#filter on daisy diary series

[okaystoptellingmetomakeanaccount]

All stories in the “Daisy’s Diary” series which feature an appearance of Paperetta Ye Ye.

Hey guys! I remember seeing somewhere that Dickie duck appears in one of the "Diary Ducks diary" comics but when I looked it up again to see which one nothing came up? Do any of you know or did I totally imagine this

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Dear Fucking Diary: Entry the 1st - The Lothario On the Other Side of My Wall

Pairings: Dean x Fem!OFC (Daisy)

Explicit 18 +/Warnings: None in this chapter. Some mentions of penis size and sex in general. Also, some cursing - but I mean, did you read the title! 😉😁 Brief mention of emotional/mental abuse.

Word Count: 390

DFD: Series Masterlist

Series Summary: I've been tasked with writing in this fucking diary like a some teenage girl. It sucks, but who else am I going to talk to about the incredible hottie who lives next door?

Chapter Summary: 1st entry. I can't deal with the noises from my neighbor's apartment. It's making me horny angry.

A/N:  This series has popped into my head from out of nowhere. It was supposed to be a whole other thing, but then it just morphed into this. (Cause I needed more series to work on! 🙄😄) Hope you like it, I should be releasing a new entry every few days, and I think there will be about 7 or 8 entries. This entry is short and sweet, but most of the others will range between 1000 and 3000 words. Thanks everyone!! 🥰

The awesome divider at the bottom is created by @talesmaniac89

Dear Diary,

God, I hated writing that. I feel like some kind of teenage girl writing about the dreamy boy in my homeroom class. Dear Diary, I'm just gonna die! Brandon said hi to me in the hallway! His blue eyes are so dreamy!

Actually, his eyes are green. Fuck! I don't know why I wrote that!

Dr. Hailey said I'm not supposed to edit my journal, that I'm supposed to write just whatever comes to mind, but I really didn't mean to write about HIM. My green-eyed, apparently hung like a horse, sex god, neighbor.

I say he's hung like a horse because I've now heard no less than three women shout some variation of the words, "Oh my God! You're huge!" through the paper thin walls of my apartment. The Dude is some kind of lothario I guess, cause he's got a different woman with him every time. I've seen them coming in and out of the apartment block.

Not that I sit on my tiny balcony and obsessively watch his comings and goings or anything. I just like to sit out there in the evenings with a glass of wine and in the mornings with a cup of coffee and that's when he's bringing them home in his big, black, sleek car, and sending them on their way, in the back of a taxi.

I swear, I'd assume he was some kind of escort or something if I hadn't seen him in the hallway wearing mechanic's overalls from some place called Singer Auto. Not that he couldn't moonlight as an escort on the side, I guess...hmm...I wonder what he'd charge?

I'm not doing very well with the whole not editing thing. Dr. Hailey says I'm not supposed to filter myself. That I ended up where I did partly because I filtered out my true feelings and wouldn't advocate for myself.

Which is strange because I thought I ended up where I did because He Who Shall Not Be Named was an abusive prick. But you know, whatever. I'm not a psychologist, so here I am writing in a journal like a thirteen year old.

Although, I guess most thirteen year old girls don't write about the size of a guy's dick and his possible life as a male prostitute. Not many of them anyway.

Ugh! I hate this!

Continue

@akshi8278, @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @foxyjwls007, @b3autyfuldisast3r, @myloversgone, @kazsrm67, @fangirlxwrites67, @kickingitwithkirk, @charred-angelwings, @hopefuldreamers-world, @siospins, @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp, @my-sherlock221b, @jensensgotyoudean @lyarr24, @snowlovespie, @stixnstripesworld, @thoughts-and-funnies, @magssteenkamp, @norman1967, @princessmisery666, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy

Masterlist

Tag Lists

[twruniversity-blog]

Accepted North Italy!

Welcome to the group.

You have three days to move in. That is all.

OOC;

Name: Momo Age: 18 Pronouns: She/Her or He/Him Activity: 8 Contact: maslyanitsa-yumcha Ships for Muse: GerIta!!! But I’m open to anything ( except PruIta tbh ) Timezone: NZST Triggers/Sensitive Subjects: Cancer and Snakes ;; Any Concerns?: ://// I have a bit of a problem with one of the mods…..i think their name is….paNE.

IC;

Character: APH North Italy Full Name / Preferred Name: Feliciano Giovanni Vargas Age: 20 Birthday: March 17th Gender: Cis Male Pronouns: He/Him but he’s not gonna hate you if you get it wrong. Housing: Shared room in Toutouwai Village Pets:  Really fat but super energetic orange tabby cat named Gino, Sleepy ball of grey fluff that is apparently a maine coon kitten named Tchaikovsky.

IC - In Depth;

Magical Branches: Air and Light.

Ahurei:

Musical Empathetic Projection ; Through the power of his music, Feliciano can influence the emotions of his audience. Emphasis on the word influence.

Major/s: Classical Performance and Air Minor/s: Music Theory Type of Degree: Bachelors Clubs: Orchestra ( Flute I & Piccolo ), Italian Society, Acapella on Campus, Social Orchestra ( Trumpet ), and Football.

Appearance:

Appearance is important to Feliciano and he spends quite a lot of time in maintaining a good one. With a detailed skincare routine each morning, frequent bouts of light exercise, and a relatively good diet – his hard work clearly shows. Clear complexion and glossy hair, Feliciano’s appearance may fool you into believing that he’s a man who has his life together. Spoiler alert: he’s an absolute fucking mess.

Standing about approximately 172 cm (or 5’8”) tall, Feliciano is not what one would consider ‘imposing’. His lean build and clear lack of muscles don’t help with this image either – his figure whittling down to narrow wrists and ankles, clearly not built for heavy exercise. The majority of his height comes from his legs, surprisingly long for a man his size and slenderer than expected. Perhaps this is why he becomes freakishly fast in the face of any sort of threat.

With an averagely shaped face that is neither round nor angled, his face is not one that is exceptionally unique. It is his eyes that change everything. A generic shape the colour of a plain walnut – there is something simply captivating about them. Eyes are the window of the soul and Feliciano’s larger than life soul can be seen shining through with each gleeful grin, cheesy smile and longing laugh he lets out. His bouncing auburn hair curls about in a lively manner, always moving and never staying still for long. Certain curls even appear to enjoy defying gravity, but Feliciano has never found this to be frustrating, they’re fun to play with sometimes. They do, however, have the unfortunate habit of flopping into his eyes sporadically throughout the day.

Headcanons:

Helpless romantic who falls in love easily.

An avid cat lover who is slightly nervous around dogs – especially large dogs.

Rambles far more than he should.

Uses way too many emoticons when he texts. Also his texts tend to not make sense.

Personality:

Pressing existentialism, political corruption and cynicism are more than enough to bring the average person down – but not Feliciano. Optimism is his core value. He lives his life as if it were as easy as skipping through a field of daisies in the glimmering sunlight. His whims come and go like the breeze and he finds it difficult to stick to one interest at a time. Easy-going and carefree to the point where it is absurd, he is not a particularly responsible person. Unless, however, he is incredibly passionate about the subject. If he is passionate, you can most certainly rely on him to follow through on it and do a good job of it. His emotions power his productivity.

Blessed (?) cursed (?), with incredibly intense emotions – Feliciano can often come off as a bit too much. His feelings are always subject to change, even though he generally managed to maintain a constant emotional high. His lows, however, can reach the lowest of the low. Nothing can pull him from these pits of despair – nothing but the comfort of his music.

Socially, he is a walking contradiction. He can be amazing at times – pulling both friends and romantic partners easily – and at other times, he can be downright dreadful, in the sense that he has practically no social filter. Feliciano will either say all the right things, or all the wrong things. All in all, this simply comes down to his relentless naivety.

In terms of insecurities, Feliciano only has one – and that is his fragile sense of masculinity. Unlike internet trolls, however, Feliciano isn’t the type to try and overcompensate for his lack of muscles. Rather he can get…rather attached to those with muscles. If you’re strong and Feliciano is flirting with you – don’t be fooled, he’s just using you for your muscles.

Strengths:

Outgoing/Friendly ; Feliciano has no problems making new friends and branching out of his current social circle. Rather, he goes out of his way to meet new people - he tends to find himself fascinated by all of their different stories.

Optimistic ; He can turn any negative and/or sad situation into something positive. Feliciano always sees the best in people, even if they don’t necessarily deserve it.

Creative ; To say that Feliciano is creative is an understatement. All of his life he has done nothing but arts - especially in regards to painting, cooking and music. Wherever Feliciano is, he will be creating something - whether it be a small series of doodles and sketches in a notebook, thinking of different variations to spin on his classic pasta sauce, or a small musical motif to be developed on later.

Weaknesses:

Absent-minded ; Feliciano often forgets things, nothing is safe from his forgetful nature. He has very nearly forgotten his own birthday on several occasions and only remembers because it is the only day that Lovino will text him before 10am. He used to be much worse when he was younger, but he’s been trying to keep on top of it with the help from a planning diary (it hasn’t really been working though).

Cowardly ; He is an absolute coward when it comes to anything scary (mainly just in real life though, he can generally sit through a horror movie. generally). Feliciano can feel intimidated by anything from a stern person to the dark and he often responds by either running away or crying.

Gourmand ; Notorious for over-indulging himself with gourmet foods, it really is a wonder as to how he manages to stay the size that he is. If the food is good enough, Feliciano will literally eat until he gets stomach cramps (especially if that food is gelato). That being said, if the food is deemed ‘yucky’ by him, he will simply refuse to eat until something he likes enough comes along.

Backstory:

[ Note: this is subject to some slight changes when Lovino joins! ]

[ Also TW: Cancer altho I think that’s only me atm lolol ]

Ever since he was a child, family was important to him.  He never really knew who his parents were. His Madre had been young when she’d given birth to Feliciano, and even younger when she’d given birth to his brother – Lovino. No matter how much he desperately wished that he could of known her, he could never bring himself to hate her for what she did. Whilst Lovino found himself being raised by their Padre, Feliciano was whisked away and raised by his Nonno ( their mother’s father ). As a result of their separation, Feliciano grew up with an exaggerated and idealist view on his older brother and an inseparable bond with his Nonno.

His childhood was nothing exceptional; filled with the beauty of Italian summers, the sharp scent of the grape vines, and the constant stream of music that flowed throughout the house – his only thoughts on his childhood, was that it was a good one. Magic was an accepted part of his lifestyle, something that had been running through the family for years, and his Nonno was always more than a little enthusiastic about helping Feliciano develop his own powers.

As time went on, Feliciano gradually began to notice small changes in his Nonno. Only little changes, but changes never the less. It was easy to pass these things off as old age – the sudden bruising that seemed to flourish on his Nonno’s body and how his hair used to fall out more and more frequently – but in the end it all became rather obvious. His Nonno had been diagnosed with some sort of cancer. Feliciano still has no idea what sort of cancer it was - not because he can’t find out, rather he doesn’t want to know. Feliciano still hates himself for not noticing earlier, for not taking advantage of the few moments he still had had with his Nonno.

After the passing of his Nonno, Feliciano convinced his Uncle to send him to abroad to a boarding school. He wound up being sent all the way across the ocean to, of all countries, New Zealand. He loved everything about his boarding school - from the architecture, to the classes, to the people. It was here that he settled on his first love, the flute. His uncle had insisted that he choose to learn at least one musical instrument that wasn’t the piano, Feliciano decided to try out the flute (and it was totally not because all of the pretty girls from the next school over played the flute). It was a whirlwind romance, he would spend hours with his flute and, especially in the first few weeks, he would lock himself in the music block all day and spend nearly all of his time practising. Ever since then, Feliciano has been closely attached to his flute. His uncle ensured that Feliciano was able to enrol in graded exams and by the age of 14, he had achieved his Grade 8 in the flute. The next step after that, for Feliciano, was to master the piccolo - which, if he was honest, he was still working on. He had joined the school bands and orchestras, but he found that after a few years, he had out-grown them and he began slacking off more and more as his disinterest grew. Feliciano reached out to orchestras and bands in the wider community, quickly ending up as a key member in multiple chamber music groups.

Unfortunately, his obsessive nature over his instrument led to his grades in other subjects suffering and he nearly failed high school because of this. This was when Feliciano met him. Feliciano could never remember his name, no matter how hard he tried and so that boy was always thought of as him. Because Feliciano was doing so poorly in class, his teachers assigned that boy to tutor him as they shared nearly all of their classes. It wasn’t as if he was anything outstanding, if anything Feliciano found him to be absolutely terrifying. And yet, yet there was something about that boy that Feliciano couldn’t help but fall for. They wound up becoming rather good friends and spent a lot of time outside of tutoring together. Sometimes, if Feliciano thinks extra hard, he can remember teaching that boy how to paint, picking flowers together in the school gardens, and when that boy tried to hold a picnic for the two of them and Feliciano’s gourmet palate rejected it. But the one thing that Feliciano could never forget (even though he really wanted to sometimes), was their separation. He was only supposed to be going home for the holidays, and he pinky-promised that he would send Feliciano letters and yet, they never saw each other again. Feliciano would be lying if he said that he had moved on since that boy, even though it had been so many years since they had last seen each other. Nevertheless, he tries to persevere in his romantic pursuits, he can see that realistically there is no need to be hung up over a summer romance from his childhood.

Sample RP:            

[ high-key ripping from my other Feliciano blog lmao ]

It’d only been a few days since he’d so much as touched down in San Francisco and his mind was still buzzing from all the excitingly new sights and sounds. Like a true tourist, Feliciano had dragged Lovino across the entire damned city with his trusty camera being stuffed full of photographs he’d probably never look at again. Worth it.

His mood had yet to simmer below a constant screech of excitement, and it showed. Mind in the clouds with his eyes on the sky ceiling, Feliciano had reached maximum ditziness. He was paying so little attention to his surroundings that it took a few moments before he figured out that yes, his ass was on the floor and hurting real bad.

But! Pain didn’t matter right now! If he’d fallen ass first, he must’ve bumped into another agent! An agent he hadn’t met yet because he had yet to meet anybody at this facility!

Frustrated comment brushed aside, Feliciano jumped straight into introductions with the grace of a six-legged mutant monkey-swan suffering from tuberculosis.

“Ciao, ciao! I’m sorry for bumping into you, bello! Who are you? I haven’t met you yet, ahhh, I’m new here! Oh, oh! My name is Feliciano!”

[newstfionline]

Prozac Nation Is Now the United States of Xanax

By Alex Williams, NY Times, June 10, 2017

This past winter, Sarah Fader, a 37-year-old social media consultant in Brooklyn who has generalized anxiety disorder, texted a friend in Oregon about an impending visit, and when a quick response failed to materialize, she posted on Twitter to her 16,000-plus followers. “I don’t hear from my friend for a day--my thought, they don’t want to be my friend anymore,” she wrote, appending the hashtag #ThisIsWhatAnxietyFeelsLike.

Thousands of people were soon offering up their own examples under the hashtag; some were retweeted more than 1,000 times. You might say Ms. Fader struck a nerve. “If you’re a human being living in 2017 and you’re not anxious,” she said on the telephone, “there’s something wrong with you.”

It was 70 years ago that the poet W.H. Auden published “The Age of Anxiety,” a six-part verse framing modern humankind’s condition over the course of more than 100 pages, and now it seems we are too rattled to even sit down and read something that long.

Anxiety has become our everyday argot, our thrumming lifeblood: not just on Twitter (the ur-anxious medium, with its constant updates), but also in blogger diaries, celebrity confessionals, a hit Broadway show (“Dear Evan Hansen”), a magazine start-up (Anxy, a mental-health publication based in Berkeley, Calif.), buzzed-about television series (like “Maniac,” a coming Netflix series by Cary Fukunaga, the lauded “True Detective” director) and, defying our abbreviated attention spans, on bookshelves.

While to epidemiologists both disorders are medical conditions, anxiety is starting to seem like a sociological condition, too: a shared cultural experience that feeds on alarmist CNN graphics and metastasizes through social media. As depression was to the 1990s--summoned forth by Kurt Cobain, “Listening to Prozac,” Seattle fog and Temple of the Dog dirges on MTV, viewed from under a flannel blanket--so it seems we have entered a new Age of Anxiety. Monitoring our heart rates. Swiping ceaselessly at our iPhones. Filling meditation studios in an effort to calm our racing thoughts.

Consider the fidget spinner: endlessly whirring between the fingertips of “Generation Alpha,” annoying teachers, baffling parents. Originally marketed as a therapeutic device to chill out children with anxiety, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder or autism, these colorful daisy-shaped gizmos have suddenly found an unlikely off-label use as perhaps the an explosively popular toy, this generation’s Rubik’s Cube.

But the Cube was fundamentally a cerebral, calm pursuit, perfect for the latchkey children of the 1980s to while away their lonely, Xbox-free hours. The fidget spinner is nothing but nervous energy rendered in plastic and steel, a perfect metaphor for the overscheduled, overstimulated children of today as they search for a way to unplug between jujitsu lessons, clarinet practice and Advanced Placement tutoring.

According to data from the National Institute of Mental Health, some 38 percent of girls ages 13 through 17, and 26 percent of boys, have an anxiety disorder. On college campuses, anxiety is running well ahead of depression as the most common mental health concern, according to a 2016 national study of more than 150,000 students by the Center for Collegiate Mental Health at Pennsylvania State University. Meanwhile, the number of web searches involving the term has nearly doubled over the last five years, according to Google Trends. (The trendline for “depression” was relatively flat.)

To Kai Wright, the host of the politically themed podcast “The United States of Anxiety” from WNYC, which debuted this past fall, such numbers are all too explicable. “We’ve been at war since 2003, we’ve seen two recessions,” Mr. Wright said. “Just digital life alone has been a massive change. Work life has changed. Everything we consider to be normal has changed. And nobody seems to trust the people in charge to tell them where they fit into the future.”

For “On Edge,” Ms. Petersen, a longtime reporter for The Wall Street Journal, traveled back to her alma mater, the University of Michigan, to talk to students about stress. One student, who has A.D.H.D., anxiety and depression, said the pressure began building in middle school when she realized she had to be at the top of her class to get into high school honors classes, which she needed to get into Advanced Placement classes, which she needed to get into college.

“In sixth grade,” she said, “kids were freaking out.”

This was not the stereotypical experience of Generation X.

Urban Dictionary defines a slacker as “someone who while being intelligent, doesn’t really feel like doing anything,” and that certainly captures the ripped-jean torpor of 1990s Xers.

For these youths of the 1990s, Nirvana’s “Lithium” was an anthem; coffee was a constant and Ms. Wurtzel’s “Prozac Nation: Young and Depressed in America,” about an anhedonic Harvard graduate from a broken home, dressed as if she could have played bass in Hole, was a bible.

The millennial equivalent of Ms. Wurtzel is, of course, Lena Dunham, who recently told an audience at the 92nd Street Y in Manhattan, “I don’t remember a time not being anxious.” Having suffered debilitating anxiety since age 4, the creator, writer and star of the anxiety-ridden “Girls” recalled how she “missed 74 days of 10th grade” because she was afraid to leave her house. This was around the time that the largest act of terrorism in United States history unfolded near the TriBeCa loft where she grew up.

But monitored by helicopter parents, showered with participation awards and then smacked with the Great Recession, Generation Y has also suffered from the low-level anxiety that comes from failing to meet expectations. Thus the invention of terms like “quarter-life crisis” and “FOMO” (“fear of missing out,” as it is fueled by social media apps like Instagram). Thus cannabis, the quintessential chill-out drug, is turned into a $6.7 billion industry.

Sexual hedonism no longer offers escape; it’s now filtered through the stress of Tinder. “If someone rejects you, there’s no, ‘Well, maybe there just wasn’t chemistry …,’” Jacob Geers, a 22-year-old in New York who works in digital sales, said. “It’s like you’re afraid that through the app you’ll finally look into the mirror and realize that you’re butt ugly,” he added.

If anxiety is the melody of the moment, President Trump is a fitting maestro. Unlike his predecessor, Barack Obama, a low-key ironist from the mellow shores of Oahu, the incumbent is a fast-talking agitator from New York, a city of 8.5 million people and, seemingly, three million shrinks.

In its more benign form, only a few beats from ambition, anxiety is, in part, what made Mr. Trump as a businessman. In his real estate career, enough was never enough. “Controlled neurosis” is the common characteristic of most “highly successful entrepreneurs,” according to Mr. Trump (or Tony Schwartz, his ghostwriter) in the 1987 book, “The Art of the Deal.” “I don’t say that this trait leads to a happier life, or a better life,” he adds, “but it’s great when it comes to getting what you want.”

Everything had to be bigger, bolder, gold-er. And it made him as a politician, spinning nightmare tales on the stump about an America under siege from Mexican immigrants and Muslim terrorists.

But if Mr. Trump became president because voters were anxious, as a recent Atlantic article would have readers believe, other voters have become more anxious because he became president. Even those not distressed by the content of his messages might find the manner in which they are dispensed jarring.

“In addition to the normal chaos of being a human being, there is what almost feels like weaponized uncertainty thrown at us on a daily basis,” said Kat Kinsman, the “Hi, Anxiety” author. “It’s coming so quickly and messily, some of it straight from the president’s own fingers.”

Indeed, Mr. Trump is the first politician in world history whose preferred mode of communication is the 3 a.m. tweet--evidence of a sleepless body, a restless mind, a worrier.

“We live in a country where we can’t even agree on a basic set of facts,” said Dan Harris, an ABC news correspondent and “Nightline” anchor who found a side career as an anti-anxiety guru with the publication of his 2014 best-seller, “10% Happier.” Mr. Harris now also offers a meditation app, a weekly email newsletter and a podcast that has been downloaded some 3.5 million times in the past year.

The political mess has been “a topic of conversation and a source of anxiety in nearly every clinical case that I have worked with since the presidential election,” said Robert Duff, a psychologist in California. He wrote a 2014 book, “Hardcore Self-Help,” whose subtitle proposes to conquer anxiety in the coarse language that has also defined a generation.

The Cold War, starring China, North Korea and Russia, is back, inspiring headline-induced visions of mushroom clouds not seen in our collective nightmares since that Sunday evening in 1983 when everyone watched “The Day After” on ABC.

And television was, as Marshall McLuhan famously wrote, a cool medium. Our devices are literally hot, warming our laps and our palms.

“In our always-on culture, checking your phone is the last thing you do before you go to sleep, and the first thing you do if you wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom,” Mr. Harris said. “Just today, I got an alert on my phone about the collapsing Arctic ice shelf. That’s scary as hell.”

Push notifications. Apocalyptic headlines. Rancorous tweets. Countless studies have found links between online culture and anxiety. But if social media can lead to anxiety, it also might help relieve it.

The “we have no secrets here” ethos of online discourse has helped bring anxiety into the open, and allowed its clinical sufferers to band together in a virtual group-therapy setting. Hence the success of campaigns like #ThisIsWhatAnxietyFeelsLike, which helped turn anxiety--a disorder that afflicts some 40 million American adults--into a kind of rights movement. “People with anxiety were previously labeled dramatic,” said Sarah Fader, the Brooklyn social media consultant who also runs a mental-health advocacy organization called Stigma Fighters. “Now we are seen as human beings with a legitimate mental health challenge.”

And let’s remember that we survived previous heydays of anxiety without a 24-hour digital support system. Weren’t the Woody Allen ‘70s the height of neurosis, with their five-days-a-week analysis sessions and encounter groups? What about the 1950s, with their duck-and-cover songs and backyard bomb shelters?

That era “was the high-water mark of Freudian psychoanalysis, and any symptom or personality trait was attributed to an anxiety neurosis,” said Peter D. Kramer, the Brown University psychiatrist who wrote the landmark 1990s best-seller, “Listening to Prozac.” “And then there were substantial social spurs to anxiety: the World Wars, the atom bomb. If you weren’t anxious, you were scarcely normal.”

Scott Stossel, editor of The Atlantic, whose “My Age of Anxiety” helped kick off the anxiety memoir boom three years ago, urged people to pause, not for deep cleansing breaths, but for historical perspective.

“Every generation, going back to Periclean Greece, to second century Rome, to the Enlightenment, to the Georgians and to the Victorians, believes itself to be the most anxious age ever,” Mr. Stossel said.

That said, the Americans of 2017 can make a pretty strong case that they are gold medalists in the Anxiety Olympics.

“There is widespread inequality of wealth and status, general confusion over gender roles and identities, and of course the fear, dormant for several decades, that ICBMs will rain nuclear fire on American cities,” Mr. Stossel said. “The silver lining for those with nervous disorders is that we can welcome our previously non-neurotic fellow citizens into the anxious fold.”