#because honestly my writing is the only thing that helps me reorient myself most days too

[the-broken-pen]

Hi! I love love LOVE your writing so much!!!❤️❤️(it’s the only thing sometimes that can help me reorient myself when life sucks)-

Idk if you’ve already written a work like this- but could you write about a villain who fakes being in a relationship with hero to get information. Hero absolutely loves them and thinks that they can finally be happy….but then Villain breaks their heart- while saying they never loved them and that it was all a lie.

and then later on Villain regrets it and realizes they are actually obsessed with hero and go full psycho?

The hero had spent their childhood watching as their parents fought viciously with one another. Slamming doors and breaking plates, and then sullen, withdrawn and nearly silent conversations illuminated only by the dying lamp in the corner of the living room. Whatever the hero’s parents had, it wasn’t love, and never would be. The hero had no way of knowing if it ever had been. 

And then the hero had watched as time after time, their sister loved someone with her whole heart and was left shattered on the hero’s doorstep at the end of it. Fairytales that ended with no happy ending, ripped up love notes and a hundred playlists made for people their sister could no longer bear to name out loud.

The hero had watched their entire family reach for love and fall flat every time, and had resigned themself to a fate of the kind of heartbreak you cannot escape. The kind that hangs over heads like a cloud and fogs mirrors.

And then–

The villain. The hero had met the villain, and the villain had smiled, and they thought maybe, just maybe, they had beaten the curse. That they were meant for the soft kind of love they had only imagined when they were young, before the pain of it got too great.

The hero had let the villain intertwine themself into the hero’s life, and they had thought they were okay. They had thought they had made it. 

Which was why, now, they couldn’t seem to make themself think anything sensical at all.

The villain settled the file in front of the hero gently, on the table they had picked out together with as much care as one was capable of. They almost, almost, looked like they regretted it, face soft and breakable.

The villain cleared their throat in the silence. “If you just read it–”

“What, can’t say it yourself?”

The villain stopped, swallowing. This was the first time in a very long time the hero had seen them look unsure.

The hero scoffed at them. “I know about Project Pegasus.”

The villain went very, very still. They looked down towards the folder.

“So then–”

“This?” the hero picked up the folder, waving it once. They tossed it onto the floor without looking. “I’ve already read it. Two weeks ago.” They stared at the villain, and did their best not to blink. “I just hoped it was fake.”

The hero wondered if maybe, this was what had happened to their parents. If they had spent all of that time fighting and hating one another and crying in darkened rooms just so they could spend the rest of it constantly reaching back towards one another. Pretending that the file wasn’t real. That the fights were nothing more than a blip in existence and not the roots of a rot so deep it would never be fully cut out of them. 

They had wondered about a lot of things, curled on the bathroom floor around that wretched file, but mostly they had wondered if they had always been meant to end up here. If this was what being doomed felt like. 

The villain blinked.

“You hoped it was fake.”

The hero felt a little like they couldn’t breathe. They sucked a shallow breath in through their nose anyways. 

“If you–” their voice broke. “If you were me, would you want to believe it?”

The villain’s shoulders, almost imperceptibly, slumped.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, are you?”

“Yes,” the villain said, but in the space where they should have explained themself, where they should have said it was fake, and that they loved the hero more than anything, and that this little apartment meant everything to them–they said nothing.

“So, what,” the hero snapped, voice wet with barely held back tears. “You’re going to tell me you didn’t mean for me to fall in love with you? That this was an accident? That you’re sorry again? That you never meant to hurt me–”

“No,” the villain corrected gently. “You were always meant to fall in love with me.”

A tiny sob wormed its way out of the hero’s throat before they could stop themself, and they pressed their shaking fist to their mouth before anything else could follow, turning away.

“It was just about the information,” the villain said, and the hero shoved themself back from the table, just to get further away from the love of their life.

“You knew what you were doing,” the hero said bitterly. “You know me. You knew. You knew I would never be able to get over this, and you did it anyways–”

“It’s my job,” the villain protested, and it took the hero everything in them to remain standing. “It wasn’t personal.”

“You made yourself my world, you made yourself into my everything, you made me fall in love with you–”

“I never made you do anything.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that. This was your goal, wasn’t it? Own up to your accomplishments. Go on. Tell me how proud you are. Do it.”

“Hero.”

“I loved you,” the hero was screaming, maybe.

And there it was. Past tense.

Loved.

The villain stepped back like the hero had slapped them.

“Hero,” their voice was barely a whisper.

The hero picked up the file. Rifled through it once more.

“Hero–”

The hero held out the file. The villain didn’t take it, hands remaining limp at their side.

“Take it.” They gestured with the file. “Take it, and get out.”

The villain sucked in a breath.

“Hero,” the villain said again, uselessly. 

“Tell me you love me, then. Tell me you meant it.” They gestured to the file once more. “Tell me that this is the lie.”

“I can’t.”

“Tell me.”

The villain opened their mouth, and for a second, the hero hoped–

“I don’t love you.” 

The hero wished the villain had just killed them. 

“I never loved you. It was all a lie. A really, really pretty lie.”

The hero wanted to say something elegant to that. Something biting and vicious and jagged in the same way the inside of them felt right now. They wanted to say everything they had felt earlier, every thought that had cut them so that it could cut the villain too.

Instead, all they managed was a choked, “Get out.”

They threw the file at the villain.

The villain didn’t bother to catch it, letting it slam into their chest. It thudded against the floor, papers spilling out in a halo around the villain’s feet.

A part of them wanted the villain to argue further.

A part of them just wanted the villain dead.

“I’m sorry,” the villain said once more, and then they were gone.

The villain had known as soon as the hero had thrown that file that they wanted the villain dead. 

That they were more likely to claw their own bones apart than willingly reach for the villain’s hand again, and the logical part of their brain was viciously pleased about it.

It made this whole thing easier. No lingering attachments to further butcher. Just a field, burned so badly nothing would ever grow in it again, and god, wasn’t that convenient for their mission. 

A tiny, smothered part of their brain, however, wouldn’t stop screaming.

They drowned it.

But then the villain would catch themself glancing to their side in search of a smile. They would wait a beat too long after they said something, would wait for laughter, and then there would be none, and they would curse themself for it, and that little part of them would come gasping back to life and start screaming again.

Possibly it was that little part of them that had made them send a message to the hero, offering the apartment. It was the least they could do, right? Fuck up their life and then get the fuck out of it. 

But the texts had said delivered, but never read, and three days later when the villain used their key to open the lock, they found themself stepping into a mausoleum and not a home. 

They weren’t sure what they were expecting, but it wasn’t this. Dust hanging in the air. Blank squares left on the walls where pictures had once hung. Empty cabinets, empty floors, empty rooms; no, whatever they had been expecting, it wasn’t this.

For a reason they couldn’t name, they went from room to room, searching for something without quite understanding what. It wasn’t until they had come full circle back into the living room, fingers coated in dust and an aching chest, that the villain had realized. Ghosts. They were looking for ghosts. 

Because there was nothing better to describe the way they felt right now other than haunted. And if there was something, anything, of the hero left in here to burn, to destroy, to exorcise, they could use it as an excuse–

There was nothing left of the hero. There were no ghosts. This place was just dead.

The villain made a shuddering little sound, and slammed the front door closed behind them when they managed to stumble into the hallway. 

This was an easy mission, it was–

–two years and dates over ramen and houseplants–

–something even a new recruit could do–

–i love you’s in the dark and the scent of the hero on all of their clothes and–

–something the villain was trained for, countless hours spent–

–laughing and crying and rainy days and sunny ones–

–learning how to fake love, and somehow–

–the villain had forgotten it was fake.

The villain couldn’t breathe.

The villain had forgotten they weren’t supposed to fall in love, too.

The villain had forgotten they weren’t supposed to fall in love too, and they had just set their entire world ablaze around themself.

Fuck.

It really only made sense, then, that they found themself standing on the roof of their old apartment building as it burned. And when that didn’t work, they moved onto the next, until a third building went up in flames beneath their feet. They knew the kind of message it would send, and they knew exactly who that message would get sent to–

The hero landed on the other end of the rooftop, as far away from the villain as they could possibly get. 

“Stop,” the hero hissed, teeth clenched. “Stop lighting things on fire to get my attention, just stop–”

“I’m in love with you,” the villain said, voice wrecked, and the hero reacted like the villain had shot them. They stepped away, feet bumping against the edge like the fall was a better option than the villain.

“No,” the hero said. They shook as they said it. “Stop it. You don’t get to do this to me.”

“I love you,” the villain said again, and the hero pressed a hand over their own heart.

“Stay away from me,” the hero managed after a moment. Another deep breath, and their hand dropped back down to their side. “Go do whatever it is you need to do, go ruin anyone else’s life, and stay out of the wreckage of mine.”

“We have a life together,” the villain tried. If the hero could just see, could see that they could fix it– “I’m sorry. I was stupid, I was so, so stupid. But you can’t just leave, please, just let me fix it–”

“I told you to get out,” the hero said, and there was nothing soft in their eyes as they looked at the villain. “What about the way I said it made you think it was temporary?”

“Hero, please, let me fix–”

“Villain,” the hero said calmly, voice sharp. “Some things aren’t meant to be rebuilt.”

All of the air left the villain’s lungs in a pathetic sort of wheeze.

“You’re my everything,” the villain choked out. “My whole world, and I’m so sorry. I was–I made a mistake, but you can’t just throw us away–”

“No,” the hero spat, and the villain flinched. “You burned that world to the ground. You’re standing in the ashes of it. You don’t get to come to me begging for it back.”

The villain felt unmoored. Like the world had shifted one step to the left and they had no idea what to do with their limbs anymore, no idea how to keep existing.

“But I love you.”

“The only person who feels anything when you say that is you.”

This time, it was the villain who stepped back.

“Please,” the villain whispered, and the hero closed their eyes.

“What were you expecting to happen. That I would forgive you? Would fall back into your arms? You could tell me that you’re sorry in every language for the rest of your life and that wouldn’t make what you did hurt me any less. So why would you think you could light a building on fire, tell me you love me, and then make everything go back to the way it was?”

“I–I don’t–”

“There is no back,” the hero said firmly. “There is no undo.”

“I don’t know what to do,” the villain said. A tear dripped off the edge of their chin.

The hero appraised them.

“Learn to live with it.”

The villain sucked in a shuddering breath.

“I can’t live without you, okay, I can’t–”

“Then die.”

The villain froze. They waited for the hero to take it back, but the hero just stared at them, face stony and cold. An avenging angel on the edge of the rooftop, firelight flickering at their back and smoke rising into the air, not an ounce of sympathy left in their bones for the villain.

And before the villain could say anything, say that the hero couldn’t possibly mean that, the hero spoke again.

“I mean it. You are not my problem.”

The villain was choking. They were drowning on air and the hole they had left inside of themself when they ripped the hero out of their life and the hero was just watching them–

“Please,” they said pathetically, and even as they said it they knew it was futile.

The hero didn’t bother to give them another response.

They watched the hero leave without saying anything, smoke beginning to sting their eyes and nose as their hands shook. 

It felt terminal. It felt world-ending. It felt deserved.

They wished the hero had just killed them.

[bthump]

I know this is very nitpicky, but what do you think is the level of awareness Griffith has during the stairwell scene? For a very calculated and rational guy like him, it's hard to imagine that he hasn't even tried to decipher where these strong reckless reactions come from. I mean... even king of denial Guts has reflected a bit on it. Enough to ask Griffith about it. I know yoy mentioned in a recent answer to an ask, that you don't headcanon Griffith as pining, so would you say that you (cont)

Would you say that you imagine that he compartimentalizes his thougts and represses to the point that he doesn't aknowledge at least to a certain extent, that his feeling for Guts are more passionate, than what he feels for other comerades. The fact that he fully realises the depth of those feelings once Guts leaves is clear. But Idk the stairwell scene makes me think that he is at least aware, that he has a bit of a crush, but choses to not give it much importance. Curious about your thoughts 

hmmm. okay first off I just want to say that I can see multiple possibilities, from full on repression and denial, to recognizing his attraction but not acting on it, to knowing he cares for Guts and wants him as a True Friend(TM) but often downplaying that because he believes Guts sees him mainly as a superior officer. But yeah I do prefer the denial and compartmentalization explanation and I want to go into why, because I think it’s fun to talk about lol.

So the big reason I read Griffith as refusing to acknowledge his feelings to himself is because that’s how he deals with all his other inconvenient feelings, like his guilt and fear and the fact that he cares about the Hawks. Like eg when he tells Gennon that he doesn’t feel a single emotion about him whatsoever, or when he tells Casca that he doesn’t feel guilty over the deaths of the Hawks, I don’t think he’s just lying to them, I think he’s convincing himself too, to the point where he really believes it.

It’s sort of hard to explain how I see this working in Griffith’s head bc it feels v intuitive to me but I know that’s not the case for everyone. So yk it’s not that I think he like, eg makes himself forget that he nearly had a breakdown in a river, but I think he doesn’t ask himself why he nearly had a breakdown beyond maybe a shallow ‘sex with gennon was unpleasant and made me uncomfortable for a couple hours but i’m completely fine now’ and doesn’t think about it afterwards if he can help it.

And when he tells Charlotte he doesn’t have any friends and tells Guts he belongs to him during the second duel, I think he’s telling himself lies/rationalizations he genuinely believes there too. In fact, I think his denial of his own feelings is straight up meant to be his tragic flaw, which is why he’s only able to finally acknowledge them in the torture chamber, after it’s caused his downfall.

In the torture chamber we see him remember the face-off with Zodd and acknowledge that it was an irrational thing to do and wonder why Guts is so important to him, and I think part of the reason the monologue works so well is because it’s the first time we see that kind of self-reflection sans lofty rationalization from him, because before he ended up trapped in his own brain for a year with nothing to distract himself in between bouts of torture he didn’t really ask himself these kinds of questions. If he had, things probably would’ve gone better for everyone.

And like, I don’t think this makes Griffith less intelligent, or negates his rationality in other areas of life. I don’t see a contradiction in someone being able to analyze a battlefield or read other people well but avoiding genuine soul searching whenever possible and lying to himself a lot. I think it’s actually pretty realistic - I don’t think very many people fully understand themselves or their feelings, even really self-reflective people, and it’s very easy to rationalize away inconvenient cognitive dissonance. and I include myself in that lol.

Griffith’s life is kind of a contradiction that would really fuck him up to untangle (he sends people to their deaths to achieve a dream for the sake of assuaging his guilt for sending people to their deaths to achieve a dream), so he doesn’t try to untangle it, he avoids the question and hides behind a philosophical ideal. And his feelings for Guts add to that cognitive dissonance because if he values Guts over the dream, that kind of proves his entire defensive life philosophy is bullshit and his whole life plan is built on a precarious house of cards, so it makes sense to me that he’d avoid examining those feelings closely too.

And you can look at Guts too, who does navelgaze a lot and tries to analyze his own feelings and motivations - when he’s faced with a contradiction (I want to become independent of Griffith and do my own thing solely to gain Griffith’s approval) he actually notices it and briefly questions himself... and then he still puts it out of his mind and continues pursuing his contradictory goal anyway, and manages to stay in denial for 3 days even after learning that Griffith ended up in a torture chamber because he left.

Along those same lines, Guts eg realizes that he kills things because it makes him feel better but he doesn’t make the connection between his irrational urge to fight powerful enemies and his childhood trauma the way the readers can, the King didn’t acknowledge his incesty feelings til Griffith shoved them in his face, Count Slug kept denying having human feelings til Puck went on a tirade against him and he couldn’t sacrifice his daughter, Casca lies to herself about her feelings for Griffith for a long time before finally acknowledging she’s in love and then doubles down on her Griffith feelings when her newer feelings for Guts threaten them until she has a breakdown and admits some things to herself (I mean I find that last one disappointing lol, but it’s also a really straightforward example of someone living in denial of romantic feelings and therefore a good comparison point to show that Miura does this on purpose), etc. So I think this interpretation of Griffith is also consistent with how Miura just like, tends to write people.

Like imo Griffith has moments where he comes close to self awareness and could’ve started potentially reflecting on his feelings and coming to better, more accurate conclusions, and those moments definitely include the Zodd conversation (as well as the river scene with Casca, and “do you think I’m cruel?”) but none of those scenes lead to useful self-reflection because they all go wrong. Casca tries but fails to reassure him bc she’s out of her depth, Guts reminds him of his dream, the King interrupts their conversation and Charlotte reorients Griffith towards his goal so he can move on from that moment of irrationality and refrain from thinking about it further for a while. Even after the duel Griffith tries to avoid self-reflection by fucking Charlotte imo (”take all the sad and frightening things and cast them into the fire” ie hey girl wanna repress some shit w/ me?), and imo his previous ability to do that makes it all the more impactful when it doesn’t work this time and he breaks down.

BUT YEAH all that said I don’t think this is the only reasonable reading of Griffith’s awareness of his feelings lol, it’s just the one I like best and consider the most satisfying and interesting and fun to think about. And honestly that’s partly because I love dramatic irony and have a real thing for characters who lie to themselves, so I’m biased in favour of it too. Nothing about Griffith being good at denial contradicts the idea that he could still be aware of an attraction to Guts (in that case he’d probably just write it off as irrelevant and deny the associated internalized-homophobia-related self-loathing lol until it all pours out while he’s projecting at the King), and he could eg be aware that he irrationally cares about Guts above and beyond anyone else and just doesn’t even try to reconcile that with his dream, ie compartmentalization in another way.

But I think the idea that he only fully admits it to himself in the torture chamber is just very narratively satisfying.

[a-monsters-love]

The Air Between Us: Conversations with an Avatar

[Prologue] [Part 1] [Blurb 1] [Part 2] [Blurb 2] [Epilogue]

Genre: sad, angst

Word count: 1,586

Warnings: This is just filler; IF YOU HAVENT READ THE AIR BETWEEN US THIS WILL NOT MAKE MUCH SENSE

A/N: This is a side note, or something that happened to (Y/N) that wasn’t posted in the original story I wrote, mostly because I figured you guys would like the whole idea VS me summarizing it to fit into the story.

A/N 2: No one is allowed to be mad at me for not posting this earlier but I’ll be 100% honest when I say I forgot. I fell in a rut and started writing BNHA fics and then started working 12hr shifts at work so- yeah. I’m very sorry

——

Zuko hasn’t woken up yet. You helped the sages get him into a bed and watched Katara start healing him. You feel yourself crumbling, falling back into the dark place you tried so hard to hide and crawl out of. You’re tired, you feel your eyes getting heavy. You blink and see something blue, something bright and looking right at you. If you weren’t so tired you might jump up and fight, but your body wouldn’t move. You doze off for a short period before you feel a jolt, like you just fell back into your body. You eyes fly open and you look up, at the figure in front of you. “Suki?” You rub your eyes, trying to reorient yourself and stretch.

“I didn’t know I looked like Suki.” You hear a small laugh, it’s Aang. If he’s here then you must’ve won. You quickly stand up and pull the young boy in for a hug.

Aang hugs you back firmly, tears start falling down your face. “You’re not allowed to disappear like that again.” You cry as you pull him into you, he’s like a little brother to you, and he was the only other air bender you knew. You were terrified, you knew how much he felt like family to you.

“It wasn’t on purpose, I swear.” He chuckles and lets you cry. “Come on, lets get you some food.” He pulled you by your hand and you hesitate to leave Zuko’s side. “He’ll be fine, but you won’t be if you don’t eat.” You let the younger boy pull you into the dining hall. You ate with everyone, the mood was tense but everyone was just exhausted.

“Longest day - ever.” Sokka whines, Suki pinched him causing him to yelp. She knows it’s been harder for some. Pointing a hand at you and Aang.

You barely touched your food but you tried. You try to smile at everyone and walk out. Katara goes to call out for you but Aang just puts a hand out and shakes his head before following you out. He follows you down every hall and turn, you walked slowly until your found your way outside. This takes longer than you would’ve liked but you were a bit disoriented from the events of the day. You found your way to a pond. You sit down pulling your knees into your chest, your tears feel like they’ve dried out. Aang watches you for some time before coming and sitting next to you. Neither of you say anything for some time.

You knew Aang was following you, you knew you could stop him. It’s not that you wanted to be alone but you just felt awful. You just wanted someone to tell you that you weren’t a mistake, that hurting people wasn’t the point of your life. You rub your face an sigh, looking up at the sky. “My mom used to tell me and Shu stories about the stars.” You start, Aang looks over and watches you. “She said that the stars were just our ancestors watching over us. That the moon collected them to protect them in the spirit realm, she would tell us that destiny never worked out the way we wanted it to but the way it was meant to.” You continue, you’ve never really talked about your parents. Not even with Shu, “She would always sing and dance about, teaching us songs. She taught us how to play piano and guitar, she loved to teach us new things. Our dad was a stern person but he would always showed his love in little ways. A pat on the head, a thumbs up, he’d teach us a new trick about some.. nonsense.” You trailed on before stopping. You had both a lot and very few memories of your parents.

“What happened to them?” Aang asks quietly, you tilt your head a little and look at him from the corner of your eyes. You bit your lip, scolding yourself for bringing it up.

You sigh and look down, you drop your head and cross your legs. Holding your ankles, Aang thought you resembled Shu in this position. “When uhm, when we found out I was an Air Bender I had very little control over it. Shu and I were maybe 3-4?” You lift your head up and take a deep breath, “When we were about 5 we were in the Earth Kingdom visiting someone when a small burst of air came from me. Spirits, my poor moms face looked terrified. Apparently she wasn’t the only one to notice, our parents were taken away for questioning and we never saw them again.” You look over at Aang who’s face held so much pain, reflecting how you felt. “I always blamed myself. I stayed a stage hand at the circus because I blamed myself, something I want selfishly always hurts the people I care about most.” You indicated you the palace, referencing Zuko. “I’ve always been so ashamed and angry and felt guilty of my existence.” You pull your legs up and put your face in your knees for some time.

You feel a large and heavy hand on your shoulder, “Go away, Shu.” You say without lifting your head.

“My name isn’t ‘Shu’,” You hear a soft but husky voice say, you lifted your head and looked over. You see Avatar Kyoshi. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for some time but Aang wasn’t fully connected with the Avatar state yet.”

You stare at her, partly frightened and partly confused, “W-why would you want to talk to me?” You ask quietly. You didn’t understand, honestly you just couldn’t comprehend the point.

Kyoshi stares down at you, she wasn’t as terrifying as you first thought to your surprise. She reminds you a lot of your twin, which helps you calm down. “I spent a large part of my life angry at my parents. Angry at their decisions, and ashamed of their choices.” You could see sorrow and empathy in her face.

Tears stream down your face as she speaks, you had no idea. You hadn’t even considered how she felt at the choices your ancestors made, she was effected differently for the same reasons. “I just-“ You stutter through your tears, “I just don’t know what to do, or how to feel. I’m just so angry!” The air starts moving aggressively around the two of you, Kyoshi watches your surroundings and then back at you when it calms. “I’m just so angry with myself, Auntie.” You cry, you can’t stop it anymore.

Auntie, the word brings a small smile to her face. “You inherited my heart, while your brother inherited my height.” She chuckles lightly, “However you both inherited my strength.” She puts a hand on your back as you sob. “You twins are Yin and Yang. You balance each other perfectly but that will be found irrelevant if you can find balance within yourself.”

Kyoshi pulls you upright and straightens out your attire as you sniffle yourself calm, you chuckle at her actions. “What are you doing..?” You ask in a raspy voice.

“I never had children, I don’t know how to comfort kids when they’re sad.” She finishes organizing your attire and making you sit and face her, “All our actions always have an effect. Sometimes positive, sometimes negative and sometimes not for many life times. You are the effect, you (Y/N) are not to blame for what happened to your parents, you are not to blame for what happened to the Fire Prince. You are allowed to be selfish. There’s nothing wrong with you, and I’m glad that you made it to this period in time.”

You feel tears bubble up again, you smile and hug her. “Thank you, Auntie.”

She hugs you back firmly and let’s go, putting her hands on your shoulders. “Be happy.” She says as she faded away, leaving Aang in her place. He looks at you quizzically as information starts to come to him, Aang smiles at you.

You almost tackle the young Avatar, giving him a hug and chuckling softly. You lean back and wipe your face into your shirt. “Avatar Kyoshi is not as menacing as history portrays her to be.” You both laugh and get up, “Thank you, Aang.”

“Hey, I didn’t do anything this time.” He pulls up his hands and smiles, glad that you’re feeling better.

You find the rest of the gaang quickly as you walk back towards the palace. Apparently they watched the whole scene, “YOU CALLED HER AUNTIE.” Suki squeals at you.

————————

A/N: I’m just over here cutting onions, it’s fine. But on an honest note, I have really bad depression and when I was writing this series I lightly touched on (Y/N)’s mental health and felt she deserved to have someone tell her she’s allowed to be happy. I know like friends and S/O’s say stuff like that but when you’re in deep and depressy sometimes it doesn’t matter.

Tag List:

@coalsmind @bucky-blogs @fanficflaneuse @cutiepoo16 @eridanuswave @grapesauze @theblueslytherin @coolpenguingoddess @royahllty @whalerus @shemakesfanvids @lammello @ditu-m9 @kryptidkova @gxrleexis-arctic-monks @azriels-forgotten-shadow @zukosvice @woohoney @zuko-is-my-love @etherealhobii 

[rachelthompsonauthor]

What is social proof? It’s a marketing concept that we are all inadvertently, unknowingly contributing to every time we click on, retweet, like, reply or comment, and share any kind of social media, article, or blog post on the net. Technically, social proof, as defined by Sprout Social is:

The concept that people will follow the actions of the masses. The idea is that since so many other people behave in a certain way, it must be the correct behavior.

Social Proof and Me

As an author, social media is a hugely important part of my author platform, as it is for any writer or blogger. This is how we connect with readers now, even before the pandemic. Virtual, online events are now the norm. Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube Live video discussions are the new book signings. Twitter chats are weekly on any number of topics; I have two of my own, in fact, #SexAbuseChat every Tuesday at 6 pm pst/9 pm est and #BookMarketingChat every Wednesday at 6 pm pst/9 pm est.

All important for visibility, branding, and most importantly, connection.

However…there’s a limit. I reached my limit over the course of this past year. It didn’t come all at once. It came, little by little, reaching a peak this past month or so.

Why? How? Me, the so-called social media expert?

Access. Like many people, I have issues with the incredible level of access Facebook gives people once we friend them without our consent. PMs (private messages) are automatic, now with the ability for people to call, voice, and video message us, with no option to shut these options to OFF unless we unfriend the person (we can, however, mute a specific conversation). Technically, we do give them consent in the legal mumbo jumbo we all agreed to when we joined back in the 2010s.

I am not okay with this. And Facebook doesn’t care. Nobody cares. You’re probably thinking, “Geez, Karen. Shut up, already. Stop your whining, white lady.” I get it. I do. First-world problems.

I counter with: I hear you. It’s also part of my business. A huge part. Here’s why:

As someone who manages over 70+ various social media accounts as part of my BadRedhead Media business, plus my own accounts as well, Facebook requires I have a personal account in order to manage all those other Pages. I do understand why, particularly with all the ridiculousness of the past four years with the abundance of fake accounts, fake news, and such.

As a survivor of sexual abuse and stalking, this is ultra-concerning to me. So, what happened this past month or so? Suffice it to say, one person repeatedly tried calling me. I never pick up Facebook calls, especially if I don’t know you. Another left me a few voice messages saying they were offended by something.

Yet another left me another message in ALL SHOUTY CAPS that she didn’t find what I posted inspirational enough and she expected better from someone who is “supposedly on the side of authors.”

Oh, and there is the one lady who started replying on ALL my posts to the kind people who did comment that she didn’t think I replied often enough or to her satisfaction.

Well. I’ve been criticized before. You should read some of my 1-star reviews. There’s plenty!

But, for whatever reason, this struck a chord. I got up in my feels. I cried. I talked with one of them and we worked it out because we like and respect each other’s work in the mental health space. The others I blocked. It’s darn frustrating to donate hours of my time each week to helping writers solely because I want to, only to be told it’s not enough. Like, seriously? Fuck off.

My blood raged. My heart sank. Understandable, right?

But what really made me angry is that I put myself in that position by being available. I accepted that ‘it is what it is.’ This is what the social media platforms have given us, so that’s what I have to work within.

I’m too available. It’s too easy to leave me shitty messages. This is why people hire people like me – to handle this crap for them! So they don’t have to read these ridiculous criticisms from judgy people who apparently have nothing better to do or are having a bad day.

And I get bad days. It’s a damn pandemic. We’re all struggling. Where’s the damn compassion for one another?

I have a dislike/hate relationship with Facebook anyway, since about ten or so years ago when I discovered that a past love had died by suicide by going to his personal profile and seeing, “RIP dude,” messages there. We had spoken early that day. It still haunts me.

So…what to do? I’m claiming my time. I’m not posting to my personal Facebook profile right now. I’m ignoring it. I am checking my Pages and of course, my client Pages. When I feel like I can face it again, I will cull my ‘friends’ down from *checks real quick* 4385 people to maybe, I don’t know, the few hundred in my groups, many of whom I do know and treasure.

Social Proof and You

If you’re a writer, social proof matters. This is the world we live in. Publishing is not only writing.

You need to be ‘findable,’ not only on Google, but also on each individual social platform, so your readers can learn more about you and hopefully, buy your books. If you go the traditional route, publishers and agents want to know how many followers you have (easily upped by buying fake followers or likes from Fiverr or wherever). I suggest not doing that, because:

1) fake followers don’t buy books 

2) it’s usually pretty obvious when you have fake followers because they’re all foreign names, have questionable bios, and no tweets

3) do you really want to start your publishing career with a lie? 

They also want to know what you post, how often, and what your branding is. If you’re an indie author, honestly, the same applies. Social proof is about connection, building relationships, and authenticity. I’ve believed that since I started my business and writing career way back in 2011, and I stand by it now. Start slow, grow slow. It’s not a race.

I’m the furthest thing you’ll even find from a conspiracy theorist – I don’t believe in chemtrails, pizza parlor cabals, or that the earth is flat. However, I am a realist. Watch The Social Dilemma sometime. These huge tech companies share our data without our knowledge or consent (Cambridge Analytics, anyone?). Younger generations are so used to this, they don’t really care – ask them.

(My kids think having a chip implanted in their hands with all their data is a fabulous idea. “So much easier than having to talk and repeat everything over and over. Just scan me and be done with it,” says my daughter Anya (21). “Agree,” grunts my son, Lukas (15). Buy stuff, go to the doctor, whatever. Scan and go. Talk with any GenZ kid, you’ll likely get a similar answer. They’ve been tracked since birth everywhere. They don’t know life without a computer, tablet, or phone in their hands.)

Know that whatever we do, it’s all part of each platforms’ AI, and they share data, which is why that darling pair of shoes you just saw on Amazon is now showing up on Google, Facebook, Twitter, and every website you visit going forward. It’s all about the money, and they all get a piece of that affiliate link.

Every bit of every click is recorded, even when you’re watching videos on YouTube, or a subscription service like Netflix, or perusing goods on Amazon. It’s all connected. I’m not shocked or surprised by any of this, are you?

It’s Not Personal

What people say to us and about us is ultimately incredibly revealing about them. We know this, at an intellectual, psychological, and emotional level. Still, when people say mean things, it hurts. We’re human.

Does it matter in the overall scope of our lives? Who can say. It matters at that moment. It can matter when it comes to overall visibility when you’re marketing your book(s) or trying to get that book contract or interview. Only you can say if it matters to you.

Already a longtime fan of THE FOUR AGREEMENTS by Don Miguel Ruiz, I took a moment to reorient myself with this one agreement: Don’t take anything personally. I also stumbled across an excellent short and entertaining TEDTalk by Frederick Imbo. His main message to stop taking things personally is two-fold;

It’s not about me. Look at the other person’s intention and

It IS about me. Give yourself some empathy. Speak up. Ask questions. Pay attention to how you feel and be vulnerable with your needs.

I’m glad I was able to, inadvertently, employ point #2 and work out some issues with one of the people by telling him what he said made me cry. He apologized. I apologized. We talked it through and we’re still friends.

Ultimately, social media is what we contribute to it. What we make it. How much we allow of it into our lives. Social proof is going along with the tide. I’ve been in this space since 2008. Being connected to others is a big part of the work I do to help and support not only other writers, but also other childhood sexual abuse survivors. However, I’ve reached that point. I knew it was coming.

I’m not shutting my doors. I’m just adding a screen. With a strong lock.

***

Read more about Rachel’s experiences in the award-winning book, Broken Pieces.

She goes into more detail about living with PTSD and realizing the effects of how being a survivor affected her life in

Broken Places, available in print everywhere!

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The post What Is Social Proof and Does It Matter, Really? appeared first on Rachel Thompson.

via Rachel Thompson

[soysaucevictim]

First week of my new regimen, starting with the Fireheart Program (and then some of the DAREBEE Fitstivities; a bit late posting all this, too)!

-

Nov. 28

I woke up after 11AM.

After some of the usual and chatting, did today’s exercise.

First, today’s DD. 40 squat hold side bends with EC. Just about manageable. Does take minding the hamstrings a bit - but that wasn’t an issue.

Last, Day 1 of the Fireheart Program. I was really excited to start this from the recent batch of releases - because it’s a COMBAT exercise program. That’s my jam, man. I went for Level 3 and no rest, today. TEN probably made me inclined to do it in one superset - but remains to be seen if I can sustain that for the whole program.

I also mixed up how I structured some exercises on a whim: sometimes alternating for each rep, sometimes 50/50, sometimes that + balancing variations. (And as a minor aside, this program’s name/theme made me think of Roman Sanders and how he’d be down for this.) :,D

(I’m keeping the docket open for DAREBEE’s Fitstivities - Fit Christmas, Advent Calendar, Christmas Tree, and maybe even the Snowfight.)

Made dinner (ramen). Among the usual, did some chatting and watched a bit of a funny miniseries with friend.

Got to bed later than yesterday.

-

Nov. 29

I woke up around 2PM today.

After some troubleshooting, chatting, and doing some dishes - I did today’s exercises.

First, today’s DD. 40 balance back kicks with EC (20/20). A fun exercise. I almost lost my center about 10 or so reps in - but I’m happy my gains in coordination made it possible to reorient without dropping and needing to restart (for EC). Kicks are fun, man.

Last, Day 2 of the FhP. Today focused on upperbody stuff. Managed Level 3 with no rest again. I decided to squeeze in a few extra push-ups here and there just to get down a bit better form.

Watched the second Back to The Future movie with friend, amongst a lot of the usual. Did a bit of writing too.

Got to bed around the same time as yesterday.

-

Nov. 30

I think I was woken up around 10:30AM.

Hopped in the showered, realizing I had another dental appointment I needed to get to today. Didn’t have time to get in my laundry beforehand - but bro decided to take mine out for me.

Dozed off in the lobby a little, while I waited. Appointment went well enough, a bit painful and uncomfortable. But I’m happy I was able to get through it alright. Last time I’m going to need to get fillings done for the time being - so I’m happy that’s out of my hair. Walked to a nearby Starbucks to get a coffee to drink while I called in and waited on my ride home afterwards.

Got home and chatted a bit, before exercising.

First, today’s DD. 40 raised leg circles with EC (supine). This was just about manageable, despite how tired I was.

Last, Day 3 of the FhP. Ab Day. Level 3, 1′ rest. I love sit-up/sitting punches a lot! I’m still very pleased that my abs are in good enough condition at this point to manage that load of sit-ups without assist/breaks.That being said, started to really feel things in the last 2 sets. Enjoyable and fatiguing.

Did some of the usual before getting a hold of my laundry to put that away.

Probably a testament to just how exhausted I was, but I finally managed to get to bed in the green zone, tonight. (That target being 1AM or earlier.)

-

Dec. 1

I woke up after noon.

Spent some time preparing notes for my phone psych appt today. That went well enough.

After some time chatting and browsing stuff, I decided to rewatch POF while doing my exercises tonight.

First, today’s DD. 2′ jumping Ts with EC. I counted 130 reps by the end, listening to Rhythm Redux was a great pace-setter. Hit a state of bliss near the end, reminds me why I love jacks so much! =w=

Second, Day 1 of the ‘20 Advent Calendar Challenge. 3x1 up/down planks, I opted not to rest, given how easy the load was. Might not get away with doing things in one superset the whole way through it - but we’ll see!

Third, Day 4 of the FhP. Level 3, 30″-1′ rest in between sets (though it trended closer to 30″.) This was pretty fun. Honestly the only brutal part of the sequence were the squat + side kick combos. Kinda felt like the leg-equivalent to a push-up+punching combo (sans hidden burpee). Whew, mission accomplished, though.

Last,  Day 1 of ‘20 Fit Christmas Program. Cardio Day. Level 3, no rest. Low impact and kind of a breezy “cooldown“ routine to get though. Remains to be seen if I’ll be able to get away with no rest the whole way through, definitely want to shoot for Level 2 minimums (largely dependent on how exhaust Fireheart’s gonna leave me).

Spent rest of night on the usual stuff.

Got to bed obscenely late again.

-

Dec. 2

I woke up after 9AM today.

Went out for some coffee and accompanying bro to get his car serviced. Then we hung out at Grandma’s place while that was happening. I also walked over to the facility for group, when it came time for that.

Group went alright, did a little bit of writing a bit before and into it. Once I got back to Grandma’s, after a stop at a convenience store, bro’s car was ready. We picked up some food on the way back home.

One of the first things I did when I got home and situated, I did my exercise.

First, today’s DD. 40 reverse plank kicks with EC (20/20). This was pretty manageable.

Second, Day 2 of the ‘20ACC. 3x2 burpees - I managed it in one superset. This was pretty manageable. And it’s making me wonder about trying to go for that 50 burpees in one go achievement - eh, some other time. :P

Third, Day 5 of the FhP. Level 3, 1′ rest. Did some plank jumps in/out for transitions and did all the punches/strikes 10/10 style. Push-ups were a bit messy, and plank hold counts probs weren’t consistently slow. Ah well. My energy levels were a bit spent going into this.

Last, Day 2 of ‘20FCP. Strength Day. Level 3, no rest. Did contemplate on resting even 30″ or less - but I decided I could one go this today.

Had to overhear another family blow-up. And felt generally overwhelmed. Chatting and usual distractions helped eventually.

Got to bed around the same time as yesterday.

-

Dec. 3

I woke up around 2PM, today. Which didn’t help me in feeling less harried.

I did some dishes and made today’s Hello Fresh meal. Bulgolgi meatballs. I liked it well enough. 

After some chatting about technical stuff (which immediately got pretty stressful) and doing dishes, I did my exercise.

I got in my workout way too late today. but oh well.

First, today’s DD. 40 squat step-ups with EC (20/20). My water table and energy levels probably weren’t terribly happy about it - but I managed to get through it alright.

Second, Day 3 of the ‘20ACC. 3x3 plank walk-outs, one superset. Happy that my stomach didn’t really complain here, otherwise very manageable work.

Third, Day 6 of the FhP. Level 3, 1′ rest. Leg raises were breezy, side planks were pretty intense. Was a bit concerned about doing more floor work with a slightly full stomach, but it wasn’t a big deal.

Last, Day 3 of ‘20FCP. 100 jumping jacks, done in one go. I enjoyed myself here - still noting how far I’ve come when it comes to stamina to be able to do it without too much problem.

I did a bit of writing and got to bed earlier than yesterday.

-

Dec. 4

I woke up after 1PM.

Got some Iced coffee, deposited some cash, and picked up some Subway.

Got home, chatted and whatnot before today’ exercises.

First, today’s DD. 40 knee-in & twists with EC. Fatiguing in the thighs but manageable.

Second, Day 4 of the ‘20ACC. 3x4 V-Ups, no rest. Did contemplate on resting. But 12 I can manage well enough. Enjoyable exercise.

Last, Day 4 of ‘20FCP. Tendon strength Day, no levels, no rest. Just about manageable little sequence to get done!

I spent most of my night chatting and browsing TV Tropes.

Got to bed later than yesterday.

[streamacademe]

Week 106, Day 735.

My trip to Scotland was a success and I managed to collect some samples! But, I don’t want to talk about that this week. As my 3rd year has officially commenced, I would instead like to dedicate this post to lessons I’ve learned as a 2nd year PhD student and reiterate over my coping strategies.  So, without further ado... 10 lessons I learned as a 2nd year PhD student:

Be prepared to face some dark times with your mental health - I won’t lie to you, it can, and probably will get pretty ugly. At times it will feel like the entire world is on your shoulders and you can’t breathe. I have had countless mental breakdowns this year, which usually involve bawling my eyes out and hyperventilating, before passing out from the exhaustion of it all, then coming around and crying again. Not fun. I have also suffered from insomnia, and, on the flip side, have had many days where I couldn’t get out of bed. I have included some coping strategies for set backs with mental health at the end of this post. 

It will get hard and you’re going to want to quit - I’m sorry to be a bit of a downer, but it’s the truth. For me, giving up is not an option, but even I have had days where I’ve wanted to quit. It’s probably in the terms and conditions of a PhD to feel like this sometimes, but no one ever reads those. How you keep the love for your project glowing is for you to figure out. I always think of the finish line and of how far I’ve come. Or neck a glass of wine, that also helps...

Find a balance between feeling terrified and apathetic, and stupid and self-assured - PhD’s are terrifying, which I appreciate can be exhausting and can lead to feeling apathetic. However, apathy is both a blessing and a curse. It may make you feel calmer and more able, but it sure as hell won’t motivate you to try harder and do better. The same applies for feeling self-assured; yes, you’re clearly a clever bean for getting this far and you should acknowledge and celebrate that, but feeling stupid pushes us to seek knowledge, which is what science is all about. 

Focus on genuine priorities - Procrastination/dedicating your time to non-essential tasks are your no.1 enemies. PhD’s are extremely unpredictable and you have to try and be ahead of the game or you risk falling too far behind. So make sure you know exactly what your priorities are and treat them as such. 

To do lists and GANTT charts are life savers - On your worst days,  refer to these to reorient yourself and stay on track. Make sure they’re always up to date, kept neat, and, most importantly, realistic. 

Self-care is critical - And no, I don’t just mean bubble baths with scented candles every night, although those are definitely helpful. Self-care is looking after your mental, physical, and emotional well-being. Pushing yourself too hard can end really badly. Use me as an example, I pushed myself too hard physically and damaged my spine, which resulted in me taking a week off work. I won’t even mention the amount of mental health set backs I’ve had. So, do whatever it is that allows you to rest your bones, de-frazzles your mind, makes you happy, helps you feel better, and makes you feel like you can keep going. 

You have to learn to say ‘no’ - This will probably be something you’re not used to or are comfortable doing, but I have learned from personal experience that this is literally the most important thing when it comes to  looking after yourself and avoiding burnout. 

Your personal growth is impossible to ignore - Who you are when you start your PhD is definitely not the person you will be at the end. You never stop learning and developing in a PhD, but like, at an accelerated rate. I find it fascinating looking back at my progress reports; something that may have felt impossible 6 months ago is now the norm. 

Rely on your supervisors for help - THIS IS SO IMPORTANT. You DO NOT have to do everything alone. Ask questions, talk to them about your problems, seek their advice. And if they make you feel inferior, uncomfortable, stupid, or make themselves unavailable to you, contact your student support office/r, because a supervisor should NEVER do that. Furthermore, don’t be afraid to voice your opinions and stand your ground with your superiors, they are only human, just like you, and if you feel like they are misguiding or misunderstanding you, tell them. This is your PhD, not anybody else’s. 

Remember that your PhD is your work not your life - As hard as that may be. That is all. 

My ways of coping with the challenges of doing a PhD:

Spend time with animals and in nature - Honestly, if I had to choose just one bit of advice, it’d be this. Animals are the definition of joy, and being in nature always reminds me how beautiful the world can be, irrespective of how dark and rubbish mine may feel at times. 

Sleep - Getting enough sleep makes my anxiety more manageable, my mood better, and means I have more energy to deal with what life has to throw at me. Don’t listen to how much sleep you “should” have, instead listen to your body and work with it. Personally, I aim for at least 8 hours a night. 

Minimalism - I have mentioned minimalism many times on my blog. The benefits of this lifestyle are countless. With respect to my PhD, living with less allows me to have more room to breathe and think. It also means I spend more time on experiences instead of material things. Minimalism also allows me to live intentionally and aligns with my personal values. This in return means that I am more at peace with the life I lead outside of my PhD. 

Save money - Not only do savings mean a sense of security, but having money set aside can be really helpful if you are in need of a getaway or simply want to treat yourself without getting into debt. Furthermore, as there is no guarantee of a job straight after your PhD, or if your funding runs out before you finish, it is essential to have some savings as a safety net to fall on if need be. 

Read - I use books as a form of escape from reality, typically reading either before bed or in the morning before work. It helps take my mind off  the stresses that clutter my brain.

Exercise, eat healthy, and drink plenty of water - I know you’ve heard it all before, but here it is again. It works.

Red Bull (as a last resort) - There are many things in life that have impacted my ability to focus this year, including long drives, bad news, sleepless nights, and mental health issues. However, life doesn’t stop when you want to and so when I’m really struggling I turn to Red Bull for help, and it really does help me. (I don’t drink coffee and tea doesn’t cut it). I always ensure not to drink more than one can a day or drink alcohol within the same 24 hours that I’ve drank Red Bull in. 

How I try to cope with mental health set backs: Disclaimer: ‘Try’ is a critical word here as it is not always easy or straightforward to do the below, and, sadly, sometimes none of these suggestions work. 

Talk about it - I HATE talking about my mental health issues to people as I don’t want to burden my friends, upset my family, or appear weak at work. However, there are times where I’ve had to, and it’s helped. I mainly talk to my boyfriend about it, but should probably see a therapist. Hey ho, small steps. If you really can’t talk about it, write about it, either publicly or privately. 

Perspective - I have been watching a show called ‘New Amsterdam’ recently, which has really helped me see how insignificant some of my problems are. That’s not to say you’re not allowed to feel like crap just because you’re not having open heart surgery, of course you are, but trying to do things that change your perspective can be very helpful in coming out of a mental health episode. Geddit?

Give back - There is always someone having a worse time than you and nothing helps to snap you out of your pity party like lending a helping hand. Whether it’s volunteering at a homeless shelter, running a marathon for charity, or simply donating what you can to a cause you believe in. Give back. 

Headspace - I’m sure you’ve heard of this app/website, if not, here it is. Personally, I don’t like Andy Puddicombes voice, or listening to a human in general, so I don’t use the platform for meditation, but they do have a great range of sleepcasts and sounds, which I use to combat my insomnia. 

Calming medication (natural) - I use an essential oil aromatherapy roller ball to help me overcome an anxious episode or get me off to sleep. Personally, I use Tisserand for these. I also use Rescue Remedy drops for the same reason (these contain alcohol so aren’t for everyone). 

Get the F off of social media for a while - Honestly, your phone isn’t an essential organ, take a break from it, see what wonders it can do for you.

Cut out toxic/negative people - Fill your life with wholesome people, get rid of anyone that makes your recovery impossible, or your life difficult. Be as harsh as you need to be, cry about it, drink about it, but do it, and don’t go back. Here’s a great song to support you through this.  

That is all folks. It took me all day to write this, so I hope it’s at least somewhat helpful. ❤ Peace. 

Photo: A photo of a sunset that made me feel better after an especially difficult day. Source: My camera.

[elspethsunschampion]

Fact or Fiction: Chapter Sixteen

Rated M for abuse, sexual content, and discussion of rape/non-con.  Canon-typical violence.

Summary: It’s Ral Zarek’s sixth year at Hogwarts. And everything would be fine if Jace wasn’t totally occupied with his new girlfriend, to the point where it’s honestly kind of weird, and Ral’s starting to be concerned. Now if only everyone would stop telling Ral he’s just jealous and LISTEN to him…after all, he’s NOT just jealous, right? (Sequel to Send to Sleep.)

Ships: Jace Beleren/Ral Zarek, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Hermione Granger, Nissa Revane/Chandra Nalaar, Elspeth Tirel/Teysa Karlov

A/N: Many, many thanks to @paperclipminimizer for beta-ing and checking my timeline, as well as answering all my questions about Harry Potter. Thanks also to Juri, @dragons-suck, and everyone on Sketchydoodles’ Vorthos server for listening to me rant about this thing as it took shape.

Also available on AO3 and FFnet.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen: Dream Cache

          As he gave the Potions classroom a final once-over, Draco nodded in satisfaction. The sixth-years had all completed their last lesson, and considering that two of them had been in comas for several weeks of term, one had been recently petrified, one tortured by the Cruciatus Curse, and his star pupil had been barely scraping passing marks because he’d been understandably distracted by Amortentia, that was nothing short of miraculous. Not to mention the fact that, for the first time in his life, Draco actually felt hopeful about his personal life.

           Harry was really trying. Draco had reluctantly agreed to start dating him at least partially because he’d been certain Harry would give up the idea after a day or two. When he hadn’t—when he’d kept on insistently asking Draco to come down to Hogsmeade with him, or popping his head into Draco’s office for a quick word or a quick kiss or a quick snog, or just sending him stupid little romantic notes via owl—Draco had gotten used to it faster than he would have believed possible. He’d even managed to reciprocate, himself, on a few occasions, although he wasn’t really good at romantic. But the look on Potter’s—on Harry’s face had been worth it. As had the sex. The sex had definitely been worth it.

           There was a quiet knock on the door. “Come in,” Draco called, as he flicked his wand to dispose of a particularly nasty-looking stain that was determinedly eating through the woodwork of Mr. Zarek’s desk. Ral had never quite lost his habit of experimenting with different combinations of things on the side, although he had at least stopped instantly doing things that his textbooks explicitly warned against.

           The door opened, and Jace poked his head round. “D’you have some time?” he asked. His voice was low, and his gaze directed somewhere in the vicinity of his feet.

           “Yes, I think so.” Draco checked the time. Classes were over for the day, and he was supposed to meet Harry, but not for a few hours. “What is it, Jace?”

           “I—I’ve been trying to get my independent study to work, and I think the theory’s sound, but I’m doing something wrong, and I don’t know what it is.”

           Leaning back against the desk in front, Draco raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought you were told you didn’t have to finish the project you’d planned for this semester? Taking an extension due to illness is fine.”

           Jace shuffled. “I—I know. And I probably won’t do the write-up until next semester. But, um, I really want to finish this.” He sighed in defeat. “It’s for Ral.”

           “Ah, I see.”

           “Can you at least look at my notes?”

           “Of course. I’ll come up to the tower if you like.”

           “Would you? Th-Thanks.”

           Jace’s workstation, which, in contrast to Ral’s, was usually quite organized, was covered in ingredients, laid out in haphazard bunches. His notebook and an instant camera were near the edge of the table, covered in a fine powder Draco thought was probably silver dust. There was a stack of blurry photos peeking out from underneath the notebook—that had been something that had come out of Hermione’s experiments with Mr. Zarek. The camera was actually a Polaroid of Muggle make, but the batteries had been replaced with a magical power source. Although the resulting photos didn’t move, they developed immediately, and several of the students had started using them to keep track of magical experiments they were performing. One of the complaints that Jace’s year especially kept bringing up—especially Ral and Jace—was that it was stupid to try to recreate a potion from a verbal description when you could take a picture of what it was supposed to look like. Draco had started looking into redoing their textbook with a set of example pictures, but he hadn’t had the time to compile it yet.

           Jace flung himself into the stool in front of the workstation with a sigh. Taking out his wand, he prodded at the Potion growing cold on the side of the desk. It was a dull blue, and there was a single white poppy floating on the surface. “Yeah, this didn’t work.”

           “Tell me what you were trying to do.”

           Gnawing at his thumb, Jace seemed to consider this. “I…I could show you,” he whispered. “I just…I just need to know what the steps are supposed to look like and—and how you usually extract memories for a pensieve. I don’t. Know how to do that myself. And, um, I’m—I’m not feeling good. Mirko went back to the Forbidden Forest today, and I—I—thought I’d be fine. I should be fine. I just.” He shut his eyes. “When it didn’t work and didn’t work and didn’t work—” He cut himself off, wrapping his arms around his chest. “Sorry,” he whispered.

           “Would you like a hug?” Draco asked gently.

           Jace’s shoulders went up and down. “Don’t think it’ll help.”

           “All right.”

           “But—but—if you could take this and do it w-with me…” Jace’s hands hovered at the hasp of his cloak.

           Jace had already spent an hour or two curled quietly in the back of Draco’s head, his body resting on a nearby bench or couch, his mind dormant. He’d also spent some time with Hermione and Ranna, who had been on and off campus every few days since making a full recovery. Draco didn’t know if Jace had also been sharing minds with the sixth years, but he suspected he had been. At the very least, Jace had taken to trotting down the hall to Ral’s bedroom again at all hours of the night, which was—comforting. Right. Draco had passed him several times when he was, well, going to Harry’s room.

           “Do you want me to?” He didn’t think Jace would say no, but he wanted to make sure Jace knew he always had a choice.

           Jace nodded. “Yeah. Please.” He undid the cloak and took it off, folding it carefully over the stool. “Only—can I do something a little different? I—I really want to help make it.”

           “Yes, you can.”

           Raising his wand, Jace pointed it carefully at Draco. “Legilimens.”

           It was hard not to flinch at the feeling of Jace touching his mind. Draco had never been as good at occlumency as Harry, but he’d been good enough, and he’d had more than enough people fucking about in his head for one lifetime. Taking a deep breath, Draco reminded himself that this was Jace, and then carefully walled off the memories that Jace shouldn’t have access to, either due to the possibility of traumatizing him, or due to the level of inappropriateness. Jace was skilled enough that he probably could get through most of Draco’s walls if he tried, but Draco trusted that he wasn’t going to.

           A little more fumbling, and then there was a sudden sense of recollection as Jace pushed a thought into his mind.

           Draco raised his own wand. “Legilimens.”

           It took them a moment to reorient, as they carefully tested the connection to make certain that it could be undone at any time without damaging either one of the constituents. They didn’t want a repeat of the incident with Teysa. Once they were as sure as they could be—yes Jace I’m fine I promise—they focused on the potion. It took them a moment to remember the idea, running Draco’s finger down Jace’s notes, but then, there it was. They sized it up, considering, and decided with relief that the theory was sound.

           Jace’s frustration boiled to the surface along with the images of hours spent trying to get the base potion to mix correctly, and it wasn’t surprising he’d had so much trouble. Correct theory or not, a potion like this would have been more suited to a uni student than a boy still at Hogwarts. But they used Jace’s hands anyway, despite the increased difficulty in translating the muscle memory, just slowing a little to accommodate as they began to chop up a stack of mauve carnation petals.

           The work was difficult, more difficult than most potions Draco made these days, since he was hampered by unfamiliar hands and cluttered thoughts, but it was exhilarating at the same time. There were a number of innovative ideas scrawled in the margins of Jace’s little notebook. The potion itself was a modification of the original Bottled Dreams potion to be able to hold memories like a pensieve—instead of catching a dream while you were having it, this was intended to turn a memory into a dream for someone else.

           This time, when it was heated, the potion exuded a fine silvery vapor that curled above the liquid, caught the white poppy, and lifted it into the air for a few seconds, while the whole thing changed from milky grey to sky blue. They let out a sudden, relieved breath. It had worked, which meant it was ready for the last step. The memory-turned-dream.

           Jace’s hands were trembling, and they took a moment to steady them, because this was the most difficult part. Draco knew how to extract his own memories for a pensieve, but he didn’t know how to braid them together the way Jace did, and they would have to draw on both skills in order for this to work properly. And it would have to be Jace’s hand, Jace’s wand, as Jace braided and Draco extracted.

           There was a heartbeat of indecision, of fragmentation, as Jace tried to curl back in on himself, but a mental word of encouragement—You can do this, Jace, better than anyone—pushed them forward. They lifted the wand to Jace’s temple, and Jace did something Draco didn’t understand even though it was happening right in front of his mind, binding the silver cords of memory together as if they were threads on a spindle—not threads, scenes, like cutting out a bit of one photo and gluing it to another one, like the memories in Ral’s head of playing with the moviemaker on his mum’s laptop, making a character disappear just by snipping three seconds of the scene out of the middle—but he understood how to pull the resulting strand out from Jace’s head, how to pull and pull and pull until it twisted around the wand, and how to push it from the wand into the potion, stirring and stirring with a steady hand. The steam evaporated and the potion darkened.

           Draco shivered as Jace withdrew, and he lowered his wand. There was a strange moment of vertigo as he realized he was alone in his head again, and for a brief second, nothing seemed to work the way he remembered. Then the feeling passed, and the two of them were standing together and looking down at the potion they’d made.

           “Excellent work, Jace.” Draco reached out with a hand, then remembered Jace hadn’t wanted a hug, and paused. The boy didn’t seem to have noticed; he was looking down at the potion was a peculiar look on his face. After a moment, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

           “Fuck,” he said, finally. “I did it. I really did it.”

           “You really did.” Draco chose to ignore the obscenity, thinking wryly that after six years of Mr. Zarek, many of the teachers were becoming what the headmistress considered appallingly lax on the subject of profanity. “You had some exceptional insights, and next semester, I hope you’ll write up a careful description of your thought process and the process of making the potion.”

           “I didn’t think I could,” Jace murmured. “Thank you. This is great.”

           “This was entirely you. Your theory, your hands. I just helped out a bit with the experience.”

           When Jace looked up at him, he was smiling broadly, and Draco was struck with the thought that he didn’t think he’d seen Jace smile like that since last year.

           “I'm going to give it to Ral tonight."

           Draco felt his lips twitch upwards in a smile as he thought about Harry waiting for him. “Good luck.” Judging from the way Ral looked at Jace, Jace shouldn’t need it, but it seemed like the thing to say.

[onehundredbetterdays]

Mapping my weeks: my current favorite productivity hack.

*image cred.

I’ll just start by being honest: I went through a series of weeks at the beginning of this year where I wasn’t getting anything done. The slump didn’t last all that long but while I was inside of it, feeling like I was just treading water but not making an impact, it felt eternal. My time felt spread too thin. I felt chaotic whenever I would go over what needed to be done in my mind. I wasn’t making progress and I was getting sucked up by distractions.

I was wasting time on social media. I wasn’t writing. I was doing a series of menial tasks and making no real advancement towards projects that actually mattered to me. But in the last few weeks, everything changed.

I’m a sucker for productivity hacks. I live for them. However, I am learning that everyone operates differently. What works for me may not work well for you. Regardless, I think we all need some systems in our lives. Systems stabilize. Systems clear out the chaos. Systems help us get stuff done. 

I believe we are living in an interesting time where people talk (really loudly) about life and living life but aren’t actually doing it. I feel like we’ve become spectators. Some of us have stopped doing the work. We’ve lost hours to social media and it’s time to claim back that precious time. At the end of the day, I believe the most valuable resource I have at my fingertips is time. I plan to use it wisely. I plan to be a doer, not getting to the end of my life and having to say, “I watched too many people live. I never thought to put down the phone and own my life instead.”

You being here matters. You get a designated load that has your name on it. You get the chance to leave your fingerprints on the lives of people and projects. But no one will know if you never wake up and live. No one will bother to write an article about you or thank you for your service if all you ever do is sit back and scroll. I’m not trying to be harsh, I’m just needing to be honest.

One system I’ve been implementing every Sunday is taking an hour or so to map my week out and make a massive to-do list. This happens before I do anything else.

It looks like this:

  And this halfway through a week:

What the colors mean:

Yellow highlights: There are a few tasks I will highlight in yellow before I go over them in orange. The yellow tells me something: this is a task you are planning to get done today. It helps me to see what takes priority on a Monday or a Thursday. It’s a bit of a roadmap in a sea of tasks.

Orange highlights: Plain and simple, orange means completed. I get so much satisfaction out of getting to check something off the list.

What gets listed:

It’s basic. There’s no huge science to it. I only include what is necessary for that week and I do not allow myself to overflow into the next set of pages. My whole week exists on two pages and it allows me to believe I can conquer what is to come.

Tasks & projects:

I write down all my work-based and personal tasks that are necessary enough to make the to-do list. I dump my brain out onto the pages of a bullet journal (yes, I am obsessed) and I get to it. Sometimes I miss things that needed to be added to the list but if the task is something that can happen the following week then I slot it away for next week’s workload.

Where to be: 

I keep a running list of places where I need to be throughout the week. Mind you, I use a monthly calendar on a daily basis. I don’t leave home without it. I am proud to say I am still functioning with a monthly paper planner in an iPhone world! This monthly planner is my roadmap for the week but the “where to be” section of my list preps me to show up for these events, meetings, and occasions.

If you introvert hard like me then it can seem like getting over a mountain just to jump on a phone meeting. The homebody inside of me wants to stay in my creative zone all day and talk to absolutely no one. Being able to highlight these meetings off my list upon completion helps me breathe knowing I showed up and made it happen when I wanted to stay in sweatpants all day.

Self-care:

I can guarantee that no self-care would happen if I didn’t add it to the bottom of my weekly lists. I list simple things like a workout, a study session with my Bible, and personal tasks that are good for my heart. Last week I challenged myself to mail two love letters to people in my life. This week I’ve been tracking all the foods I’ve been consuming to get extra protein into my diet.

I used to struggle with self-care because it seemed selfish to me. I now believe self-care is the opposite of being selfish. When you take care of yourself, you are able to take better care of others. By getting a workout in, studying my Bible in the morning, and checking a number of water bottles off my list, I can give people the best version of myself. Taking care of yourself matters. Don’t be afraid to make it a priority.

A note to the hustlers with anxiety:

I feel you. And this productivity system of mine was largely created because of all the anxiety I deal with throughout a given week. Yes, I face anxiety but I refuse to let that anxiety hold me back from all this week has to offer me. What this system does, more than anything else, is give me a map. I need a map. Otherwise, I tread water. I fill the air with self-deprecating words about myself. I fail before I even begin.

I can honestly say that since beginning this system, my productivity has doubled. I’ve yet to have an unproductive workday with this list in front of me.

Processed with VSCO with hb2 preset

Processed with VSCO with hb2 preset

Some tips to get you feeling productive:

What you likely don’t need right now: It’s very likely that you don’t need another planner. I love planners and I love supporting planner companies. But I used to be a chronic planner purchaser. I would buy a planner whenever I felt like I wasn’t being productive enough. I would blame my old planner and think the solution was a new planner. Turns out, the planner wasn’t the key to the productivity. The key to productivity is simply putting your head down and doing the work. Easier said than done, right?

Start before the week begins: I’ve reoriented my weekends in the last few months. Sunday used to be my day of ultimate rest but I’ve recently shifted that day to Saturday. Saturday is my actual sabbath where I don’t do any work, don’t bother checking email or being “on.” I relax. I eat brunch. I sip my coffee slowly (after sleeping in). I spend time with Lane and friends.

It’s honestly my own fault that Sunday became more of a workday. A few months ago, I was failing to write the Monday Morning Email in advance and it ended up being a Sunday night task. I don’t recommend waiting until the last-minute but establishing Saturday as my Sabbath has freed me up to do a little work on Sunday. That might seem crazy but a) I love my work and I am happy to do it any day of the week and b) I really love getting a head start on a Sunday evening. It relieves the pressure that so often comes with a Monday.

Diversify the tasks: I write it all down. Everything. Writing down only the big tasks can be overwhelming and writing down just the little ones seems trivial. When I look at my list, I am able to choose. I can choose to dive into a big task I know I want to tackle or I can start getting into the workflow by tackling something little. I don’t scale my tasks in order of importance. If it makes the list then that means it is important to try and accomplish the task that week.

People, Plans & Projects: This is what matters most to me. I wrote a blog about it last year if you want to know more about how I manage my priorities in these 3 areas!

Eat the frog: My friend Christina told me about this method and it really is a game changer. Look at your own to-do list (if you’ve got one). Locate the task that is the most important but also the one you’re most likely to procrastinate on. That’s your frog. Your frog is the thing that NEEDS to get done and may even take only 10 minutes to do but you’ve been dreading it. Don’t delay any longer. Do that thing. Make it happen. I try to “eat the frog” every week, early in the week. It helps me look forward to the tasks on my to-do list rather than dreading the things I have to do that week.

Airplane mode: This is a huge key to having a productive week. Be willing to turn off the noise to plug-in and be productive. Social media is great but does it really make you more productive? When was the last time watching other people live their “best lives” helped you go out there and tackle Monday? I use airplane mode heavily throughout my weeks. Social media can wait.

I am very productive: Ever get to the end of the week and feel like you’ve done nothing? This hack helps you defeat that feeling. I can look back on the last few weeks and see all I’ve done, all I’ve accomplished, and all I’ve managed to steward well. It’s pure proof that I am productive, moving forward, and making little dents in my corner of the world.

    I am planning to let this system evolve and change in the next few weeks so let me know in the comments if this was helpful or you want me to write more about these productivity hacks and systems. I am always happy to share my process as I grow and learn! 

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