebekah reported. My heart leapt. “But,” I said, “Is it still in the house?”

“Nope,” Rebekah said. “I took it straight to the Dumpster.”

I rejoiced. I may have fallen, but that chicken was no match for my reinforcements.

But progress was slow. Before a conflict peaks, it can feel like it will never end. I wanted resolution. I wanted to know that I could look at a medium rare prime rib and salivate again, out of desire and not in preparation for vomiting.

I am still convalescing, so I can’t write the ending to this post. You’ll have to fill in that last major chord yourself. What else do you want from me? I’m sick.

#identitycrisis

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ruminate88 · 16 days

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When you have been in relationships where they abruptly abandon you or lead you on and betray you, you just get used to that “getting attached but knowing it’s temporary” and then you get detached suddenly and now it’s made it hard for you to attach to people in a healthy way.

My last relationship, I was breadcrumbed a lot and he constantly would disappear for two and three days at a time but then suddenly come back to me and act like everything’s fine and call me “babe” lovingly and act almost obsessively towards me …. he would send me nudes, ask for my nudes too, and tell me how “beautiful I am” so it would give me that hit of dopamine and it would quickly distract me from the previous bread-crumbing. The attention he was giving me, wasn’t true love though nor was it healthy attention. It was all about pleasing him, and I was blind and naïve back then plus I didn’t have any self-confidence at all, so I just accepted his attention as “love” and kept the dream alive that we were going to have a family together. I even had our baby named already. 😝 I just thought he was so attractive and sexy. I could not wait to make a baby with him lol 😳🤣

now that I’m in a marriage to someone else, despite my feelings of “disconnected and detachment”, even despite all the hurts and the emotional barriers, these walls in front of me that’s keeping me from enjoying my marriage, I STILL tell myself every day that you can’t live your life based on feelings only. I didn’t get married just to divorce and I don’t feel the feelings of divorce. I just feel hurt from the past and I am vulnerable right now. It’s hard to let go of the past and get over Andrew 😢 especially when I was naming our baby and planning our future together, but I KNOW to let that go because it’s never going to happen. It’s not realistic. Andrew can’t be in a healthy relationship with me and he probably wouldn’t be a good dad anyway but I don’t know that I’m trying not to judge him.

I can still have the family of my dreams. I can still have my dreams of a loving relationship, and I can still enjoy my life, but during this healing process, it’s almost like there’s moments of setbacks where I almost step into the old version of me, where I still lack confidence and don’t feel good enough still!!!!! 😩😤 but my husband hasn’t left me yet 🙏🏻 anytime I ask him if he’s happy in this marriage, he says “mhmm.” I do want him to say more than that because those are the exact words that Andrew always said to me all the time!!! It was ”Mhmm” to most everything I would say to him. Alsooooo, I got “Awwww” ALOT FROM Andrew. FRUSTRATING!!!!! (That was part of the manipulation and bread-crumbing)

Trying hard not to compare the two relationships is really really hard. 🙁🤷🏻‍♀️❤️‍🩹 it’s been really hard to decipher if I’m feeling the way I do just because of the past or is it my current reality too? I don’t have a ton of conversation with my husband and I didn’t have a ton of conversation with Andrew. It was all about sex with Andrew, but with my husband, it’s not about sex at all. 😳 It’s just going through the motions of: getting up, work, cook dinner, watch a tv show, he then plays video games while I do the dishes, then somehow it’s bedtime already. 🤔🤔🤔

i’ve been trying to convince myself that I just have emotional barriers from the past and that’s keeping me from getting closer to my spouse; that the problem is not him. It seems like he’s empathetic. I’ve seen him cry at times. . He doesn’t appear cold to me, but he does sometimes appear hard and I think it’s from working in a factory along side all these old, tough, men every day. Idk though…

The lost and disconnect feeling is miserable. There’s a part of me that says it’s temporary while I’m healing and that it’s not going to last but that this is all going to get better but I also know it takes two to make a relationship work and feeling like you are living with your roommate, is not a great feeling. I want to have more romance, but some reason, I can’t make myself push for it. I just want my husband to grab me randomly when I least expect it and just start kissing me and holding me but he never does that!! 🤷🏻‍♀️ so, I feel like I am vulnerable and scared… I just hide and I fear he won’t understand where I’m coming from! ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

#personal #healing journal #emotional barriers

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visible-buttholegirl · 10 months

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i should be asleep right now... oh well!

i know that i have mentioned being at a fork in the road in my life before, and i'm gonna reiterate that but from a slightly different perspective. i feel like the last year and a half has been especially challenging and unsatisfying for me lately. i've continued to not achieve many of my personal goals, i am unhappy at my career job that i've worked my whole life to get to, i've lost more friends than ever, either due to conflicts or just people moving on, and i've continued to be single throughout this whole time. this we all know. until now i hadn't realized that this "era" of my life was coming to an end. i'm still in my 20's, but i think the early 20's ARE different from the later 20's and i have been trying to chase the high of my early 20's. even now, typing this out i have a hard time accepting this reality.

the last five years really shaped me to be who i am today, they informed my worldview, my interests, lead me to the many friends i've made, given me so many unforgettable experiences. who wouldn't want to hold onto that? but now, in 2023, at 25, i have lost a few friends, and many current relationships do not seem to satisfy me the way they did before. i feel like i have lost my sense of self a bit, and been distracted by nostalgia and quick-fix hits of dopamine, desperately clinging to the fragments of my past. i am also being faced with the harsh reality of adult life. things are expensive, responsibilities are mounting, and i am more independent than ever. i HAVE to be there for myself. i have to make sure that things get taken care of and that i take care of myself. i did get my license and a car just recently which checked off a couple of life goals in one foul swoop, however even that carries the burden of additional bills, maintenance, and safety risks.

the true fork in the road of my life is the decision of clinging to my past and trying to make the most of it, things mostly staying the same yet i try to improve myself despite that, OR i make a drastic change that forces me to deal with many obstacles in the pursuit of renewed excitement for life and boosted self-confidence. i already know which one i SHOULD go with, and my bias was pretty obvious there, but when does the point come where i stop talking and start taking action? and what will my future look like after making that decision? i will be devastated having to leave everything i know and love behind (of course friends and family will remain in contact and maybe even visit), but will i be able to thrive in a new setting? will i be able to put myself out there and cultivate a new pool of friends, find new places i love to go to, find an affordable place to stay, and get back to that happiness i've known before?

when i think of a snapshot of the last few years where i was really happy, i think of working a closing shift at the store alongside my really amazing friends, and then after work, going to someone's apartment and just hanging out and chatting. lights are low and warm, there's art on the walls and plants and cats all around us, and we're drinking wine and chatting about the day, chatting about our lives, things we like and don't like, and maybe occasionally going outside at night for a smoke break. then at the end of it all, i'd bike or walk home, maybe take the bus if its still running. then the next morning i wake up when i wake up, make breakfast and maybe go for a walk, hang at the coffee shop or go to the gym, then get ready for work and the cycle continues.

i was watching a favorite TV show tonight and was moved to tears by a wedding scene that took place within it. of course its a dramatization of real life, but i do believe there are people who experience the love that they displayed on this show. i feel i deserve that level of connection with someone, and i am manifesting it for myself. however this is not something i feel i have experienced before. i have had intense crushes on people (again, we all know this already) but with nothing reciprocated i have not yet felt this love where i would take a bullet for someone. (does that make me a bad person?)

in an ideal world i move to a new city and find something like this for myself. whether it be something almost exactly like this or a new "version" of this experience, i think it will make me feel happy again. of course there are all the other things i want to do to make myself happy, working out and eating right, creating more art and fleshing out my musical ability, and doing things with friends. i know i can achieve all of these things and then some, the car and license are proof of that, and also a tool that will help me achieve these things, but i do have to find the strength to stop talking and start doing.

#me

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lizzycatsburg · 11 months

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Something just clicked.

A bulldog on a couch

A soldier coming home

A bully gets a beat down

Click. Click. Repeat.

Same page repeated

All over this novel

What a boring book

With a stupid ending

Where everyone dies

And no one cares.

The entire world is my room

Asking things of me

While I’m just trying to read

The yearn of empathy hits me so hard

I hold my chest and quietly say

I am so sorry this is happening to you-

To all of the rejected

To all of the denied

To all of the unseen

And the lost evergreen.

Everyone is talking at the same time

I’m trying to listen

I feel like this sounds important

I’m so sorry I can’t hear you

I promise to come back to this

It deserves my attention

I really do want to help

I just feel so heavy.

Consistency

Consistency and boredom go hand in hand for many

Opposites do attract

What is more stimulating than a trust in a friend

A touch when you need to be held

Contentment when you’re still

The satisfaction of completion

None of which can happen without

The small repetitive steps

That I’ve lost the discipline for.

What a conundrum I am in

I have to walk with temptation on my back

In order to do the harder thing.

He makes me twice as heavy

And says he’ll get off of me if I just. stop. trying.

The magnetic pull of temporary pleasure

Why does human nature allow this?

I want to be different

I want to make change

I want to fight back

But I am distracted by undeserved dopamine

I am overwhelmed with the problems of the world.

I am afraid of judgment and shame,

I am fucking depressed about this soulless society.

I feel the tension rising in me

That sudden awareness of how heavy your body is

My ribs are now made of metal

Chaos

Money

My business

The corruption of everything

I am ugly

I am old and ugly

I don’t think I should have kids.

No focus with a million problems

It’s like I can feel the world emptying itself of life

Drink a beer to simmer the clashing thoughts

That are creating a dust storm in my brain.

Here’s comes the urge to just turn life off

I can just unplug my focus

With a simple click

One night doesn’t matter

This wind down will help me be better tomorrow.

A bulldog on a couch

A soldier coming home

A bully gets a beat down

Click click repeat.

Con

of the century

Stealing my thoughts

For profit

Stealing my attention

For your fucking quarterly bonus

Distracting me with dopamine

That gets smaller and smaller everyday

They want me to be overwhelmed

They want me to avoid

They want me to spend

They want every part of me

Including my submission

And sense of self.

Completely.

Click. Click. Rewind

My father left when I was eight

To be with a younger woman

I remember knawing on

The corner of the kitchen table

To deal with the stress

Asking dramatic questions

That did not reassure my fears.

He had kids because he thought

That’s what you do

Too bad you couldn’t take us back

Rejected from the start

For not being refundable

We grew up struggling

In a single parent household

Made fun of for my looks

And shitty shoes

My funny hair

And bad teeth

And no boobs

Why don’t I just go eat a burger?

Taught from the start

If you’re pretty or rich, then they’ll care.

I’ve worked since I was 11

Trying to help my dear mom

From farm fields to newspapers

To convenience stores and more

I got sunburns and blisters but

Vanity’s a luxury

That most can’t afford

Survival is a full time job.

I always wanted to have a best friend

But everyone already had one

Easier to be rejected by my own hand

Than be the last one on the bench again

Click. Click. Fast Forward.

I am white but I am no oppressor

The only seats at the table

Are the ones that can be bought

I’m starting to see the game the elite play

To segregate the denied into teams And fight over the moldy space they’ve allowed for us

That is the white privilege

that has poisoned our lives

Inherited wealth and power

Trickled down from times of slavery

That have grown into piles so big

Those pigs can’t even see the top

All they know is they need more

More mergers

More minors

More money

More power

What a low frequency

I don’t envy them at all.

They’ve tricked us into hating our neighbours

The people who’s own shoes

Have a walked a mile right next door to you.

They’ve clouded our thoughts so

we question common sense

While we count our last cents

To make us forget the most precious thing to us-

Our ability to think for ourselves.

But my confidence is shaky

I’m cringing as I write this

I am scared to offend

I am scared of shame

Who do I think I am?

Considering

I am a speck of nothing

In an ever expanding universe

A whiny white Samantha

Who’s struggles make others eyes roll

I should myself invisible

Make myself as small as possible

So others can have my crumb

I’ll close this book of life

And mind my own

Maybe if I stay quiet this will all just go away.

A bulldog on a couch

A soldier coming home

A bully gets a beat down

Click click repeat.

Tumultuousness and passion

Are cousins often confused for twins

A flat ball will still bounce

If thrown from high enough

Crusades now echo violence,

Synonymous in this age.

Tempting euphoria of releasing dense rage

Through the tips of your fingers

To those that disagree.

It brings us back

To our high school romance days-

The high of making up,

The addiction to relief

All while your breath is still secretly held

Procrastinating the hurt of the next rejection

Are we addicted to nostalgia

To deal with today’s state?

How quickly worry will take relief’s place

How quickly stress will take away from worry

How quickly anger takes over stress

A BULLDOG ON A COUCH

A SOLDIER COMING HOME

A BULLY GETS A BEAT DOWN

CLICK CLICK REPEAT.

Oh my god

I can’t believe we are here again

And it’s all getting worse

I can’t drown it out

The world is dying

Nature is dying

Children are dying

Animals are dying

And work

And bills

And getting my car fixed

God I hate myself

Go fucking do something

Fucking do ANYTHING

No-one could hate me more than I hate myself.

Every day is the same

And nothing gets better

Despair is heavy

Temptation is heavy

And I am being crushed.

Control alt delete

Let’s escape the screen

I have no energy left to resist

I can’t tell if I’m letting go

Or giving up

Completely

Instinctively

My body reacts

I crawl out from under despair

I toss temptation aside

Too exhausted to carry its weight anymore.

Laying in silence I hear a voice

That I haven’t sat with in a long time

She is someone I don’t sit with often

But intuitively I know I like her

She says Hey. It’s me. You.

You’re one of the good ones.

Ugh. It doesn’t feel that way.

You are inherently good.

We’ve been taught to blame ourselves

And each other

While they blackmail us with our fears

It’s the fear of the unknown makes me rather live in stress.

What happens after survival?

What if I feel nothing once pain goes away?

Or say the wrong thing?

What if I change nothing at all?

Jane Goodall isn’t condemned

For helping chimpanzees

Instead of elephants

Or Lions Or bears

And if she is?

Fuck those people

And their spicy little finger glares.

Just do your best, it's okay to fail.

There’s always small wins within

That make up the trail

Healing happens when action is in action

So fuck what they say, and fuck their reaction

Action is the recipe for hope.

And Hope is the ignition for ambition.

Something just clicked.

I haven’t sat with myself in a while

I forgot what stillness sounds like

Her and I are on the same page

And shit, she’s actually really nice

I’ve been ignoring her

For no reason

I’ve been zoning inward

Looking for the source to blame

Instead of embracing

The love and truth in my thoughts

In order to spread good

I need to feel good

I need to hear my own voice

I need to make my world smaller.

Consist Of me.

Make my world content

And then share that

With my family

With my friends

With my work

With my community

With my country

With the world

It takes the good ones like me

And like you. And You. And You.

To do one thing.

Not everything.

Just your thing.

Whatever makes

You feel worthwhile

In a world that needs

Sense of worth

You deserve to feel worthwhile.

Not because the world's problems

Are yours alone to fix

It is not your fault.

None of this is our fault.

But that yearn of empathy you feel

Is the universe calling for your goodness

Nature’s bat signal

One ant can move a crumb

But a collective

Can take the whole meal back to share

I put down my phone

And write out my list of to-do’s.

I get a little pep in my step

For the first time in a while.

I take the moment to thank myself

For being kind when I really needed it.

Kindness really is healing to the soul.

I finally understand

You beg to belong

When you don’t accept yourself

And my nature will not be manipulated anymore.

I am surely no Mr.Rogers

But I do own a red cardigan

He once said, it’s easy to say

that’s not my child,

not my community,

not my world,

not my problem.

Then there are those who see the need

and respond.

I consider those people my heroes.”

I accept my place

And carry my crumb

Back to the table

To share with others who

Did the same

What a nourishing meal

A crumb has turned into a feast of cultures

And conversations

That all have goodness at their core

I look around

and reflect of the moments

Of a bulldog trying to get up on a couch

And failing

And a soldier coming home

To his family

And a bully getting a beat down

And wailing

And I remember that good exists in this world

In every laugh

In every moment of love

For someone or something

Other than yourself

For every time that the good guy wins

And the bad guy loses

Are red cardigan capes

As strong as Superman’s.

I pick up the life novel

The one I thought was so boring

When I was just reading it

With the light of hope off

I grab my pen

And write out a new ending

That someone does care

Someone always cares

Consistently.

Hope will never die.

#poetry #poems #spoken word #poet #dear diary

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klbexon · 1 year

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Of Course I Didn't Procrastinate. Really. …Okay, I Did- But You Don't Have To!

So, now you've found the time to get writing, how do you actually...get on with it?

In a society where everything is instant, everything is everywhere, it's tricky to stay focused on one task for long. You can start off with good intentions, but soon find yourself watching videos of cats reacting to cucumbers. We’ve all been there.

Now, the obvious answer is to just put the distractions away, act like a grownup, and do the thing. If it were that simple, no one would ever get distracted from their goal. But in practicality, we need to plan around our inevitable plunge down the rabbit hole.

With that in mind, here are some ways we can be more productive:

First of all, scrap that list of vague, unachievable goals. Smart targets aren't just for work, they can be vital to any area of our lives where we want to achieve something. These are aims which are specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time- bound. Break down your goal- from what you want overall, to what that means for you on the day to day. And be honest with yourself if something is too much.

Block off time that is dedicated specifically to that goal. Maybe you want to make sure you have time to write every day, or perhaps you have a weekly date with your work in progress for editing. Whatever your aim, you will only ensure you regularly have time for it if you make it part of your schedule. For example, when I had no writing schedule, I would get to it whenever the other important stuff was done. But the joke was on me- as an adult, and as a teacher, the important jobs are never done! Once I set aside even just a couple of hours every Thursday and Saturday, I soon noticed that I was spending longer doing the writing that I love; I even found more time to do it on other days. But it was the writing routine which helped make my passion a habit.

This one is a tag on to the previous one, so I shall be brief- pomodoro! In short, the pomodoro technique is one that is used for those who struggle to dedicate time to a task, or cannot stay focused for long chunks, such as those with ADHD. For more information, check out my favourite source for ADHD information on YouTube, How To ADHD: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLkOZhROvA4

Schedule what order your tasks need to go in, not what you want them to go in. This might sound odd, but putting off that one task till last that you really aren't sure you want to do will not be helpful in the long run. Knowing that task is creeping upon you as you go down your to do list will not make you feel good, even as you're checking off each one with a big old tick mark. Instead, try scheduling your least favourite one second. Yes, I know most people will encourage you to get the worst over and done with. But the very idea of beginning tasks at all is at risk when you schedule your worst to- do item at the top. Trick your brain into feeling good with a nice simple task to begin with and then dive right into your worst one while still riding the dopamine hit. You may still feel the task is unenjoyable or difficult, but you know that once you're done, there's nothing but an easier ride from there on in.

Accountability is my last piece of advice. Everyone has the temptation to put off tasks or scrap them altogether when no one is looking. It's why we have managers at work- it is natural human behaviour to want to do as little as possible when we can get away with it. Obviously, this little voice is a problem when the task we need to get done is also one we actually want to achieve. You can't write a blog post if you're pretending that you're too busy choosing the prettiest pen to buy for your writing notebook. And yes, that was my morning procrastination. Clearly, I need to follow my own advice. So the best way to combat that voice is with a stronger one- guilt. Now, I don't want anyone wallowing in buckets of shame over missing a task here and there, but I think we can utilise it to force ourselves to get on with the task at hand. I know that if I promise my husband that I will take out the rubbish before he gets home, nothing makes me run to the trash faster than hearing his car pull up. The same can motivate you in your writing, or indeed any other task that you just can't stay focused upon. Tell someone what you plan to get done that day, and you'll be surprised how much more motivated you are to finish it.

So, there's the list. There are plenty of other things to consider, like staying fuelled, rewarding task completion, and using white noise machines, but I think I've distracted you enough for one day.

Now, go do the thing!

No, seriously. Go do it.

#writing #writer #klbexon #blog post #procrastination

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bloodpenned · 3 years

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*dumps sad caleb content* caleb doesn't often have bad days, but when he does, he thinks. cw: me taking his character more seriously than i probably should (feel free to just keep treating him like a loser nd disregard this stuff HAHA), unhealthy coping mechanisms (implied porn addiction, self harm, dubcon done to him.)

there are plenty of lines on his body. most are on the inside of his thigh, pale and short. a name, in one spot. (can't remember their face.) an insult or three. and... caleb has a heart cut in the middle of his chest, too steady to be done by his own hand. at this point, it's years old. thoughts of 'refreshing' it plague his mind, before he can't make it out amongst the patches of his skin. sometimes, he'll sit down in front of a mirror and stare at it. (it took a few attempts. they were both fumbling, jittering with nerves. the blade didn't draw any blood the first time, just left behind a red line on the skin. they laughed, at a lack of anything better to respond with, and said they'll try again. something to remember them by.) it still aches, he thinks. he doesn't like to think.

no, he much prefer to jump from one dopamine hit to the next. his brain in a haze of familiar pleasures as he gets himself over the edge as soon as he has nothing to distract himself with. boredom is his greatest fear. his eyes are fucked up from sitting in a dark room, staring at a screen for hours and hours and hours. doing everything to escape into a life that was anything except his own. he'll live thousands of lives before he dies, ravenous in the way he devours their emotions, their connections. their love. (include tag: happy ending). it's his own fault he's here. destined to die in a shitty apartment in an even shittier neighbourhood, leeching off of his poor mom to keep from starving to death. at some point, he just... stopped trying.

instead of finding work, he spends time on websites with names that would make most people cringe. sludging through lists, sending messages to anyone who looks like they could give him what he wants. sends ugly pictures. goes over to meet too quickly, spending his savings on a train ticket. caleb's seen plenty. people who don't look like the pictures they sent. buildings so disgusting even he wouldn't dare go inside. the knife to is throat, and nothing more, his stuff stolen. it's not all bad. there's the people who ask can i, is it okay, should i, i'm going to keep going, are you okay and he always nods always always nods, doesn't matter what they're saying.

sometimes, he feels... disgusting. dragging himself through an unfamiliar city wearing dirty clothes in the middle of the night. (could you leave? look, you were great, but i have work in the morning. doesn't even let him use the shower. he spends minutes looking for his shoes and feels terrible the whole time.) his hair smells like smoke, and there's blood underneath his nails. neck covered in marks from teeth and a blade, his nose pounding with every breath. it sounds clogged. maybe it's broken. he looks like someone tried to kill him, and he knows there's a decent chance- he couldn't imagine a more fitting way to go. can he say his boundaries are crossed if he doesn't set any?

he's doing that less and less. instead he bothers the people around him, shoving his reputation further down the gutter. it's less effort. he doesn't have to go out of his way to find people, and he still gets attention. even if it's looks of complete and utter disgust. even if it's threats to get his face split open. he keeps doing it, but every violent response he gets, he's mostly turned on, but in the back of his mind... he's a little disappointed.

what is it he really wants? what is it he really needs? what makes him keep doing this? what is he hoping to find?

his phone vibrates. caleb jolts and practically snatches it off of the bathroom sink, thumb trembling so much that it doesn't unlock. he's happy for an excuse to snap him out of his daze. the screen reads; god, what the fuck is wrong with you? go get a hobby. touch some grass. anything except this.

he smiles. obviously, this is all he wants.

#ofc i have explanations as to why he's Like That hehe #what he wants.#oc.caleb

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avengerscompound · 4 years

Text

The Surrogate - Chapter 11

The Surrogate: A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count: 1868

Rating: E

Warnings: Pregnancy, sex talk

Synopsis: A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people. When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want. Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

Chapter 11

Living with Clint and Natasha was the best worst thing you’d ever done. You loved being around them. They were fun and hilarious and they doted on you. While your morning sickness was kicking your ass, there was always one of them there with a cool compress, rubbing your back. They kept saltines and ginger ale on hand. They made sure you took your anti-nausea medication and your pregnancy vitamins. They were even pulling in favors from friends. Wanda had made up several batches of different soups she used to cook with her mother that you could eat with an upset stomach, and Pepper dropped off a few things that had helped with her when she was pregnant with Morgan.

As your morning sickness eased up at the end of the first trimester, you were hit by a sudden wave of energy. They moved on to doing midnight runs to get that very weirdly specific thing you were craving and offering you foot and back rubs every time you even remotely complained.

That would all be fine - more than fine. It was amazing and they were amazing. Only you couldn’t pretend that you weren’t feeling the way you were feeling about them anymore. You’d fallen head over heels for the both of them. Not to mention that your hormones being all out of whack meant you could go from being horny as hell to in tears in sixty seconds flat. Any time you thought about how you felt about them you were just as likely to want to jump them as to hide and cry about how terrible a person you were for not being able to get those feelings in check.

“Alright,” Clint said, coming in with a stack of different boxes and containers and putting them on the counter. “We have pizza, we have lo mein, we have fried chicken and biscuits, we have chocolate eclairs. Did I forget anything?”

“Whatchamacallit,” you said, sitting forward in the chair.

Clint fished around in the pocket of his coat and pulled out the candy bar. “One ‘Whatchamacallit’,” he said, miming slamming it down on the table.

“Thank you, Clint. You’re the best,” you said and grabbed the container of noodles and the chopsticks.

“You know it,” he said, getting a slice of the pizza.

Natasha came into the room with drinks and took a seat next to you. “Your cravings have been off the charts lately.”

“Yeah, I read they don’t really know why they happen, but I just need all the sugar and salt,” you said.

“I read it had to do with lacking dopamine,” Natasha said.

“I feel that,” Clint said, raising his hand to you. “High five!”

You laughed and looked at his hand. “I’m not high fiving your depression, Clint.”

“Damn it,” Clint said, putting his hand back down. “That’s not gonna help it.”

“You feeling okay though?” Natasha asked. “Feeling down or … you know?”

“Honestly, yeah, I feel good,” you admitted. “I got a huge burst of energy when I stopped getting morning sickness. It’s like I’m running at 110%. I really like living with you guys. The only thing…” You trailed off and shook your head.

“What is it?” Clint asked. “You need a softer mattress? More pillows?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Clint looked at you confused. Like he couldn’t imagine a possible reason why you’d keep a secret from him. It made sense. You didn’t normally keep things from him. There were days when you told him pregnancy stuff in such detail that he asked you to stop sharing.

“You know you can tell us anything, right?” Natasha said. “We’ll do whatever we can for you.”

“That’s the problem,” you mumbled, shoving a huge mouthful of noodles into your mouth.

“What? Is it that we’re smothering you?” Natasha asked, putting her hand on your leg. “You can tell us. I know I’ve been a little overbearing, but I’m still expecting the other shoe to drop.”

“It’s not that. You’ve been fine, I know what your head has been like. It’s nothing… no...I guess it is… you know what...never mind…” you babbled. You got up grabbing the box of noodles. “I’m going to go eat on the roof.”

As you hurried out of the room you noticed Natasha and Clint give each other a look just before you closed the door. You went straight up to the roof of the building. The building that the Avengers lived in was set below most of the others, so the view of the compound was obscured by the large white office building. It was set right on the water, and if you sat looking out at the Huson it was just the river and forest for miles and it was almost like it was just a normal apartment block with amazing views.

You perched on the edge of the building, one hand cradling your small belly while you ate the noodles. You’d only been up there for fifteen minutes when Clint appeared behind you.

“You forgot your ‘Whatchamacallit’,” he said, sitting beside you and putting the candy bar on the ledge between the two of you.

“Thanks, Clint,” you said. “Sorry, I’m being weird. Nat’s not too worried is she?”

“She’s a little worried. But she also gets you might be a little hormonal right now,” Clint said.

“Clint!” You squawked.

He laughed and nudged you gently. “It’s nice up here, huh?” You nodded and he rubbed your back. “I always feel like I see everything better when I’m up here. You know what I mean?” He said. You nodded again and he lowered his hand, resting on it on the edge of the building as he swung his legs over the edge. “The thing is sex, right? You’re super horny? I read that some women get like that when they’re pregnant.”

You whined and nodded. “Yes. It’s like half of what I think of. Then food. Then just everything else.”

“And we’ve had plenty of sex, so you know we’d help you out. So I’m guessing you didn’t tell us, because you’ve caught feelings and you think the sex will just make them stronger?” He asked.

It was annoying how much Clint picked up on. He acted like an idiot, but he never missed a single thing. You nodded and picked up the candy, tearing it open and biting into it, hoping that the chocolate-coated peanut wafers would distract you from the other things you were feeling.

“Are you in love with Nat?” Clint asked. “Cause… I get it. And… I can share.”

You squeezed your eyes closed and shook your head. “It’s both of you.”

Clint started laughing. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Clint,” you said, hoping that the pain wasn’t as evident in your voice as you felt. “I don’t just want something casual. I’m falling in love with you both, and I’m doing this -” you gestured to your stomach “-so you guys can be parents. It’s all complicated and you’re not going to have time to start a new thing. And my hormones are all messed up. The timing is off and … and…”

Clint took your hand and gently squeezed it. “Babe,” he said, gently. “Nat and I have been referring to you as our girlfriend since before you offered to have our baby.”

You looked up at him with your brow furrowed. “You have?”

“Yeah, we have. For a while we thought you felt the same way, but then you started dating and you’d stop sleeping with us,” he explained. “We just… didn’t think you could do the polyamory thing. You’d only ever sleep with us when you weren’t dating anyone else and when you did sleep with us it was always just when you were super desperate and you kept it very casual. So we called you our girlfriend to each other, but like… you were our casual girlfriend. And we knew one day we’d have to lose you. But if you’re saying you want us? We already consider you ours.”

“What about the baby?” You asked.

Clint let out a breath and tapped his fingers on the back of your hand. “I guess there’s a lot to talk about and work out there. ‘Cause if you really want in - properly in and not just the casual side thing that you kinda already have been doing the whole time - then you’re gonna be a mommy too, not just the best aunt a kid could possibly have.” He paused and ruffled his hand through his hair. “But the way I figure, if you do want that, it’s kinda perfect, isn’t it? I mean, there’s three of us. It’s got mine and Nat’s genes and you’re the one carrying it. We’re all connected to the little peanut.”

Your heart has started hammering. It felt like you were sitting on the precipice of something good. But you worried that it was just an illusion and if you plunged in it would be the end of everything.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” You asked.

Clint laughed softly. “Oh, babe,” he said gently. “Literally every day, multiple times a day I ask myself that. I wake up in the morning and think, ‘what if today’s the day Nat realizes what a piece of shit I am, and I lose her’. And I get to work and think, ‘what If today Steve realizes that an archer is a ridiculous thing to have in his superhero team’. Nat will look at me a certain way, or get frustrated with me and I will be sure that’s it. I ruined it. I keep going because so far no one has worked it out I’m a fraud. And she makes me happy. And you make me happy too. So if you want to try and fake it with me. I’d really like that.”

Your heart broke for him and you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his neck. You didn’t know if it was just that you were hormonal and a little over-emotional, but you started crying freely, your tears wetting Clint’s shirt. He wrapped his arms about you and held you steady as you cried against him.

As you started to get control of yourself Clint rubbed your back slowly. “Is that a ‘yes’?” He whispered.

You nodded and he tilted your chin up to look at him. His blue eyes looked down at you in that same soft and loving way he looked at Natasha. Like she hung the stars in the sky just for him. You leaned up, your lips barely parted and he bridged the difference, kissing you deeply but tenderly.

He pulled back slowly and you chased his lips, reluctant to let the kiss end because as soon as it did, everything would be different, and different didn’t always mean better. “You wanna come downstairs and talk to Nat? Maybe eat the rest of that food I brought you?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

He got up and offered you his hand. You stood, taking it and he led you back downstairs to the apartment he shared with Natasha.

// NEXT

#clint barton #natasha romanoff #clint barton x natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x natasha romanoff #clintasha #clintasha x reader #hawkeye #black widow #hawkeye fanfic #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #pregnancy #the surrogate

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sunny-down-snuff-im-alright · 3 years

Text

Journaling Attempt #1 – 8/19/2021

I had all these ideas of things I wanted to say but all I can think about right now is if I should change the format of the date to the more reasonable European way of going Day/Month/Year instead of the Month/Day/Year that I am used to. You know, to make a change. Maybe it will be THE change that I make that finally gets me on tract to being a normal person in the world and everything clicks in to place instead of this disjointed catch all, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants, somehow I manage, way things have been going so far. I watched Bo Burnham’s “Inside” special about two weeks ago and have been listening to the songs again recently. Man did that hit hard. I think like a lot of people right now it really resonated. If you haven’t seen it yet, I wouldn’t say it is ‘funny’ but it’s not not funny too. It is this weird line of being openly raw about one’s mental health – which is both refreshing and scary, and also being painfully self-aware of being open and raw about one’s mental health. The latter of which I can relate to on a cellular level. It is also very inspiring. While I’m not locking myself in a room with a camera and making a special or writing catchy songs, I am writing this. Which is the first time I am really writing anything that wasn’t an assignment or something for work. So, who knows if I am any good at this? (The self-aware portion of my brain pops in as I write that to say “You don’t know if you are any good. This is true. But you think you are good, even though you have never done anything like this before, but you are doing to post this somewhere with the though that it will be seen and impress people who read it which in turn will have them heap praise on you and give your life meaning.” It also says “This gimmick of knowing that you know is a great way of distancing yourself from everything and making yourself feel above it all and comes across as smart, you “I’m 14 years old and so deep” jack ass. You’re 43. Grow up!” And lastly “You just don’t know when you stop?” Rule of 3’s!) Anyway, I’m not completely sure what I am going to do here or what I am looking to accomplish, beside procrastinate while at work because the idea of rifling through the messages on my desk, or in my phone, or in my email, gives me a full-on legit panic attach. And not in some modern “OMG, I’m having a panic attack looking at that line in Starbucks” kind of way. No. Like real tightness in my chest, breathing getting shallow, and sweating through my shirt kind of panic attach. Luckily, I’ve got my trusty pill case here and I’ve taken a piece of a Klonopin that I have at the ready and it seems to be helping some. At least with the panic part. Not with the getting work done part. That’s where the ADHD part of my brain can still run wild and fuck stuff for me. What’s tough about that diagnosis is that in talking with my therapist (one of two that I have. One LCSW and one Psychologist) is in telling her that I’ve always been distractible or in my own head she just simply said “So you have ADHD” which in some respects is freeing because there is a label and now a known way to attack the problem. However, in trying to figure out how to attack it and become more “neuro-typical” as the kids say, is rough as we try to find the right fit. I know that is part of the process. Nothing is going to be perfect right out of the gate. But man, is it fucking hard. I just want to find the right pill to take to make me ‘normal’ so I can live in the world and be a productive and useful member of it. Of course, I know that there is no magic bullet cure-all. It will take finding the right mix of meds and supplementing that with life-style changes. Exercising more and mediating more. Eating better. Change is flippin’ hard though. And to what end? Do I want to be normal? Whatever the hell that means? I’ve always prided myself on being a little bit different. I know, I know. That makes me sound insufferable, which is totally fair and true. What was fun and endearing at 13 doesn’t fly at 40 as the father of two. That said, I have found my way to be the slightly “off” one. The one parent who doesn’t mind putting himself out there for things or be the but of the jokes. People, especially kids, can tell who can take a joke and who can’t. So, I don’t have a problem being the parent whose kids friends circle can call by name in a jokey way or let the girls on the soccer team constantly beat me in races or games. But, does taking that magic pill that I’ve yet to find, is that going to change who I am, and will I lose this more “wackier”, and one might say “passionate”, side? Will become just a regular dull drone in the sea of corporate masses? How do you hold on to the part of yourself that you feel defines you while it also appears to be killing you? Do other people ever feel this way? Does my wife? My siblings? Do you? I’m sure someone reading this just now say “Yup! I totally get what you are saying” to which I respond, “I’m so sorry as this suck, huh?”

Talking with people helps for sure. Seeing you are not alone. But sometimes that is a hard place to get to. How much do I want to share with my wife? I know she loves me and will continue to do so and only wants the best for me. But I don’t want to open this door and unload all my own bullshit on her and now she will be constantly worried about me. Like more than the regular amount of her worrying about me because she loves me. And god forbid I actually go into this kind of detail with my therapists. Because once I do that, that means I officially have all these problems and then I have to do deal with it. So, I continue to keep things surface level. “Yeah, I’ve been depressed lately” and “so this is what is going on with my parents at the moment and how I have to deal with it” and those kinds of things. Which is still helpful. But I’ve been talking to them for years now. Does this mean I need to find new therapists? I’m such a non-confrontational person I don’t even know how to begin thinking about ‘breaking up’ with them if that is the case. And how do I even find someone else? Like most things in my life, I just kind of lucked into these ones and been coasting ever since.

Sorry, about 5 minutes just passed as I sat here frozen at my keyboard thinking about what I just wrote and what else I might want to say and get out of my system right now. Scene:

Brain: Um, dude? What happened? You started off alright and had some amusing bits in there but then when full on confessional. I thought you wanted to be funny and stuff.

Me: I know, I know. I just kind word vomited and went stream of consi…stream of consusious…stream of thought and that’s what came out.

Brain: That’s the joke you are going with? Everyone reading this knows you have spell check; you could have just done that and no one would know or cared.

Me: Yeah, I could have, but A) it gets another joke inside this bigger bit we are doing here now and B) helps endear me a little more as a grown man who has trouble spelling.

Brain: Okay, wow. First of all, I don’t know if it really endears you to the reader or not but calling attention to it doesn’t make sense or help at all. And secondly, you never explain the joke. That ruins the joke. You’ve scene enough documentaries on comedy to know that’s how it works.

Me: But what about being ‘meta’. Commenting on the commenting.

Brain: Yeah, I get what you are going for but at some point, it is just tacky and uncreative.

Me: So, you are saying this is just going to come across as obnoxious and whiney and faux-intellectual?

Brain: Absolutely. You really just need to put on your big boy pants and suck it up, buttercup.

Me: Shit.

…

Me: Want to go look at some porn? Brain: Obvious, exploitive, and immature but sure. Let’s get that dopamine hit. That always helps.

Sponge Bob “Three Hours Later” title card

Me: (with a heavy sigh) I hate myself.

Brain: Me too. But I am feeling a little better so let’s get some actual work done. Me: If you say so.

FIN

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k-writer1998 · 4 years

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Rebel Hours (17/18)

Kwon Jieun always fit her parents’ image of the “perfect” daughter… at least to their knowledge. Away from prying eyes she was like any other girl living life to the fullest doing what she wants. When a little someone named Bang Chan comes into her life priorities are changed, mistakes are made, and her life finally becomes her own.

Fluff

w.c: 1.9k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Yes that was a very big mistake on our part and we have dealt with everything in regards to that. If you want you can file-”

“It’s fine mother. As long as the matter’s been dealt with and I don’t have to interact with him, that’s all I need.”

“You certainly will be staying away from him and we’ve made that very clear to his parents,” father spat.

“Thank you. I understand your reasoning behind your actions so I could never hate you guys. I wanted to apologize for my brazen behavior and hope you knew I would never tarnish your name. I know how much work is put into father’s campaign so I could never ruin it.”

“We know, we’ve seen the articles and felt dumb for ever doubting our daughter. Your mother and I should have had more faith in our parenting skills that we raised an upright daughter.”

“Do you forgive these overbearing parents?” Mother asked.

“Of course I do, you’re still my parents at the end of the day.”

“If it’s any consolation, I mean what I said about him. His intentions were clear so have a little faith, he’ll come around.”

I smiled a genuine smile for the first time in a while at mother’s words. Although a bit awkward, the rest of dinner was actually enjoyable. A proper family dinner was long overdue. When I got home my being felt refreshed and for those fleeting hours my heart didn’t hurt as much, but the night was young. I was still antsy and I continually looked at my phone as if it was on silent when literally the ringer is on when usually it’s on vibrate. Ah it’s been a week hasn’t it? Not talking to him for this long is killing me but then again we aren’t the same. He was patient with me for longer… I know everyone keeps telling me to have faith in his feelings but maybe they’ve faded… Remember what Seunghee said, even if it's losing its effect as the days go by.

Two days passed and still nothing. Instead I get my lovely friends guilt-tripping me into hanging out. I haven’t been the most attentive friend lately so I should at least amuse them a bit, the distraction that comes with it is welcomed anyways. We’re supposed to be meeting at the bridge above Cheonggyecheon stream but when I arrived, no one was there. I ended up five minutes late yet how am I the first one here? I texted the boys with a sigh as I leaned against the bridge railing. A few minutes passed but there were no answers and at ten minutes I rang Hyunjin. I was already upset but now I have to be irritated at my friend’s for standing me up too?

“Hwang Hyunjin if you dare to stand me up when I’m already upset, forget best friend status, this friendship ends today.”

As the call continued to ring I impatiently tapped my foot and started to move around, anxiety pumping from my heart to my feet. I almost made it across the bridge before that brat picked up.

“You have some nerve. It’s been over fifteen minutes, where are you?!”

“Sorry there were some complications.”

“Complications? And none of you could’ve bothered to text and let me know? I-”

The words froze in my throat as my eyes landed on a particular blonde making his way to the bridge. One that I couldn't get out of my head and have been missing for a week to be exact. It seems words weren’t the only thing that froze because it seemed as though my feet stopped working too. For a moment I wanted to go to him but the last time we spoke he was on the fence about the relationship. If breaking up was what he wanted to do, I won’t hear it. I can’t lose him and right now I just can’t face him either so I turned and went back across the bridge, slowly trying to blend into the crowd.

“Hello? Jieun are you still there?”

“I’m not waiting anymore. I’m leaving. The next time I see you guys you’re dead, tell Seungmin he better not come home today. He’s first,” I spat dryly.

Someone called my name but as I looked at my phone it definitely wasn’t Hyunjin, I had already hung up. Every fiber of my being wanted to stop at the sound of his voice, but I allowed my brain to override my heart. I broke into a brisk walk but this wouldn’t be enough if he really tried to chase after me. The moment my brain thought to make a run for it, the familiar electricity of his touch wrapped around my forearm and sent a shiver down my spine. I dared not turn around.

“Jieun…”

“Chan…”

“I’ve been meaning to text you.”

“It’s okay, I know you’ve had a lot on your mind.”

“Can we talk?”

“Uhm… I’m meeting with my friends soon.”

The whole time I kept my back turned to him, a desperate attempt at holding it together while my mind ran a mile a minute. A battle of trying to convince myself that he isn’t trying to break up while also trying to pay attention to what he was actually saying.

“They don’t seem to be here yet so could you give me your time until then?”

“... okay.”

Damn it, I hate how I can’t say no to him. He gently pulled me along to sit on the steps near the stream, not letting go as if I would run if he did and honestly maybe I would’ve. Silence passed between us and we couldn’t look at each other. There was an anxious tremble to his hand so gingerly I placed my free hand on his hand that was still wrapped around my arm.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I truly have been meaning to text you but I wasn’t sure how you were because we left things pretty badly the last time we spoke. I was a bit harsh…”

“I did say to take all the time that you need, plus I get how weird it is to reach out again after something like that… I did it once before too, remember?”

I was surprised at how calm I sounded right now even though my heart was practically in my throat.

“Before I say anything, why were you so willing to give up your parents for our relationship?”

“Between you and them, I choose you. They’re my parents and they’d get over it eventually, I left a flash drive where I was honest with everything so the ball was in their court. You on the other hand… losing you means losing the spark I didn’t think I had and that’s the scariest thing to me,” I responded honestly, my eyes softening as my feelings swell in my chest.

“I’m going to be transparent with you,” he started. His hand moved from my wrist to holding my hand before he continued, “I didn’t want to be selfish knowing that you may lose some of the most important people in your life. That shouldn’t be a choice you have to make…”

“But?” I urged before the suspense of the pause wreaked havoc on my anxiety.

“I still stand by my morals and find it wrong for me to stay with you-”

I shot up from my seat and the words started spewing from my lips. I will fight for my happiness even if apparently I have to fight the boy myself.

“No, I won’t let you break up with me so easily. You promised to have my back so you can’t leave me, you said I was worth the danger.”

“And you are, you’re just jumping to conclusions and can’t read the atmosphere apparently. Now let me finish,” he chuckled.

I sat back down again as I realized that his hand was still wrapped around mine and he hadn't let go, not even for a moment. He agreed with my words so this is good right?

“I tried to stay away and prove to myself this was the right decision before contacting you but my heart didn’t let me. God there were so many times I’ve subconsciously ended up in the places we’ve been together because you’re the only thing on my mind. The night market, the arcade, the park. You can say it was that invisible force you talked about. We’ll figure out how to coax your parents together but you’re too precious to me, I guess that happens when you’re in love.”

Everything didn’t register at once. First the tension left my shoulders as I realized that he had been missing me as much as I missed him. Second, we weren’t breaking up and at that realization I threw my arms over him in glee. I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck, a place I never thought would feel so much like home, before the final thing hit me.

“Love?”

I asked as I pulled back and scanned his face in shock. The more my eyes traveled his face the more his ears turned red as he let out a soft chuckle.

“Yes, love. You don’t have to say it back but I just know in myself that I love you.”

“I don’t, but I will because I love you too.”

The rush of dopamine I felt was like none other and in that moment we crashed our lips together. When we pulled away all the emotions and anxieties washed over me. I couldn’t help but laugh at my state because I couldn’t stop smiling even as tears streamed from my eyes.

“Hey hey we just fixed things, why are you crying?” Chan chuckled, wiping my tears.

"I just- these are happy tears I swear,” I laugh before remembering, "and we won't have to worry about my parents, they came around! They met you to find out if you're good for me and-"

Chan let out a relieved sigh as he pulled me into his arms. I couldn't help but laugh at how much of a mess I probably looked right now. Once we pulled away his phone buzzed and it was like he just realized something as he answered, giving me an apologetic smile.

"Hey… mhmm… actually I think I'm gonna have to rain check on you guys. I'll tell you guys later. Yeah sorry see ya bro."

"Who was that? Why did you cancel your plans? Remember I had plans too."

"It was just Felix, they were trying to get me to go out again but I’ve seen enough of them. Plus you said "had" so I assume they're no longer in the picture," he said, giving me a goofy grin.

"Well I was supposed to meet the boys to stop my moping too but they were late. Then I panicked when I saw you so I cancelled," I sheepishly responded.

Wait a minute. Both our friends planned to meet us to get us out of moping at the same place at the same time? This feels a little suspicious.

"Cancelled is cancelled. Is it wrong that I wanna spend time with my girl whom I've missed?"

"Ugh you're such a sweet talker. You know even without the pet names I can't say no to you?"

"The pet names make it fun though," he winks and I roll my eyes with a laugh.

Chan gets up and pulls me to my feet as we start walking off, talking about things we could do. When we got close to the stairs leading back to the bridge, I heard excited shouting behind us. My instincts told me to turn and why was I not surprised?

#stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #rebel hours #my writing

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reflectionsforalostsoul · 4 years

Text

One

I don’t know what to say. What do you say when you feel like the world is ending? There are a million ways that life feels over. The pandemic. Climate change. Pollution. Lack of resources. Misinformation. Lack of values. Lack of morals. The list could stretch on.

I am not a scientist. I am just someone who started their existential crisis a few years ago, who now suspects that many others are caught up in their own crisis as well. How did I get there? That isn’t something I am ready to talk about, but I can tell you that I think it started for me the way it would start for most people. I lost my faith in humanity.

I had always been an optimist. Someone who always had hope for the future. I saw the good in people, but then again, don’t we all at some point? Yet life experience slowly erodes that youthful naivety that some of us are naturally imbibed with, and perhaps it was only a matter of time before that slipped away. It was like I had been stumbling around for years in some kind of haze that I can only liken to drug induced euphoria. And then they pulled out the rug and I was on my ass sober.

My perception grew sharper, and I tried to tune things out the way I had before but found myself unable to. I was noticing the people around me in ways I never had before.

Social media made me sick as I scrolled through my feed. Everyone carefully wording the things they shared to cast them in a positive light. The desperation for attention… Sharing countless memes to let the world know, Yeah, I’m funny. I’m a catch. You should know this. Everyone needs to make it known that they say what’s on their mind, consequences be damned. I mean, maybe they are blocking dear old Grandma from their stories, but everyone else is going to know exactly why you have a problem.

Maybe I am explaining it wrong. Let me just tell you exactly what I think.

People complain about the pandemic’s effect on mental health. Everyone feels cut off. Disconnected. But I’ve been feeling that way all along. I think people have been unaware of the great disconnection we are all experiencing and are just now realizing when confronted with social distancing alone we are all feeling.

Maybe it is just me. Maybe it is just my age. My Mother told me one day I would have a family and disappear into it. She said when you have kids that slowly life becomes more about them than anything else, and friendships fall by the wayside. This was told to me when I asked her why her friends didn’t visit anymore. I didn’t believe her. I was just a child and there was nothing more important to me than my friendships. The thought that my best friends wouldn’t always be a part of my life was ludicrous. I vowed to prove her wrong. That would not be my life.

My Mother had a funny way of doing that. I always knew she was an intelligent woman, but there were so many pearls like this that she shared with me throughout my childhood that would make me react in disbelief. So many times she was right, and now it’s too late to say it to her… But let me digress.

That’s not my life, you might say. My friends still come around. They still call. We have a great relationship! I am happy for you then. But I am not talking to you. I am talking to those people who are curating their online profiles with a fine tooth comb in an attempt to get recognition. Bad self esteem is easier to handle when you get positive reacts to a selfie. Anxieties about parenthood are easier to handle when you share an inspirational quote about how you need your children more than they need you. Your marriage isn’t so toxic when people are fawning over pictures of your special anniversary dinner together and saying things like, “You guys are so lucky,” or, “Look how happy they are!” Maybe things aren’t as bad as you think they are. Everyone else sees how happy you two are together. As a matter of fact, people constantly say how happy your entire family looks. Maybe you are focusing on the negative too much. You’ve gotta work on that. You have to be less negative. So, you share some more inspirational bullshit to your friends and family online. You take lots of selfies and caption them that you are loving your life or that you are #blessed.

It makes you feel a bit better. The tightness in your chest lessens a bit when your friends and family hit that like button. They wish they had your life. You are lucky. You are grateful.

I feel bad for the children though.

They will never experience what life was like before. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Every old person says this. Things were better in my day. It is almost a cliche. Unfortunately most people tend to view the past through a nostalgia filter. My Mom didn’t do that. She constantly told my siblings and I how lucky we were to be around for such a wonderful period of human history. She marveled at video games and happily played them with us. She was jealous of us getting to experience what she called the Golden Era of Disney. She made sure we appreciated the time we were alive in. I am aware of my children’s luckiness too. They have a world of information at their fingertips. Pictures and videos can happen at the touch of a phone screen ready to preserve all those precious memories. That’s nice. It really is. I would have died for a video camera in my childhood. Plus, they are living through meme culture. Such hilarity. So many funny vloggers. So many silly trends… What a time to be alive!

My kids do not ride the school bus though. They are considered car riders. The week they are with me I drop them off at school and the week they spend with their Dad his Mother drops them off. My kids get sad about this sometimes. The thought of riding the bus with their friends seemed like an adventure. They had heard funny stories from friends and even from their family. They wanted to experience it. So, I made it happen.

Those young bright eyes were wide with excitement as they waited for the school bus. They had had to get up way earlier that morning since a bus route takes much longer than me driving them directly, but they didn’t mind. They were hopeful. Their morning held so many possibilities. Their joy at the novelty of it all made my chest swell with happiness. It lessened my nervousness about it. Yes, bus rides could be fun, but there is always potential for harassment or bullying. That morning I pushed my anxiety aside and focused on the moment, tried to live in it with them. We laughed as we said goodbye that morning. I could feel the excitement. For a moment I was transported back to my own childhood and that flood of adrenaline on the first day of school. I couldn’t wait for them to come home and tell me all about it.

That afternoon I picked them up from school. There wasn’t enough time for them to ride in the afternoon, not with homework and dinner prep. So, I waited in the car rider line at the school drumming my fingers on the steering wheel in anticipation. I kind of expected happy little hops towards my car when they came out the door, but when I saw them it was a bit more reserved. They looked sleepy and ready to put their long day behind them. I was kind of surprised, but it happens like that sometimes. School can be exhausting.

Immediately they relaxed when getting in the car, sinking down with exhaustion. I turned on the music and we drove. They said they were tired from getting up so early. I had forgotten about that. So, I asked the question I had been waiting all day to ask, “Well?”

They both gave me a shrug. I was confused. I expected to hear stories of them chatting with friends. Not the disinterested attitude they were displaying. It took the whole ride home to figure it out. Apparently they didn’t do much talking with their friends because everyone has a cell phone nowadays and there were sixty little faces glued to their phone screens the entire time. My children were feeling disappointment but also jealousy. They wanted phones too and didn’t understand why they weren’t allowed to have one yet. This wasn’t how I had expected the day to go. I sensed opportunity in that moment. Those pearls of wisdom my Mother gave me in my childhood? I was determined to do the same. Our car rides were where we had our most serious conversations because there are no distractions to the kids. It is one of the only times I have their undivided attention, so I spoke.

“Babies? I am really sorry for how the bus ride turned out. It wasn’t what you were expecting, and I know that you’re feeling frustrated, but this just shows why you don’t need a phone yet. You’ve just seen it yourselves.” My son looked angry at my words. He has been asking for a phone for several years and I sometimes wonder if he feels embarrassment at not having one like all of his other friends. I continued before I could be interrupted and lose my train of thought.

“My childhood has lots of happy memories. When I am sad sometimes I think back to other happy times in my life and it helps me to get through the day. I have so many memories with friends and family that I treasure-”

“But if I had a phone I could record those memories,” my daughter interrupted angrily from the back seat.

“You are missing my point, let me finish,” I admonished her. “Lots of people are missing out on good times and fun because of their phones. You all don’t see it that way but it’s the truth. People get addicted to their phones, and not just children. Adults are addicted too. They miss out on everything happening around them. When I go to visit Grandma I always feel frustrated because she isn’t paying any attention to me, her face is buried in her phone. Apps that you would use are MADE to be addictive. There are studies about this. You get a rush of dopamine, your happiness chemical, when you get things like reacts from your friends. People are becoming so dependent on it that they are creating any true happiness in their lives. They are slaves to their phones. It isn’t just social media, phone games are made the same way. They pay people big bucks to manufacture games in a way that leaves you coming back for more, over and over. It is how they make money. People pay to speed up the reward systems in these games, and it is like being manipulated.”

“I wouldn’t get addicted,” my son muttered angrily beside me.

“That’s what everyone thinks, but it happens slowly. You know how we do family dinner? Do you ever see me on my phone?”

“No,” they replied in unison.

“Exactly. I think it is the pinnacle of rude behavior to sit down to dinner and ignore everyone around you because you are playing on your phone. That isn’t how you create good memories. When you have a bad time you think back on the good times, right?”

“Yeah,” replied my son.

“And those good times involve your friends and family, right?”

“Yeah.”

“When you are going through something hard you are going to look back on times where you felt joy, or when you shared laughs with your friends over something funny that happened. You will never think back to hours spent on a video game, especially a phone game.”

“But I have had fun playing online with my friends! You’re wrong,” my son quickly pointed out.

“Yes, I can see some good memories happening in those instances, but for the most part you are playing alone. Those good times are few and far between. You might have had a laugh over something happening on the game, but how long will you hold that memory dear?”

What I should have said before we arrived home, and maybe it didn’t occur to me to say at the time, I love looking back on experiences with people where we had deep conversations. Where we were discussing important things. Where our young minds were filled with the wonder of infinite possibilities. Do I hear my children having conversations like that? I do not. There is hardly any depth. Before you say that this is me being old and being disconnected from the youth, let me say that I am not the only one who had deep conversations with their friends in childhood. You cannot say that you never pondered the meaning of life and what your role in it was.

Are children not having as many of these conversations because we are not teaching them that skill? Or are they more guarded because there are so many more ways to experience bullying these days? Do they feel unsafe to open up? I know that I am making mistakes as a parent myself. My son told me that he wanted to be a famous youtuber one day, and I couldn’t stop myself from showing that I was unimpressed with his aspiration. I asked my son why he no longer wanted to be a writer and said matter of factly that it was a terrible idea. I shut a door between us before it had even fully opened. I didn’t mean to, and have apologized, but I know that I will never get it back. How can he open up to me when I disregarded something so important to him? I didn’t mean to do it, and I regret it.

It wasn’t just the job itself though, it was my motherly instincts.

My children have not had to deal with online abuse yet. They have never been bullied in that way. They simply cannot fathom how nasty people can be when cloaked in anonymity. How many online influencers have killed themselves in the past year? Several that I have read about.

Eventually my son did ask why I had a problem with it, and I finally got to explain a little. I mentioned the nastiness of online comments, the suicides, and the depression that these people struggle with. My son assured me that he could just ignore nasty comments. I’m not so sure.

My son is definitely funny. He talks to himself while playing video games frequently and I can hear him from the other room. I am constantly chuckling at his antics and sound effects. Do I think people could appreciate his videos? Definitely. I love his commentary. Do I think people will be jerks to him anyway? Yep. That’s what people do. It is their outlet for their hate and rage in life. People take it out on others online, because when you act like a jerk online there are rarely any lasting consequences. Maybe a temporary ban or mute, but then these online bullies very often have multiple accounts so that they can continue their bad behavior unimpeded.

I try to reflect on my motives often. I find myself wondering about others motives all of the time, so I try to scrutinize myself in the same way. Because another big problem that I notice in life is that people are not searching for introspection and very often do not understand their own motivations. People lie to themselves constantly, and if there is one thing I am sure of it is this, if you cannot trust yourself, how can you trust anybody?

Am I being a terrible parent at this moment? I definitely feel I screwed up in my response to his aspiration that he shared with me. Is this me being overprotective and stopping him from pursuing his passions? How much damage have I done by my initial response? I want my child to feel he can talk to me, and I just made a common parent blunder. Every generation of children feels that parents just don’t understand. I want to do better.

Fame is fleeting and leaves you under the microscope of public scrutiny. I would never want that for myself, and cannot imagine my son dealing with those pressures. Way too much importance is placed upon external validation. Yes, it’s nice to have but I think it is much better to validate yourself. Don’t get me wrong, my Mother validated me constantly. She made me feel so intelligent, so witty, and so wise. I think she was the greatest for this, but it is necessary to validate one’s self as well. When you are dependent entirely on other people’s praise and all of your self worth comes from the attention of others you are destroying your own resilience. Sure, people preach self love constantly these days, but I don’t see it working too well in most cases. People are bashed for being prideful, or maybe they were prideful about the wrong things. Why are you so focused on loving yourself at any weight? Don’t you know that skinny shaming is a thing? Don’t you know that your outside is irrelevant? What matters is on the inside! Insert eyeroll. These aren’t my thoughts, but just an example. Everyone has an opinion and the internet gives them a place to share it. There will always be someone who is critical of your view. Preach self love all you want, but it is still so hard to come by.

Have I helped equip my children with resilience or self love? They seem to struggle with it. Have I praised them enough? Do I feel that they are mentally strong? Not as strong as I would like, but I fear the ways they could attain mental strength. I have experienced a lot of rough times in my life. I have overcome adversity. I have been at the bottom and drug myself back to the top. Is that the only way to build mental strength or resilience? Through pain? Everyone struggles in life. Will my children’s struggles help them to grow to be strong people or will it leave them a broken person constantly questioning their own validity?

No one knows the future. How do we know that our methods are right? We can only proceed based on our own life experiences and knowledge. It is so terrifying not to know what the future holds. What seemingly inconsequential things did you say or do that will reverberate through your child’s life and affect them in ways you cannot begin to imagine? Hindsight is easy. Staring into the unknown future is much harder. It is incredibly difficult to face. Every single person is capable of causing untold amounts of ripples that expand into society and spread throughout the word.

Do you ever think about your own ripples?

Some people are aware of it and try to send out good ones. They try to pay it forward whenever conceivable. Maybe they pay for the person behind them’s meal in line at a drive through restaurant. Maybe they bring donuts for their coworkers. Maybe they stop and help people alongside the road who need help changing a tire. There is plenty of good still in this world. It isn’t all bad. But are we as a society focusing enough on the bad ripples? The bad energy we are sending out into the world?

So few seem to care these days. Humanity as a whole is selfish. It isn’t your fault, that is our nature. It is how we survive. But deep down how many times have you made an exception for yourself because you are special, you are you? The pandemic has really opened my eyes to people’s inherent selfishness. How dare you try to inconvenience me by requiring me to wear a face mask? I don’t care that it is mandated, and that you are simply doing your job, I am going to harass and abuse you! You may not be in support of wearing a mask on a personal level, but I don’t care about that. I am not going to live my life in fear like all of you sheeple. So, be prepared, I will hit you. I will spit on you. I will shoot you. Seems dramatic, right? But this has happened over and over again in this past year.

I want to ask where is the humanity, but I am beginning to fear that this IS humanity.

So often I struggle with wondering, is humanity worth saving? If this is the end-times do we deserve another chance? What makes us redeemable? The only answer that I can come up with is love. We are redeemable because of love. Maybe you have a better answer than me. Love is the only thing that I can come up with at this moment, and even that is hard to hold on to. I feel myself spiral and losing faith in humanity on a daily basis almost, and I have to make a conscious effort to remember the good things. Those loving moments that we are capable of.

The animals that we rescue. The children that we pray for. The couples who still love each other after many trials or years. The art inspired by it, or the music. Love is a universal feeling. It can unite us, though we face the ever present danger of hate dividing us. I am so past hating stuff. I can tell you that I intensely dislike our former president, but do I wish his death like I have seen others do? I do not. I think we have a world full of damaged people searching for meaning, and there is no manual. We are all trying our best and are making decisions based on our own life experiences. What is right to you is wrong to someone else. It doesn’t mean anyone is wrong. It is just perspective. There is no other way to view it that I am aware of. We all have different perspectives, our own personal narratives of events. That is just what humanity does. We are not a collective consciousness. So many people try to make things black and white, when really there are nothing but varying shades of grey. Had I lived your life and been through the things you have been through I might feel very differently. This is just my opinion on the matter, based upon my own life experiences. I don’t hate you for feeling differently than me. I just get sad sometimes that we struggle to find common ground. I want us to succeed. I want humanity to persevere.

How do I explain everything that is on my mind lately without making you feel it is endless rambling? I know this started with a list of things that make it feel like the world is ending, and I could go on forever. Do I drone on and on, or should I find some semblance of structure? I do not mean to be a bore, but there is so much to address. Is this a diary? Is this to my children? I am unsure. Maybe it is just for me. Maybe I just need to find the words that can make a difference. I don’t know about you but for quite a while now I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that time is running out and there is something I must do. I hope that by trying to organize my thoughts I can figure out what it is.

#existential despair #diary #what does it all mean #is this the end?#unfiltered #not trying to start anything #deep conversations #disconnected #firsttimetumblr

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fight-surrender · 5 years

Text

The 5 Stages of Wayward Son

Word Count: 1283

This has been knocking around in my brain since September 24th, but others came along and shared their feelings and thoughts about this book far more eloquently and succinctly than I could. Plus it just hurt too fucking much to think about. I think I even have a draft somewhere on the topic that I started and stopped when this was all fresh.

But then Rainbow Rowell twisted the knife yesterday with her annotated playlist blog post. I started to read it but had to stop. My more emotionally mature fandom friends read it and messaged me weeping.

I know my tears are there, I can feel them under the surface. But through a confluence of life events and experiences, I’ve gotten really fucking good at locking them up. My therapist noted that they’re beyond locked up, I disassociate from my emotions completely. I’m working on it, slowly some feelings are percolating up. When Simon kissed Baz in Carry On, it was like an electric shock to me. I felt joy for the first time in years. That book made me so fucking happy. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why, but I joined up with this fandom, started writing fic, made some of the most incredible friends of my life and counted down to Wayward Son.

Shock, Denial, Isolation- when I googled the stages of grief, stage one was a hodgepodge of these. My heart stopped when I read “when I break up with Baz” in chapter 2 of WS. This was my worst nightmare, the thing I thought Rainbow would never actually do to us. I mean, she teased it, but I just thought…I almost put the book down. But I pressed on, convincing myself it will get better. I dug out an ancient emergency cigarette around chapter 11. My brain on repeat: “it will get better; they will be ok” like a drumbeat. I was home alone, sitting in my leather club chair with my pets when I finished the book. I’m not sure I’ll forget that spot, that moment. Good God will it be emblazoned into my psyche like 9/11? But at that moment, I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me and I was flat on my face in the dirt. Pure shock. All I could do was ugly cry in my bed while my pets looked on with concern. I isolated. I drank whiskey and ate cheese. I felt pretty insane— still do to be honest. Traumatized from a book? A work of fiction?

I’ve been thinking about it nearly constantly since then. Because I’m disturbed. Ask anyone. I know Rainbow has said that this is a very Baz-centric book, but for me it was all Simon. I needed Simon to be ok. I needed to know that you can go through trauma, where you lose everything you thought you were and that you can recover from that and be loved for what it made you. What you became. Simon’s trauma was my trauma. His worthlessness was my worthlessness. But this was fiction, this is where I get to escape from my humdrums and go to a world where at least someone gets a happy ending.

That’s what fiction is. An escape from reality. I get it, Rainbow, that’s not real life. Wayward Son is supposed to be like real life, but that’s not what I wanted, it’s not what I needed.

Instead, I got what I already have. Sinking dread. Uncertainty. Self-doubt. I wanted to rage, numb, distract. Anything to avoid looking down the barrel of my own sense of worthlessness and what got me there. In WS, Simon Snow gives voice to the troubled whispers of my own brain. Carry On used to be my emotional support book. Whenever I was anxious or sad, it was like a drug. “And then he kissed me,” “because we match,” were like dopamine hits. Now it feels hollow. It feels like a lie.

This was obviously a case where my expectations were about a billion percent wrong. I was hoping for angst with a happy ending. I got angst with an uncertain ending. In hindsight, I kinda think I would have been ok if I knew ahead of time that it was a middle book. It wouldn’t have been such a shock. But here we are.

I’m legit afraid of Anywhere the Wind Blows. At this point I think Rainbow is capable of anything. I know she maintains that she loves Simon and Baz as much as we do. But does she love them together or apart? Maybe she decides they should just be friends. Maybe somebody dies. I mean, Elanor didn’t get Park. Rainbow said that she’s writing an epic love story: isn’t Romeo and Juliet an epic love story? I simply don’t know if my heart can take it.

I need to take a moment here. This whole piece is a moment—I actually have the house to myself—which is rare—because that’s where I have usually been: alone. I usually face my traumas and falls alone. I’ve been through some shit that would make your skin crawl. I’ve coped and muddled through by myself because I’ve never had any support. Simon has Penelope and Baz—I never had anyone, mostly due to my own habit of isolating and numbing. Until now. This fandom, the friends I’ve made. I don’t know where I would have gone, where I would be without them. I thank them from the bottom of my heart. I love them with my whole heart. Every chamber. (particularly “the moms group”, @penpanoply @vkelleyart and @carryonsimoncarryonbaz )

That’s the crux of it isn’t it? Simon has Baz. He has someone who loves him despite everything that’s happened to him, who loves him on purpose. He has Baz, his soulmate. He has Penny, his dread companion. If he can’t be ok, what hope is there for me?

So anyway, back to the stages of grief, I am currently stuck at stage 2- anger and stage 4- depression. I don’t think there’s any room for stage 3- bargaining. I mean, I’d sell my soul for Simon and Baz to live happily ever after as a couple, but Rainbow has made it abundantly clear that she’s a contrarian and will gleefully do the opposite of what readers wish. I just learned that the hard way with WS. So bargaining is out of the question. In the meantime, I’ll just read fanfiction of them being a happy couple.

I put WS in the place inside me where I put the things that hurt too much: the difficult euthanasias at my job as a veterinarian, when my dog died last year, when my marriage exploded six years ago (I’ve put it back together), a lifetime of miscellaneous hurts and traumas. I need to take these things out of their hiding place. @adamarks said it beautifully in their fic, Oh, Hello, I need to scrub out the inside of my heart with tears and elbow grease and anger and work. I want to put myself back together piece by piece until I resemble something presentable. So eventually I can get to stage 5-acceptance (and hope, but that’s scary as fuck).

I sure hope you haven’t read to this point, because this is all just me working through my feelings about this book and it’s probably mind-numbingly boring. If you did, I hope you found at least a shred of something relatable. If not, I apologize for the wasted time. I promise to go back to my regularly scheduled programming after this. I just needed to shit this log out of my brain so I can move on.

I love you all.

Viv

#wayward son #word vomit #probably delete later #simon snow #baz pitch #do I really want to tag this?#carry on #don't read this #i implore you #it's just me rambling about ws related trauma #ws spoilers #i guess #mostly just feelings not plot #ugh

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ichirostitties · 5 years

Note

welcome!! can i please get some uhhhhh pining/confession hcs for ichiro, doppo, and dice? 👀

HEY GUYS IT’S BEEN A HOT MINUTE i should be able to update more frequently now!! work b like kickin my ass + i’ve been replying for uni so uwu owo i’m back now alSO oh..THIS RQ WAS LIKE MADE FOR ME!! they’re all good dudes ughh dw i’ll send them all the love

Ichiro

-oh this poor kid. he has no clue what to do, it sort of hit him out of nowhere one day; that he realised he really REALLY liked you, like a lot!! more than a friend (i think ichiro is the type of person who would only really fall for someone he considers a friend first, so u gotta be his friend before u can suck his dick ok)

-he can’t stop thinking about you, especially when he’s reading those light novels of his. he can’t help picturing the two of you in the same situations as the main love interests and he keeps!! blushing and having to stop reading because it makes his heart so soft but he’s so embarrassed

-every time he sees you he can feel his heart sort of..squeeze or ache in some way, he finds it hard to hold back his feelings because he’s usually so honest and affectionate but he really doesn’t want to ruin your friendship.

-jiro and saburo notice he’s been acting differently recently, he’s been a little more easily distracted and he seems especially jumpy when you come around…honestly they can probably tell what’s up, i think they’d try to get you two alone but they simultaneously facepalm when ichiro still says nothing and just keeps staring at you when you’re not looking (sometimes you notice but you don’t think much of it)

-he would probably imagine some different romantic confession scenario each night. before he goes to sleep he lies there and he imagines various (impossible) ways his confession to you would go. it’s all really cliche but he’s having the time of his life before he goes to sleep and probably dreams about it too

-bruh ichiro is so whipped like.,he’d drop anything to help you if you needed it. he’s such a sweetie and even you notice he’s been doing more to help than usual lately. please remind him to take care of himself, i feel like he needs someone to do that for him sometimes

-it takes time, a lot of longing glances at you and he probably even sighs wistfully while reading manga, but eventually he’ll gather up the courage to tell you how he feels. he’s planned some impossibly elaborate scenario, but one day when you guys are just hanging out on one of his days off playing video games or something (GOD I WISH THAT WERE ME…THIS BITCH Y/N IS OUT HERE LIVING THEIR BEST LIFE) he just sorta..lets it slip that he really likes you.

-he would definitely only ever say it in person. he thinks that doing it via message/text is sort of an easy way out and what sort of person would he be if he did that?? he’s gotta gather up the courage just like his favourite main characters have done so many times!!

-so he’d tell you, and if you accept him he’d be SO HAPPY i think he’d almost cry. he’d give you the biggest, softest hug ever and you’d probably have to tell him to stop squeezing so hard but!!! aah!! he’s so so happy that you return his feelings and he doesn’t even care that you guys technically wasted time with all the moments he couldn’t bring himself to say anything

-and as a zombie kills him in minecraft in the background, ichiro can feel that ache in his chest finally subside as he leans in to give you a big ol smooch right on the lips (mwah ily too ichiro)

Daisu

-ok. this one made me a little emo ngl

-when dice finds out he has feelings for you, he really doesn’t know what else to do. there’s evidence that he actually doesn’t think that highly of himself (..im lookin at you hypmic manga + stella lyric video), so he would probably be content to be around you in any way, even if it isn’t romantic, because he’s just so happy and kind of astounded you want to be around him as much as you do at all

-he isn’t very obviously like this, though, it’s just thoughts he has sometimes so you don’t notice anything, but they’re still there. he doesn’t think you’d want to date someone like him, after all, he’s a bit of a screw-up, right?(NO HE ISNT..DICE IS BABEY) he’s only 20, and yet he’s already made so many bad decisions…

-and he finds himself enjoying your company even more than usual, he really does love you so much and he isn’t used to feeling this way! his chest hurts when he thinks about you, and he just sees your hand and wants to hoLD IT SO BADLY but he can’t bring himself to say anything

-he’s always been a little clingy towards people who are kind to him, but you notice he’s been like that even more than usual. he doesn’t even beg money from you like usual, he’s just…there, a lot. not that you mind, in fact you welcome his company, you just notice that difference

-he stays with you a lot, and you guys still have just as much fun together as you always did! he’s great to be around, he’s really lighthearted even if he gets riled up easily, and maybe you start to notice this light, fluttery feeling when he’s around too..but you brush it off as just general enjoyment of his presence

-it’s one day, after he’s had a particular lucky streak down at the slot machines, that he feels that wave of dopamine hit and just rushes to your place, excited at all his winnings, and accidentally-on-purpose (he’s aware of what he’s doing, he just can’t really control his mouth lol) tells you how he feels in a big rush of excitement (probably like “AND I THINK I WON CAUSE I’VE BEEN AROUND YOU A LOT!! YOU’RE LIKE MY LUCKY CHARM!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH Y/N!!”

-you’re like “uhh..ok what?? bruh moment” as he keeps going, then he realises what he said and COMPLETELY STOPS, he’s speechless for a good few seconds, before he turns pretty red and starts pacing around the room ranting about how it wasn’t supposed to go like that!!! he wasn’t supposed to say anything because there’s no way you’d wanna be with someone like him!!

-and then you go over to him to calm him down, take his hand in yours and assure him that actually, you do want to be with him. you tell him you’ve liked him for a while now too, but you’d only figured it out recently, and he’s just so shocked that his brain stops working for a moment and he looks like “…” but as a person

-and then he gets the biggest, cheesiest dice-grin on his face and gives you a BIG BIG BONE-CRUSHING HUG, spins you around, and says he loves you over and over while you laugh and cry simultaneously because you think he’s about to snap your spine

-after that’s over, you tell him that he shouldn’t think of himself as trash or anything; sure he’s like the definition of bad decisions, but you don’t care because he’s an honest, kind person whose company you genuinely enjoy, and even if he gambled all his clothes and everything else he owns away, you’d still wanna be with him because you feel the same, you love him

-he’s so happy! he feels luckier than he ever has in his entire life, his day has gone so well and he has the best sleep (by your side, ofc) he’s had in a long time

Doppo

-a nervous wreck..you think he’s bad normally?? he’s 100 times worse now that he’s realised he likes you in a romantic way

-he’s REALLY OBVIOUS!! poor man :^( he stutters while he’s talking to you (more than usual), he blushes BRIGHT RED when asking you anything, he’s fidgeting SO MUCH like his hands are shaking (knees weak palms sweaty mom’s spaghetti), and sometimes he can’t even bring himself to greet you when he sees you because he’s just too afraid of screwing up and making you hate him (as if you could ever..doppo is amazing)

-everyone within a mile radius can tell how he feels. hifumi almost tells you himself before doppo smacks him straight across the face and tells him to shut the hell his mouth before apologizing profusely to you and dragging mr hifoomi away for a severe talking to about Social Boundaries (then apologizes for giving him the smack and pats him on the head. i love their friendship)

-he’d go out of his way to see you at least once a day, even if he can’t always bring himself to talk to you and even if it means he gets home a little later than usual. he feels horribly creepy just watching you, but his heart is fluttering so much and his chest is aching so badly he can’t do much more than that, no matter how much he wants to go over to you

-he will NEVER confess purposely. his self esteem is so cripplingly low he’s convinced you don’t even like him that much anyway, let alone return his feelings, and he thinks him confessing would just make you despise him, so he never says anything and just remains stuck in this horrible loop

-one day, however, he’s had the shittiest day in a while (at least, it stands out compared to others), and you invite him over for dinner (it’s been a while, after all!). he thinks, why not? how could this day get any worse? at least he’ll get to see you, even if he makes a big fool of himself and you end up hating him. at least it’ll all be over in one day

-you’re actually a little nervous yourself. you really like doppo, and you had plans to say something to him yourself this evening. you didn’t want to give him a nervous breakdown, however, so you had this whole thing planned out where you’d give him the most relaxing dinner possible so he’d at least be in a relatively normal state of mind so you could tell him your feelings

-well!! spoiler alert, it doesn’t end up like that. doppo, more anxious than usual, keeps slipping over his words and keeps muttering under his breath, and you can only seem to calm him for a max of 5 minutes at a time before he’s at it again. you manage to get through dinner fine, in fact it’s really pleasant, but after that he doesn’t know what to do and ends up biting his nails on your couch while you tidy up

-he says it accidentally. he didn’t mean for you to hear it, but he says that he loves you and you almost drop the plate you’re holding in shock because!! no way! he feels the same? and you turn around and he’s got this absolutely devastated look on his face because he’s convinced he’s just ruined your entire relationship

-you rush over to him before he can start apologizing and self-deprecating again (he gets a few out before you reach him) and you pull him up off the couch and into your arms because boy does he look like he needs a hug right now. you stroke his hair and reassure him that you feel the same! in fact, you were planning on confessing to him yourself at some point tonight, but he beat you to it! you congratulate him on being brave enough to say it aloud, even if it was an accident

-doppo’s in shock. he doesn’t know what to say, but he loves the feeling of your hand stroking his hair and leans into it, unable to believe his luck. he probably starts crying as soon as his emotions catch up to him because he’s SO RELIEVED, that was so stressful for him, and he’s not sure if he’s felt this happy in a long time

-he calls hifumi and tells him he’ll be out for the night, before he decides to stay over at your place for the night (screw work, he’ll call in sick) and maybe talk to you about nice things while he falls asleep. he’s wanted this for so long and you’re more than happy to have him over to talk things out properly (and also try to lift his spirits a little. poor man needs a break)

-and now u guys r dating and it’s wholesome and pleASE GIVE HIM ALL UR LOVE HE NEEDS IT!!

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #ichiro yamada #dice arisugawa #doppo kannonzaka #GOD THEYRE SO CUTE #my heart..#i wanna hold ichiro's hand SO BADLY but #also dice's and doppo's #aaaaahh #ichiro pls let me play minecraft with you #BIG LOVE TO ALL 3 OF THEM

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adiityav · 5 years

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End of the Intro Trilogy from Diaries of a Ghost

You got two options now. You either are going to take the easy way out you are going to run away from that damned hell of hours that you only set for yourself. Which one is it because time is ticking and you don’t have much time to waste. Or any time more at all. You might be thinking you choose your own path to make it seem everything is alright but by the end, you come down to this as you do every single day. Which one is it, you aren’t going to be let go until you pick an answer chained in that very seat you wasted hours in. Every single day, every single moment, it’s torture. Do you remember when there was a good time in your life when you were truly innocent, it really must have been the life but that changed quickly for you. If you go die, it’s only going to prove the statistics, you go run away, you know they won’t look for long and you will be back right here in your chair in the very hell you created. Only God can save you now because every single beating you took and every single phrase that you said led to this point. You thought back of fighting back. You led an establishment in your head that they won’t listen to you quiet or loud. They mess with your head. They bully you. They are both delusional and psychotic. You only got two options now. Imagine how nice it would be to not go anywhere and then waiting in the corner just to beat you up. Take every single relationship you have and throw it down the drain. Every word they state is only one part of the big picture. What they haven’t realized is you only pushed yourself harder or so you think. No matter how hard you try they will always be better and no matter what you do they will know how to take you down, again and again, one step ahead. They mess with your head. First, it’s the shell. Then they get to your head with the holes they beat inside of you. Every single moment of your life was you fighting back. You wanted to fight back physically but it only made it worse for you. You couldn’t will yourself to hurt another, could you? I am only sitting in the very chair you will use to help satiate that one truth in your head. The one that you spent countless lifetimes trying to convince people it was alright. Trying to convince people nothing is happening. Trying to convince people... enough of that.

I don’t see you speaking too much anymore. You’ve given up. Accepted life was just one task done over and over again. You live the next day. You don’t look for another but you manage that. You gave up lying to yourself. But you put that facade another day. And the next... and the next... I think you are done now. Once you lose that mask, the world will see you for who you are. Someone who will end up in the morgue the next day or the next. You are scared, aren’t you? You don’t want anyone to know how you are and how you feel. You keep lying. You know you messed up. Every single step you take. Every single person that you met. You messed up their lives as well now. You're in the doorway. Drop the mask and never find someone to love. Drop the mask and never feel anything. Drop the fucking mask, and you can’t go back. Drop that mask you won’t be you anymore. Drop the mask... I can’t anymore. Who are you and who is I. It’s the same person one and all. Is it time for you yet? Do you think you kept it in yourself long enough? Are you going to will yourself to walk life without any emotion? Stop crying. I hurt myself for far too long. This same voice is the one that helps you read. This same voice is the one that imagines for you. This same voice is who you are. If you do end up dying and no matter how sad you are, please live for another day. I understand how you feel. I beat myself constantly and hate myself. I only set motion everything that was part of the past and kept it replaying in my head again and again until it eats you out like a parasite. Now, look at you. Look at yourself. Fake smile. What’s next. Laughing is something that is real I guess. Fake, every single thing people know or think about you is fake. Because the moment you met them, you were lying. You aren’t happy and truthful and positive. That’s only what you wanted yourself to believe and them. You and I know that we both can’t keep doing this. I am going to sit down now. Going to cry a bit. Maybe take a couple of pills like I usually did and break my streak of pill sobriety. You weren’t happy. You won’t be. Every single thing that gets close only pushes them further away because of me. Your own head fighting it’s self. Your own mind. Your own thoughts and feelings. It kills you such as one getting stabbed. You never wanted to cut yourself because there wasn’t a point for it. I either hate myself to go full out or suffer longer but perhaps cutting myself was really alright to make sure I felt that pain of everyone I hurt and everyone I did wrong. Cutting is better than these pills meant for medication that you abused. I don’t know. You are tired every single moment of your life because I am here like a virus. It got to your thoughts and tries to get to your brain. You never wanted to turn out numb like this. You never wanted to show someone the truth of you. You are the ghost. You sit here watching life as a movie only here for the ride. The third installment for the diaries of a ghost beginning was to show what you really are to the world. You write these stories you convey how you feel and what you think and what you go through. I think it’s time soon. You have been like this for a long time. I think there are now only two answers for you now. Suffer or die.

Writer’s Note

I debated whether to release this or not because well it confirms it for some people and well for others it’s I think something they didn’t know. The fact that it did start questioning me for others was me noticing that they can tell I put on a mask or that “fake” in me. I don’t look for pity nor do I wish to be talked about constantly because I am the same person you have always known mask or not. I have been depressed for quite some time and this year has been the worst for me and the people around me. Depression is a lack of dopamine which causes a chain reaction effect leading into a lack of serotonin which is main mood regulator and then lack of oxytocin removed the love to certain things that you feel whether that be another or a memory or something of that sort. Perhaps you may know more than what I know if you took Psychology. Depression isn’t something where you are sad one day and happy the next and caused by life events unless you have Bipolar or Manic. It’s constant and prevalent in each person’s daily life. They choose how to get over that constant sadness with a distraction and this is something that can be good or bad. Pill popping, drugs, alcohol, self-harm. But there are always good ones as well, helping people was one I did for 3 years straight and it did help a little by accepting what was happening to me and using those feelings to help guide and promote other people to make them feel good. That feeling that you get from helping others did feel good. But like any other distraction, I don’t know if it’s me getting worse or the tolerance of it which led me to get worse is where it hit this year. This past couple of months led me to go get help after a close friend of mine urged me to go get help and I have been doing quite so. I think I don’t know where I would be without them and I know they are probably reading this and there is my sense of gratitude for them. I kept this a secret because I was afraid of people figuring out. I was afraid of what they will say and what will happen to me. I was afraid what their depiction of me to sort of state. Except for its high school year and in 2 more years college and that appals me. That is two more years, it’s only a short time. I am opening out like stated before I don’t want to be pitied, people who come out for anything and are pitied to make them feel good but I don’t need that. I am talking about this because for people who are like me, this is really to you. I have honestly no idea of what you went through and why you are like this. There can be so many reasons as to why you came out like that and I can’t signify or list the number of reasons and perhaps choose one in particular. If you think you can manage it, you can do so, but the moment you feel like it’s not working I highly advise you to get help. Or if you can’t manage it right now, people say this all the time but just talk to me in any way. Via text or in person if you know me. Even if you saw me or met me once I don’t care. I went online for a while, I have seen people around the world left and right and I help them out under a different persona of mine. I barely know half the people I talk to because that is the beauty and nature of the internet. Though talking online to random people if they are down is extremely risky so in hindsight, I don’t recommend it. In all, I did this for people to see me for who I am because I don’t want people to know me for my facade. I will still keep up the facade and over a couple of months and this might get better for me like how it has before. Now I guess I have said more than enough so I will leave this up to you. Just know that life doesn’t need to end so quick none the less of pain. I thank you all for everything and since the intro trilogy is now done and one secret over I think we are good for another maintained release of story collections ;). Stay tuned.

#National Suicide Prevention Week #Suicide #Depression #Hope #happiness #National Suicide Prevention Month #September #diariesofaghost

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coldtomyflash · 6 years

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Weird question, and it's perfectly okay if "I don't know" is your answer: How did you manage to do grad school AND finish writing so many good fics? I'm writing the lit review for my dissertation right now, and I want to finish several WIPs I have (if nothing else, just to prove to myself that I can), but it just feels like I can barely do either, much less both. Any advice at all?

Ah, no worries! It’s not that odd a question. Actually, someone’s asked me before ^^; My reply to them at the time was here. No need to read it, but it’s some context?

My reply now that my head is in a healthier place is... long and winding and not actually full of that much advice but eh, I rambled as I do. If you just want the advice, scroll all the way down and it’s there.

For starters, I’m not a normal comparison point. This isn’t to pat myself on the back, but for a variety of reasons, writing is something that comes really naturally to me. I’ll detail those reasons, but before I get into that, the point I’m illustrating here is that... sometimes I think people compare themselves to how much I wrote and what else I accomplished in that time and think “hey cool - that is a function human! Why can’t I do that?” And the answer is short answer is that my brain is programmed for pretty much one thing, and that thing is writing writing, and holy crap I was the opposite of a functional human when writing that much and that quickly.

The long answer is -

I’ve been making up stories literally as long as I can remember. I spent my childhood consuming stories. I taught myself to read and was during school I was consistently reading about 8 grade levels above my reading level, and loved learning about narrative structure. I annoyed the shit out of my older brother by reading the same book series as he read, but guessing plot points that were going to happen either in that book or else 2-3 books out. he didn’t get how I would just know and I’d be like “it’s obvious - that’s where the story has to go!” Because I was imagining it in my head - what i would do with it, where it would go, where it had to go. Closing the page mid0chapter and imagining the next-scene, and then picking back up to see how right or wrong I was.

And I had a best friend for most of my childhood through to early adulthood with whom I made stories. Every weekend, creating narratives together, not writing them down but basically roleplaying them by talking them out (voices and all, it was a heck of a lot of fun, as much as it made me pretty much the nerdiest teen in existence). We tried to write a novel when we were 12, got about 7 chapters in. We had a lot of starts and stops on other stories too.

Which isn’t said to stroke my own ego, it’s said to highlight that I have a metric fuckton of explicit and implicit practice at storytelling. It was and sort of is my “whole life”. I also had teachers that helped me develop storytelling skills, and was really freaking lucky to go to a school with an AP program for English that seriously stretched my ability to write fast. We had to write an essay every single class, during class, and have it finished by the end of class (or in less time if we had lecture stuff to go over too) in my last year of high school. The essays could be creative response (i.e., short stories). I wrote a short story almost every week in the space of an hour when I was 17. By the time I got to the end of year final and actually got to use a computer and type that shit instead of hand-cramping halfway through, I somehow managed to write the two-essay final in the allotted 3 hours and, i shit you not, had a wordcount of 6000 words.

That’s still my record. It was probably a dumpster fire but I got 100% probably for sheer volume.

Anyway that was over a decade ago, but the whole reason this life story is pertinent is because -

I have practice. The only way to improve at anything, to get faster at it, for it to ease, is to practice. Practice at storytelling, practice at having to set a scene using just words sitting in my BFF’s room and trying to describe the image I had in my head for how I wanted her to see the scene as it was playing out. Practice at writing fast and getting feedback on how to write. Practice implicitly at trying to imagine what routes stories can take. Practice taking stories apart and piecing them back together, in my head, all the time.

So that’s part of it.

The other part, and this is what I said in my previous post, was depression. I was seriously fucking burnt out and depressed when I started writing coldflash fic, and grad school took a huge toll on my mental health. It’s easier to write when you’re doing it to procrastinate working on your dissertation, and easier to keep writing when you get positive feedback and it feeds those lovely dopamine gremlins in your brain who aren’t getting any positive validation from grad school because holy damn that shit is hard.

I had no balance in my life for a long time. It wasn’t good. I went to counselling. I got more balance. Fic slowed down. Still finished, but not 120k words in 3 months (that was the pace when I started fic writing...jfc I don’t know how I managed.) Life got harder. Fic was now harder to write. I got more counselling. Fic was easier to write. I moved around the world. Fic got harder to write. I started anti-depressants. Narratives now seem to be flowing again.

Regardless of the state of my mental health though, I’ve never written as much as quickly as I did during the middle of grad school. And I think that’s because I was very narratively pent up when I started writing fic. I had been so busy and pushing myself so damn hard in grad school that I didn’t make almost any time for stories, for fic, for imagining my own stories. I was suppressing that side of myself in the service of Focus. So when I burnt out, my narrative side rebounded and said “fuck that noise, I still exist, and we’re making space for me”. It took over. I came literally a hair’s breadth from quitting my PhD post candidacy. Idk what type of program you’re in, but business schools in North America? It’s a 5 year PhD typically, and I was at the end of year 3 and eyeing the door.

Anyway - I say all that because -

I am not a good example and you should not do what I did. Finishing that many long WIPs that quickly wasn’t healthy, and was only possible because I didn’t do much else at the time, and had a lifetime of practice and a narrative rebound to make it even possible.

But -

My actual advice?

1) Practice. Practice. Practice.

Not all at once, but everything counts. Daydreaming counts. Watching shows and thinking of how they could be improved counts. Talking out story ideas with friends counts. Just make it fun. Practice is something we think of as arduous and annoying. Learning new words is practice. Meeting new people and considering their traits is practice. Everything can be practice for writing. All the research you do can be practice for writing. (Random note: a childhood coping mechanism for anxiety that I had was to narrate what I was doing to myself in my head in the 3rd person. Like telling a story of myself walking to gym class in my own head. That was also practice.)

2) Have fun with it!

Don’t making writing an obligation. Then it’s another thing on the list of things you avoid. Finishing stories often feels like an obligation. I’m going through this right now with Needs Must. It can be hard to complete a WIP because you start to have internal anxieties about disappointing readers, not living up to expectations, exhaustion from that narrative, distraction / temporary loss of interest (which is normal! and not actually a bad thing!). All of that then makes you feel guilty, which makes it impossible to get into a creative space to write. You can’t work on the thing you’re avoiding.

3) It’s okay to give your WIPs breathing space.

When you hit a wall, you may need to set it aside and read it again in a month with fresh eyes. You may need to treat your story like someone else’s story. That’s, again, literally where I’m at right now with Needs Must. I just reread a bunch of it and hadn’t really forgotten the details but once they’re on the page they’re out of my head, and so taking some time before going back to reread it made it easier for me to think of like I think of every other story: “what would I do next with this? Oh that’s a twist, that needs to come back later. There’s a theme here, we’ve seen that three times. What’s the best ending I, as a reader now, can imagine for this?”

If avoidance, guilt, and/or writer’s block aren’t your issue, and it’s literally just down to time management -

4) Your graduate degree is more important than your WIPs.

Your WIPs aren’t going anywhere, they don’t have a deadline, and your readers will wait for you, and new ones will find you. Time management is an essential, awful, part of being an academic.

I get more done, both at work and creatively on fic, when I’m just a bit too busy, but that’s me. Figure out what is optimal for you, and do it. When do you get the most writing done? When you’re relieved? When you’re anxious? Late at night? First thing in the morning? When does it flow? When won’t it ruin your graduate career?

(Seriously I was writing fic at work last week and was kicking myself. I don’t have time for that shit! Set boundaries on your time!)

But full serious here, graduate school is exhausting, and almost inherently de-motivating, and even the best damn students eye the door a lot of the time, even if they do finish. It’s stressful and you feel constantly powerless. It’s a lot to need to cope with. I found writing to be a way to cope. That lit review you’re working on? Yeah, it’s zapping your time and energy. That’s normal (unfortunately). And it’s good to give yourself breaks from that to write. Don’t feel guilty for taking time here and there for yourself - to write, or to not write. To relax, unplug, unwind. To close your eyes and daydream (if you’re me) or have a bubble bath (if you’re my sister), or do whatever helps you honestly, genuinely destress. The best thing you can do for both writing and for graduate school is to take breaks and take time for yourself. There is actual science on the importance of breaks, and academics are fucking notorious for putting too much pressure on themselves to actually relax.

5) If you’re burnt out and/or depressed - seek help!

Most universities have resources for mental health! Talk to a doctor! Don’t put too much stress and pressure on yourself! Almost half of grad students are mentally ill at some point!

6) Talk out your stories with friends!

I know I already said this under “practice” but having a fandom friend to bounce ideas with and cheer you on is amazing and essentially. I was in constant contact with Bealeciphers when I started writing, and now I have a different friend who’s helped me the past couple years with writing and developing my stories. Mostly they cheer me on, and when I’m stuck, I tell them where the story is going and what I need help with. But honestly, writing doesn’t need to happen in a vacuum and doesn’t need to be you hunched over a laptop in the dark all alone and staring blankly at a screen (I’m definitely not projecting here, no siree). It’s amazing how motivating it is and how much it can help you stay on track to check in regularly with other writing friends!

7) Pick your battles.

You say you have a... couple(?) of WIPs? How many are you juggling? Is it too many? Do you need to set one (or two??) aside? When my steam was slowly and AATJS and Tumbling Together started to feel like a chore, I set TT aside and took a month break from AATJS then dived right back into AATJS (with the help of the friend mentioned above, cheering me on) because I knew it would be the harder one to finish, and the one that I feared I’d never finish if I put it aside too long. I tackled the biggest hurdle first. If that’s the type of thing for you, I recommend it. Pick the story that’s either the most or least likely to get finished, and focus your energy there.

Another battle-picking thing here? It’s okay to outsource. I’m terrible for not using a proofreader beta. It’s a weird control thing, despite the fact that I love people pointing out typos in my works so I can freaking fix them. The point here is: don’t be like me. If you suck at finding your own typos, use a beta or proofreader. My writer friend who helps me helps when I get stuck. I help them when they need feedback on specific scenes and tones, and I’ve recently discovered they hate editing (I love editing) so this entertains me to no end. Just - you don’t have to do it all yourself. If you feel like you do, see points 5 and 6 again.

Aaaannnddd that’s that. Whew. I just spent... wow, too long on this. I spent as much time on this as I did on my own grad student’s lit review I was providing feedback on today ^^; #whoops

#redhead vs. writing #long post #long post for ts #phyn rambles #writing advice #depression tw #ask to tag #Anonymous

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