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derinwrites · 8 months ago

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The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

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honeybubblebeeeeee · 11 months ago

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Arranged marriage AU!Toji x Reader

Summary: Your son with toji, Megumi, said his first words today

CW: toji is cold and distant mostly hurt and no comfort mild fluff i guess??

Idk this was a random thought and now its here

REQUESTS OPEN!

Marriages were not always done out of love. Some were done out of necessity or desperation. Much like the one you were currently in. It was necessity of clans and land squabbles and power hungry old men that didn't care for the feelings of those around them - only getting what they want.

And in your case they got what they wanted. Did you get anything you wanted? Well kinda.

Being in an arranged marriage to Toji wasn't the worst thing to happen to you. It could be worse but it could also be much, much better.

You had known each other since you were children as it was planned from a young age that you two were to be married. You hadn't minded. Toji was attractive and you had a mini crush on him for the longest time but he always detested you. You knew of the numerous women he had slept with before your marriage, having run into them multiple times. It felt like he was trying to push you away, to force you to beg for an out but you both knew that wasn't happening.

You had only been married for a short time now almost two years. It had been mostly uneventful in the name of new marriages aside from - ya know - the whole baby you had. Toji and you were told to waste no time in trying to produce an heir and really that was the only Toji showed you any affection. Outside of those moments he was cold and inattentive. Those moments were only out of the necessity to reproduce anyway. He didn't interact with your son Megumi very much either.

You cleaned up the kitchen after dinner in your large but yet lonely house. Toji was still out. Work or something else you weren't sure. Megumi babbled and bounced as he watched you move around the kitchen from his highchair, music played in the background. You smiled at him as he babbled. "Hi 'Gumi." You waved at him smiling wide. He laughed giddly at your voice, his mop of black hair bouncing with his movements.

He was the happiest and the cutest baby you had ever seen. You were more than proud of yourself. It was only mildly hurtful that Megumi was identical to Toji. His dark hair, his facial structure screamed Toji. The only thing he had gotten from you was your eyes. They reflected back at you as you approached the bouncing baby putting him on your hip.

You danced along to he music, bouncing him around as he laughed and babbled.

You put him down on the floor as you turned off the music. He continued babbling to himself as he crawled around. "Dadadadadada"

You turned almost comically slow to look down at your son. "What?!" Your smile was wide and your face was full of surprise.

Megumi babbled on again almost coherently. "dadadadadada"

You were so in shock you could barely move. Picking him up and swiftly sitting him on the counter. "Gumi did you say dada?! Say it again! Say dada."

Megumi laughed and babbled at you. You repeated the word multiple times, he watched intently his mouth moving as if trying to copy you. More coherent this time. "Dada"

You smiled wide and clapped at him. "Good job Megumi!! Oh my we have to tell Dada don't we? Such a smart boy."

Within the same moment Toji burst through the front door. You looked up at him as he passed by the kitchen, not even taking off his shoes before going to stomp up the stairs. "Toji! Oh my gosh come here Megumi just-"

"Leave me alone." He marched up the stairs. You heard his footsteps through the house and his bedroom door slammed. You looked down at Megumi as his small hands held onto your shirt and he looked up at you with big eyes. "Dada." You smiled softly at him. "Yeah baby... dada." Looking towards the stairs as if seeing him stomp up to them all over again.

Hours went by and he never came back down. You texted him that his dinner was in the fridge, that you wanted to show him something, that you were here for him if he needed anything, that you were sorry he had a bad day and he never answered or even read a single message.

Since figuring out he could say 'dada' Megumi had not stopped repeating it. You knew it wasn't to annoy you but you couldn't help feel a pang of hurt every time he said it. Toji was rarely around. Why couldn't his first word be mama, the one who is always around?

It was Megumi's bed time but you really thought Toji hearing Megumi would lighten up his day a little. You sighed to yourself as you built lego towers with Megumi upstairs in his playroom. Here you were, still trying to be the wife but he really was making you into a stranger.

You bathed and dressed Megumi in his pjs and held him close as he looked up at you. "Should we go see if dada is busy Megumi?" His eyes widened at the word and continued his babbling mantra of it. You walked through the east half of the house where your room and Megumi's plus your own office, some extra rooms and Megumi's playroom were. Toji's side was the west wing. If you were actually husband and wife you would share the north wing, where the extravagant bedroom - apartment practically - sat bare and collected dust. You looked to the double doors at the end of the north hall with disappointment before making you way to the west end and stepping up to Toji's door.

You hesitated before knocking softly. Waiting a moment before looking down at Megumi and shrugging. "I don't know if he's awake bud." You thought for a moment before slowly pushing the door open and peering inside. The light were on so you entered even though you knew you shouldn't. Toji never let you in his room. You'd only be in here a handful of times and all those times were unpleasant.

You walked through the sitting area into the bedroom until you noticed the bathroom door shut. You shook your head, looking to Megumi, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "I think we will show dada tomorrow okay?" Megumi was unusually quiet, maybe being able to feel the tension that grew in your body. Turning swiftly you made for the door you came through but before you made it out of the bedroom the bathroom door opened.

"What are you doing in here?" Toji's voice was loud and cold. You turned to look at him. Water dripped from his wet hair, his body damp with steam. A towel hung loosely around his waist. "Did I say you could come in my room?" His eyes bore holes into you. The heat that rushed into your face gave away your fear.

You looked down to the son you both created, trying to look anywhere but at the way his muscled form rippled infront of you. It was easier to pretend you didn't find him attractive or care about him or have feelings for him when he wasn't right infront of you.

"Oh... sorry... I just..."

He eyed you, how you stayed focus on Megumi. The small boy holding onto your free hand. "What happened? Is Megumi ok?" His expression changed as he approached the two of you. His voice still cold and annoyed but a hint of concern hid underneath it all.

Your head snapped to him. Eyeing him closely for a reaction. "Nothing I just... he said his first word today. I thought it might cheer you up to hear it if I can get him to say it again."

His features softened ever so slightly. "His first word?" Toji tilted his head in thought. "What was it?" You couldn't help but notice the small amount of excitement in his voice.

Megumi bounced in your arms at Toji's voice, babbling along as if trying to figure out how to say it all over again. I smiled at Toji and then back down at Megumi. I pointed at Toji. "Who's that Gumi? Hmm? Say dada! Say it again baby show dada."

Megumi babbled and pointed towards Toji for a few moments before sounding out dada once again.

Toji's face immediately brightened. "What?! Dada??" He chuckled deeply, one that sounded genuine and it shook something in you. "He actually said it. Good boy Megumi." Toji stepped up to you and the baby as he spoke. Brushing Megumi's heap of hair back.

You kissed to side of Megumi's head as he bounced on your hip. "He hasn't even said mama yet." You chuckled softly but the tinge of hurt was in your voice. "Anyway that was all I wanted to tell you. Sorry for coming in your room, I know I'm not supposed to."

He shook his head. "it's okay." He assured as he watched Megumi babble and squirm in your grip. He was overtired for sure. Toji seemed to be a different person than the one you had come accustomed. His permanent scowl was gone and he looked almost happy. "Can I hold him?"

His question shocked you. Eyes widening but you handed him over.

Toji softly cradled him, rocking him back and forth as he whispered to him. Megumi didn't cry or fuss, even his overtired babbling stopped. Slowly his eyes got heavy and closed. You watched intently as Toji interacted with your son. If it could be like this all the time.

"He really does have my hair. He's got your eyes too." Toji commented quietly while admiring his son. His eyes flicked up to yours for a moment.

I smiled at him. "Yeah... he does..."

Toji chuckled softly. "He really does look like me. It's kinda scary."

You laughed a little more sincerely than you intended. "He does, has your personality too."

Toji chuckled low. "Yeah, he's cold and distant just like me?"

Your smile dropped, panic set in at his words. "Oh n-no I didn't mean it like that..."

Toji shook his head and looked up at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips at your panicked expression. "I was joking, I know what you meant." He assured as he watched the sleeping Megumi in his arms.

You let go of a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "oh right."

Toji whole aura seemed to relax when he held Megumi. You wished he could be around all the time. That he could be the father figure Megumi needed. That he could be the husband you wanted. To come home after a long day, and sit together. To be able to go to him when you needed a hug or reassurance or just wanted to feel loved. Your eyes focused as you realized that Toji was watching you deep in thought. Shaking your head you held out your arms. "I can take him now if you want. I don't want to bother you."

He held onto Megumi for a moment, seeming almost reluctant before handing him over to you. You smiled and nodded at him, turning to leave. He called out to you as you reached the door. "Wait, Y/N-"

You turned to look at him. "What's up?"

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it slowly. "Never mind sorry. Goodnight."

You eyed him for a moment before reluctantly turning away. "Alright... goodnight."

He couldn't bring himself to tell you the things he wanted to say. He couldn't find the words. How does he make up for the suffering you already endured? You had always so easily melted his cold dead heart, so he kept you at a distance but you had been so close. He already felt it melting.

#toji x reader #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji x you #arranged marriage #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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soularsss · 5 months ago

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Drawing Likeness: with Tem!

okaay since a few people actually showed interest in me sharing a bit of what I've been doing to figure out how to really capture likeness, specifically Temuera Morrison, I figured id do my best to write it out

I am also going to entice you with some of my recent clone art! (oooh some of it is unreleaaasedd)

I am putting the whole thing under the cut because I have a feeling its going to be long:

Read more!!!

a couple disclaimers before we start

-This is not some definite post about how everyone should be drawing clones, nor is it in any way claiming that this is the right way. This is just my musings as I stare at a mans face for way too long and try to replicate it

-I am inexperienced. As kind as you all are to me, drawing real people is relatively new to me, capturing a persons identity through their features is difficult for anybody, and I am no different. I have watched many a video on likeness and had my share of classes, but If im being honest, i rarely put it into practice successfully. So there'll probably be errors in this post or things i will come back to in a few months and wish I had said/done differently

ANYWAYs you guys get my vibe im just here to ramble and today we are rambling about mr copy paste. I am doing this for Law, my clone boy, because I plan on delving further into oc fanart and I want to put effort into representing him correctly!

SO LETS BEGIN

Before even deciding what specific pose of a person I want to draw, I tend to grab a bunch of references and compile them like so

(all of these can be found on my pinterest)

Why so many? Well, we are about to delve into facial features, so when we are dealing with photos we have to take into account that there are an abundance of circumstances that will influence how a persons face will appear, some of these include:

focal length: All of these are taken on different devices, and focal length can play a big part in distorting faces

age will play a part, your face changes a bunch throughout your life!

lighting, while not as major, can muddy the waters and make it difficult to interpret facial planes and features

SO, to make sure we get a proper grasp of what's really going on, I like to make sure we have lots of options to compare and contrast with.

Next up! What I like to do is block out the main facial features with colour on different layers, the features I block out usually are the general face shape, eyebrows, eyes, nose and lips. But what you are looking for is the defining features of a person, so that could include other things! Maybe a scar, or some particularly prominent cheekbones.

I dont have any rhyme or reason when it comes to picking my colours, all that matters is you can see all the shapes clearly.

Now I may be biased, because Ive been staring at these for 4 hours, but notice how it still looks like Tem? :D

Anyways, now we can break these parts down, and you'll see what I mean about compare and contrast:

We'll start with isolating the facial shape, putting all these next to eachother you'll notice they arent exactly the same (partly because of my shoddy work) But the distinguishing features run through each shape! Namely the very soft rectangular shape I sketched out in the bottom right there. Along with his soft, wide jaw structure.

I did the same for the rest of his features!

You'll notice I highlight the prominent shapes and ratios,

When drawing anything, it is important to start from the very base shapes and build up.

When drawing something you want to look like someone, those shapes relative to other shapes is what makes it look like them.

I didnt use the same technique with his eyes and lips, but I wrote out some helpful info for them! More importantly for his eyes.

When drawing eyes, I find the most important part is where exactly I draw the creases, (along with the overall shape of the eye itself) it is important to understand where those will present themselves with hooded eyes.

NOW, with an understanding of his facial features in place, lets take a detour to colours:

before I start, a couple things to note:

-Temuera morrison versus the clone troopers in the animated shows:

While I love the animated shows they don't exactly stay close to their source material. Im going to link here to an excellent post discussing whitewashing specifically in relation to the clones.

Temuera is Māori, of Te Arawa (Ngāti Whakaue) and Tainui (Ngāti Maniapoto, Ngāti Rarua) whakapapa, and also has Scottish and Irish ancestry.

The Māori people are the indigenous Polynesian people of mainland New Zealand (Aotearoa). Māori originated with settlers from East Polynesia. Māori people often vary in skin tone, Skin colour doesn't determine ethnicity. There's often a correlation but it's not a requirement.

But that is a tangent! What we are aiming for is to stay true to Temuera.

Bringing back my reference photos from before, Ive colour picked a buncha values and theyre all over the place. Why doesnt this work?

Similarly to earlier, you have to take into account the photos themselves. Many things like lighting, colour grading (when it comes to filmography) and makeup, can alter how a skin colour presents in photo.

You can attempt to get true to life by swatching from certain places on the face. Here I've tried to pick some photos with good lighting, and I've also tried to avoid overly lit/shaded areas.

Tem has a very warm, tan skin tone, Instead of colour picking I tend to try and replicate it myself, but I do often bring in references to make sure Im staying true to the source!

a brief intermission to talk about colour theory, something I myself struggle with alot. Often, when putting in flat colours without a background, I will forget to make sure the colours i intend to use will work with the skin tone i have picked! (something that is apparent in older works of mine, not just in relation to clones, but in general, the colours I end up with stray largely from their original sources and it is something I am doing my best to keep in mind and improve in! Although I don't think i am nearly experienced enough in the topic to say I have succeeded yet lol.)

anyways back to Tem :))

Now we can put all of that into practice! Things to keep in mind when drawing out a piece next to a reference like this:

the distance between the eyebrows? how far down his face does his nose go? Basically just, in relation to eachother, where do all those shapes we found earlier, sit?

The screenshot above is from before I did it myself, but instead of directly tracing from the reference, a handy trick I use it to complete your sketch first, and then overlay a traced version to see where your inconsistencies are! Alternatively, you could move your sketch over the image, but I didnt do it that way so!! uh!! im sure it works exactly the same!!!!

When it comes to a final illustration, or any sketch that isnt a direct study, of course you can push and pull and stylise! You'll see below that I'm not exactly 1:1 to my reference photo either.

The important thing with stylisation, or at least my own personal understanding of stylisation is that you need to thoroughly understand the thing you are stylizing! "You need to know the rules to break them" and all that. While shapes, lines and rendering can change, when it comes to drawing someone, and making it look like them, you have to make sure to keep their core features true to source. Caricature can capture a persons vibe whilst drastically exaggerating features, but it will only look like them if you KEEP THOSE FEATURES!!!! SHAPES!!! AHHH!!

But that is just my perspective on the discussion of style versus realism, please dont take is as Law, I dont know what Im on about half the time!!

anyways, after fixing your sketch, add local colours!

I rexified him because why tf not! But this is where you can go crazy with that clone personalization!

And then here is a very very barely rendered version (if you guys want me to explain how i RENDER that would need to be a completely different post, and I havent had anyone ask about it yet so who knows! maybe one day) But I digress, hopefully you learnt something new through my ramblings! It has certainly helped me organize my thoughts and I have also found some areas I would like to focus more on in the future to improve my own art!

TLDR: In order to understand an object, be it a face or a building or literally anything, you have to break it down to its simplest forms, understanding LARGER shapes will help you immensely in the long run

If you guys like this sorta content do let me know! I'd be down to do similar things for armor/anything really, I am very anti gatekeep so really anything at all you want to know! Send me an ask :))

also if you see a spelling mistake.. i don’t know how that got there

#can you tell im nervous #i’ve never done anything like this BEFORE SPARE ME PLEASE #star wars #star wars fanart #digital art #my art <3 #digital aritst #the clone wars #clone trooper #temuera morrison #tutorial #soulars yaps #soulars tutorial

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novlr · 20 days ago

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I have a bad habit of never finishing writing I start - I work hard on a story, make it to 3/4 of the way through, then lose passion for it and start something else. I know the key to overcoming this is discipline, and I’m trying very hard to make myself keep going with my current story that I like very much and spent so much time researching and outlining, but it’s a struggle every day to make my writing goal. Any advice for how to re-ignite writing spark or how to push through to the end?

We can lose our drive to write for a lot of reasons. It often indicates a growing maturity as an artist — you understand the craft better and your own (current) limitations better, and so you begin to feel overwhelmed in a way you didn’t before. It can also be that external anxieties are getting in the way or simply that you’ve lost interest in your current project.

Hope is not lost. Read on for some tips on reclaiming your writing spark.

Shift gears

Sometimes, all you need to reignite your writing spark is to engage your brain in a different way. If you’re struggling with your novel, take a break and try writing a poem or a piece of flash fiction. Or, you could try drawing sketches of your characters, a map of your story’s world, or some possible outfits for your climactic battle scene (it doesn’t have to be good. No one’s going to see it).

The trick is to stay creative but to approach your work from a different angle.

Change location

If you’ve been trying and failing to write at your desk, surrounded by crumpled up dreams drafts and last week’s candy wrappers, you may be suffering from an environment with stagnant energy. Try taking yourself on a writer’s date: go to a location that fits the tone of the project you’re working on (lux hotel lobby, seedy theatre bar, the wilds of a nearby park), and see if that gets your creative wheels turning.

Dress [in]appropriately

In Writing Down the Bones, Natalie Goldberg has a chapter called “Blue Lipstick and a Cigarette Hanging Out Your Mouth”. By this she meant, “Use outfits and props to step outside yourself and get a new perspective”. You might find it helpful to have a special “writer’s sweater” that you only wear when you’re writing or to dress like someone confident and cool enough to smash writer’s block in the face.

Do some soul-searching

What’s really going on here? If the above tricks aren’t doing it for you, there may be some bigger issues at play that are inhibiting you from connecting to your writing spark.

Write letters

I’ve written about the restorative powers of letter writing before, and I’ll mention it again: handwritten letters are a great way to get the words flowing. You don’t actually have to send them when you’re done (although you can if you want to); the recipient doesn’t even need to exist. Simply by putting your thoughts down in a low-risk way, you’re unclogging your creative pipes.

Join a writing group

There’s power and accountability in numbers. You can find writing groups online, through community centres and writers centres, or by sticking a flyer up in a bookshop and starting your own. There’s even a Novlr writing community on Discord where we share tips, struggles, and just generally talk craft! By inviting other people into your writing practice, you’ll have some support and encouragement to keep you going.

Find your writing spark with writing prompts

The internet is awash with writing prompts. These can be a helpful way to get something down on paper and stretch out your writing muscles. Whether it’s a premise, an opening line, or a character study, writing prompts can give you a gentle, creative push and even inspire new work.

Experiment with found structure

If writing a traditional story feels like pulling out your own teeth, try a found structure story. This means using fictional “found material” like shopping lists, calendars, to-do lists, ticket stubs, banking records, and so forth to create a narrative.

Here’s an example: Imagine a week in which a bride-to-be prepares for her glorious wedding, is left at the altar, rages in misery, and ultimately emerges healthier and stronger. Now, write her shopping list for each day of that week. How does it change from beginning to end? How much emotional detail can you communicate to the reader through the items that appear on these lists? This can be a fun way to create a story without the anxiety of writing it.

Set a petty life goal

I am a proud champion of the value of pettiness as a motivator. There are plenty of noble reasons to write: to share powerful stories, to help readers in need of healing, to inspire others to write stories themselves, and to draw attention to important social issues or minority identities.

There are also some really inane and selfish reasons to write: to become more famous than your ex, to appear on TV and make your ex regret everything they’ve ever done to you, to have your book made into a movie and receive casting consultation rights and pitch your favourite actor in the lead role and allow them to take you for coffee as a thank you. But the thing is… these are the motivations that are really going to pull you out of the dirt when you need it most. Find the silly driving goal that really gets under your skin and hold onto it for dear life.

Forgive yourself

Many writers experience a lot of shame when they aren’t writing as much as they feel they should. Needless to say, this shame only makes the writing harder. Allow yourself the space to take some time when you need it, process your struggles, and return when you’re ready. The page will be waiting when you get back.

#writeblr #writing tips #writers of tumblr #writing community #writers #writing #creative writing #creative writers #writing inspiration #writerblr #writing advice #writing resources #writers on tumblr #ask novlr #writing blog #helping writers

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willowsnook · 17 days ago

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I see you (pt. 1)

max verstappen x reader

summary: the reader is living life as if it were a giant checklist to get through. Max is the only one who really sees through her facade and makes her question if this is the life that she really wants

—————————————————

18: graduate high school

22: graduate college with a business degree and land your first job

23: meet the love of your life

25: get married

28: move to the suburbs

30: have kids

A 5-year plan hated to see you coming. You had been this way your whole life, always planning ahead for the future. Your parents used to laugh when you'd lay out your life plan for them, tussling your hair and telling you that life doesn't always work out exactly how you think it will. But now, at 24, it had.

Living in Monaco was a dream, and you were thankful that you landed the job that brought you to the beautiful country. You moved over two years ago and now shared an apartment with your boyfriend, Sam, whom you met when, you guessed it, you were 23.

Your life was perfect. You had a job that paid you well, a boyfriend who loved you, and good structure. You woke up at the same time every morning to run, eat a healthy breakfast, and read for 30 minutes. Your night routine was just as structured. Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be, at least that's what you told yourself.

"Hey, I have to run to make this meeting, but I'll see you tonight, yeah?" Sam asked as he grabbed his backpack off the hallway floor, kissing your cheek as he headed out the door.

"Okay," you replied, but he was already gone, so you turned your attention back to the lunch you were packing for yourself. Your phone pinged and you looked at it to see a text from your brother, asking if you were interested in going to the Monaco GP with him this weekend. You liked going to the races, mainly because, thanks to your brother's best friend, you always had VIP passes. Your brother met Max while karting growing up, and the two stayed friends even when your brother fell out of it. Max was friendly, but he had always made you nervous; it was like when he looked at you, he was looking into your soul.

You told your brother that you could and then shot Sam a quick message letting him know even though he was going to be out of town for the weekend. The morning at work went by quickly, and you were in the cafeteria eating lunch with some of your coworkers, one of whom had just gotten back from her honeymoon.

"Oh my gosh, it was amazing," she gushed. "It was so us, just a little cabin in the mountains."

"What kind of things did you do?" You asked, and she thought for a second before answering.

"Honestly, not a lot. We kind of just hung out together and talked for like four days straight. I don't want to get too cringey with you guys, but the happiness and love I feel knowing that this is who I get to spend the rest of my life with is something I can't even describe. " Your coworker was getting a little emotional talking about her new husband, and you frowned. You couldn't really ever imagine yourself talking about Sam like this.

Sure, you loved him, but did he set your heart on fire? No, but you didn't really believe that was possible; it was just a sentiment made up for romance novels. Sam was stable. He had a good job, a good family, and similar goals. You had different interests, but the important things were the same, and you valued that. He made your life comfortable, which you appreciated.

As your coworker continued speaking, you felt yourself start to get lost in thought. Could you truly love someone so much that they become your entire world? Despite trying to push them away, the doubts and questions that have been lingering in your mind for the past couple of months began to resurface. Were you settling? Were you truly happy?

Your mind was stuck on that topic as you headed home, and you frowned when you finally made it back and saw a note on the counter.

Going to be working late, sorry xo -Sam

This was not unusual. He often was caught up working late hours, but that was the price of success, was it not? Sam was on his way to becoming a partner at a law firm in the city and would not let anything get in the way of that, which was something you admired when you first met him.

The two of you met at a networking event and hit it off, both having moved here from the US after college. You found him insanely attractive, especially the way he took control of any room he was in. He liked that you weren't interested in being arm candy, were focused on your career, and had the ambition to move up in the world.

But as much as you wished you were, you didn't feel like you were that person anymore. To be honest, it felt like you were drowning.

—————————————————————

You loved race weekends in Monaco; they made you nostalgic about your youth, when you spent countless weekends at the track with your brother during your school breaks. Moving through the paddock, you said hello to some friends before spying your brother outside of the Red Bull garage, talking to Max.

"Y/n," he called, waving over to you. You smiled widely, moving into his arms, happy to be reunited. He lives in Milan now, so you don't see him as often as you would like.

"Hi, Max," you greeted the Dutchman, and your eyes met his, twinkling with amusement.

"Little y/l/n," he teased, pulling you into his side. "You know it's crazy to me that we never run into each other."

"She's too busy working all hours of the day," your brother responded, and you rolled your eyes, giving him an annoyed look.

"You are also gone most of the year," you pointed out to Max, and he shrugged.

"How is work, by the way?" your brother asked, and you launched into your overused answer about it going well and that you were excited about the growth coming. He seemed to accept that, but you noticed Max giving you a look, like he almost didn't quite believe you, but he didn't say anything.

Max got pulled away by his team, so you followed your brother into the hospitality area, picking up a plate to get some food.

"Sam didn't want to come?" He asked casually.

"He's on work travel," you told him and he didn't say anything. You knew he didn't like Sam, but you could never really figure out why. "When will you finally tell me why you don't like him?"

"I don't not like him," he said. "I just am not sure I like him for you."

You felt a twinge of irritation at your brother's words. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He sighed, setting down his plate. "Look, I know you've always had this plan for your life. And on paper, Sam fits into that perfectly. But Y/N, when I see you two together... I don't know. There's just something missing."

You opened your mouth to argue but found you couldn't form the words. Your brother's observation hit too close to the doubts you'd been having lately.

"I just want you to be happy, truly happy," he continued softly. "Not just checking boxes off a list."

You stared down at your plate, appetite gone. "I am happy," you mumbled, but the words felt hollow even to your own ears.

Just then, Max reappeared, breaking the tension. "Sorry about that," he said, grabbing a drink from the machine beside you. "You guys should watch from the garage."

Your brother perked up, shooting Max a grateful look. "We would love that."

Admittedly, you were excited to watch from down there. You always wanted to be where the action was, especially when it came to racing. Ever since you were a girl, sports has been your biggest passion in life, even beyond racing. Being from the US, football and baseball had a special place in your heart, and even now, you stay up very, very late to watch your favorite teams. In another life, you knew that you'd have found some kind of job that let you be involved in the industry, but that wasn't how the cards fell in this one.

The race began, and you were instantly swept up by the electric energy of the bustling garage. The scent of gasoline and rubber hung heavy in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of exhaust fumes. Engines roared to life, and tires screeched as cars whizzed by in a blur of color. It was a symphony of sound and motion, each revving engine adding its own distinct note. As you watched in awe, your heart raced along with the cars on the track, feeling alive in this thrilling moment.

Cheering along with everyone you watched Max take another win and you joined your brother to watch the podium ceremony. You were smiling widely as the Dutch anthem played, and Max found your eyes in the crowd, shooting you a wink.

———————————————————————-

Rather than going out, Max wanted to celebrate his win by hosting in his Monaco penthouse. His home was crowded with Redbull employees, the grid, and their friends who wanted to come. You were enjoying yourself, bouncing around and talking to different people you knew from the old days. You were glad to relax for once. After a while, you started to hit a wall and found yourself stepping out on the balcony to get some fresh air, gazing at the cityscape.

The door opened behind you, and you felt another presence join you at the railing. A blanket was gently laid over your shoulders, and you turned, smiling gratefully to Max as he gave you a soft smile back. His eyes looked at you in a way that made you shiver; you felt like you were naked under his gaze. Turning back to the view, you sighed.

"Do you ever wish things could be different?" You asked, surprising even yourself.

Max stood there in thought before answering, "I don't think so. I'm doing everything I've always wanted to, and if I wanted to stop, I would. I thought you had everything that was part of your grand plan?"

You smiled, thinking about your nine-year-old self had even informed Max of what your life was going to look like. "I do."

"I haven't seen you look as you did today when I was on the podium in a long time," he said, and you turned back to him.

"Like what?"

"Like you were happy," he said softly, scanning your face for a reaction, but you felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over you.

"That's not true," you said weakly, and his gaze bore into yours.

"I see you y/n. I see how you look at your boyfriend like he's what you got in a business transaction. How you look at your job like it's the prize for steadfast loyalty. It's like you're a side character in your own life"

You started to get angry with him for calling you out so bluntly.

"You don't know me, Max," you disputed. He chuckled humorlessly, looking back over the railing.

"Maybe not," Max conceded, his voice softening. "But I remember the girl who used to light up at the track, who couldn't stop talking about sports stats, who dreamed of being a sports journalist. What happened to her?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as memories flooded back—the thrill of live games, the joy of analyzing plays, the excitement of crafting stories about athletes and their journeys. When had you let that passion slip away?

"She grew up," you whispered, but even to your own ears, it sounded unconvincing.

Max turned to face you fully, his blue eyes intense. "Did she? Or did she convince herself that growing up meant giving up on what made her happy?"

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. Deep down, you knew he was right, so you simply turned around and left—left the balcony, left the party, left to get away from the storm of emotions coursing through you.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen

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sirfrogsworth · 10 months ago

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We moved into this house back in the early 90s. We bought it from an old man named Fred Salmo. As we began living in the home every once in a while we'd discover some weird new thing wrong with it. Never anything catastrophic, but small frustrations that my dad had to deal with all the same.

Fred thought himself quite the handyman.

He was not.

He was a union sheet metal worker and I guess he thought that translated to home repair. But in actuality he would usually try to fix things with sheet metal even when that was not an appropriate solution.

And so whenever we'd find one of these issues we'd joke that we got "Salmo'd" again.

Almost all of the electrical outlets were wired backwards. "Looks like we got Salmo'd again."

A heating duct would have some terrible patchwork (with sheet metal). "He really Salmo'd this."

There was a bedroom ceiling fan that was not securely attached to said ceiling. "He's going to Salmo us to death in our sleep."

We kept finding these inept fixes for many years. One by one, my dad (who was an actual handyman) would properly fix them.

Eventually, we were pretty certain all of the Salmo'd shit had been addressed.

Until last night.

I noticed something looked off about the big light on our garage workshop on the back of the property.

It was... lower... somehow.

I walked back to figure out what was wrong and discovered this.

The wind was blowing pretty hard and the light fell off of its mount and was dangling by the electrical wiring.

Upon closer inspection I noticed something.

It was mounted to a piece of thin metal decorative trim. I could see nothing structural it could have been attached to. No stud or beam. Just that trim.

That light was here before we moved in. Which means it has lasted over 30 years without falling down. And knowing how it was mounted, that is kind of incredible.

But it definitely feels strange getting Salmo'd again after all this time.

I'm not entirely sure what to do about this yet. My brother took our only ladder a long time ago and never returned it. I'm not even sure how to power off the light without turning off all the power to that building. But I guess I should make that a priority today and go from there.

Replacing that light is one of the first things I wanted to do if I got some money to fix up the house. It has a horrible green tint and for as big as it is, it only lights up a small area. Hopefully that won't be a super costly repair.

Fucking Fred Salmo.

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fandomnerd9602 · 3 months ago

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Touch Starved (🌶️)

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

You thought it would be terrible but your doe’s heat cycle has been an exciting time for the both of you. It was allowing new avenues for you and her to explore your likes and dislikes.

You found out how much Wanda just melts when you take on a more commanding yet tender role. And she found out how much you like it when she talks a little dirty.

During one make out session in your office, she found herself saying something she never thought she’d express.

The two of you were on your couch. She was a squirming mess under you as you kissed her softly and let your hands wander her body.

She was a panting mess, desperate for your touch at the time. It just spilt out from her lips. “F—k me my buck! F—k me.” She gasped that such words left her lips.

You briefly got up to give her a bit of space. “D-do you want me to?” You asked her gently with a shrug, “because I’m free for the rest of the afternoon.”

Wanda giggled and leaped at you. In between fiery kisses and shared laughs, you made sure that your door was locked, the blinds were down, and you happily obeyed her command.

You and Wanda found a slight dip in your time together recently. You and her were planning a barbecue dinner for your family, Natasha, Pietro, Dr Stephen Strange and a couple other hybrids. The planning and organizing had really been cutting into your time together, which can be rather difficult considering that Wanda was still in the mid-range of her heat cycle.

Wanda was getting antsy and kind of anxious the day of the barbecue. Wanda found herself fidgeting, trying to distract her mind with meaningful conversations with Pietro and Natasha. But her eyes wandered over to see you playing with the boys, her heart just about fluttered out of her chest. And then came the heat rising between her thighs. The quivering in her lip returned.

Why did you have to look so good playing rounds of football with her boys? The way the sweat glistened off of your brow in the setting sunlight. The way the sweat made your shirt to your skin in just the right way and places. Wanda needed you to take her now.

Wanda looked around. Any excuse to get you alone. She needed just one excuse. And then she found it: the empty cooler. Wanda couldn’t help but smile a little.

Natasha walked up to her, “hey Wanda, we need more—“

“Drinks!” Your doe said excitedly before hushing herself, “I know. Detka and I are on it.”

And with that Wanda ran over to you and took your hand. “Detka, we’re out of drinks.”

“We have more in the…”

“Cellar. I know.” She whispered in your ear, “I need my big strong buck to help me downstairs” she gave you a seductive wink.

You carefully composed yourself and followed Wanda into your house and down to your basement. All the while, both of you were checking to be sure that no one had noticed or was following.

Wanda descended the stairs. You quietly locked the door behind you and followed her down.

You were barely one foot off the last step when Wanda lunged at you. Her hungry kisses were only matched by the ferocity on display as she began fiddling with your shorts in between kisses and moans.

“Need. You. Now” she playfully growls in your ear.

Your hands tug and pull at her sundress straps. She practically yanks her dress down and jumps up, wrapping her legs around your waist.

You balance her against the nearest shelf structure. Her antlers knock over a couple cans and boxes but neither of you care.

“Thank you, detka” she desperately whines as you go to work, pleasuring and pleasing the goddess wrapped around you. “Thank you! Oh thank you!”

You keep at your task, making her sight and moan. A few of the same sounds escape your lips as your two souls collide and mesh like they were never meant to part.

“D-detka” she began to say, your pace becoming erratic and a frenzy of love and lust mixed together. “I-I’m…I’m gonna—!”

Wanda’s eyes shut tight as waves of pleasure engulf you both. Wanda throws her head back exposing her beautiful porcelain neck. You hungrily kiss her pressure point, causing a bigger moan to escape from your perfect doe.

You lived to hear that wondrous sound. Her eyes locked with yours as the two of you shared a glimpse of eternity together.

“Thank you, my buck” she replies, her voice both husky and tired.

“Anything for you, my doe” you kiss her tenderly, allowing yourselves to forget the world and everything else for a few precious minutes.

Natasha snickered as you and Wanda came back up from the basement with extra packs of Gatorade and cold water in your arms. Pietro could barely contain his laughter too.

“So how are the refreshments?” That brother in law of yours laughs before trying to take another sip

“Just perfect” Wanda purrs. Pietro nearly spit up his drink.

Tags @lifespectator @olsenmyolsen @iiconicsfan25 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @russianredassassin @revanshand @multi-fandom-enjoyer @aloneodi @texaswolf23 @julieromanoff

#marvel #marvel fluff #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #elizabeth olsen #the scarlet witch #bambi #Bambi Wanda #scarlet witch

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reachartwork · 5 months ago

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the process

a lot of people like to ask me about my process and how ai can be "creative" because they're under the impression that it's just kind of a big slot machine. you pull a lever and art uncontrollably comes out. well, let me show you my process

this is going to be a long thread tagged with #long post, blacklist that if you want to skip it.

so how it starts like most art is that i have an idea. in this case, earlier i made a post about witch-knights "surfing" on swords, so i'm going to try and make that - a witch-knight flying through the air atop one of her swords.

it starts with this picture.

i think this picture is dogshit so i discard basically all of it to try and find something closer to my original intent. there's a couple of uninteresting regenerations so it's clear i have to go back to the drawing board and teach the machine what it is i'm trying to do

let's start with a witch-knight on a broom. it's definitely not great but it gives us a better pose that i can work with.

i start by erasing the broom and replacing it with a skateboard - the machine understands skating better for what i need it to do.

there's a ton of small, subtle errors in this image and it overall looks like dogshit but the most important part right now is blocking and the overall pose structure - i need her "surfing" a large, lengthwise object, in the sky. i start by erasing pieces of the skateboard

now we have a sword, which is good. but the sword itself looks... bad. i'll spare you the abortive attempts at selective regeneration of the sword and just show you what happened when i rolled it back a couple of times from this pose and let it regen entirely.

again, tons of small little shitty errors, but this is something i can work with. i do another regen for a less shitty sword. her boob armor gets replaced with, like, generic scale mail.

this image has a great sword and decent pose but like... everything else is kind of futzy and i dont like it. instead of trying to pick and choose i just throw it back into the oven for a second. much better! but now she's going to cut herself on the sword, oh no!

again, i'll save you the agonizing thirty minutes of trying to get it to understand where the foot should go. unlike before i didn't really have a choice except to muscle through. there! now she's surfing safely :)

so it's done, right? well, i mean, i could post this. and it would probably do okay. but *i'm* not satisfied with it. there's stiffness. dozens of minor errors. the eyes look weird when you zoom in. let's start by fixing her hat, and then maybe her hands?

but she's missing fingers on her left hand so let's go ahead and fix that too. and i don't really like the tip of her sword and the ocean looks really flat and boring. so, VERY CAREFULLY, i have to etch out the parts of the sword and her body i have to keep, and also write an entirely new prompt to tell it "i want an ocean w/ rolling waves please :)"

this is better but not great. i try again - serendipitously, it makes this really cool variant with a shadow over the water, but i know working with that will take more wrangling so i'm considering it an evolutionary dead end and discarding it for now.

i proceed to spend 30 minutes trying to make the ocean look better but it's really not working imo. i'm gonna go back to the shadow version and see how that works

i'll spare you the other 8 minutes - i'm satisfied with the following picture. the sword isn't *perfectly* straight, her eyes aren't perfectly textured, the scale mail is... weird, in texture, but anything else would be greasing the wheel and i think beyond the machine's ability to do fine detail.

i've also attached the starting picture for comparison - it has better, "higher quality" clouds and ocean but i personally cared more about the pose and the sword surfing - the background is mostly tangential. could i get back ocean and clouds of that quality with another two hours of painstakingly cutting and re-generating bits of the background without destroying any of my existing work on the pose? probably. but i don't want to.

total time spent on this piece from start to finish was one hour and twenty one minutes. and now you know!

#art #ai art #long post

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juanarc-thethird · 7 months ago

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Let's be friends!

Jaune and Sun are enjoying a coffee at the local coffee shop while observing Neptune hit on a girl.

Jaune: This is the seventh time he has tried to pick up a girl.

Sun: And yet, they have all rejected him.

Jaune: Oh, he's coming back.

Sun: And by his expression, it didn't go well.

Neptune comes to the table, sits down, and lays his head on the table.

Neptune: She said no.

Jaune puts his hand on Neptune's shoulder.

Jaune: Sorry buddy, maybe next time.

Sun: Yeah, there's always a new day.

Neptune: That's what you guys told me yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, and the day before, and the day before, and the day before…..

Sun: OKay, Buddy! I think you need to distract your mind a bit. So how about we go see a movie? Jaune?

Jaune doesn't respond, his gaze is focused on the table while he is thinking on something.

Sun: Um, Jaune, are you listening?

Jaune: Oh sorry, I was thinking about something else.

Sun: What were you thinking about?

Jaune: How Neptune asks for a date. I mean, he's tried several phrases, different sentence structures, but he's still been rejected for every single one of them.

Neptune whimpers at Jaune's comment.

Sun: Dude...

Jaune: I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I was just thinking what would happen if he try the opposite?

Sun: What do you mean?

Jaune: What if, instead of asking a girl out. He ask them to be only friends.

Neptune raises his head and turns to look at Jaune.

Neptune: That sounds stupid.

Sun: I agree with Neptune. He is trying to get a girlfriend, not a friend.

Neptune: Besides, I already have enough friends.

Jaune: Ok, but what if it works? Hmm? Don't knock it until you try it

Neptune: I'm not going to make a fool out of myself by trying your stupid idea.

Jaune: Sun?

Sun: Don't look at me. Is your idea, you try it.

Jaune: Ok I will. Just watch.

He begins to look around.

Jaune: I'm going to ask… her. The red-haired girl in the corner.

The other two turn to see this girl. She is sitting on one of the booths next to the window having a coffee while she looks out outside. She is tall, light-skinned and has an aura of maturity. She wears somewhat torn jeans, with her red shirt, a black leather jacket and fashionable black boots. Too Cool for a geek like Jaune.

Neptune: What?! That girl is out of your league. She would never go out with you.

Jaune: Well, it's a good thing I'm just asking to be my friend.

Sun: Oh, nice comeback.

Jaune: Ok, *he takes a big breath* here I come.

He gets up from the table and walks towards the girl.

Jaune: Um... *ahem* Hello...

The girl looks at him.

Jaune: Hey I was wondering if you would like to-

Girl: I'm not interested.

Jaune: I'm sorry?

Girl: I said I'm not interested. I won't go out with you.

Jaune: Oh! I'm sorry for the confusing. I didn't come for that. I wanted to ask you if we can be friends.

Girl: Huh?

Jaune: I mean, you look so cool and I thought it would be cool to have you as a friend.

Girl: Wait, you're not trying to go out with me?

Jaune: Yep, and to be honest, and please don't take it the wrong way, you are not my type.

Girl: *Upset* Excuse me?!

Jaune: I mean it respectfully! You seem like a nice girl, it's just-

Girl: *Mad* "It's just" what?

Jaune: It's just that I'm a bit of a geek, and since you're super cool, we wouldn't be a good pair.

Girl: Well, but that's not just your decision. Because If I wanted you, I could have you.

Jaune: Umm... I'm sorry but you are not my type. Maybe I should go and leave you alone. Sorry for bothering you.

Jaune turns around but the girl stops him. She pulls him by his shirt and sits him on the other side of the booth. Before he can react, she corners him by sitting next to him. Leaving it between the window and her.

Girl: We are not done. What's your name?

Jaune: *Nervous* J-Jaune...

Eve: Well Jaune, I'm Eve. Are you free tonight?

Jaune: I'm sorry, but I'm not interested. You are not my type.

Eve: Oh but you're my type. So I'm going to make you mine.

She says while smiling somewhat menacingly.

Jaune: *Worry* I-I'm serious, I'm not interested. You're not what I'm looking for.

Eve: Well guess what, you are everything that I look in a man.

Jaune: *Panic* B-But...!

Eve puts her finger on Jaune's lips.

Eve: Shhh~ You know what, let's go on a date right now. Maybe that will change your mind about us.

Eve takes Jaune by the arm and guides him to who knows where. Jaune turns to look at his friends to get their attention but they only look at him in amazement at the great feat he has just achieved.

Neptune: Wow, he did it!

Sun: Yeah, but did he look a little scared? Should we worry? To be honest she acted somewhat… "intense" back there.

Neptune: Nah, Jaune will be fine. He is a big boy, he can take care of himself.

*Ting*

Sun: Huh? Jaune sent me a message.

Neptune: I bet it's a text to brag about his victory.

Sun: He says: "Help!" "She is crazy!" "Please get me out of here!"

Silence

The two stare at each other and say.

Neptune: Maybe we should go help him.

Sun: Agree.

They both jump out of their seats and run to rescue their friend.

#jaune arc #jaune #rwby jaune #rwby jaune arc #rwby #rwby shitpost #rwby eve taurus #eve taurus #rwby eve #neptune vasilias #rwby neptune vasilias #rwby neptune #sun wukong #rwby sun wukong #rwby sun

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tsukimefuku · 5 months ago

Text

The broken idealist: Higuruma Hiromi

And how the world of JJK viciously punishes idealists.

Before we start, let’s set some premises:

This is an essay based solely on my opinions and my own knowledge of criminal justice. I’m no professional writer/essayist.

JJK is a critique on unfair systems that reward selfishness and nurture individualistic (oftentimes destructive) behaviors.

One of the main motifs in JJK is (un)fairness.

Even when rewarded by these systems, individuals usually end up alienated (Gojo being the utmost example, but so is Sukuna to some extent).

The world of JJK punishes idealists very harshly.

I might've read waaaaay too deep into his character (apologies in advance).

I am ABSOLUTELY biased in analyzing this character because I kin Higuruma very hard and identify profoundly with many of his struggles.

[queue “Pigs” by Pink Floyd] Let's do this.

The ideal of truth and Higuruma choosing to be a criminal defense attorney

Higuruma shows up in the manga as one of the top players of the Culling Games. Throughout a few chapters, Gege introduces him to us as a former criminal defense attorney that has lost it after one of his clients gets his innocence verdict overruled and is unfairly convicted for a crime he didn't commit, triggering Higuruma's cursed technique to awake, ending up in the deaths of the Judge and Prosecutor that contributed for the wrongful conviction.

Along those chapters, we get to see two very interesting things: Firstly, the fact that Higuruma actively chose to be a lawyer, instead of pursuing a career as a judge. Second, his stance and lines about truth, especially this one: "Even if no one else does, I want to keep my eyes open."

Higuruma, for me, is a prime example of how someone moved by truth and justice can become a self-righteous, cynical individual (I'll refrain from the word "villain" because he wasn't ever an actual "villain" in the story). From the get go, when we get more information on his past, we can see his mental state slowly declining as he gets progressively more overworked fighting an unwinnable fight.

We have some very important pieces of information from chapter 158: Japan has a 99% conviction rate. The public opinion about defendants is that they're always guilty. Higuruma earns little, works a lot and his job is usually trying for a miracle, to be that 1%. And, finally, that Higuruma chose to fight an unfair system from within.

That not only has huge parallels with the world of cursed energy, but is one the most important messages I feel that JJK is building up to — you can't reform a broken system from within, because structurally and systematically unfair systems will always push things back into a state of unfairness / status quo. We see this when Gojo says, at the beginning of the manga, that even if he killed all the higher ups at that point in time, other assholes would just take their places. To a more fundamental level, we see it in Yuki's failed efforts to end curses from the perspective of a jujutsu sorcerer, and the way the story is progressing towards a complete rupture with the current state of cursed energy altogether to give place to something new.

The message is: To fight an unfair system from within and by its own rules is and always will be a losing game.

Now to Higuruma's fallout, we have a perfect storm for what happened to him — an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

I'll dive a little into criminal law (and c.l. procedure) and make many oversimplifications to get a point across, so I apologize to any other criminal lawyers out there reading this and cringing at the oversimplifications.

In theory, the Criminal Justice System should be preoccupied with the truth. Criminal Law, in essence, is attributing a penalty (prison, fine, death, etc.) to an act (to kill, to rob) described by law as a crime. In that regard, then, one could only suffer said penalty if they actually committed the act that the law described as being a crime.

Where does truth come into place here?

To investigate if something happened in the world of facts (the real, concrete world) is essentially a search for truth, which to me is very telling of Higuruma's choice in becoming a criminal defense attorney.

In an unfair system in which 99% of people are convicted, it'd make no sense for this man to become a prosecutor. The prosecution is already benefiting from the system, considering the way the scales are tipped. That's a given.

But regarding the judgeship, things become more interesting. In a fair criminal justice system, the judge is forbidden to engage in probationary activity (which means, basically, that the judge cannot search for evidence, investigate or look for witnesses, he can solely analyze what the defense and prosecution bring to him in order to give a verdict — the judge does not engage in the most important activity in finding the truth).

Why can't the judge do that?

Because when the presumption of innocence is in place, anyone is presumed innocent until proven guilty, ergo, if there is not enough evidence to convict, the person must be acquitted. If the judge engages in that activity, they'd be taking on the prosecution's job — to prove the occurrence of a given criminal act. We have separate places for judging and prosecuting for a reason.

The scales are already in favor of the prosecution (they literally have THE STATE’S aid ikn the form of police forces to investigate and taxpayer money to foot costs during criminal lawsuits), so anything that might end up harming or weakening the presumption of innocence is strictly forbidden, including having the judge engage in probationary activity. If the lack of evidence is enough to acquit someone, then having the judge searching for evidence automatically harms the presumption of innocence, because if there is not enough evidence to convict someone, the judge MUST acquit.

In that scenario, then, the best place for someone who wants to search and defend the truth against unfairness is the Defense stand, clearly.

Everything said up until now about how the criminal justice system should work is just the theory, however. The reality of it is far sinister. The criminal justice system is a machine perfectly conceived to chew out those who fight for fairness, because fairness is not one of its main goals. It's main goal is serving as an instrument of power (in the most Foucaultian sense of the word) and control over citizens and, to some degree, appease collective concerns about crime rates and violence by making examples out of people, whether they're guilty or not (I could go on a tangent here for hours about the criminal justice system, capitalism and protection of private property by the state, but let's not do that, lol).

That's why Keita's trial is the perfect storm to break Higuruma's psyche so deeply. All the systematic unfairnesses that exist in the Japanese Criminal Justice System chomp away his ideals — one might say, what constitutes the very core of who he is — and unceremoniously spits it right back in his face.

Independent defense lawyers are systematically in a worse position regarding resources to gather evidence in their client's favor; it's easier to convict someone who's already under the gavel than to start a new investigation on somebody else and spend even more taxpayer money; to convict a person whom the people deem as guilty soothes the public opinion regarding how well the criminal justice system actually works to "keep society safe from these foul criminals" (not human beings); the appeal is a limited resource in most criminal justice systems, so after one gets their innocence verdict overturned, to get it back is extremely hard.

Everything worked perfectly to break every inch of Higuruma's ideals. It's no use for you to be the only one willing to stare truth in its eyes if everyone else looks away because it's more convenient to let the unfair gears keep turning the way they do. You'll give yourself to unnecessary suffering meanwhile nothing ever changes. This could even help draw a parallel between Higuruma's and Geto's fallouts: to realize how broken the system is, how you can't break a wall with the toy hammer the wall builders give you, and how lonely/depressing/infuriating of an experience it is to realize all this and still know there is absolutely nothing you can do.

The game is rigged, and if someone ever so chooses to not play by those rules, they're viciously punished.

Now that we've gotten to the breaking part, let's see how it manifests in Higuruma's own cursed technique and domain expansion.

The broken idealist and the cynicism

Someone had made an amazing post about how Higuruma's domain expansion was a perfect demonstration of his own cynicism at the moment his abilities were awakened, but I couldn't find it! So OP, if you by any chance end up reading this, HMU, because what you said will be featured here. (Edit: found it. Thanks, Eugie! The post can be accessed here, and @wolke17 made a deeper analysis after it, take a look at their profile)

In order to talk about Higuruma's cynicism stemming from his disappointment with the criminal justice system, we need to talk about his domain, so that's what we're gonna do now.

In his domain expansion, we meet his shikigami, Judgeman, who is an all-knowing creature responsible for giving off the verdict at the end of the debates between the two parties. According to Higuruma, Judgeman knows absolutely everything about someone's life the moment they enter his domain.

All is well up until now, isn't it? Hm, not so much. There are some very serious philosophical conundrums to having an all-knowing being bestowing judgment (skeptical catholics went crazy over this for many centuries).

Think about this: in a Courtroom, we have a judge who needs to get to know the facts, and is presented with two different hypotheses about the facts (prosecution and defense), for which the evidentiary activity (collecting evidence) is needed to support one hypothesis or the other. Given that we abide by the presumption of innocence, you don’t even have to prove the defense’s hypothesis to get an acquittal, as long as the prosecution one isn’t proven beyond a reasonable doubt.

What’s the issue with having a judge that is omniscient?

First off, why would two hypotheses need to be confronted if the judge already knows the answer — if the person did or did not commit the crime?

On another note, now going into more of a “well he’s just judging based on the allegations”, it gets deeper. We have a judge that knows what happened, but simply decides based on the parties arguments. This is a huge issue because firstly, it obliterates the value of truth in the justice system — if criminal law is attributing to a particularly reprehensible action a penalty, and judgeman knows if that action took place or not, yet doesn’t decide according to what happened, but according to who best defends their point of view, it annihilates the very own reason for collecting evidence, the reason that a judgment needs to take place and the reason for criminal law even existing.

In Higuruma's domain, then, truth becomes the least important thing. In there, who has the better argument wins the debate. The judgment that happens within Deadly Sentencing is not about truth, it’s about the game's rules (or, more specifically, his domain's rules) and who plays them better, which makes it all the more ironic that Higuruma sees so much “potential” in the Culling Games due to its rules and established mechanics.

In a courtroom setting, having an omniscient judge is always, in any scenario, a cynical game of wits, and it fits perfectly with the philosophical fallout Higuruma experienced after Keita's conviction. His perspective got switched from "who deserves to win according to the truth" to "who plays the game better". He lost faith in the criminal justice system, and to a deeper degree, he lost faith in fairness in the world as a whole.

And that's why we can arrive at the conclusion that Higuruma is, in essence, a "broken idealist" character: he's not pandering to the idea that "the winner should be the one who plays the rules better” because he truly believes it; he's doing it out of resentment, because he got time and time again punished and was subjected to a hell of a lot of suffering for upholding his own ideals of truth and fairness. He's not acting, he is reacting to being unraveled and broken the way he was.

It also shows in his discourse regarding the weak, and the way he tries to place himself above what he dubs “the ugliness of people”, as the only one who sees the truth (“darkness is only darkness / people are ugly”). It’s a mirror: he experienced his own helplessness (or weakness) with Keita’s conviction, so in an effort to try and protect whatever is left from his own psyche, he’s actively denying how helpless he really feels by putting himself above the “truly weak”.

In the end, however, Higuruma kept his idealistic essence alive instead of giving himself over to the story that he told himself as a defense mechanism, unlike Geto, which is why it was possible to bring him back.

Even broken, he remained an idealist at heart.

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #higuruma hiromi #jjk higuruma #higuruma #jjk hiromi #hiromi jjk #jujutsu #tsukimefuku #fuku writes

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betterthana-six · 5 months ago

Text

| MUSIC TO MY EARS - [ABBY ANDERSON] - CHAPTER THREE |

PAIRINGS: stoic!rugby player abby x musician fem!reader

SUMMARY: you and your new(ish) college roommate, Abby Anderson, have gotten into an argument. about what? unclear at the moment. but it's got Abby in a fit of shame. until late one night she hears you outside with someone whose voice she doesn't recognize and listens in.

WARNINGS: heyooo we are so fucking back! AND LOOKIE AT THAT TAG LIST AHHH THANK YOU FOR THE AMAZING RECEPTION SO FAR!!!! LOVE YOU ALL. im having so much fun writing this and watching this story spiral into absolute chaos. im honestly just trying to see how big i can make this story. much more pining this chapter but ooh girl we are getting sexier as we go, trust the process. mdni DUH. ive been wanting to write a pool scene. abby sure be falling in love. let me know if you guys are liking the structure so far, its pretty predictable. abby is snarkier and snarkier, but im always nervous to stay true to her character. let me know what yall like, and even mid story I am open to suggestions or if youre like that or this part wasnt fully fleshed out, why not let me know? im down. k have fun. bye. ALSO: i have a playlist brewing for this story. comment if you want it and ill post.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Music To My Ears: Chapter 3

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

There are tears drying on your chin when Abby abruptly stands up, pulling you up with her, towel still wrapped over your arms.

She starts pulling clothes out of the depths of her closet and throwing them onto your bed.

“What are you doing?” You sniffle.

“Put these on.”

“Your clothes won’t fit me. You have something called muscle mass.”

Abby let out a small snicker. “They’re from when I was, like, sixteen. They’ll fit,” she said.

“I have my own clothes, you know,” You gesture to your side of the room. “They’re actually about five feet away from me.”

“You’ll understand when we get there why I’m giving you my old clothes.”

“Are we hiking?”

“You hush.”

“Oh my god, is it paintball?”

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s paintball. The 24-hour paintball park is awaiting our arrival as we speak. How’d you guess?”

You smirk bashfully. “I’ll only put them on if you tell me what we’re doing.”

She plants herself a foot in front of you and tilts her head down. “You’re no fun.” She shoves one of her rugby sweatshirts into your stomach. “Let’s have fun. Actual fun. Come on, it’s the weekend for fuck’s sake. I just… I know a place.”

You lower the towel like a shawl around your elbows and walk over to your bed, as Abby’s eyes follow you. Seeing her, you jut your jaw out at her, waving your index finger in a circle. Abby's response was a bit delayed, she catches her eyes getting lost on your silhouette again, and struts slowly around to face her side.

You sigh and put the clothes on. The feeling of warmth from the dry clothes covers your body with a chill and you’re nearly sedated with comfort. While Abby is still turned away, you bring the sleeve of her hoodie up to your nose and smell it as quietly as you could.

“I’m ready,” you say.

Abby opens the door out to the hallway. Nobody’s out there. It’s nearly 1 am.

You still look both ways nervously, and Abby notes it, but neither of you say anything. She guides you down the hallway, the sound of her keys jangling against her thigh, hanging from the carabiner locked around her belt loop. She is sure to keep you close to her. Each time you sway or stumble a bit, she grabs your wrist and holds you up. Though, of course, you put a hand up every time to insist that you’re fine.

You are still drunk. It is indeed still obvious.

Abby turns a corner and halts the journey in front of a vending machine which blares with light in its dark corner. “Hold up, one second,” she says, as she inserts a dollar, some coins from her pocket, presses B7, grabs it from the bottom, takes your hand and puts the candy in it.

“Twix is my favorite,” you say.

“I know,” Abby says.

“You know?”

She hesitates and runs a shy hand over the back of her neck under her long braid. “I see wrappers in our trash sometimes.”

You pause with suspicious eyes.

Abby gives a small laugh and looks away. “Whatever. Eat.”

You bite and it is as forgiving on your stomach as any midnight candy bar can be, especially after the amount of alcohol it's following.

Now, Abby pulls your hand from three paces ahead of you. She seems restless, happily so, in a way you had rarely seen her. Maybe only once or twice in hindsight.

You are already out the doors of your building and into the cool air of early spring. It is almost completely dark but the moon lights the pale sidewalk visibly enough. Once your eyes fully adjust, you can see Abby. Her braid swings back and forth across her back.

After a ten minute walk through the main circle of campus, Abby takes one of the keys from her hip and opens the entrance of your school’s gym.

She checks your demeanor, and you meet her with a wide-eyed face that says: what the fuck?

“Just trust me,” she says and grabs your hand again, guiding you through the dark corridors and up the stairs, past the treadmills and weight machines.

As you approach the top, a blue haze lights Abby’s face and then yours. It’s very quiet up there in the announcer’s box, and it looks down onto the college’s Olympic sized swimming pool. You’d only ever seen it from the doors on the bottom level. You remember the first time. People were splashing about in the water but it didn’t ruin the illusion for you. The smell of chlorine. The warm humidity that threatened its way out onto you. You, who stood firmly in the air conditioned hall, pleasantly zoned out on the swimmers.

Even from behind, Abby seems so eager to fulfill her spontaneous promise of a good time. A small smile grows on her face every now and then. You become very aware of your hand in hers. Hers is gruff and big and warm, her thumb securing around your fingers messily. It’s possible you merely imagine the vibration in the space between your palms. Her touch reignites the bliss of your drunkenness, and, again, you feel light on your feet.

Abby pulls out a key and inserts it into the keyhole for a discreet door. It leads the two of you down two flights of stairs into a locker room with fresh towels piled up into neat stacks. She throws one at you: “Here.”

“No way,” you say. You realize you were so carried away you only now realized what she had brought you here to do.

“I didn’t bring you here for us not to swim.”

You smile big. “Oh, fuck yeah.”

“I knew it would cheer you up.” Abby laughs.

“Wait,” you think, “someone’s gonna be here. We’re gonna get kicked out.”

“No, we’re not,” she reassures, “I’m friends with the rec team. I asked for the after hours key so I can workout at night. I guess I just forgot to give them back.”

You look at her a little confused, moreso disbelieving.

“No, really, I swear. Sometimes it’s nice to de-stress at night. Let off a little steam when no one’s around,” Abby says. You smirk and lift her sweatshirt over your head, revealing the light blue tank top Abby had given you.

“Don’t I know it,” you say under your breath.

“Oh?” Abby says.

“You think I don’t notice when you don’t come back to the dorm until 5 am?” You say with a cocky tone.

Then, she, too, pulls her sweater off. She was only wearing a thin bra and boxers. You were surprised she wore anything under it at all, given her track record. You quickly note the way you don’t squirm or turn away. Perhaps it’s just a matter of familiarity - you have been roommates for three months now - or, maybe, it’s the way she’s looking at you in this moment. “You notice?”

The sudden turn of the question makes you stutter.

“I- I mean, the once or twice it's happened. Obviously.”

Instead of laughing at you this time, Abby just stands and looks at you thoughtfully. Intensely.

“Whatever. Yeah, that was…” she finally says, shaking her head, with a twinge of something shadowing her tone and preventing her from finishing her sentence.

The both of you have changed completely into her clothes, the clothes she didn’t think twice about letting you ruin with chlorine. You save her from whatever she didn’t want to say. “You could’ve at least told me to bring a swimsuit…” You say.

“Yeah, well, it would’ve spoiled the surprise,” Abby says.

At the door leading to the pool, Abby turns back suddenly, stopping before speaking.

“Okay, listen. This is a sacred rite. No one besides me, and now you, has access to this place. No one knows I have the keys, and it needs to stay that way.”

You nod. “Makes sense.”

“Because this will be really fucking fun.”

“Understood.”

“And, I’m showing it to you because you’re having a shitty, no-good night.”

You hold a salute up to your forehead. “Captain, I won't let you down.”

She rolls her eyes to your delight. “Come on.”

You find her hand in yours again. You can’t help but marvel at how natural it was - not because you are surprised - just because it still sends a shiver running down your spine.

The smell of chlorine washes over you and you breathe deep, closing your eyes and feeling the damp air warming your skin. Abby’s in front of you, hooking her phone up to a wire and resting it on the ledge of the spectator window. The speakers overhead start playing music.

“Holy shit,” you say, looking at her with amazement and pointing up to the ceiling. The Rolling Stones' “She’s A Rainbow” rings out over the speakers and fills the space completely. A smile creeps onto your face, and once it’s there, it’s stuck.

“How’d I do?” She asks.

You don’t answer but smile at your feet. You walk past her towards the edge of the concrete, sparing a devilish smirk her way right when your shoulders nearly graze each other. Only the pool lights are on, making the whole place shine with the blue dancing patterns of the water ripples. It reflects onto your face, and, when you look back at Abby, she is staring at you.

“You coming?” You ask.

And Abby eyes dart away in shock, feeling scandalized and taking what you said entirely out of context. She can’t help it; a semblance of those words have been echoing in her head for the last three months, more or less. Jolting her awake from her dreams. Both sleeping and conscious.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

The first dream happened about three weeks into living together.

Since that conversation in your room on your first night, neither of you tried to initiate conversation deeper than small talk. The explosive end to that night left you reluctant to speak to her at all and left Abby anxious to say the wrong thing.

It was the beginning of the semester, anyway. Abby had a routine to establish and you were busy finding the right buildings around campus, keeping your head down, and practicing guitar.

You hadn’t been able to anticipate her comings and goings. Mostly Abby left for her day without saying a word and came back in the same manner. When she returned in the evenings, you quickly traded the guitar on your lap for earphones while Abby read silently only feet away.

"You can keep playing, I don't mind" is the only thing Abby would sometimes say. "No, it's okay. I should probably just use the practice rooms anyway," was your usual response, if you said anything at all.

The first dream happened when Abby took an impromptu nap in the early afternoon while you were out.

Her dreams involved many strange things she could never comprehend and typically forgot soon after she woke. Yet, toward the end of this dream, she saw nothing but your face, eyes softly closed, there between her legs. It was no in-depth scene. No words. No kissing. Just you, licking a line from her knee up the skin of her inner thigh.

Abby woke up with a gasp. She looked down to find there was wetness between her thighs, and momentarily she couldn’t distinguish what was and wasn’t real. She was almost convinced that you really were somewhere near, that somehow you had been there between her legs just a moment ago. But, the room was empty and the wetness had come from Abby, herself, of course.

She found her hand was there, too, under her boxers, to meet her body with stiff, soaked fingers.

She laid there, staring at the ceiling, unsure of what to make of it, still hypnotized in her exhaustion.

She didn’t think about it. Abby began moving her fingers around in circles, her other hand placed on the top of her head, bottom lip tucked slightly under her front teeth.

She closed her eyes and, without realizing, tried to prolong the feeling that seemed so real only moments ago.

You popped into her mind. She quickened her pace.

There was something so indulgent about the image she had. It felt dirty. Naughty ideations of her own roommate was something she knew she’d feel guilty about later, a secret that could never be shared. She didn’t know where it had come from specifically, this need for you, but, honestly, she didn’t even try to interrogate it. She just exhaled hard through her nose as she tried to picture you more vividly.

“Fuck…” She whispered to herself. The feeling built and built and she gripped onto her blanket, breathing hard.

Just then, the key to your door started jangling.

Abby stopped immediately, yanked out of her dream and her tiredness altogether. She pulled up the slightly pulled down pants and sat up. She grabbed the book off her desk, opened it to a random page and pretended to be lost in the story by the time you opened the door and walked inside.

She had startled you.

“Oh, hey,” you said.

Abby looked up over the page. “Hey.”

“I forgot I need these for my next class,” you explain while gathering two books from your desk and shoving them into your backpack.

“Hm,” she said, feigning disinterest.

You zipped up and turned to leave. “Alright. See you later,” you said but met Abby’s eyes which were already on you. You turned back. “Are you okay?” You asked.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“Oh, nothing, your face is all red.”

Abby just shrugged, at a complete loss for words.

“Okay,” you said without a second thought. “Well, bye.”

“Bye.”

Once you were gone, Abby tossed the book, turned over onto her stomach, and buried her head beneath her pillow.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

The dreams, however, only got worse from there. Abby started waking up from dreams with her hand down her pants more often than not and, by morning, they delivered her a head full of thoughts she could barely acknowledge to herself. Dreams of you sitting in her lap, dreams of her fingers in your mouth, dreams of you panting into her ear. She had visions of what you’d look like astride her hips with a smile on your face. Impossible dreams of you seducing her in huge hot tubs, or at fancy dinners with her hand squeezing tight around your thigh under a tablecloth, a gala where you both get locked in the coat closet with nothing but time to kill. These dreams consumed her until late in the day.

If there was one thing Abby promised herself she wouldn’t do is fall in love with a straight girl. Especially her roommate, who she presumed kind of hated her. This new energy you brought to her made her so vulnerable in the dark hours of the night, she felt she had to release it before she got in too deep.

So, she tried the gym. She started lifting uncharacteristically heavier. She started lifting until failure, until she had completely obliterated her muscles. Her teammates applauded her for her hard work, if only they knew the real reason for the fire lit under her ass.

It helped some. More like distracted her. But she knew the craving hadn’t fully subsided. It only took an hour for it to re-emerge. Sooner if she saw you walking to class or if you tried to spark conversation in the dorm, which was rare but nonetheless excited Abby when it did happen.

One time when you were both getting ready for bed, you turned to Abby and broke the silence.

“Hey, I was wondering…”

“What’s up?” Abby responded. The eagerness with which she asked was out of her control.

“I, um, well, do you think you could show me around the gym sometime? I didn’t get to see it when I toured, and it’s so big. I’m honestly kind of intimidated-”

“Yes, yeah,” Abby said.

“Cool,” you nodded. “Thank you.”

A moment of silence passed. Abby’s heart raced with the prospect of getting to talk to you so much. Guide you around and show you the place. But in a second, she thought better of it. She needed to contain herself someway or another.

“Yeah,” Abby continued. “They’ve got a great yoga studio, you know. One has classes and the other one is free for students to use anytime.”

You scoffed. Abby’s face was intentionally blank, waiting to see your reaction.

“Of course,” you said. “Of course, you assume I’d just want to do yoga.”

“I figure you’d want to see it.”

“Okay, well could you just show me the whole gym?”

“Yeah,” Abby said, recoiling from you a bit. She pushed through, wondered if perhaps she could make this worse for herself. Worsening the relationship could force the unwanted thoughts about you to subside entirely. “Sorry. You don’t strike me as a weightlifter.”

You stopped and looked sharply her way.

“Okay. Forget I asked. I’ll find someone else.”

Just like that, another failed attempt at conversation was over. Her self-sabotage felt far less productive than she thought it would feel. All Abby felt was stupid. Her heart sank lower in her chest.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

Soon she became so scared of her sleeping self, worried that you'd hear her sleep talking your name or, dear god, catch her fucking herself while she dreamt about eating you out in the quiet section of a library. The idea was so mortifying to her that she nearly couldn’t sleep with you in the room at all, which was every night.

She grew anxious, unable to control herself and unable to sleep. Practice became lackluster. Lifting felt ineffectual. Still, she knew she couldn’t let the levee break. She needed respite in any form and, eventually, Abby realized she was desperate.

One day before rugby practice, she texted Nora, a girl Abby fucked on and off for a majority of her freshman year. Abby liked Nora because she was as impersonal about hooking up as Abby was. It was a clean-cut fuck buddy deal she knew she could rely on if she wanted.

The next Thursday, Nora took Abby in like an old friend. She sat her down and opened a bottle of wine, performed the pleasantries of simple conversation, caught up with school and sports and life, and eventually led Abby to the bedroom.

They knew what they were there to do.

In a blur, Abby found her arms wrapped around Nora's lower back as she pressed her face flesh to Nora's chest, guiding her through a sweaty orgasm which seemed satisfactory.

When Nora tried to return the favor, Abby was completely dry.

She had been mentally elsewhere since the moment she knocked on the door.

She played it off as just being out of it, just wanting to please Nora that night. So, Abby haphazardly thanked her for the wine, as it was really the only thing Nora could give Abby that night besides for a spacious bed outside of the dorms, and they went to sleep.

But Abby could only stare up at the ceiling as Nora breathed heavily beside her in a deep sleep.

She decided to walk back to the dorm. It was early and the sun was just starting to light up the sky. You were asleep, and when Abby closed the door, you sprawled out in your bed, strands of hair curled and scattered messily around your face. She watched you sleep for a second, feeling gross and cold and wired. She still couldn’t sleep, so she turned on her desk lamp and read in an attempt to forget her last two or three decisions.

When the sun was finally up, you turned over in your bed and pushed your covers down to your feet, stretching out until your hands hit the headboard. You saw Abby was already up, only reading in bed as you often found her.

“No gym today?” You yawned.

Abby looked over at you and just shook her head.

“You look tired.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Abby said.

You nodded, grabbed your toiletry bag, and left.

Half of Abby convinced herself you knew what she’d been doing the night before, which only made her feel dirtier. Moreover she believed that even if you knew, in agreement with how she wanted to keep things, you were totally indifferent.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

Abby’s logic wasn’t flawless. She thought she had been doing all the right things. She fucked it out of her system, as far as she was concerned, so after that she got right back into the swing of her routine. All excess feelings would surely go away. The dreams would stop.

Yet, a week later, it was your face she saw through vertically moving weights, walking through the gym’s hallways that made Abby nearly drop the weights she had raised over her head.

A blonde girl was walking with you. You seemed disinterested.

Her name was Carol and she was another classical guitar major. She was the best in your music theory class and you clung to her when you realized not only was she a talented sight reader but she had the most lifeless and dull nature of anyone you had ever met. She was the exact friend you had hoped to meet.

She had also offered to show you around the gym when you asked. Admittedly, you didn’t need someone to tour guide you through the gym. You just didn’t want to go alone.

Carol talked at you in great detail about the gym’s hours, what kinds of people one might find in certain areas, and how she tried pickleball once but couldn’t stand the instructor’s “overly-excited” approach to teaching.

You zoned out, clutched onto the straps of your backpack, and looked around at the gym. There were so many levels. A big hole in the wall right by the entrance that showcased the basketball courts, two yoga studios hidden around a corner on the second floor, the track that outlined the upper level, and, of course, the massive weightlifting section next to it. You tried to look away from it when Carol walked you past it just in case.

When she had taken you through most of it all, you stopped at the sight of double doors with small windows you could barely see through.

“Is that the pool?” You asked, but you were already walking away by the time Carol could answer.

You gazed eagerly at the swimmers who glided across the lap lanes with ease. There were sounds of whistles and people yelling out times.

“Can anyone swim here or is it just for the swim team?” You asked and no one answered.

You looked briefly behind you. Carol was gone. But, truthfully you didn’t care enough to go after her and continued staring at the splashes and glistening bodies in swimsuits, caps bobbing in and out of the water. The smell of the chlorine was so nostalgic. You let yourself breathe in and out, taking it all in, closing your eyes.

“It's just for the swim team, usually,” a voice said right behind you.

You jumped and turned to see who was inches away from you, closing you into the door behind you.

You exhaled. “Abby.”

“You swim?” She ignored your shock.

“Not, like, for exercise.”

“Hm,” Abby responded. “So, what are you doing here then?”

“Getting the tour I requested.”

“Yeah. From Carol, who’s never actually been here before.”

You momentarily look around for Carol but assume she must have left. You wonder how Abby even knew she was with you.

“Hey, she took a very riveting pickleball class here and has much to say about it,” you said.

Abby smirked and moved from her close proximity to the space next to you. You both stayed there for a moment, just watching.

“She seems like a lot of fun.”

“She is,” you said a bit indignantly.

“I bet,” Abby said. “I had her in my Intro to College course last year. She’s very… organized?”

You sighed, eyes still fixed on the swim team. “Yeah, she’s kind of awful.”

Abby couldn’t contain a laugh and you laughed with her. Out of all your conversations where she seemed to get on every one of your nerves, you were always kind to her. You turned away from the doors and Abby followed alongside as you walked together.

“So,” Abby said, “why are you friends with her then?”

“She’s very smart. She’s nice enough.”

“Your standards for friendship are pretty low. No offense.” Abby swallowed at the thought of you taking offense. Of her taking it too far again. But this time you conceded.

“You could say that. I guess I like laying low.”

“Yeah, I see that. I can’t figure out why though.” You looked up at Abby to see if she’s fucking with you again but she looked genuine. It softened you. “I think you’re cool.”

“Thanks,” you said, looking from her to the floor again. “I just…I’ve had my fill of shitty friends before. I figure Carol is the boring kind of shitty and not the ‘ruin your life’ kind of shitty.”

“Christ,” Abby said. “I get that though.”

You looked at her to call bullshit.

“No, really,” she continued. “If I had a dime for every time I’ve realized someone I considered a best friend was actually totally fucking awful, I’d have, like…”

“Too many dimes?”

You smile. Abby smiled at having made you smile.

“Too many fucking dimes,” Abby agreed and lingered on you, this laugh of yours in particular said, that’s so stupid, but you smiled anyway. She looked away and nervously stroked her neck. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry about what I said before. I see you lug, like, four guitars between classes everyday, so I had no right to say what I did, about me not taking you for a weightlifter. That was stupid.”

Abby’s breath got caught in her words. There was something about her that always made you sympathetic and made the corners of your mouth perk up. She went on.

“I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Which… that’s my fault. If you ever want to hang out, though, outside of the dorm-”

But your eyes tore from her and were suddenly down the hall, staring at a gaggle of girls talking to one of the front desk student workers. Your face went sullen and your body stunned. Abby tried to follow your gaze.

You went into a panic and your eyes darted around until they landed on Abby again.

“I have to go,” you suddenly said. You swung around to Abby, seemingly hiding your face from them.

“Oh- sorry, did I-”

“But thanks for saying that. Yeah, we should,” you said, and Abby could sense your urgency to leave. “Do you wanna go to a party with me?”

Abby couldn’t hide her surprise. And pleasure. “Yes. Yeah,” she coughed. “Sure.”

“It’s a Valentine's Day party. I know it’s early in the month for that, but, yeah, Carol invited me and it seems like it might be fun, I sort of want to go but I don’t really want to go with…”

“Oh, yeah, no, fuck Carol. I’m down.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes opened brightly, at her and then anxiously to the doors behind you. “Okay, that’s great, amazing. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, see you.”

And you were out the door. Abby noticed your head slightly turn away from the girls at the front desk.

Abby’s eyes were wide. She let out a big breath and smiled to herself as she walked back to the weights. Yet, Abby found herself counting past her normal ten reps, so consumed by her thoughts that she couldn’t feel her muscles burning. Perhaps it was the moment you invited her to the party that Abby’s grand idea to repress her feelings had gone out the window. Maybe it was when you confided in her, in what small way it was, or the way you laughed at her being a smart ass that made her abandon the boundary she set for herself. Or, possibly, in the moments she spent watching you watch the swim team, Abby realized something she quietly knew since the day she met you: she couldn’t exercise or fuck her way out of this.

Even if it all was to just be your friend, which she was slowly accepting it would be, it would be worth it to die on that hill. She would let herself die on that hill. Even if it broke her heart and you never were any the wiser. What else could she do? Abby had been a lost cause from the start.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

In a glance, Abby’s memories stop short. She feels the same sense of hopefulness she did in her memory so she chooses not to reminisce further. Not when things feel so simple and good again.

It was hard enough for Abby to look you in the eyes. Every time she did, she felt like she was reading a book and your pages were turning so fast it made her dizzy. It’s how she feels as you ask again:

“You coming?”

You’re half turned to face Abby on the pool’s edge with a hand outstretched to her and anticipation in your eyes.

She comes in colors everywhere, she combs her hair, she's like a rainbow...

As if at peace with the restlessness you gave her, she looks over to you sweetly, cracking a girlish smile and releasing her hair from its braid.

“I’m not waiting for you!” You sing out. “Three! Two!”

Abby runs and cannonballs into the pool.

A second later, Abby feels you explode into the water next to her and opens her eyes. The chlorine stings but she sees you clearly. The deep blue glow surrounds your body as you cascade through the water. Your eyes are squeezed shut drawing little lines of sunshine on the sides of your face, bubbles of air fluttering around you, escaping to the surface.

Abby follows you up until you both find air. Two heads bobbing up and down. The noise of splashing calms. It’s just you and her. Both bodies are tensely aware of that fact.

You hide the bottom half of your face in the water, looking away from Abby nervously. You can sense her eyes on you. It makes you freeze. The familiar heat runs up your neck.

“Stop it.”

She shrugs, indecipherably.

“Okay,” she says.

But Abby doesn’t change a thing.

It all festers on your face.

You take a breath and plunge down until water surrounds you completely, until you’ve held your breath so long that your heart beats louder than your thoughts, slowly and finally drowning them out.

Comment if you want to be on this story's taglist!

Tag babies: @soupycloud @femme-historian @ichokedonmyoreo @paleidiot @r3starttt @lez-zuha @seraphicsentences @vancexplicit @iamaboringrattat @iprefermountainsoverthesea @maybeidohaveadhd @fortune777 @umfiodeprata @x-ani @emothurman @colbyweirdo @backstrom69 @kisssssessssssyj @aylabv02108 @vic-likes-flowers @giuliaexe66 @sapphicontherun @nellkaida @i-feel-violated @grey-jedi12 @stickynachomaker @letmesleep8 @ravyaryn @punkwrld

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

#abby anderson tlou2 #tlou2 #abby tlou #the last of us part 2 #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson #lesbian #abby x you #abby the last of us #abby anderson playlist #abby x reader #the last of us

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jiraisupportgroup · 2 months ago

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First of all - I'd like to note that this post is not intended to pressure anyone to change or to make people feel ashamed for the position they are in in life. I feel like a lot of people don't understand that being in this position is not often a choice. A majority of the time there are mental illnesses or chronic physical illnesses which lead someone to this point. It isn't like they're just hanging out at home all day having a blast - it is emotionally and physically taxing to be in this position, and it can be incredibly hard to break out. Not impossible!! Just very hard.

It is not as simple as "just go outside" "just get a job" etc; that kind of advice is not helpful. This post is mostly aimed at people who want to make some sort of change in their routine. Again, if you don't want to change or don't feel a need to - I'm not here to pressure you into changing your life or to tell you you are wrong for living this way - you're not, you're okay I promise. More so this is for people who are thinking about changing things up or adding a little more structure to their life.

Keep in mind - there is no shame in this. If you're looking at your daily log of activities and it isn't what you want it to be that is okay! Don't beat yourself up or be down on yourself for not being perfect or not being where you want to be. This is just so we can identify trends in our behaviours and more clearly see the things we want to cut back on or the things we want to add to our daily / weekly routines.

Try to keep this in a place where it is easy to keep track of. I typically recommend something digital like a notes app on the phone or a google document since you can access that from a computer or your phone - that way it's much easier to just pop in and write a simple note like "10am - had a bagel for breakfast", or a little pocket notebook that you can keep on your person. Make it as easy for yourself as possible.

It can also help to add little notes about how certain activities make you feel or your general mood throughout the day. This doesn't have to be extensive, but something like "Took a shower, feel refreshed but exhausted", or "2-4pm scrolling TikTok, I don't feel anything, I'm a little irritated". Keeping in mind how certain activities make you feel is a good step in identifying how different things affect your mental health and overall energy / stress levels. This can also help us start to see some of the underlying reasons for some of your behaviours. If you start to see why you do or don't like doing certain things, you can have a better understanding of yourself and how you can go about changing certain habits.

For example if you absolutely 100% detest doing the dishes, the feeling, the smell, how long it takes, etc, it isn't going to be very helpful to have a "just do it" approach to building the habit. It will become much easier if we also adopt other things into this such as having a dish-washing chair, a special soap, or gloves to make the process more bearable before throwing yourself head-first into it.

Some goals are easier to identify than others. For example "I want to brush my teeth every night" is a pretty identifiable goal and the steps you need to take to achieve that goal are pretty straightforward. Other goals like "I want to feel more productive" or "I want to have more energy" are vague and difficult to achieve in themsevles, so we need to break them down.

What does each goal mean to you? What does "being more productive" mean? Does it mean keeping your room clean? Creating a physical product or hobby? Achieving smaller goals throughout the day? Exercising more? Trading social media for something like a book? Learning something new? What smaller aspect of this larger idea stands out to you? Once it is broken into parts it's much easier to work on one aspect at a time instead of just trying to change everything overnight.

Other goals seem like too much, like "I want to be able to go to the grocery store by myself". That's an easily identifiable goal, but it's a BIG goal. There are likely steps you'll have to take to work up to this goal, and those steps are heavily tied to the reasons why you don't like going to the grocery store in the first place. If the crowds make you anxious - going out with friends or family to less crowded places, or going to the grocery store at less busy times of day could help. If the food items stress you out - going out to places like office supply stores that don't carry food items or going to the store without the intent of buying anything just to walk around and get used to it might be helpful. Some stores like Kroger, Ingles, or Target often have little coffee shops in them - maybe going to one of these with friends just to get a snack and hang out can help expose you to the idea of the store itself without the pressure of having to pick out what you're buying or the pressure of interacting with the cashier so you don't have to tackle it all at once. Or if you typically get groceries delivered to your house, maybe you could do a purchase online pick up in-store thing one day - you don't have to spend much time in the actual store, and you don't have to pick items out while you're there, but it'll get you to the actual store and then you can just go home right afterwards. Try to find ways to get slowly closer and closer to your final goal without throwing yourself headfirst into it. (One thing I will say specifically about going to the grocery store is try to avoid planning out exactly what you're going to purchase beforehand - I used to do this and I would end up crying in the middle of the store if they didn't have the exact bread they wanted, it backfired on me more than once T-T so do that at your own risk).

Write out as many or as few goals as you can think of. These are long-term goals, so if your list feels really long don't worry! You don't have to do all of this at once! In fact, I implore you not to try and do too many of these things at once! Try not to get overwhelmed if it feels like a lot - you've got time, this is not a once-and-done kind of thing, we're going to take it slow and try to be reasonable with ourselves and our expectations of ourselves.

But how do you pick a goal? There's a lot of ways you could do this. Some people like to try and go for the one that seems the hardest first - I've never really had luck with this I usually just give up when I feel like it's too hard. Some people try to pick the one that seems the easiest to ease themselves into it - this is always nice because it can help you feel like you're actually making progress and changing things. Some people pick ones that overlap. Like if you want to spend less time on social media and more time doing a hobby like knitting - you can combine those two goals into "trade social media time for knitting" to kind of tackle two things at once. Try not to combine too many things together - we do still want these goals to be small and separate from each other - but smaller ones like that it is okay to and makes sense to combine together.

So! You've picked a goal to work towards! Yay! How do we do that? It depends on the goal you've picked. If it's something physical like showering, brushing your teeth, vacuuming, doing the dishes, going for a walk, or cooking dinner, it's a little easier to track. Setting reminders or keeping a log of when you do these things can help, some people like having weekly or daily checklists to keep track of what has been done and when. Try to avoid putting too many things on the checklist - we don't want to overwhelm ourselves, remember we're just working on one thing right now.

For others, picking a certain day of the week or time of day to do these things can help as well. Having a set time or day for certain activities can help set the routine of doing them, and also makes it a little easier to keep track of when they are done. If you miss these days or times don't beat yourself up! Try to avoid the feeling of "oh well I was supposed to shower at 7pm and now it's 10pm so I missed my opportunity" you can deviate from the timeframes you set for yourself they're just a guide. But over time if you decide you're going to brush your teeth at 9pm every night, after a month or two you'll start being like "oh it's 9pm I'm going to go brush my teeth" it becomes a second-hand habit that you don't have to think about too hard after a few months.

If it is a more nebulous or vague goal, we might want to make a roadmap. Like if your end goal is "I want to be able to keep my room clean consistently" there's a lot that goes into that. Often that includes dishes, taking the trash out, doing laundry, folding the laundry, vacuuming, etc. Trying to take all of that on at once can be really overwhelming! Start small. Let's say, maybe every other night you want to take the dishes from your room to the kitchen. Just focus on that. Or maybe you want to make your bed every day. Or maybe you want to do your laundry once a week. Pick one aspect to focus on for a while, and slowly build on that. After about 2 weeks of taking your dishes to the kitchen every other night, maybe you can add washing them into that. Or after doing your laundry once a week for about a month, you can add folding it into that. If you ease yourself into it, it gets much easier to actually build these habits and not super overwhelm yourself right off the bat. And if you miss a day, that's okay! I'm not expecting you to set a goal and then immediately be able to do it all the time, and you shouldn't expect that of yourself either. Go easy on yourself. Slow progress is still progress. Maybe you're not making your bed every day, but making it once or twice a week is still progress! And over time that once or twice a week will evolve into three or four times a week. And it'll just keep going from there.

On the other hand, if you're trying to STOP doing something as much - the approach is often a little different. Some people like to use timers or notes to show when they last did something so they can see how long it's been or notice changes in whether they're doing it more or less frequently. If it's something like trying to cut back on social media you can set time limits on your phone for how long you're allowed to use each app. These are easy enough to bypass but often times having that reminder of "Hey it's been 15 minutes your time limit is up" can be a reminder to yourself that you want to be more mindful of how long you're spending on these apps, even if you just extend the time limit when it pops up.

Set up alternatives for yourself! It's really hard to say "oh I just won't do that anymore", give yourself something else to do instead. If you want to spend less time on social media, you might instead spend more time reading, drawing, or even playing video games. (Trading social media for video games is a healthy trade I will die on this hill - I don't care how many articles you've seen saying they're just as bad as each other I promise you Persona 5 is not as bad as Twitter for your mental health). If you want to stop smoking, instead have gums, lollipops or a drink you enjoy; or practice breathing techniques when you want to smoke; or if you vape try switching to a lower concentration juice (I'm also trying to stop smoking so I feel you on this it's a tough one). If you're trying to stop SH, have other things like ice cubes, rubber bands, pens, or something that will give you a physical sensation without causing harm (or as much harm). Work with yourself, identify what you're getting from each of these things, and try to make a trade for something that is a little better for you but still gives you some of that thing that you want. Don't beat yourself up if you do still engage in these habits, it is hard to stop. Instead of punishing yourself for still doing these things, praise yourself for doing them less often. (And if you're not doing them less often, praise yourself for being aware of your habits in the first place).

The hardest thing about this whole process is getting the motivation to start. Once you get started it's much easier to keep it going, but that first push to get the ball rolling is the hardest part. For a lot of things you can't wait until you feel like doing it - often that won't come. There are different ways people motivate themselves to do things they don't want to do. Ease yourself into it, don't do everything at once do the first step of the process and then take a little break. For example, if you're folding the laundry, separate it into categories then take a little break. When you come back fold one category, then take a break. Then do the next category. Over time the laundry will be all folded! Set a timer, think about how much time you could reasonably spend doing something. Let's say 10 minutes. Set a timer for 10 minutes, then start whatever task it is you want to do. If you want to clean your room maybe set a timer for 10 minutes and spend that time picking up trash. After those 10 minutes are up you're done. You can come back to more of it later. Often times you'll find that you're able to finish a lot of tasks faster than you thought you'd be able to, and if they're not finished oftentimes times you're more inclined to keep going once those 10 minutes are up since you've already started the ball rolling. Some people use a sort of "rip the bandaid off" technique where they set an alarm to go do something and as soon as that alarm goes off they just force themselves do it. This is hard at first but it does become easier. Think of it like you're jumping into a pool. 3...2...1... GO! Often that initial push to just start walking to go to the thing you want to do is the hardest, and once you're moving it becomes easier.

Tell a friend you're going to do it. Sometimes this helps you feel more motivated to do it since you're giving yourself a little bit of outside pressure to complete the task. On this note, weirdly enough, stretching can help you get motivated to do harder tasks. Like if you want to take the trash out but you're laying in bed, stretching in bed just to get your blood moving can sometimes help you get that initial push to get up and take the trash out.

Work with yourself. Try different approaches, and celebrate your successes no matter how small they may seem. Over time you will find things do get easier, and after tackling one small goal for a month or two, you can add another small goal into the mix.

Some popular app recommendations (I'm so sorry this list is so short - hoping to add to it in the future)

IAmSober - Andriod and IOS - allows you to set multiple goals of things you want to stop doing and shows you timers for how long it's been since you last engaged in that habit.

Flora - Google Play, IOS, and Chrome Extension - sets a timer for how long you don't want to use your phone or computer, once you finish this timer without using your device it grows a tree, and adds that tree to your garden. I used to use this for studying back in college and I quite enjoyed it.

HabitShare - Android, Google Play, and IOS - set habits and keep track of when you've completed them, you can also link with friends to see each other's habits too (although, this is optional you can also keep it private).

These are the best-rated free apps I could find for this kind of thing, if there are others that you use or have used in the past please feel free to comment or rb I would love to be able to add to this list.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope this can be at least a little helpful and I hope it doesn't come off as a "just do it" kind of vibe. I know getting the motivation to start building new or breaking old habits is realllllly hard so hopefully, this is at least a bit helpful T-T

As always, I love you guys and I'm proud of you for being here and doing what you can ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ please feel free to comment or send in any questions, comments, concerns, additions, or anything of that sort ~ ♡

#resource #request #tw sh mention #building habits #breaking habits #jiraiblr #landmineblr #jiraiblogging #landmineblogging #pienblr #hikineet

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agirlwhoisaphantom · 8 months ago

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a little death - tom riddle x reader

summary: There is a new Defensive of Darrk Arts professor and something about you has captivated his attention

word count: 1635

warnings: age gap (all characters are 18+), taboo romance, teacher-student relationship, tension?, obsessive traits, Somewhat of a cliffhanger

author's note: Hello, it's been a while since I wrote anything, so bare with me. This has been a one shot that has been lingering in my brain and I'm excited for it to finally be out. Can we talk about how beautiful Tom Hughes is???? Italian Translation: Falena - Moth

Pansy caught up to you as you walked down the hallway, holding your books close to your chest. “Have you seen the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?” There was an eager tone in her voice, as if she was excited to share the news with you.

Looking over at her, you weren’t too excited, nor did you care about the professor, it was just another class to have to pass. You shook your head as you rolled your eyes. “I have not, nor do I care if there is a new professor.”

She smirked as she looked over at you, playfully bumping into you, which made you hold your books tighter. “You’ll change your mind once you see him.”

Walking into the classroom, you look around, trying to find the professor, but he is nowhere to be seen. Great impression for your first day, huh? You make your way to your seat, place your books on the desk, and take a seat, bringing your backpack onto your lap. You take out a notebook and a pen and set them down on the desk before putting your books away in your bag.

“Hello, class. My name is Professor Riddle, and I will be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” He said in a deep, honeyed tone as he walked towards the front of the class.

You place your attention towards him, noticing all of his features. His black hair fell in short curls, his face was beautifully structured as if it were a statue, and his strong features fell into perfect places. His eyes were ever so calculating in a marine blue as they looked around the room.

His gaze ends up on you, with curiosity evident as he crosses his arms and tilts his head. Tom looked at you as if he was trying to figure you out, and somehow, something about you piqued his interest.

Though he quickly started teaching the class, he continued to steal glances at you throughout the entire hour, his gaze often lingering on you.

You weren’t stressed about your potion exam the next day, but you still wanted to be prepared if something unexpected happened.

As you review your notes on the latest potions being tested, your thoughts drift away. Suddenly, you find yourself daydreaming about Tom. You knew having these thoughts about him was wrong, but you couldn't help but notice how beautiful he was. His deep blue eyes and chiseled jawline left you breathless.

Trying to push these thoughts away, your mind kept reverting to how he said your name. It sounded like he was reading from a poetry book, with a hint of admiration and warmth in his voice.

Standing up from your desk, you feel the need to take a break and clear your mind. You make your way to the door of your dorm and start to head outside. The cool breeze hits your face, and you take a deep breath.

Walking towards the courtyard, you noticed someone sitting on one of the benches reading a book. You were intrigued by how they delicately put down the book as they pulled a cigarette box out of their pockets and put it in their mouth.

You couldn’t tell the features of this person, and you wondered if they were new or someone you had never seen before. As you walked towards them, his features became more apparent, and you noticed it was Tom.

Fuck

Out of all the people to approach, you are approaching the one person you have been trying to avoid having inappropriate thoughts about.

“Good evening, Miss.” he looks up at you, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and placing it between his index finger and middle finger as he notices you approaching him. “Did you need something?”

You shook your head as you held your hands together. “No, just wondering who was out here at these hours. I should get going- “

“I noticed you were struggling in today's class. I can tutor you so you can understand the material better,” he interrupted. He stood up and immediately towered over you. Looking up at him, you hadn’t noticed his height until he stood so close to you.

Him telling you that you were struggling made you upset. Why was he noticing that? Why didn’t he tell me he noticed that during class? All these thoughts were going through your mind as you furrowed your brows and gave him a crooked smile. “I wasn’t struggling,” you scoffed. "Don’t make assumptions about me if you don’t know me. Have a good evening,” you snapped at him as you began to walk away, crossing your arms together.

He started to follow you as he forcefully grabbed your arm, pulling you back and turning you to face him. “Don’t ever speak to me like that ever again.” That soft, honeyed tone disappeared as his voice turned harsh. His eyes narrowed as he tried to intimidate you, but you looked at him with a poker face.

You moved your arm away from his grasp. “What will you do? Fail me?”

“Precisely that,” he says, placing his hands in his coat pockets. A sinister smirk appears on his face.

Your eyes burned with frustration and anger as you stared at him silently. This wasn't how you envisioned your first out-of-class interaction with him. You had hoped for a more cordial and friendly exchange, but instead, you found yourself clenching your fists and biting your tongue.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you broke the silence and asked, "May I go now?" Your voice was cold and clipped, betraying the anger and disappointment that you felt.

He stepped closer to you, closing the gap between the two of you as he placed his middle finger underneath your chin with his index finger and thumb, tilting your head up, making you look at him as he smirked “You look so delicious when you are angry, Falena.”

“Fuck off, Riddle,” he harshly lets go of your face as he chuckles.

He starts to walk away from you and stops for a second. “I’ll see you around, Falena.”

----

Over the course of the following weeks, you found yourself struggling in class. It seemed like Tom had it out for you, as he was particularly harsh towards you. He gave you assignments that were much more challenging, and he even tested you on spelling that most students had never even heard of before.

There were days when you would lay in bed, feeling thoroughly discouraged and wanting to skip class altogether. But you knew that if you did that, you would be giving him the satisfaction of winning whatever little game he had placed between you.

You had to recollect yourself before knocking on his office door. Taking a deep breath, you knocked on it. Surprised, he answered quickly, “I was expecting you.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you into the office, closing the door.

“I’m not staying long.” You rapidly moved your hand away from his as you crossed your arms together. “What the fuck is your problem? What are you trying to prove with all of the shit that you’ve been doing?” You sounded agitated as you stepped back as you wanted to keep your distance between you and him.

“You are my problem,” he snapped as he closed the gap between you two. “I don’t know what it is from the moment I saw you. You are all I think about. You have invaded every single sense of mine. Whatever you are doing, make it stop.” He looked desperate, wanting answers you could not give him.

Your eyes widen as you shake your head, looking at him confused. “That doesn’t mean you get to make my life a living hell.”

“You already make mine feel that way.”

You felt confused and angry. You wanted to open that door and run back to your dorm, close the door, and never get out. Instead, you stood there breathing the same air as the person who has made it difficult to be around.

He takes a deep breath as he places his hand on your cheek. His gaze softens as his thumb grazes over your cheek. “I shouldn’t be feeling this way towards you. But I can’t help it. You are just so perfect.” That honeyed, deep voice comes back, and geez, how addicting it is listening to it.

You placed your hand on top of his as you leaned into his cold touch. Closing your eyes, you realize something that made you pull his hand away from your face.

“We shouldn’t be doing, Tom,” you whispered as you looked up at him, biting your lip. You take a couple of steps back as you place your hand on the doorknob. You wanted him to stop you from leaving, so why was he standing there staring at you as if he was starved from a touch that he has been craving.

He reaches out for you but stops as he flexes his hand on the side of his leg. “Whether you like it or not, falena, you belong to me.”

“I belong to no one. Goodnight, Tom.” You turn around as you open the door, leaving his office before he can respond.

Walking back to your dorm, you could still feel his hand on your face, as if it were tattooed on your skin.

What did I get myself into? A sigh escapes your lips as you lay down on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

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