#i cannot stress how little i've painted in my life this is the first time i've tried in like. maybe 2 years

[sheepoftheseus]

top 10 animals that are wizards

[quinloki]

humble requests for buggy, killer, and robin for marking with their lipstick (i know robin isnt drawn with any but just for fun), hella softcore femdom, and praise (not for killer i know u already did him and i.. go back regularly to read it and get all flustered and coo and adhjsfldkf) thank yoU!!!

Awwwww ♥ I'm glad you like it that much. Hm... maybe I'll expand on it for this post. Let's see how it goes.

Buggy and Robin - I think this is firsts for both of them \o/ (Oh wait, I've gotten Buggy once before, first for Robin!)

Also, I apologize, I'm laughing at "hella softcore femdom" - I don't know what to do with that, but I'm going to try my best. I'm assuming the qualifier is there because I tend to go pretty hard core, and you're trying to get me to put the mittens on and tone it down a bit.

We'll do this by character as is becoming the norm, and we'll just go in the order you've listed \o/

Buggy:

Marking w/lipstick - Yes - Buggy likes to give you his "look" in the bedroom - not the big red nose, but the exaggerated lips and the blue lines. There's just something quiet and intimate about it and he refuses to let anyone else see you like that. Generally, in the course of the night, the makeup on the both of you is ruined all to hell. Red and blue smears of paint blotched along skin.

You've even "marked" him more directly before, drawing a couple lazy hearts on his chest with the lipstick one time and he found he really liked it. He told you it was flashy and even left it in place until normal daily life wore it away.

Hella Softcore Femdom - Oh god you don't even know - Buggy can be pushed into being dom, he can even be one on his own, but he's a very stressed clown man. Handing over the proverbial reigns and doing your bidding is a tremendous stress reliever for him. It doesn't even have to be sexual in nature. He'll rub your shoulder, massage your feet, bring you snacks and feed you fruits (and/or let you feed him fruits too.) He even enjoys being made to clean or organize things.

Praise Kink - FUCK Yes - You cannot praise him too much, he cannot praise you too much. Buggy is a affirmative words kind of guy. (He likes having degradation thrown at him, does not like dishing it out). He loves to hear he's doing well, and loves to praise you for taking him so well at the same time. He's very talkative when he's with you - not in the screechy kind of fast-talk he has with other people. It's much calmer than that, maybe a little flashy still.

He'll talk a little less as things progress - once you've both learned what the other likes there'll be less instructions and questions and clarifications, but he'll still be singing your praises, and reveling in you praising him.

Killer:

Marking w/lipstick - FUCK Yes - Killer loves to mark you, and honestly the more temporary those marks are the better. As a general rule at least. The best part is how accurate he is with it. He's put lipstick on your lips without getting any outside of the lines, and he didn't use the lipstick on your lips directly. It was some of the best kissing you'd experienced with him.

By the time all is said and done it's often hard to tell what marks on you are passionate bruises, and which marks are Killer's lipstick. At least until you get cleaned up.

Hella Softcore Femdom - Yes - I don't think you'd ever actually truly dom Killer. Even softcore style. He's delighted to let you fill that role, but there's no point in any of it where you're fully in control. He just doesn't have enough "sub" in him for that sort of interaction. Much like Kid though, he's into pretty much all kinks, from all sides, and he'll happily play at being you're good darlin' without complaint.

Plus it's not bad for him to just relax and let someone call the shots for a little bit. Killer's usually non-stop on in that category. So it's refreshing for him to let someone else take the lead.

Praise Kink - Oh god your don't even know - Killer will praise you and accept your praises. But mostly praise you - how well you take him, how sweet you sound, how beautiful your laughter is, how delicious, and warm, and tight and perfect you are. Killer loves to lavish you with praise. You are his good little one, and he'll make sure you never doubt it. He'll even praise you while he's punishing you - especially if you're accepting your punishment without complaint.

It's also easy to tell that praise effects him positively as well. You can hear his soft moans shiver when you praise him, feel him twitch inside you, the flex in his fingers as he works to control himself. He doesn't really need or want anyone else to tell him he's doing a good job, but something about the way you say it, hits him at his core.

Nico Robin:

Marking w/lipstick - Sure - I think Robin wouldn't have much of an opinion on it until her partner marked her with lipstick. The quiet action of it, the subtle intimacy, the ease with which it can be removed and reapplied. Something about it will click with her and she'll be positive toward it more than neutral.

As a general rule I don't think she's one for marking any more "hardcore" than lipstick. Marks maybe from passionate kissing, but considering her past I don't think she'd want to have a show of ownership over someone. I almost think freedom is more important to her than it is to Luffy.

Hella Softcore Femdom - Oh god you don't even know - This is like, Robin's natural state. It's almost how she is just as a person existing. Everything I can think of to describe it are canonical moments in the show. She just very casually and skillfully moves the crew to her desires, and praises them when things go how she wants. It's almost motherly with, say, Chopper, but there's certainly a dom vibe with the rest of the crew.

It's subtle though - "hella softcore" is a good way to describe it. That said, it's something I see her doing to someone quite easily, but I don't think it goes in the other direction. Subtle as it may (or may not) come across in her relationship, she is most certainly the dominate partner.

Praise Kink - FUCK Yes - Degradation is not Robin's default setting. She's 100% someone that's going to praise you for a job well-done. The hardest part of being her partner is that she'll praise you for cleaning the room in the same cadence and tone that she'll praise you for taking her strap. Or hand. Or with you pleasing her.

There's nothing wrong with it, but when she thanks you for something in front of everyone else in that same tone she used in the bedroom perhaps just moments earlier. Well. To say it has an astounding effect is a bit of an understatement (and I'm certain she does it on purpose too.)

Get your asks in, I'm not taking more after tomorrow.

[janerogan]

god any recs for best supernatural fics?

Hi hello, why yes I do! Unfortunately, I don't have time or space to list every single beloved spn fic BUT I will give some highlights of one's I can remember off the top of my head. It's all Deancas cuz that's all I read really. Oh apart from As You Were which has no pairings. Obvi be aware of like tags and ratings cuz some of these deal with some heavy shit.

Four Letter Word for Intercourse was the first spn fic I ever read. I've reread it like 5x by this point. I adore it. Literally one of the most iconic spn fics I think, I knew about it before even starting spn

Canticles - no idea how to describe this it's just fucking GOOD. Beautiful writing. Also one of the first spn fics I ever read.

Cinderwings - LISTEN. THIS FIC. You want good worldbuilding? Look no further. It's a cinderella au when boiled down to it but that does in no way prepare you for the story. Dean is a prince, cas is an angel looking for the key to his peoples freedom under the guise of a masquerade ball.

And this, your living kiss - THEE poetry fic. If you love good Dean pov and characterisation and you love poetry or even if you don't like either then pls read this. Cas teaches poetry and Dean is a mechanic who published poetry under the pen name Jack Allen. It's beautiful.

Fenario - Lake House fic! An absolutely gorgeous post empty fic. My fave subgenre of Dean buying cas a house so he doesn't have to live in the bunker anymore and through renovation he's able to sort out some stuff about himself and how he feels.

Take the bones, begin anew - a post empty cas comes back fic. I love it so so tenderly. I am not immune to post empty fics. I could do a whole list just for cas comes back from the empty fics tbh.

Crossing lines and the sequel you want it darker - this series holds a special place in my heart. Also one of the only fics to make me cry (possibly the first?). It's a time travel fic where young Dean is pulled from the past and this forces Dean to assess the trauma he's been living with. It's really heavy going so, as with all these, check Tags. Just a heartbreaking exploration of deans life and trauma and relationships but in a really cathartic way. The sequel is much lighter and Dean is healing. Cannot stress the happy ending on this one.

Carnival oasis - creature cas! He's just a weird centuries old little guy who eats sin and Dean finds him in a tent at a carnival, advertising itself as a confession stand. Just,,, great cas characterisation and really interesting creature also. It's fun, it's silly, it's serious, it's good.

It's the end of the world as we know it - you will see the tag friends to enemies and think that braces you for the impact. It will not. Another one in which the worldbuilding and plot is just delicious. Like fucking hell, the way tiamatv paints a picture of the places the characters travel through... It astounds me. But yeah a real whirlwind adventure. Its set in high school and then jumps to when they're older and they reunite when the world is quite literally coming apart. It's got heartbreak. It's got other planes of existence. It's got cosmic horror. It's got incredible cas characterisation. It's got a suggested reading list embedded into the fic jskdkf. I love it so so much.

Here, bullet, here - a dean study but it's just,,, it's like poetry, it's so beautifully written. I adore it.

Let's take a drive - KID JACK FIC. It explores the implications and messy emotions of the characters if Jack DID de-age after the finale. It's messy but God is it soft and ends happy. Just a really beautiful study of relationship dynamics tbh.

Aching in the absence of you - oh it hurts but the payoff is worth it. Cas leaves the bunker and Dean let's him. As the tags say, it's a study in missing someone. Ends happy tho I prommy. Also, just generally I love sobsicles.

Dean Winchester Beat sheet - lichrally iconic college au. Another fan favourite also

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart) - really really tender possession fic where cas needs a vessel to reside in for a while and Dean offers himself up.

Under the midnight sun - so obsessed with this fic, the artwork is the best artwork I've ever seen embedded in a fic. Dean is camp manager at a research station in Alaska and he's been told that a new ornithological researcher will be camping a few miles away and not to bother him. The ornithological expert is ofc cas but things are NOT adding up so Dean keep an eye on him. The descriptions and details in this are so fucking delicious. It's a fic where it feels like the authors love for the story and the setting shines through so much you cant help but love it too.

The cheapest room in the house - starts off silly goofy, cas comes out as gay and Dean decides it's his job to guide cas throw that by downloading grindr for him. Do not be fooled by the silly goofy premise tho because it's also a heartbreaking exploration of Dean and it hurts man, amidst all the laughing Thom. This fic has it all. Dean disorders, so much second hand embarrassment, Dean and cas' weird boy best friend dynamic, incredible characterisation. The list goes on.

Muscle memory - I have never seen 50 first dates but this is an au of that and its soooooooooooooo gorgeous.

Empty spaces - really intense fic where John dies and Dean is struggling and then meets cas. It's about deans mental health and him experiencing an eating disorder. It IS hopeful tho. One of the only fics to make me cry.

As you were - de-aged Dean and Sam fic. NO pairings but it's them being taken care of by cas when they get hit with a curse and it destroys me with how loving it is. Dean and Sam being looked after in the way they deserved to be by John.

Not part of the plan series - it starts with a one night stand which in no way prepares you for the absolute beast that is this fic. Once again worldbuilding is incredible and also the politics and planning of the world is sooo? Fucking good. Its about the tension between a kingdom and its neighbouring Republic and the arranged marriage of Dean and cas. Lots of political intrigue but also the most satisfying build up to a relationship. Its a slow burn despite the one night stand start. There are so so many moments that have stayed with me from this and the amazing thing the author does is manage to write the characters with so much depth, everything is explored, the author never pushes anything to the side in order to get the characters or plot where they want it. If there are implications and repercussions, then they're getting explored.

[thechekhov]

Hi Chekhov! Really enjoying your white diamond au! I had a quick art question: How do you start comissions? I've been improving my drawing skills and thinking about drawing for others after having fun in artfight, but I don't know where to start? How much to charge, how to get paid, etc. Do you have any tips? Hope you're doing well! :)

Alright, since a few people have asked, I’ve decided to put together a few things about how to get started on commissions - what you need, what you should make, and how to keep things organized. 

This will get a little long, so I’ll divide it into 4 main sections:

1) Draw Art - Getting started

2) Get Commissioned - Making a commission sheet, Advertising

3) ??? - Communicating, Setting Limits, Running the Business

4) Profit - Pricing Yourself and Getting Paid

* Disclaimer: I’m an artist, so this How-To will be illustration-focused. I’m sure many of these tips can apply to ANY types of commissions, but I will be focusing on the type I know best. If you are proficient in other types of commissions for other types of art - music commissions, photography, etc - feel free to chime in and leave a comment or make your own tutorial!

1) Draw Art

I think this is probably the most obvious part, but it needs to be said:

Before you start making art for other people, you must first be comfortable making art in general.

I’m not saying your art has to be Disney-quality, or industry-level! Not at all. 

BUT! You must be comfortable creating what you sell. If you try to sell something you have little confidence in, you will stress yourself out and possibly end up losing time AND money.

Don’t shoot for the moon if you haven’t landed on it even once. Sell what you know you’re good at. Your commissions don’t HAVE to include full-body illustrations if you don’t know how to draw feet/solid stances. Limit yourself to what you can do.

Things you need to should probably have before starting commissions:

1. Access to art materials or a fully downloaded art program

DO NOT - Use a free tutorial version that will expire in a month and leave you without a way to draw! If you are having trouble finding a program, try free ones like MediBang Paint Pro. 

2. Free time to complete the amount of commissions you want to take.

DO NOT - Take on or offer commissions if you KNOW you’re going to be overwhelmed with school or personal life for the next 2+ months. Pace yourself, otherwise you’ll burn out, get stressed, and get discouraged.

3. A reliable way to communicate with your customers like a commissions-only email 

DO NOT - Use your friend/family/college email. It’s hard to keep track of things as it is, and creating new emails is easy and free. And keep it professional if you can! Not many people will reach out to dong-wiggles20434 to ask for a design. Ideally, your email should be close to your brand - however you want to brand yourself. Usernames are fine!)

DO NOT - Use Instagram/Twitter/Tumblr to collect commission info unless you are ready to do the organizing yourself. Some people make it work, but in my experience, if you use these SNS sites to communicate with friends and network... you’re going to be losing commission inquiries right and left and accidentally ignoring people. Email is much easier to organize and sort into folders.

4. A portfolio or at least 2-3 pieces of each type of art you’re planning to sell. 

DO NOT - Advertise commissions without having any examples of the art you plan to sell. People will find it difficult to trust you if you can’t even give them a vague idea of what sort of drawing they’ll be getting. 

Disclaimer: These are not hard ‘do not’s. If you have had a different experience, I respect that. I’m simplifying for the sake of streamlining this advice. 

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2) Get Commissioned

So - you have your art, you have your art program, and you’ve got all the time in the world. That means.... that’s right! It’s time to let the world know you’re taking commissions.

One of the most common ways artists signal to their audience that they can do commissions is by creating a commissions sheet. There are MANY ways to make this - and they range from simple and doodly ones to VERY complex designs. For example, here’s mine! 

There are many ways to organize a commission sheet. At its core, a commission sheet should display the types of art you WANT to be commissioned to make. Let’s go over a few ways they can be done!

#1.... Body Portion Dividers!

This sheet is most common with those who want to capitalize on drawing people and characters. If you want to draw lots of characters, this is a great way to offer several tiers of pricing based on how much of their character your customers want to see. 

#2... Complexity Scale

If you’re open to drawing many things but want to base your pricing off of how complex something is, you can split your tiers into done-ness. This type of commission is popular with those that draw characters AND animals, furries, etc.

#3....  Style and Type

If you’re more on the design side of things, or if you have various niche art styles that you can’t quite lump together, display a variety of your skills alongside each other! It helps if all the ones you have can be organized under a common customer - like those looking to advance their own business and get logos, websites, or mascots made for them!

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3) ???

You got your first commission... what happens now???

Well, ideally you have the time, tools and motivation to make things happen! Now all you have to do is... sit down and... draw.......

I’m going to say something that may be a little controversial: 

Commissions aren’t fun. 

No, no, hear me out: I have fun doing commissions! I genuinely enjoy drawing characters and coming up with designs. But even with all that said, commissions are, first and foremost: WORK

I’m not saying this to discourage you, I’m saying this to keep things realistic. When I first began commissions, I thought it would be just like any other type of drawing. I would sit down, imagine a thing, draw it... it would be fun! 

But then I realized that I couldn’t just draw what I wanted - another person had an idea in mind and had asked me to do it. I stressed over getting the design correct from descriptions. I stressed over not having the right reference for the pose the commissioner wanted. I stressed over not being able to draw the leg right in the way I had promised I would do. I stressed about billing. I stressed about digital money transfers. It was difficult, and time-consuming, and I did not enjoy it. At all. 

And a part of that is definitely on the commissioner - we, as artists, NEED to demand proper references or descriptions. We, as artists, NEED to limit the amount of changes we’re going to make at the flick of a finger. We NEED to demand clear instructions and set boundaries. That’s also super important. 

But also - don’t be discouraged if you find yourself exhausted drawing your first commission. MANY artists go through this. Adjust your rules, fix up your limits, practice putting your foot down on finicky commissioners who expect you to read their mind! It does get easier, but you have to communicate and put in the effort and act as your own manager AND your own customer service AND your own accountant. That’s what you’re looking at. 

Good limits and boundaries to set: 

Limit the amount of changes a person can ask to make. “I want blue hair.” Next email: “No wait, yeah, make it red.” Next email: “Actually I changed my mind, can I get the blue but like, lighter?” Next email: “No, not that light.” ... At some point, we have to stop. I personally allow 2-3 changes on the final stages of a commission before I start refusing or start asking for extra money.

Demand clear instructions and/or references. If something isn’t described, you have to take artistic liberty and design it, but that’s difficult! And if the customer is not happy with it but can’t tell you more? That’s not your problem - the burden of reference is on THEM. You cannot read their mind, and that’s not your fault.

Get at least half the payment up front! This is a good balance between the ‘pay before art’ and the ‘pay after art’ conundrum that will limit the amount of woes between artist and customer. (I’ll touch upon this a little more in the Profit section.)

Organization:

Where possible, create good habits! Tag your emails and organize your folders. I have a tag on my emails for active and finished commissions. I also keep my emails on Unread until I have time to sit down and properly look at/reply to them.

My Commissions in the folder are also organized chronologically and I mark down which ones are paid and which ones are not.

(I understand not everyone can do this, but if you want to give it a try, it does make things easier in the long run. Again, this advice is just what I have found personally helps.)

One last thing - I do not want to shame ANYONE for taking their time with commissions! Commissions are complex, and they take time and work. You can draw in 8 hours, but some things take research, materials, etc. Some illustrations realistically take up to half a year, or, depending on what’s involved, several years!!

THAT BEING SAID - it’s good manners to be upfront with your customers about how long you expect the commission to take. If you think you’re busy, just say that! Explain that you have a lot going on, and you will probably take (insert time period here).

And if your commissioners are worried, work out a system to keep them updated! I send my commissioners updates when I finish the lineart/flat colors/etc and I try to be clear about how long everything will take. I try to estimate with a +3-5 days buffer to give myself extra time... and recently I’ve been using it. Always say a bigger number than you think you’ll need. 

If someone wants a rushed commission... make them pay more. If ANYONE wants a commission done ‘by the end of the week’ - that’s an automatic rush-job for me because I’m juggling an irl job and several commissions at once. I WILL charge a rush fee and I won’t feel bad about it. 

If someone wants a commission within 24 hours...... Well, they better be paying you 3x your normal amount, or more. And remember - you CAN refuse! It’s perfectly reasonable to say ‘No, sorry, that sort of turnaround time is not realistic for me.’

Food For Thought - Invoicing

Many artists I’ve commissioned in the past have not used Invoicing, but I’ve recently begun to fill out invoices and file them in my Commissions folder just to keep track of things. It’s not necessary until you start getting into the Small Business side of Freelancing, but it’s not a bad idea to get into the habit early in case you might need to do it later for tax purposes. 

Here’s what my Invoice looks like, for example. 

I’ve optimized it to help me remember who, what, and how much is involved! It also contains important info for my customers like where to send the money.

Which brings us to...

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4) Profit

One of the hardest things for artists is pricing themselves. I’m not going to tell you which way is BEST - there is no BEST way, only the best way for YOU. 

One of the options available to you is pricing by the hour. It includes averaging out how long it takes you to draw a specific type of art (whatever you’re offering as a commission) and multiplying that by an hourly wage you’ve decided on.

When you do this, I stress - do NOT price yourself below minimum wage if you can help it. When you first start out, aim for the $15/hour mark and adjust accordingly. 

Other ways to price your art:

- Per complexity: Portraits vs full body should be scaled based on how difficult you find one vs. the other. You can also easily decide on a price for a sketch and double it for lineart, triple it for full color, etc.

- Per type: Look up for industry prices for website design and logo design. They may surprise you! You don’t have to charge that much, but it helps to keep things in perspective. 

It’s okay to change your prices! Keep your commission sheet image handy so you can update the amounts as you grow. :)

Payment up front or after completion?

Some artist take full payment up front. Some only demand payment after they’ve finished and sent out the piece. I personally think these are both risky for everyone involved. 

I recommend doing at least HALF of the payment BEFORE you start the commission. Calculate your full price and ask for half before you start working on it in earnest, to make sure the person can actually pay you. Then, when they receive the full piece and are satisfied, they can complete the payment. 

I personally work in this structure:

> Someone emails me with their idea/reference

> I send back a rough draft sketch that shows the idea/pose (only takes me 10-20 minutes so not a huge loss if they ghost) and quote them a price

> They can pay the full thing upfront OR pay half

> I finish the commission and send updates when I do the lineart/colors to double check anything so they have multiple chances to spot any errors

> If the person paid only half on completion, I send them a low-res version of the finished thing, they finish up their payment and THEN I send them the full-res version plus any other filetypes/CYMK proofs, etc. 

Many of the people who commission me pay me up front even though I offer they pay half - and I’m really flattered that they trust me that much! Because of that, I feel encouraged to update them frequently and ask for their input as I work, so they have the peace of mind knowing I’m actually doing their commission. 

Great, but how do I get PAID????

There are NUMEROUS ways - these days money is relatively easy to transfer over digital means, and you have a few options. 

Paypal is perhaps one of the oldest digital wallets and is geared towards businesses. By setting up a PayPal and connecting it to your debit card of bank account, you can tunnel a pathway from your online business directly into your hands in a matter of days. 

Paypal also offers Invoicing - you make an invoice, price it and send it to the person’s email and they can pay whatever way they need! (It also allows partial payments.)

Pros: transfers from PayPal to bank account are free, and take a couple of business days. It also has no upper limit to the amount of money you can move in/out each month. It can force refunds due to the nature of its business-oriented payment system.

Cons: Because it’s used by businesses for larger transactions, PayPal may demand a more rigorous proof of your identity. It may also take longer to set up and be harder to get used to. I’ve also heard that they can be a hassle when it comes to closing your account. 

Venmo is another type of digital wallet that acts much like paypal, except for a few key differences - it is NOT made for businesses (so depending on whether you’re officially registered as a freelancer, you may not be able to use it). I personally don’t use venmo, so I cannot speak to its usefulness, but I know a few people that use it for casual transactions. It’s easy and quick! :) 

Keep in mind that you cannot force a refund over venmo! The transactions are final.

There’s also CashApp, GooglePay (which could load gift cards but also allows peer-to-peer transactions) and I’ve heard good things about Due, though I’ve never personally used it.

Other ways to pay: I’ve had people pay me over Patreon by upping their pledge, and I’ve had people pay me over Ko-Fi by donating a specific amount. 

Many people even use Etsy - the website specialized for independent small businesses selling art - by listing their commission sheet and offering up several ‘slots’ of commissions, which allows you to track taxes AND allows your clients to pay using whatever they feel comfortable with.

If you’re in Canada, you can even pay by emailing money directly from bank account to bank account - check whether your country offers this type of service! There’s no shortage of ways to move money in the digital world.

Just like everything else, there’s no singular ‘Best’ way. It just depends on what works for you.

I think that just about wraps it up! I can’t quite think of what else to put here - but I’m sure other artists will chime in with their own advice. :) I’m very sorry this became so long but I hope it was helpful! 

Obligatory Disclaimer: I’m not qualified to give legal or accounting counsel. Please double-check the laws in your own country/state in regards to taxation of freelancing work and do your own research. If you are underage, DEFINITELY get an adult’s permission before you start doing commissions, and have the adult help you through the process.   

. . . . . . . . . . . . 

OTHER POSTS YOU MAY FIND USEFUL:

An Extended Post on Pricing Yourself for Commissions

Dealing with Imposter Syndrome/Feeling ‘Not Good Enough’

Growing Your Audience

Advice for Starting Digital Art

[ravenadottir]

Out of the s2 LIs, who are the light sleepers and who are the heavy sleepers?

oooh, ok, i like this a lot! being a light sleeper myself, i can see some of them not only having a hard time to fall asleep but also being cranky about it.

i really wanna go deeper on why or how they manage to be heavy or light sleepers, so i hope you like that.

((i went a little deep with henrik and tai, so... yeah!))

heavy sleepers:

GARY. drooling, snoring, often in positions that leave him looking like a ragdoll after a beatup. cannot for the life of him remember whatever he dreamed about, but has the lingering feeling they caused, whether bad or good.

bobby. neatly covered on the bed but a light snore that resonates in the room. it's endearing. remembers 70% of his dreams, but most of them resemble a child's cough syrup nightmare involving giant pastries and ideas for different recipes. he dreams more about food than your average chef.

noah. TURN THAT BOY THE OTHER WAY OR YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO SLEEP. he's usually turning to face the way that makes him snore the most so you gotta keep turning him. can't tell a single dream he had since high school and sometimes is woken up by his own snoring.

kassam. a silent sleeper. not much to add except for how he loves to have his girl on his chest when going to bed. he's reassured when he can reassure her. because he often pulls allnighters when working on a new project, he appreciates when he as a full 8h sleep.

henrik. i have a lot to say about him, so buckle up! his own head is an oasis of beach waves' sounds and tranquility. he sleeps better if cuddling someone but can also pull 8 hours with no help. can't remember his dreams very often but when he does he loves telling you about it! plus, he talks in his sleep (A STRONG HEADCANON OF MINE) and you can catch a smile or two when he hears/says your name while knocked out.

now, because i won't have another opportunity, i want to talk about his bedroom real quick! i've always pictured henrik living in the middle of the woods, his room with glass windows that let the foleage come through the glass. but we know that might not be a possibility, which brings me to the moody room i imagined for him. i think he planned it out thinking about the quality of sleep he would get. henrik loves ambiance so he chose a really cool 'leaves' wallpaper to resemble the outside. his best sleep has been outdoors, so... yeah, it makes sense to me. the rest of the house is sure illuminated and boho, but the bedroom? i would argue everything about it makes you feel like you're outdoors. plants, lights, music, scents, the whole shebang! preferably lavender and waterfalls' in the background but it varies from week to week.

ibrahim. do i have specific headcanons about him? no. do i think he looks adorable while asleep? yes, yes i do. plus, we know when he's comfortable he purrs a little bit, so that's something *EXTREMELY CUTE*! i have to add he talks in his sleep too. always adorable to see him smiling during and how he pulls you closer when turning to face the same way.

tai. I DON'T HAVE A DOUBT IN MY MIND he likes to prepare the bedroom before going to sleep, every single day. just like henrik's, the room it's scented with lavender, there's waves' sounds playing in the bluetooth speaker, the light is low and a strong blue. i would even argue tai is the type to have the ceiling of the room painted to resemble the night sky, possibly having his favorite (or his sign) constellation somewhere, or even a light projector for it. nothing too elaborate, just enough to be peaceful to look at. too many details would have the opposite effect. he has his shit together and that includes knowing himself pretty well. he values his sleep and it was the first thing he thought about when moving to his own place.

priya. something tells me she doesn't lose sleep for a lot of things, so unless it's a stressful week she's able to sleep a full night with no problems. and may i say, her bedroom is fabulous and her bed is equipped with a hundred pillows to help! she also likes tranquil playlists but doesn't stay woke long enough to hear the second track.

light sleepers:

carl. he's always stressed out and thinking of new fancy ideas for apps and softwares. it's hard to focus when going to sleep so you know the bedroom has ambiance lighting, speakers for a solid "rain" or "sea" playlist and scented candles. he mostly stays in the same spot for the whole night, but when he has a good night of sleep he wakes up in completely unusal positions, like legs on the headboard or completely curled up on the edge of the bed.

elisa. something tells me turning off her brain is a tough task on most days. she doesn't have a regular schedule and that adds to it. she puts a lot of pressure and deadlines for herself about posting, and always has many ideas floating so that makes it hard. i know this: she meditates before bed, especially after pulling an allnighter to edit her videos.

lucas. same as carl, except he's trying to fall asleep but is always alert for some reason. i would guess *family trauma* but you can leave your suggestions if you want to. also has ambiance lighting and strong 'rain' tracks to help him out. it's rare to hear lucas saying he had a full night of sleep but when he does he usually has it once he cuddles you. sometimes he talks during sleep and it's usually an anectode about a trip.

lottie. she has her spells to help out with her sleep when she cannot do it herself. definitely has an incense burning, purple dark light and a solid half an hour of meditation to help. a tea tray with steaming mugs and a kettle lie on her dresser as well. she has some trouble falling asleep because of her anxiety so she does everything she can to help herself.

marisol. most of the time she's inflicted with school stress. she's always thinking about a case, or a class she has to excell in. the girl has a hard time to relax if not on vacation mode, but also doesn't know much about ambiance. her girlfriend might be the person to tell her "hey, you could move your desk to the living room and you know... not leave 78 mugs of coffee on your nightstand... and um... maybe... not have coffee after 2 pm? it could help."

[makoodlesarchive]

when i was young i fell into a river

pairing: kirishima x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: none, really! a bit of angst, a bit of fluff i guess?

notes: hello, it's me, back again with some writing! it's been a long time and i'm very sorry about that, but i've finally gotten around to writing and posting my spirited away au! i'm v stressed with college so this turned out more vent-y than i had originally intended, but hopefully it's enjoyable anyway! thank you all for being so patient with me, i am endlessly grateful for you

The dream is the same as always, comforting in its familiarity.

A salt-scented breeze cools your sweat-soaked brow as you pause behind one of the sliding screen doors, the rice paper windows doing nothing to block out the chatter of the other workers. The bubbling noise of the bathhouse is constant, and the quiet little moments you steal away for yourself in the middle of the working day is the only solitude you’ve gotten since you came here. The work is physically back-breaking, but you know that you’re working towards a goal. It’s just a shame that you can’t remember exactly what that goal is.

One of the other girls calls your name, and you sigh as your unofficial break comes to an end. You slip back into the room, ignoring the way the frog spirits snicker and hold their noses as you pass. They like to complain a lot about your human stench, but it doesn’t stop them from threatening to eat you every time you make a mistake. Fear, you’ve found, is an uncomfortably successful motivator.

The days bleed into one another, full of scrubbing dark wooden floors and the rich earthy scents of the herbal mixes they use in the baths. The spirits that frequent the bathhouse, that once inspired so much awe and fear in your heart, become so commonplace that you hardly spare them a glance anymore. From the cackling masked spirits that always travel in threes to the grinning cat spirits to the sombre, unspeaking river spirits, you only go as far as to offer them a polite bow before scurrying out of their way. They never spare you any attention, anyway -- most of the time, the spirits’ eyes seem to look right through you.

All but one, that is.

He looks to be a boy around your age, but appearances can be deceiving around here. His red eyes are often dull and blank, but even so they have a certain ageless quality about them that no human twelve-year-old could ever possess. His scarlet hair sticks up in gravity-defying spikes, and his skin is as smooth and clear as running water. His face is often stuck in a carefully cultivated blank expression; the only thing about him that doesn’t seem intimidatingly otherworldly are the deep purple shadows under his eyes.

He helped you once, when you first came here. The rare act of kindness had stuck in your head, made even more remarkable in the face of the following weeks and months of harsh work and cruel co-workers. You wonder if he remembers; he doesn’t often look at you, but sometimes when he does you swear you can see a flicker of something in his eyes.

Two of the girls start yelling at each other, arguing heatedly over the way the work is being divided. A foreman appears to break up the fight, but then they both start shouting at him instead. You take the moment of distraction to relax, wincing at the pull of your tired muscles in the back of your neck. All the other girls working at the bath house are older and bigger than you, which means you need to work twice as hard to keep up with them and prove that you’re worth keeping around.

In the brief moment of rest, your eyes are drawn slowly to the corridor, where guests and workers alike bustle past as they travel to the treatment rooms and bathtubs deeper into the bathhouse. As if you’ve conjured him just by thinking about him, the boy stands in the doorway.

You straighten up on instinct, suddenly self-conscious of your sweat-soaked body and dishevelled uniform. He’s not even looking your way, preoccupied with the two girls who are still yelling at the frog foreman. Slowly though, his eyes began to travel the room, and you take a deep breath and hold it as his dull ruby gaze lands on you like a physical weight. You crack a nervous smile, feeling the muscles in your cheeks that have gone unused for weeks ache at the strain, and raise a hand to give him a tiny wave.

For just a moment, that blankness in his face seems to quiver and fall away. He smiles back.

You jolt awake, breathing heavily and coated in a light sheen of sweat. You’ve had the same dream, or some variation of it, regularly ever since you were twelve years old and while it’s become familiar to you, you still find yourself feeling vaguely panicked when you wake up after it, as though you’ve forgotten something very important.

Once your heartbeat has calmed down a little, you pull yourself out of bed and trudge into the kitchen to make yourself some tea. The weak, milky light of dawn filters in through the windows, lighting your apartment up just enough so that you don’t have to turn on a light to make your way around. You take your tea out to the balcony and sit, gazing out at the purplish early morning sky.

Most of the time when you wake up from those dreams you feel blessedly lucky to be living alone with no one to question or bother you, but sometimes you can’t help but be overcome by overwhelming loneliness. The dreams are silly and most of the time they don’t even make any sense, but in the aftermath of them you’re always left with a vague sense of unfulfillment, though you can’t put your finger exactly on what it is you’re missing. You always end up exactly like this; sitting outside on your balcony in the early morning light, drinking tea alone and desperately wishing for something more.

You sigh, and go back inside.

The dream is the same, but different.

The garden is in full bloom, greenery overlaid with bursts of beautiful bright colours. Camellias, rhododendrons, and oleanders wave and shiver gently in the warm breeze, and apple blossoms hang heavily from a nearby tree. The flowering garden is enormous and maze-like, and you have yet to see it in any state other than fully flourishing.

It’s a beautiful place, especially after the hot, cramped working quarters of the bathhouse. You inhale the sweetly fragranced air and feel the knot of tension in your spine unfurl; it feels like the first time that you’ve been able to breathe all week, but that’s not the only reason that you’ve found yourself outside.

At the bottom of the garden, the grass drops off into a sheer drop. The cliff face overlooks a seemingly endless ocean, and you perch a safe distance from the drop before leaning back in the grass. The sky is an almost surreally deep blue and you watch as enormous fluffy clouds float by, looking as though they’ve been painted on a jewel-blue canvas.

It’s not the first time you’ve had this dream, and you know what you’ll see if you keep patiently watching.

It doesn’t take long — it never does. You time your lunch breaks precisely, all so you get to see this sight.

The clear blue sky makes it so much easier to spot the shiny white scales, flashing jewel-bright in the sunlight. The dragon writhes in the sky, streaking through the air like a great serpent caught in the wind. Even from this distance, you can see the knife-like teeth, the great sharp claws that gleam like pyrite, and the twisting horns that erupt from his head like daggers made from calcified bone. He looks deadly, a living weapon that swims through the air like a salmon in open water, but the sight of him makes something settle in your stomach.

You wonder what it would feel like to fall through the air with nothing but the wind to break your fall. You imagine it must feel like freedom.

The dragon flutters through the air, buoyed by the gentle sea breeze. If you didn’t know better, you might almost think that he was showing off — his movements are hypnotic, dreamlike, more like a dance than anything. His scales glow pearlescent in the midday sun, otherworldly and earthly all at once.

You could happily stay and watch him skim through the sky forever, but already the bell is being rung to call all workers back into the bathhouse. You heave a sigh so deep it feels as though your chest is about to crack with the force of it, before hauling yourself to your feet.

Your break is over, and now it’s back to work.

Sometimes you find it difficult to tell when you’re dreaming and when you’re awake. It feels as though everything is always happening all at once, in the present tense, forever. You don’t get to rest when you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, because the dreams just keep coming and coming. Sometimes you don’t feel like your life is real when you’re awake.

Riding on the train has always been therapeutic, especially at this time of the early morning. The sun rising lazily over the horizon sends milky threads of purple and pink across the cloudy sky, and you cradle your chin in your hand as you gaze out across the moving landscape. You love these little trips, feeling more at home in the creaky, overfull train carriage than you do in your own bedroom sometimes, though you can’t quite work out where that particular feeling comes from.

You know sometimes that stories end with “And then I woke up — it was only a dream”, but in your experience the story simply doesn’t end. You cannot fully wake up without the tail-ends of your dreams clinging to you for the rest of the day, and you never fully sleep. You just dream, dream, dream.

Sighing, you lean your head back against the seat that you’re slumped in. The train carriage is too full, and you were lucky to get a seat in the first place — from your vantage point, you watch as people sway in tandem with the motion of the train. It’s almost hypnotic, how they undulate back and forth with every turn, brushing against each other only to be pulled apart again by the lurching train.

Through the sea of bodies, you catch a man’s eye. It breaks the monotony of the morning commute and your own spiralling thoughts, and your spine straightens unconsciously. He quirks an eyebrow briefly, slightly, in such a way that no one would be able to safely accuse him of having done it.

You look away, startled for no good reason. Do you know him? He feels familiar in a way that you can’t quite put your finger on. The train rattles on, and it takes several long minutes before you work up the nerve to glance the man’s way again. He’s still watching you, but you’re ready for it this time. His attention isn’t such a shock, and you allow your eyes to wander over his face properly.

You must know him, you think. Your eyes track over his features as though they’re winding over a well-worn path, admiring the curve of his nose and the fullness of his lips and the arch of his eyebrows over his intense, watchful eyes.

He smiles at you, and it feels as though you’re sharing a secret from across the crowded train carriage. You smile back — it���s just a small tug of the corners of your mouth, but it’s the most you’ve smiled in months. Longer, maybe.

In the middle of the carriage a woman laughs at something her friend has said and sways backward, blocking your view of the stranger. It feels like a loss.

The train trundles onwards, and the carriage gradually empties out. You watch people step off the train with friends, with their heads ducked low, lost in thought, arguing over the phone, distracted with their book bags. By the time it comes to your stop, the man is gone.

You try not to feel disappointed as you step off the train — it’s silly, after all. You don’t know the man, and whatever you thought you felt as you looked at each other was surely all in your own head. Your head has been awfully full, recently.

As you step off the train you grapple with your bag, side-stepping a businessman who is busy shouting down the phone at some unfortunate coworker. You’re distracted, which is the only reasonable explanation for how long it takes you to realise that the man from the train is standing in front of you.

“Oh.” You blurt, startled. You had already begun to resign yourself to never seeing him again, so you can’t help but feel distinctly caught off guard at the sight of him standing before you. “Hi.”

“Hello.” The man says. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you have no idea what he’s waiting for — as it is, you get completely distracted by his eyes. You hadn’t noticed on the train, but now that he’s up close you see that they’re a truly unusual deep burgundy. He tilts his head when you remain silent, and bites his lip. Now that you’re really looking, you notice how sharp his teeth are. “You’ve barely changed at all.”

You blink at him. “Er…” You trail off nervously. You don’t recognise him, but you feel like you know him. Clearly, he thinks that he knows you.

“It’s fitting, isn’t it? Meeting again on a train?” He smiles, and it’s an impossibly knowing expression. You don’t think you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a look that intimate in your life, though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Someone collides hard with your shoulder and you stagger for balance. You only look away from the man for a mere second, but it’s enough; when you look again, he’s gone.

You take to walking. There’s a wooded area behind the town, and you enjoy traipsing idly through the trees. Ancient roots erupt out of the dirt and fan over the ground like hairs, and the moss that covers the trunks of the trees is such a deep green that it almost seems like paint pigment. It’s soothing, being surrounded by nature like this. It reminds you of childhood — the simplicity of being able to jump over tree roots under a canopy of pale green leaves, of being able to leave all your thoughts and stress at the boundary of the forest.

It’s where you come after waking sweat-soaked and disoriented from a dream that clings to you like a burr, where you walk among the ferns and the needle-leaved weeds until you manage to shake the last vestiges of memory from your mind. You need it, especially in the mornings where you wake up with the acrid scent of herbal cleanser stinging in your nose or the bite of hard calluses on your palms from non-existent rough cloths. On mornings like that, you walk and walk until you no longer feel as though you’re more alive in your dreams than you are in reality.

Deep in the forest is a great red facade, painted a flaking, faded red. You wander by it frequently, admiring the overgrown greenery that crawls up the walls like reaching fingers, the mossy stone guardian that stands sentinel amongst the cracked flagstones that lead into the tunnelled entrance. You’ve asked around in the town, curious about what exactly this building was for, but most of the locals either don’t know what building you’re talking about or admit that they’re not sure. One man told you that the facade was built for a theme park in the 90s that had ended up going bust in the recession, and that the building only looked old.

You remain unconvinced on that front. The building has the kind of presence that only very old things have; it feels like it’s watching you.

For the most part, your walks in the forest are peaceful. Recently though, you’ve found yourself plagued by an insistent, irritating sense of deja vu. You don’t know where it’s coming from, and it hits you at the strangest of times — when you’re making tea, or in the bath, or cleaning your apartment, or on the train, or admiring the sky on a cloudless day.

The man from the train is the boy in your dreams. It takes you weeks to come to that realisation. You just wake up in the middle of the night on a random Tuesday, with wide eyes and clammy skin and his name slipping from the forefront of your mind.

It shouldn’t be possible, but once it dawns on you, you’re certain of it.

Even stranger is that once you realise it, it feels as though you see him everywhere. You see flashes of red hair when you’re walking down the street, when you’re grocery shopping, when you’re walking home late at night. It’s only ever the barest glance out of the corner of your eye, just overt enough for you to know it’s him, but subtle enough for you to question yourself immediately after.

One night, you travel to a local city to meet some old school friends. At night, the city seems to pulse. The music from seedy clubs spills out into the neon-lit streets, muffled shouted arguments echoes from alleyways and apartments alike, and the streets are peppered with people either scurrying or stumbling home, with very little variation. Though the perpetually overcast sky hides any trace of the moon or stars, the streetlamps reflect in the ever-present stagnant puddles littering the street, lighting them up in varying shades of sickly yellow.

At night, the city seems alive. Chronically ill and struggling to breathe, maybe, but clinging to life all the same.

The way the neon lights flicker in the gloomy darkness, just barely illuminating the shadows of people hurrying through the streets to get in out of the rain, reminds you of something you can’t quite remember. It sits in the back of your mind like a sour taste, but no matter how much you reach for the memory it remains just out of reach.

You spend most of the night staring out of the steamed up window of the pub, entranced by the sight of the night streets and frustrated by the memories that seem to dangle just out of reach. You know that it doesn’t make for good company, and you feel guilty for that. Your friends don’t seem overly surprised at your detachment. You’ve been drifting away for years, and though tonight was supposed to be all about reconnecting it seems clear that it’s not going to work.

When you eventually stand up to leave, with forced smiles and awkward goodbyes, you can’t help but feel melancholy settle over you like a second skin. As you slip out of the pub and onto the dark streets, the thought crosses your mind that you’re not used to being alone like this. It’s a silly thought, really; you’ve been alone for years. But sometimes, in those liminal moments between waking and sleeping, you swear you can hear the gentle drowsy breaths of dozens of people sleeping all around you, as though you’re surrounded on all sides. On those nights you wake up hot and claustrophobic and uncomfortable, but never feeling lonely.

It is probably your own fault, you reflect as you drift down the sidewalk like a ghost. It’s difficult to make an effort to know people when you feel as though you don’t know yourself. You don’t know how to bridge the distance between yourself and other people. You think sometimes that you’re missing chunks of yourself.

You pass an open shopfront that’s serving street food, and glance briefly in at the kitchen. The cook is illuminated only dimly in the smoky room, standing out as a shadow figure more than anything, and for a split second you could swear that he has six arms. You look away quickly and carry on walking — you don’t want to look again only to be proven wrong. You want to preserve that little second of magic strangeness for as long as you can.

The puddles on the street seem like they’re glowing with the light reflected from the neon streetlamps, and you weave your way carefully around them to avoid getting your feet wet. The night has a strange quality about it, almost as though it’s holding its breath.

Considering the combination of your pensive mood and the expectant air of the evening, you don’t feel surprised at all when you look up from the wet cobblestones to find the man standing only a few feet ahead of you.

He smiles like he’s nervous, his gaze tracking carefully over your face. In his hands, he’s holding flowers. Camellias, you think. It’s the first time since you first saw him on the train that hasn’t been a fleeting glance out of the corner of your eye— he’s here in front of you and he’s real and solid and sturdy. He seems more substantial than the streets around you, than your friends back at the pub had been.

“Do you remember me?” He asks, voice soft as though he’s afraid of the answer.

“Remember you?” You croak. It feels as though the words are catching inside your throat. “No. But I’ve seen you every night in my dreams for years.”

If that’s the answer he’s expecting, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps looking at you, your face, your body. You wonder exactly it is that he’s seeing. “These are for you.” He says eventually, holding out the flowers. “I didn’t- I wanted to bring you something, when I saw you again. And I know that you always liked the garden.”

He’s talking as if the places that you’ve dreamed about are real. It doesn’t come as the earth-shattering surprise you might have expected — rather, it feels like a key turning in an old lock. A click, and then a sense of yes, that’s right.

You take the flowers, and clutch them to your chest. They’re a fleshy pink, with a vibrant yellow centre. The petals are as soft as velvet. Holding them feels like holding a safety blanket. “Thank you.” It’s the only thing that you can manage to say right now. Your thoughts are too full, and nothing else makes it out of your mouth.

It’s rather startling, the feelings that bubble up in your chest. It feels like something has just been unlocked, as though you had stored away all this emotion somewhere deep in your ribcage and then forgotten about it only for it to resurface at this precise moment, for this precise person.

“Eijirou.” You croak. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

His whole face brightens, and his eyes sparkle. “Yes. That’s me. You do remember!”

They’re not quite memories, you don’t think. They come in dreamlike flashes — the garden, an ocean, train tracks, the feral snarling of a dragon with sharp teeth, hard work and hot food, friends.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Kirishima is saying, his face open and earnest. “But I told you that I’d come and find you again, remember?”

You do remember, sort of. A flash of a warm hand holding yours, pushing you forward over a boundary between one world and another, and a goodbye whispered behind you that sounds like a promise.

“You saved me.”

Kirishima laughs, though his eyes look a little shiny. “It was the other way around, actually. I would have stayed trapped in that bathhouse forever, if it weren’t for you.”

“The bathhouse.” You murmur, wide-eyed. It was real, real, real.

“Things are different now.” He edges closer to you. He’s large and imposing and taller than you, but he’s hunched slightly in an attempt to make himself unthreatening. “That’s why it took so long for me to come for you. Things were changing. Me and Katsuki run the bathhouse now.”

Katsuki. In your mind's eye you see a boy with wild blond hair and a dangerous look in his eyes, a boy who gives you extra rice when he can manage and takes over parts of your chores when you get so tired that you’re fit to pass out.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait.” He says quietly, and the tide of emotion that you had just barely been holding at bay comes crashing over you. Before the first tear has welled over the edge of your eyelids, Kirishima has stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms. The flowers are crushed between your chests as you cry.

“I didn’t even know what I was waiting for.” You cry into his silk suikan.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair. “I’m here now. I’m not going to leave again.”

You don’t release your grip on him. You’re not willing to take the chance.

After a moment, Kirishima speaks again. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” You echo, finally pulling away. “Go where?”

“Home.” He says, and he means the bathhouse. He means the spirit world.

“You want me to work for you?”

“I want you to help us run it.” He corrects. The distinction is important for both of you — though the memories are distant, you both know what it feels like to have your names and voices erased so cleanly that it makes you wonder if you ever existed fully at all.

“I don’t know anything about running a bathhouse. Especially not one for spirits.” You say, but Kirishima just laughs.

“You were always a hard worker. You’ll learn as you go. That’s what we’ve all been doing.”

You want to say yes. The word beats in your head like a drum, and you can’t think of a good reason to say no. The bathhouse. Home. The chance to feel real and awake at the same time.

“Okay.” You say on a breath, staring at him with wide eyes. “Stay with me, this time.”

When Kirishima’s face lights up in a smile, it’s the first time that you think you can accurately describe someone as incandescently happy. “Good luck getting rid of me again.”

You laugh, feeling nearly delirious with relief and joy. It’s real. He’s real. He’s come back for you, and now you’re going back with him. You think you should probably feel nervous or hesitant, but this brief encounter has felt more solid and right than the rest of the night spent with distant school-friends made uncomfortable by your silences.

“So, how do we get there?” You ask, but Kirishima just grins at you like you should already know the answer.

The train station is tucked away down an alley just off a busy main shopping district.

“It’s easy to miss if you don’t know exactly where you're going.” Kirishima tells you with a sharp smile, and it’s easy to believe. The red brick building that housed the train station is unmarked, and the trains couldn’t be seen from the main street. The alley itself is home to many curious sights -- paper lanterns bob overhead (though they don’t seem to be suspended by anything in particular), a yellowed flyer from the 1950s advertising Marlboro cigarettes drifts along on what seems to be a breeze despite the noticeable lack of wind, and three magpies sit on a wall wearing little golden timepieces on chains around their necks and caw in time with the ticking.

“Ready to go home?” Kirishima asks quietly. In his hand, two train tickets flutter in a non-existent breeze.

A family of mice scamper past your feet, pulling a miniature suitcase between them. A tall, thin woman wearing a blank white mask assists them onto the train.

You laugh at the whimsy of it all — it feels as though you’ve stepped into a fairytale, into a dream, into your childhood. “Yes,” You grin, “I’m ready.”

Kirishima beams back at you, and holds out a hand to help you onto the train. Finding a seat was easy — despite all the passengers you had seen boarding, the carriage was oddly empty. As soon as you’re seated, you sigh. It feels as though you’re sinking into an old overstuffed armchair, comfortable and familiar. When the whistle blows and the train starts moving, you turn eagerly to watch as the train begins to pick up speed. Within moments, you find that you can barely recognise the landscape blurring past the window — It seems that you’re zooming passed a beautiful sea-view, despite the fact that the city the train station was located in was conspicuously land-locked. You sigh happily and lean against your seat.

You still don’t remember everything about your experience in the spirit world all those years ago, but you think you remember hearing someone telling you “Once you meet someone you never really forget them. It just takes a while for your memories to return."

You make eye contact with Eijirou, who smiles back at you so fondly that it nearly hurts to look at. He’s changed so much from the boy in your dreams, in your memories. His eyes are no longer glassy and distant — now they’re shiny and expressive and so bright. His hair is longer too; still spiked and wild, but longer and curling softly over the curve of his neck and shoulders. He’s the boy your remember from all those years ago, but he’s also a man now. Grown, like you have, but smiling at you gently just like you’re ten years old again.

Through the window behind his head, the sunrise begins to bathe the water in delicate pinks and yellows. You’ll wait for as long as you need to for the memories to return, but even if they don’t that’s alright. You can just make new ones.

[yyxgin]

🌃 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 || 𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠

☆ han jisung x fem! reader ☆

☆ GENRE: college au, best friends to lovers au, fluff

☆ SUMMARY: There’s only one thing that can help your stressed out mind when you have a week left to finish the most important assignment for your art class of them all, and that is the honey voice of your best friend. What a shame he’s too shy to sing sometimes.

☆ WORDS: 5k 

☆ WARNINGS: swearing and that is it me thinks

You hear the silent melody coming from your best friend sitting on the other side of the couch, quiet hums gradually flowing into coherent words as he mindlessly scrolls through social media on his phone, his low singing filling your empty living room as you take your eyes off your phone and watch him. 

He looks casual, just like always. The army-green hoodie looks about two times his size enveloping his body, the hood thrown over his head to hide his messy hair, sweatpants hiding a little bit of his foot as well as if to make him look extra tiny today. The song coming out of his mouth sounds similar, yet it still sounds new to you when you catch him randomly singing during the day on times when he forgets he doesn't want anyone to hear.

"It cannot wait, I'm yours-" his head snaps up to meet your eyes, immediately shutting up and looking back to his phone screen. 

"No, why'd you stop?" you whine, pouting. His voice is good. Too good, for never getting singing lessons and basically not even trying while he sings. 

"'Cause it sounds bad," he mutters, furrowing his brows.

"It doesn't." you firmly say, desperate to make your best friend believe your words in order to hear him sing more often. For some reason, his singing always managed to bring a sense of comfort into your heart. It felt like the sunlight shining at you in the cold days of winter, sweet and soothing for your freezing heart.

"Yeah, right," his cheeks flash pink, rolling his eyes. 

"You hear me singing all the time and I sound like a dying racoon, I really don't understand why you're so shy about it when you sound like angels coming down to earth to bless us all," you giggle, poking his sides.

He laughs softly at your compliment, shaking his head. This was how it usually went. 

He started singing out of the blue, you stopped everything you were doing just to listen to him, then he realised you became too quiet and stopped in the very second. 

"I wish you sang more. I like your voice," you point out, watching him flash an even deeper shade of pink as he shyly giggles at your confession.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I won't," he shakes his head in disapproval. It annoyed you, how he just never seemed to believe your words.

"But why? You never believe me when I tell you you sound good," you pout, furrowing your eyebrows and throwing your fists in the air in a sense of frustration.

"And that, my dear, is called not believing in yourself." he giggles, making you roll your eyes. 

"I don't get it," you sigh, standing up and moving to the kitchen, "anyways, I am on my way to paint the rest of the assignment I have for my art class, so if you don't want to sing me something, at least put some music on," you yell white putting your empty mug into the sink.

As you walk back to the living room with your art supplies you managed to snatch from the desk where you put them before, you hear the familiar sound of your bluetooth speaker turning on, making you sigh. And that's for your daily dose of Han Jisung's singing. You sit cross-legged at the ground, taking your paint brushes into your hand, hearing the song he decided to put on playing from the speaker. You recognise it being the one he was humming to himself just a few minutes ago, smiling.

"What is the theme anyway?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"Nature," you roll your eyes, not really interested in painting trees the tiniest bit, but having to do it anyway, because you can’t just paint whatever you want and get away with it in your art class.

"So like, trees and stuff?" he teases you, knowing damn well how much you don't like the particular assignment in the first place.

"Trees, mountains, butterflies…" you ironically smile, blobbing a whole lot of green paint onto your palette, grunting, "and I wanted to be chosen for the showcase this year, but I guess we'll have to wait until the theme is not about rocks and rivers." you scoff.

"Oh please, you'll do great anyway," encourages you Jisung, "you can paint well even if it's just trees and mountains." 

"I'm not Bob Ross, Jisung." you mutter, hating the way the green paint looks on the canvas in the first place.

"Yes you are," he giggles, "you paint just like him." 

"Tells me the one who sounds like Mariah Carey but tries to act like he can't sing," you tease back, enjoying the way his eyebrows furrow at your comment.

"I can't do whistle notes yet," he smirks.

The car rides with Jisung were probably your most favorite. It wasn't for the fact that he doesn't drive too fast like most of your friends do, since as he said, he doesn't trust himself to slow down if he strats, but truth be told, that was also one of the reasons. But the main reason is, that you always get to hear him singing along to the radio, even if it's kind of difficult to hear over the loud music and the original singer. That doesn’t matter, though, because even the tiniest sign of him singing around you made you happy. 

He doesn't seem to care as he yells the words to Riptide by Vance Joy on the top of his lungs, sounding like the song belongs to him, parking the car in the almost empty parking lot at Michael's craft store.

"No problem. What even happened, anyway?" he furrows his brows at you, confused on why you suddenly hit him up out of the blue in the evening as you swore on your life you couldn't hang out because you have to finish that disgusting assignment for your art class.

"Thanks." you smile at him as you ubuckle your seat-belt and open the door to his car. 

"I fucked up on the painting and now I need to buy some new canvases," you grunt, rolling your eyes, "and green paint. A whole lot of green paint." 

He snickers a little as he walks by your side, quickly turning around to lock his car and bringing his attention back to you, "I am sure it wasn't even that bad in the first place and you're just over-reacting." 

"Yes it was, Jisung, you didn't see the disaster that painting became. I wanted to paint a bear and it looked like a degenerated pine tree." you blurb out, frustrated, as you take the shopping cart to your hands only for it to be snatched by the hands of your best friend helping you.

"Well, you could always say you wanted to be a little abstract," he grins at you.

"Yeah, sure. Miss Kim would absolutely kill me and I wouldn't get to the showcase this year again. Why am I majoring in art in the first place when I can't even get to the school's art showcase? That prick Minho got in three times already and he said he doesn't even like art in the first place!" you say, gritting your teeth.

"Why is he majoring in art, then?" asks Jisung, confused.

"Because he wanted a degree and he said it was the easiest major to pick," you roll your eyes. 

"Well, I mean that is kind of smart, I should have picked that instead of business-" 

"Jisung, you can't draw." you laugh.

"And? We were all born to express, not to impress," he waves his arms in the air, grinning. You laugh at his expression, facepalming as you reach for three containers of green paint from the counter and throwing it into the cart.

"If this is not enough of green paint, I swear to god I will kick something-" 

"Hey! Peace. Think of the pigeons. Rainbows. Sunshine," he recitates, motioning you to breathe deeply to calm down your nerves, giggling in the process.

"Fuck the pigeons! I tried to paint one yesterday and it turned into a fucking rock in the air!" you throw a fit, making him shush you as a few people turn around to see your distressed state.

"Calm down, woman," he says, putting an arm on your back, gently pushing you to the cashier, "it's just a painting. You'll do great, don't worry. You're just stressing too much." 

You grunt as you see another ruined canvas, throwing the brush onto the ground, muttering a quiet swear as you notice the paint on the floor, quickly taking a tissue and wiping it off.

"What's gotten into you? It's okay," sweetly says Jisung, once again sitting at your sofa and watching over you as you try to paint your assignment again. 

"It looks bad! Just look at it! I have a week left and I already ruined three canvases, at this rate, I won't be able to even finish it, I can only dream of getting to the showcase," you mourn, throwing yourself to the ground and hiding your face in your hands.

"You just have to take it easy, you're pressuring yourself too much-" 

"I've heard that already." you cut him off, growling. 

You lay there for a while, breathing heavily, collecting your thoughts. Once you manage to calm down, you sit up and look at your best friend watching over you on the sofa, sighing. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed out. I didn't mean to snap at you." 

"It's okay." he nods, seeing you taking the brush into your hand again and trying to fix the blob of paint that was supposed to look like a squirrel, much reminding you of your dear best friend sitting next to you. 

You feel a gentle grip on your hand after a few seconds, taking the brush out of it and putting it to the table. You furrow your brows and look at him, confused on why he is suddenly stopping you from your work, the contact of his skin on yours surprising you a little.

"We're done with painting today." he sternly says, stopping you.

"Ji, I have a week left to-" 

"That's a lot of time! Stand up, we're having a karaoke night." he grins at you, pulling you up to your feet, as he takes his phone laying on the sofa into his hands and connects it to the bluetooth speaker.

"I have no time to have a karaoke night Jisung, what even is that-" 

"Pick a song. Any song. We're about to sing our hearts out tonight and my mission won't be considered successful until your neighbours come to complain," he grins, giving the phone into your hand with his spotify app open already. 

You look at him dead serious for a moment before sighing and looking through his embarrassingly long spotify playlist called ‘bops only’. "Fine," you sigh, "but just this once. And if they call the police on us, you're paying the fine for disturbing the silent hours." 

"I didn't say anything about that-" 

"Blah blah blah, I can't hear you!" you giggle, putting on I will survive by Gloria Gaynor on full volume to cut him off, throwing the phone back onto the sofa as you prepare for your singing solo.

You sneak your arms around his neck, dancing and laughing in the process as you loudly scream the lyrics into his face. He smiles at the sight, content with the fact that he managed to cheer you up so quickly, putting his arms on your hips as he jumps up and down, joining you in singing once the song hits the chorus. 

And just this once, as his arms steadily hold your body and you throw a tantrum in your living room, he doesn't even care that you hear him sing as he knows you like to hear his voice. Maybe, just maybe, that was the reason why he suggested a karaoke night to cheer you up in the first place anyway.

"What do you mean you're not gonna be here on my birthday?" you pout from the ground, focused on the canvas right in front of you. 

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? But my mum really needs me to come help her with the atic, and you know how she gets when I refuse to come home at least once a month even though I constantly tell her I don't have the time to travel for 45 minutes just so she can see my face once in a while…" sighs Jisung, laying on your sofa so his head is now facing the same way yours does, and that is, your half-empty canvas.

"I know, I know. But does it really have to be on my birthday? You're going to be away for three days, and the showcase is on Friday…" you mumble, "if I get there, of course." you sigh.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, sounding genuinely concerned. It was currently Monday and your birthday was on Thursday, which meant you had four days to finish your art piece to submit it on the exact day of your birthday to see if your teacher accepts it for the showcase of the following day. And you're not even halfway done with your work! To be exact, you feel like you're gonna fail and to not have your best friend by your side to help you through your stress, you truly feel like you'll go insane.

"I know," you sigh, "it's okay. I guess I'll just… manage, somehow." you scoff.

"You can always celebrate with that friend from your art class, and we'll celebrate together on Saturday, when I come back. What was that kid's name again?" he furrows his brows at you, turning your way to see your focused face.

"You mean Hyunjin? No, thank you. He'd just want me to get drunk and I really don't need that the day before the showcase," you mumble, painting the leaves of the tree carefully, focusing on every single detail. Jisung always adored your talent. Everything you ever drew was a masterpiece in his eyes. He even kept the notes you gave to him in high school once when he was sick and you managed to take notes for him as well when you shared a Chemistry class, sneaking a few doodles on the sides when you got bored of listening to the teacher, "but that will come handy when I don't get in again, so I'll consider it." you roll your eyes.

"You will get in." he reassures you again, finding your eyes.

"I doubt that," you bitterly laugh. 

"Ugh, stop that already," he grunts, focusing on the canvas again, feeling relaxed just at watching you do your magic, but you throw the paintbrush on the table again at that exact moment and run your hands through your hair in frustration.

"What?" 

"It looks like shit. Again." you exclaim. 

His eyes go wide at the sentence, disbelief washing over him. Did you really think that?

"What the fuck? It doesn't! It looks amazing, trust me," he says, reaching his arms to you, taking you by the shoulder from his position on the sofa.

"I am so stressed Jisung, I feel like I'm about to go insane." you whisper, sighing.

You don't have to say more for Jisung to stand up from his position on the sofa only to sit on the ground behind you, sneaking his arms around your middle and bringing you close to him, gently rocking you in your position on the floor. You feel his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he quickly pecks your cheek and settles his head back onto your shoulder.

You hear him softly singing into your ear, the words filling your insides with gold as his voice feels like honey, calming you down from the storm happening inside of you like a brim of light. 

"And I see colors in a different way, you make what doesn't matter fade to grey, life is good and that's the way it should be," he sings softly, a wide smile appearing on your features with every next word.

His voice calms your nerves as you slowly relax in his hold, your bodies gently rocking to the rhythm of the song as it slowly ends and his voice grows quieter. 

He hated singing in front of people. 

But to see you smile, he would go as far as overcoming his biggest fears. Because when you need him, he will always be there.

"Jisung, I have no time for this, I already told you I need to finish the assignment-" you mumble as you sit in his car, his smiling face looking at you from the driver's seat.

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning and I can't have you painting for more than an hour today because I feel like you'll break down if you do, so let's go. And you're already in the car, so there's no escape anyway." he explains, waiting for you to buckle in your seatbelt.

You just sigh and look out the window, biting down on your lip. If he keeps distracting you this much, you'll never finish the assignment.

You hear him softly singing along with the radio, careful not to disturb him in fear of making him stop, smiling to yourself as you let him drive you to an unfamiliar place in the middle of the night. You count the lampposts, the habit you grew to have since you were little, before they disappear and you're on a road shadowed by tall trees, the headlights of Jisung's car being the only thing illuminating the road. 

You recognise you're going up a hill, looking over at him, seeing him focused on the road.

As you reach the top, Jisung stops the car and gets out, you follow him as he waits for you by the door to the passenger’s side. 

As soon as you look around, you're amazed by the sight in front of you. You have a view of the city far, far away in the distance as you see the dell illuminated by the subtle glow of the moon sitting up in the starry sky. You watch the sight with an open mouth, awe washing over you as you just can't keep your eyes off the landscape in front of you.

"Wow," you breathe out.

You feel his hand gripping yours as he leads you to the edge of the hill, sitting at the giant rock there, pulling you down next to him as you watch the nature breathe in front of you. His hand doesn't leave yours as he speaks up after a while.

"You like it?" he asks, quiet enough to not disturb the atmosphere.

"Yeah," you whisper. You see him moving closer to you from the corner of your eye, his head leaning on your shoulder as he enjoys your presence.

"I wanted to show you this before I go, so you have a moment to breathe for a second before you throw yourself into the stress again," he mumbles, gently playing with the fingers of your hand.

"Thank you," you speak, breathing in the chilly air of the forest.

You stay like that for a while, just gazing over the beauty of it all, making you feel like the time stopped for the two of you only as you enjoy the seconds that pass. The full moon watches over the two of you, captivating you as you look at it with a feeling of delight. You hear his gentle voice in your ear again, singing softly and beautifully, sounding magical at the top of the hill, once again filling your ears with melody as your insides tingle. 

"Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars, and let me see what spring is like on a-Jupiter and Mars," he sings, voice tender and sweet, slowing down the tempo of the song on purpose.

"In other words, baby, kiss me," he sings softly, voice fading as his eyes move to your lips, the silence of the hill and the light breeze tickling your skin.

You feel your eyes wandering to his lips, nervously licking yours in the process. You see him hesitantly move closer to you, stopping halfway to see if you pull away, taking his other hand and resting it on your cheek. His breath fans your face as he moves even closer, nudging your nose with his, eyes gazing to yours, your trembling fingers squeezing his hand as if to tell him to go ahead, fluttering your eyelids close.

Once the moment finally comes and his shy lips press to yours, you feel yourself responding immediately, moving with him as the familiar feeling of the sun in your stomach greets you with full force, your other hand going up to rest on his neck. 

When he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, you can't help but smile. His soft giggle fills your ears like music, your lips meeting his in a soft, quick peck in the instance.

"In other words, hold my hand," he continues, softly squeezing your hand resting in his lap, making you look at him, locking your eyes with his as he stares at you, gaze full of stars.

Han Jisung's always been your best friend. But perhaps tonight, you finally understood the fact that life feels sweet as honey anytime he's around you. 

In other words, you love him.

You toss and turn in your bed, tears silently falling down your cheeks on a Wednesday night. Jisung's left this morning and you didn't even finish doing your assignment. You had the whole day for it today without anyone bothering you, but turns out, you managed to hate the painting you did anyway. 

It just didn't look good in your eyes. It looked gross. Horrible. When you compare yourself to the other people in your class, you feel like your art is worthless. It always somehow managed to look bad. And everybody knew. 

You were the only one who wasn’t good enough to get into the annual art showcase in your three years of college. 

Did you even improve at all? 

You turn around in your bed, seeing your phone light up with a new notification, opening it and wiping your tears away in the process so you can see though your blurry eyes. 

'How did the assignment go?' there states, Jisung's name appearing on the message app, your insides automatically calming down a little at the thought of your best friend.

'Don't even ask', you shoot him a reply, sighing deeply to stop the salty tears from falling. 

'It's okay, baby' he replies instantly, your heart racing at the nickname appearing on your screen, bitterly laughing at yourself for acting like a schoolgirl when it comes to Jisung. When did your feelings even grow into something more in the first place? It seemed like it was that way from the start. Perhaps you were just too oblivious to notice.

'It's not. Didn't even finish it. Kicked it when I fucked up again and just gave up.' you type, already friends with the feeling of defeat and failure you've been feeling since the evening.

He doesn't respond for a while, making you think he fell asleep with the phone in his hand again, turning around in your bed to put the phone back onto your bedside table to try to fall asleep on your own as well, when a new message lights up your screen.

You see a voice memo appearing in your messages with Jisung, your heart thumping at the image of hearing his voice this late in the evening, quickly pressing the play button and listening to what he had to say.

"Hi, umm- I've never actually done this before, but I know you're probably feeling like shit right now and I need you to know that you are not a failure, because I know you feel like one right now," you giggle a little at the accuracy, his low voice making you feel things you didn’t even know you could feel before, "anyways, I need you to be kind to yourself tonight. And since I know you like it when I sing, here's a little something…" he mumbles into the phone, making your heart race.

"Here goes nothing," he softly laughs, and clears his throat, beginning to sing, "Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you," his voice feels soft through the speaker, your eyes welling up with tears again, but this time, they're of appreciation and pure love for the boy laying in his bed 45 minutes away from you, because you know just how nervous he must have felt to sing into his phone just for you.

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?" he finishes, his voice fading away, your insides melting. How did you get so lucky? 

"And now go to sleep. It's your birthday tomorrow, we don’t want you to feel sad on your special day. Good night, baby." he sounds, the nickname bringing another set of butterflies into your stomach. 

You wish you could do as he told you. But at that exact moment, you bring yourself to try again, you make yourself stand up from your bed and move to your living room as you take a new canvas with you, inspiration kicking you with full force, taking tubes of paint and a paintbrush into your hand as you begin to work on your assignment, trying again just one last time.

You stand in front of your painting, watching over it with proud eyes. The chatter of people around you is only a background noise in your ears as you smile brightly at the assignment you finished just the time the clock striked midnight on Wednesday. 

"Yaaah y/n, it looks so good," you hear the voice of Lee Minho call next to you, patting your shoulder.

You grin and turn to look at him, gratitude washing over you upon hearing the compliment. "Thanks." 

"I wondered when you're finally going to be on a showcase, I don't understand why neither of your previous assignments made it," he mutters, shaking his head, "but this looks great. It's original." he nods.

"Thank you, Minho," you only smile wider, the pride in you growing minute by minute, "yours looks great too, by the way. I like the colors." 

"Really? I hate it. I never hated a theme more than this," he huffs, "who the fuck thinks nature is entertaining to paint?" 

"I know, right? I had four mental breakdowns over it," you laugh, now that the suffering is finally over and you can breathe freely.

"Did you use reference for this?" he asks suddenly, pointing to the painting hanging on the middle of the wall.

"No, I did it from memory…" you mumble, sighing.

You watch Minho's eyes shifting somewhere behind you, grinning widely at something that caught his eye, prompting you to look that way only to be left in a state of absolute shock. 

The talking of the people filling the showcase gradually stops as they see Han Jisung holding a plate of a strawberry cheesecake with a single candle stuck to the middle of it, moving slowly not to make the light flicker die down, the grinning face of Hwang Hyunjin following his steps with a bottle on champagne in his hands doing grimaces at you from afar as a honey voice calls through the room.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear y/n," he looks at you, eyes big and full of love, as he finally reaches your figure in the middle of the room,

"Happy birthday to you!" he finishes, your soft giggles cutting through the hall as you move to blow out the candle and gaze onto the face of your best friend.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were coming in the evening!" you yell, throwing yourself into his arms. It was only three days, but you already missed him too much.

"I escaped," he laughs, his whole body shaking in the process as you pull away after a second, "I'm joking. I couldn't stay with my mother knowing I'm gonna miss your first ever showcase." 

You smile warmly at him, the people around you disappearing in the moment, only his figure standing out to you in the haze as he hesitantly moves over and locks your lips in a quick kiss. 

You ignore the howling of Lee Minho coming from your left and the loud 'Finally!!' from the lips of Hwang Hyunjin to your right as Jisung turns to your painting, smiling widely at the sight.

"It looks so real," he mumbles in awe, noticing the way his insides turn into a puddle of sweet joy as he recognises the night view of the dell he showed you on the night of your first kiss, instantly realising the way you must have painted it after he sent you the voice memo to sing you to sleep on the Wednesday night. 

"You inspired me," you grin brightly. 

"Don't say that." he shyly looks down on his feet.

"But it's true." you prompt.

He smiles lightly, shaking his head before locking your eyes again. 

"I just realised I left your gift at home. Look at me, wishing you happy birthday a day later and not even bringing you a gift to make up for it…" he mutters, stepping closer to you and putting an arm around your shoulder in the process.

"That's okay," you say, and you really mean it. You are the happiest you've ever been right now, feeling accomplished and with him by your side. You don’t need any other gift.

"Well, I have one thing in my mind that can count as a gift, though," he smirks.

"And that is?" 

"I can finally be your boyfriend. I mean, isn't that the best gift you’ve ever gotten?" he grins, prompting you to elbow him lightly in the ribs as you burst into a fit of laughter.

"You're such a dork, I swear to god…"

"But I am your dork, right?" 

You sigh, playfully rolling your eyes. "Yes, Jisung. You are my dork. Only mine."

[carbsvixen]

Diary no. 17

Long time, no read. Or write. Alot has happened since my last entry. None of it extremely good aside from the good company of my friends. My grandpa finally passed away in hospice. They had a celebration of life instead of a funeral. I was told that it was excellent, because over 200 people came to say their last goodbyes. I am sad that I didn't get to go to the burial at least. Or to see him in the hospital. My mom let me know my dad has throat cancer. He is not receiving treatment of any kind. He refused to stop drinking and smoking. While I do not have a relationship with him anymore, it disturbs me that he continues knowing my brothers have a problem with his choices. I have decided to stay for a month or two in Michigan so I can not only help my family but also search for a Delaware home properly. Work is wringing me out. The new hires they recruited at the beginning of the year have left. Almost all of them fizzled out. I cannot express how frustrating this is. I don't mind coming into work but the new people who stayed still neglect their training and do what they like. Apparently theft is a problem at work now. I am tired. My ex, since moving out, is still pressuring me to give him money. I asked him this recent mortgage payment if there was a difference in me paying and him giving me money. He called me "petty" for that. Petty for gaining access to my bills? To my mortgage? The whole relationship he told me not to worry about paying it myself. I was to give him money and he'd pay. But that was when he was medicated and somewhat responsible. Now he has degraded into something worse. He even told his friends on twitter that I am just not paying any bills at all. He amounted me to a "slut" who broke his things when he resisted temptation for wearing "little clothing" around the house. When? How? I've never destroyed his things.

I blocked him as a result. I cannot deal with this anymore. I want to leave. He is not only abusing me but he is sucking the energy I have left out of me. I still hurt from stress so it's dangerous for me to engage with him. The house is under way. Painting of the house exterior is done. The pictures of the interior is tomorrow afternoon. I am beyond excited that I can finally get away from here. I just want to be happy for once. I don't plan on dating anytime soon. Men like Ian are horrible. I wore makeup for the first time in a long time today. Everyone at work were legitimately shocked that I looked different. They encouraged me to wear it more often. I just don't like being sweaty with foundation on my face. Working in a kitchen is not a place for makeup!! Unless you have budge-proof spray...I suppose...I did not! LOL

[saad-days]

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April 7, 2022

I really don't want to embarass myself or self-sabotage but I want to just keep gushing about him.

I really don’t want to count my eggs before they hatch but this feels….different. Like I don't know how to explain it - but intuitively I just get this “knowing” or feeling when I start seeing someone how to describe it but I always just know if it's gonna last or be a fizzle and fade. And this time idk how to explain it but - I’ve never felt this way, like maybe sort of when I first met Wil but it's still different than even that. All this weird physical stuff has been happening to me - like I've been only sleeping around 3 hrs a night and I have this weird constant energized elated feeling. The only way I feel I can describe it is that it feels like wearing Moldavite all the time, even though I am not.

You have quickly become my favorite person to hear from and my favorite person to talk. The way our conversations flow is so natural and so vibrant and fun and just the vibe - as the kids say - is immaculate.

And just I feel so lucky that not only do we have so much in common, we both adore talking with each other, are attracted to each other, but you're older and have your shit together. I just am very into the fact that you're 32, that you have financial stability, a place you can afford, pets, just all of this maturity is so fucking nice and such a massive shift from the people I was dating - who almost always just made me feel I was taking care of them or they were interested in me because I was far more stable than them.

Darling you are so pretty it hurts. Really a boy this beautiful is just so very very rare. Beautiful and handsome all at the same time. You have the feminine qualities I like and look for in cis males, with the soft perfect skin, nice eyebrows, earrings, painted nails, like boy you are perfectly andro for me ugh. And I cannot get over how hot you are. I usually don't care THAT much about a slim and decently-built physique but holy shit do you blow everyone I have ever dated out of the fucking ocean.

I cannot stress enough how disappointed I am that I'm going away as you're returning and we can't see each other this weekend. Like I barely know you yet I find myself longing to be with you again - missing you, thinking of you constantly.

I think you feel the same? At least, it seems you do. But I'm terrified to get attached just to have you leave. I want you to the one that sticks around. Because, the truth is - I think we could really build something real together. I can see us having a life together, like really truly I don't get that "red flag" feeling whenever I start to think of the future with you. And I've had that with everyone else before you and chose to ignore it. But that is not the feeling this time and I feel like I'm finally happy again and I actually have so much to look forward to every day. Compared to life in January, I am a completely different person. I'm not thinking about death and not wanting to be alive. I've let go of what held me back and down forever. And I wish I had done this a year ago, I wish I had listened to everyone instead of acting like I was going to fight fate and reality.

It's almost hard to recognize myself, slowly I've changed, turned into someone else. And yet also found my way back to who I am.

The last year was maybe the hardest one I've been through and yet I'm grateful for the lowest lows because I became stronger and can appreciate this joy and love that is entering my life now.#journal#journal entry#journaling#getting over someone#moving on#new love#realtionships#happiness#self love#self care#saad days1 notesaad-days

Scotty

I can't believe I'm writing about a boy. I didn't expect our meeting to be anything honestly. I thought I was into someone else until you walked up to my door in your black docs and ripped black jeans, pushing your curly brown hair out of a perfectly sculpted face, meeting my eyes and smiling big, showing off those fucking adorable dimples.

After everything since summer 2020 I really didn't have any hope or expectations for romance - especially with a cis, straight man - if I'm being completely honest. I really thought I was done with y'all after my ex, but my sexuality is fluid and I like who I like. But here I am, hoping !

So for myself - and I guess whomever is reading this - let's take this back to the first day we met after I managed to re-hinge my jaw from the floor where it dropped when I first saw him.

April 1st and if you weren't a Virgo I might've thought it was some type of sick universal joke on me. Because there is no way I would have such luck. I actually ghosted him when I started talking to Malcolm in February and I just stopped responding. But when I went back on tinder recently, I felt weirdly compelled to respond to him again and get to know him more. So I did something I almost never do: I gave this stranger on the internet my number. I know right? Absolutely wild of me! No one does this! (lol) And I'm so glad I did.

**this is my journal so I am allowed to ramble without making this make sense as some sort of "piece".

Immediately I felt extremely comfortable around you - despite being incredibly self-conscious and nervous after meeting you in the flesh. You surprised me with your nice smile, your nice car, your aesthetic matching my own, your mature and somewhat stoic nature, and yet your ability to quietly and smoothly insert compliments and niceties that knock me silly and make me blush. The fact that you not only actually listened to the playlists I forcibly sent you, but that you LIKED them and then went on to enjoy the bands that you didn't know in them, tell me about them, and then PLAY MY PLAYLISTS FOR YOUR FRIENDS?!

Like BOY. You have got to be kidding me with this one. My whole heart is full.

Not only that but he was so into Horror movies and had watched all of Pretty Face and knew Henry Zebrowski. Just green flags left, right, up AND down. We even talked about Aliens man.

Just everything felt right. And for days before meeting him I was barely sleeping, my heart was constantly beating out of my chest and I felt so anxious and weird - as if something huge was coming. These are actually all things I experience before something life-changing happens to me or someone very important is coming into my life.

I went in expecting the usual tinder date. A guy that wants a lot more from me than I from him. A guy who is usually far more interested romantically and physically in me than I could ever even have the capacity for in return.

But this was not that. I immediately could tell this was different. The energy between us seemed to vibrate and I felt those butterflies beating at my ribcage and rising up into my heart, giving me palpitations. You made my cheeks flush and my brain-to-mouth connection was rendered completely useless by just your presence.

Going back to my place after kava was unexpected honestly, I was not going to have you over after, but when you asked it just felt right. I will say I was nervous because I then started to think you just wanted to get into my pants and....at this point - after getting to know how absolutely fascinating you as a person and your experiences and background were, and the fact that we hold the same love & family values and are in similar situations in terms of our families - I wanted more. And when you went to put your arm around me and asked if that was okay my heart skipped maybe 6 beats. And then to hear that you were so nervous just to do that - wow.

Lighting cupping my face in your hand and kissing me so softly - I felt this white-hot electricity between us and if I'm being honest I never thought I would feel what you awoke inside me again. I never thought anyone other than my ex could stir this type of feeling - this feeling that I know turns into love, in me ever again. I thought everyone else would be nothing compared to that love, that I would never feel this way again.

Is this real? Can I trust this? Can I trust you not to use me, hurt me, ghost me? Waiting this out until we can speak again Saturday is kinda killing me because then I get stuck with all these what-ifs? What if you meet some hot babe on the cruise and decide fuck this 27 yr old chick and I never hear from you again? I don't think so but that hooded emperor palpatine version of myself tells me he's gonna find someone better and I'm nothing. I know that's not how he feels but that part of me still shows up to haunt my joy sometimes.

You're away this week and I just hope that I will hear from you as soon as you get back on the mainland on Saturday.#dating#romance#journal#journal entry#saad days#tinder#first datesaad-days#cat#kitten#tongue#cat tongue#dopey#doofus

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April 22. 2022

And I have entered my 28th season. I felt like I had moved into this new chapter months ago though. But I can't believe how much has changed. I feel like I've become a completely different person, and yet found my way back to who I really am and what makes me truly happy and fulfilled. I feel like finally my dreams and goals for myself are manifesting currently.

[the-record-columns]

July 31, 2019: Columns

Peaches, possum, and home grown tomatoes...

                                                     Homegrown tomatoes, homegrown tomatoes,  

                          What'd life be without homegrown tomatoes,

                                Only two things money can't buy,

                             That's true love and homegrown tomatoes.

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

    What a great weekend.

   Yes, it was hot, but not oppressively so, as it had been earlier in the week, and there so many things to do and enjoy that were just plain fun.

   Just to mention a few, let's start on Friday evening.  One of my favorite regular events is the music of Doug Davis and Friends at the Hardee's on 421 in Wilkesboro.  They just wander in, take a seat and join in with whoever is already there and  15 minutes later,  you would think they had been playing together for 15 years.  This past Friday's crew, at least for the time I was there, included Don and Lee Ann Bowling, Jason Young, Jamie Prevette,  Glenn Wood, Joe Price and Lindsay Ham.  Lindsay, who can play about anything and play it well, treated those gathered to his rendition of "I've Got 5 Pounds of Possum in My Headlights Tonight," to everyone's delight.  A little country, a little bluegrass, a little gospel, and a lot of fun is available every Friday night when these folks get together.

   Then, on Saturday morning at the Farmer's Market in North Wilkesboro, the Master Gardner's group had their annual Tomato Tasting with over 30 varieties of tomatoes available.  Young and old alike enjoy this event and Saturday's edition was no exception.  An aside, quite often Linda Cabe and Chad Ritchie come and play music at Saturday's market, being dubbed by yours truly as The Marketplace Players.  This past Saturday, they were joined by Ferguson's own Sharon Underwood who played her guitar and sang with them.  As I was visiting with them, Sharon broke out in the chorus of "True Love and Homegrown Tomatoes," a great old  tune I had forgotten about. All in all, it was a great market —good for vendors, good for visitors.

   After the Farmer's Market, I went over to Wilkesboro for the inaugural Peach and Heritage Festival put on by volunteers from the Brushy Mountain Community Center.

   When I first got to town, I knew I was going to have a good day because I saw Ann Graves and Marilyn Payne sitting on Ann's porch across from the old Smithey Hotel.  I stopped, sat on the swing with Ann enjoying some of her Ketle Korn, and watched the folks stream in for the festival.  I kidded them that they were the perfect pair to be "greeters" for those coming in because they have neither ever met a stranger.

   Once I got up to the Commons area, I found it packed with vendors, displays, games and entertainment. There was truly something for the entire family--from toddler to grandma and grandpa.  As I wandered around that morning, I could hear the gospel music playing on the main stage and I observed the amazing variety of people in attendance.  Whenever I would ru into ne of the organizers, they were very pleased with their new event, and helpful with whatever questions I had.

   I also went by the Heritage Museum next door where the new Splash Pad was getting a workout and the Museum itself was literally crawling with visitors, many for the first time.

   As the day went on, the crowd stayed amazingly strong with many vendors selling completely our of food or merchandise.  As I continued to amble around and visit, I was struck by just how contented and happy everyone seemed to be.  I made some comment about this to a lady who se name I should know but cannot tink of right now and she made the reply I supposed was appropriate for the day, "Why Kenny, what would you expect--everything here today is "Just Peachy'"

   International consensus is not the same as international law

By EARL COX

Special to The Record

President Trump’s envoy to the Middle East, Jason Greenblatt, recently told the United Nations Security Council that “international consensus is not international law.  He went on to state what most Americans, especially evangelical Christians, accept as historical fact – that Jerusalem is the historic capital of the Jewish people and it is their rightful capital today.  

Today the people living in the West Bank and Gaza call themselves “Palestinians” and they desire (or aspire) to make Jerusalem their exclusive capital completely ignoring thousands of years of Jewish connection to the land.  This is not hearsay.  It is documented from the Bible forward and is proven afresh almost every day as new archaeological finds are discovered pointing directly to Israel and the Jewish people.  

So, who are the Palestinian people and why do they feel entitled to possess the land of Israel with Jerusalem as their capital?  First of all, there are no “Palestinians.”  They are culturally and linguistically Arab therefore they have no language, religion or general culture that distinguishes them significantly from the Arabs of Jordan, Syria or other neighboring Arab states.  “Palestinian” identity is a shallow political veneer that developed in response to Zionism and it serves today as a hostile tool kept sharpened for use against Israel. 

Nevertheless, Israel is willing to carve out land for those Arabs who want to identify as “Palestinians” thus creating an identity for themselves separate from the larger Arab world, but they have no historic or legal right to the land of Israel.  As expressed by Mr. Greenblatt, the Palestinian aspiration to a have a capital in Jerusalem is “not a right,” and “international consensus is not international law” when it comes to creating a Palestinian state.

The decades long conflict between Israel and the Palestinians cannot be solved by international consensus.  U.N. resolutions have been proposed and adopted however the wording is generally vague but always in favor of the Palestinians despite protestation from America and Israel.

No international consensus or interpretation of international law can alter the fact that Jews have lived and worshiped for nearly 3,000 years in Israel and specifically in Jerusalem and that Jerusalem has been the capital of the modern state of Israel for over 70 years. Those who try to paint Israel as “illegal occupiers” are using the phrase as a weapon to demonize Israel.  According to historic facts, Israel has already returned or relinquished more than 88 percent of the territory it captured during the 1967 Six Day War in which tiny Israel was attacked by every surrounding Arab country yet, thanks to God’s intervention, Israel sent the aggressors running to the U.N. begging them to make Israel back off.

While Israel has proven to the world time and time again her willingness to cooperate in helping the “Palestinians” form an independent state, they are not foolishly willing to jeopardize their safety by giving legitimacy to the terrorists organization called Hamas which governs those “Palestinians” living in the Gaza strip or the PLO which governs the “Palestinians” in the West Bank and which is equally as corrupt as Hamas and every bit a terrorist entity - despite any consensus to the contrary.  

Relax and Protect

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

Summertime busy is a different kind of busy.

We are often rushing off somewhere to relax; maybe a trip to the beach to enjoy the surf and sun or a high country visit with cooler days.

We are fortunate in the Carolinas because we have many excellent costal choices. Among those choices, we have Hilton Head, Charleston, Myrtle Beach, Wilmington, Nags Head and our charming Outerbanks Island experience.

We can slowly explore nature and our iconic lighthouse trail, or we can properly roast ourselves while lounging on a choice sandy beach. The hours pass with a good book or music and moment by moment the stress of life floats away.

Sunburn pain is tempered with a variety of products which are often available in our summer travel bags. We try to remember to use our sunscreens, but sometimes forget. More seasoned travelers plan for those moments by bringing along the best sunburn pain reducing product we can find. We don’t like talking about the pain because we know we allowed it to happen. We just want it to quietly go away as soon as possible.

Most of our friends are polite enough to not go in for a hug when they notice the bright glow of summer pain. The extra loose-fitting clothing is often a giveaway.

Often, the rewards make up for the pain. The early morning and sunset walks on the beach are memorable. Setting on the balcony listing to the hypnotic waves makes life seem better, and the smell and feel of the salt air has its own power to heal.

Or maybe the coast and the smell of repeatedly applied sunscreen is not your happy place. Maybe your Zin is discovered in our beautiful Carolina mountains. You may love water; you just prefer smaller bodies of water and are most found of mountain streams.

There are many stories of lowlanders who seek the cooler mountain air environment in the summer and fall months. Like our coastal area for the Carolinas, our mountains offer great diversity. From the home of the Easter Band of Cherokee Indians to Murphy, Waynesville, Asheville and then on to the Great Smokey Mountains and the Blue Ridge Parkway.  

We have great variety in the High County and Foothills with Sparta, West Jefferson, Boone, Banner Elk, Grandfather Mountain and Wilkesboro.

The cooler mountain air, vistas and easier way of being brings great peace to many people. The relaxing sound of a waterfall or mountain stream has a way of melting away the stress of the day, not unlike that sunset walk on the beach. When nature can have her way with us, relaxation of life’s burdens is often the result.

I am not sure if nature is fixing us or if we are better able to deal with life when we become more relaxed. Maybe stepping aside from our worries for a moment allows solutions to reveal themselves. In any event, taking a break from our everyday demands might be a good way for us to stay busy this summer.

For those who live in the places that many of us are seeking as a place of summer refuge, forgive us as we are rushing through your hometowns. We are doing our best and we are grateful that you are sharing your environment with us.

We have a lot going on and anytime you want a distraction from your daily life come and visit our hometown.

Whatever you chose to do this summer, wisdom suggest that we all use proper protection. A little skin protection now is better than the treatment that may be required later.

Happy Summer Friends.

[mental-health-advice]

Hello, I need some advice. I feel like I'm stuck in a rut with my life right now. I'm unhappy with just about everything that I do. My job, college, my decisions, my friends, and myself. I've been trying for the longest time to stay positive. I try to start the day with a smile it goes well for a while. Then something happens that quickly flips it upside down. I dwell on the bad in my life. I'm disappointed with myself more than anything. I know I'm better than this. This is not the person I am.

Hello! I am so sorry that you feel this way, and about the delay in response. I completely understand what you are feeling, and I know how confusing and isolating this can make us feel. I have a few tips and pieces of advice, as well as some resources from the MHA blog (I will link them below). I hope this helps!

I have been told the phrase ‘fake it until you make it’ many times, and in some ways I guess this can be true. However, in terms of our health, it isn’t as easy as it sounds. I appreciate you have been trying to stay positive, and that is such a strong thing to do. I admire you for it. If, however, you still feel as if this isn’t helping and nothing is budging then something must be done in order for the positivity to become natural and flow.

My first piece of advice would focus on you and what you’re interested in. Something which is really helping me in my process right now is focusing on something I am interested in, and passionate about. I do understand that this may seem easier said than done, as we do not all know what we want to do career wise or hobby wise. This is okay - and it can be just as effective I feel if it’s something we enjoy doing rather than something we want to work towards. For example, I am spending the majority of my time planning some up and coming projects to film. Spending time on this and learning about the subject is really helping with my mood, as it makes me feel good and resourceful and self-motivated.

I have struggled with those skills, and if you could perhaps find something similar to this then you could focus your energy into that subject and really dive into the details. Find something, and latch onto it. However, this may not be your thing and this is okay! This is what has helped me, and I understand it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.

Another piece of advice is similar to my first, as this is about creating a purpose for yourself. It may seem as if I am coming a little off topic, but if we feel we have a purpose as human beings a lot of thoughts which often worry us or upset us can be reduced. If you like art, then go out and paint or draw or create something which perhaps only you understand. Write a poem in a made up language which only you know, or create a formula only you can put together. This all gives us purpose, and I really feel as if creating a purpose for myself has helped me feel a lot more grounded and here in a sense. Again, this doesn’t have to be your thing and that is okay. Some people will feel better off thinking about this, others not. Both are okay. You can have one purpose, multiple or constantly changing. Do you feel this would help?

The third piece of advice is more about time and focusing on ourselves. If we ensure our bodies are well looked after, then we will feel much more focused and awake. For example, if we have a few hours sleep we may feel grumpy (I do, it’s scary how grumpy I get!). If we do not drink enough water, we may have a headache. If we do not clean our teeth, we may feel unhygienic. How we look after ourselves often has a big impact on our emotions, whether we realise it or not.

I really encourage you to set aside some time, perhaps an hour a day or a few sessions a week, where you can focus on yourself. It could be reading a book in a warm blanket or organising your clothes or writing down your worries and then throwing away the piece of paper. All these things can help with the process of feeling as if we can breathe fresh air again. Do you feel that this would help, and contribute to the improvement of your feelings? We have a page at MHA focused on mindfulness, with techniques that focus ourselves on the moment which I encourage you to check out.

Keeping organised and staying busy is something which has helped me a lot from having constant bad days. I still have bad days, and that is healthy in a way. But, they’re not bad days one after the other for a week or two. I have now got a whiteboard in my room, which I plan my week on. Perhaps you could plan when you are going to have an hour to yourself on the whiteboard? Having everything in one place and being able to rub it off when done can really help our mind relax a little if we are stressed or have a lot of things to do. Sometimes if we feel bad, our mind forgets a few things here and there. I know that, with my bad days, my memory has become a lot worse than it was and I easily forget dates or times or pieces of work. The whiteboard has helped me hugely, and perhaps it can help you too.

Side note: keeping busy is a great thing to do, but we can only keep busy if we allow ourselves healthy and regular breaks. After a few days of hard work, what about having a day off to just watch your favourite films and spend some time on your hobbies?

I understand that it is difficult when feeling like this and my advice may not be your type of thing that works for you. We are always here to help, and if you feel you would like another admin to answer with their advice then feel free to come back and drop us an ask or on our live chat service. Either way, my last tip is allowing yourself to accept that you have these bad days. If you feel you cannot smile, you don’t have to. If you want to smile, go for it. You have the control on things, and if you do not like something then you have the power to change it. I believe in you, and everyone at MHA believes in you. It is okay to be okay, and it is okay not to be okay. We have bad days, and sometimes we feel so bad that we can’t get out of bed. That is okay, but we must realise and accept that. We must understand that tomorrow is a new day, and we can be whoever we want to be.

One day I could be Rosie with the thoughts of not being good enough, the next I could be Rosie with the fingertips who can’t stop typing out ideas and organising those ideas. You’ve got this, I believe in you. One day at a time.

Mindfulness

Distractions

Getting Help

Web Counselling

All the best,

Rosie

[strongislandsuperfan]

30 Lessons I've Learned About Life (So Far):

WARNING: IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED OR OVERLY SENSITIVE FOR NO REASON,

DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER.

I pretty much defied every odd against me and every stereotype

that exists about young men like me. Even though I am still

young and have much more to experience, here's what I've

learned and come to the conclusion about life (so far):

1) The older you get, the more you realize that being happy is more important than being right all the time. All those petty arguments and debates really don't mean anything, especially when you're married. Love is more important.

2) No one ever gets away with anything in life. You do reap what you sew. I learned that the hard way, and I've witnessed it happen to others.

3) Having children definitely calms your wild streak, especially if you have a little girl (God help me).

4) Best friends really do become strangers. Many of you I haven't seen in years & it does feel like its the first time meeting again, now that some of us found each other on facebook (and some of us made peace with each other). I wish you all nothing but success.

5) All the crap that use to matter in high school and college, doesn't even matter anymore. All that stuff about air jordans, dating the girls with the biggest booty, going to the "party of the year", hearing the latest rap songs, having the newest "thing" that's out, proving how "gangsta" or tough you are, etc., all of that was just a complete waste and it means nothing. Now, my main concern is taking care of my wife & kids, make sure my bills are paid, make sure there's enough groceries in the house, clock in on time at work, make sure I have gas money for the car, stay out of trouble, and staring at my stomach as it expands from too much beer and bbq. Life really changes, doesn't it?

6) No one owes you anything. You owe yourself. If you take anything handed to you, be careful who its from. At some point, if you want to be successful and not be mediocre your whole life, your gonna have to compromise on the way you speak, the way you dress, change your attitude, grow the hell up, and give nothing but 100% blood, sweat and tears.......to the one that appreciates your work because not everyone will appreciate you. Some take advantage. Others, really do mean well, but they either don't have the resources to get you to the next level or they are holding you back. Work hard, but, WORK SMART.

7) Turning away great things doesn't make you an honorable rebel or a social martyr. It makes you nieve and stupid.

8) Hip Hop/Rap music will never be the same again. Many blame the Southern Untied States. Many blame corporations. Many blame the media. Many blame white people. Many blame black people. Many blame it on violence, sex & drugs. The reality is: it has been dying a slow and hemorrhaging death since the early 2000's. Like many of you who grew up with the culture, I didn't wanna believe it myself, but the fact of the matter is, it will never be the same again. This next generation will never understand the meaning of the 5 elements or what it was like hearing songs like "it ain't hard to tell" or "planet rock" or "nuthin' but a g thang" or "the bridge is over" for the first time or how sad we all felt when Biggie Smalls & Tupac died. These memories I keep with me & reflect on the good times in my childhood. The positive of all this is at least our generation can say we were here when real hip hop meant something.

9) Technology has destroyed the human experience. As great and as convenient it is, it is draining us of our humanity. Many of us have become just as hardened and lifeless as a uncharged iPad. As great as advancements are, I am not looking forward to how it will consume our very beings within the next 15-30 years.

10) Being educated is fine, but if you have no intelligence behind it, then it means nothing. Yea, I graduated, but my thinking and my creativity were severely stifled since all the teachers and administrators at Hempstead High School only cared about passing a state exam just to graduate. That is the wrong kind of pressure to even put on a young person. The entire american education system is a nightmare. There is no "real education" that goes on there. It has become a breeding ground for psychological and social disorder.

11) Marijuana didn't (almost) ruin me. Popping pills and drinking hard liquor did. Doesn't mean I'll smoke again. Just means, now that I'm sober and have more clarity, I do see what the problem was and what wasn't the problem. I hurt me. The only thing I'm guilty of is allowing those chemicals and the wrong crowd to be a part of it. Regardless, I'm getting my mind back. I'm better than I was 10 years ago.

12) Having a positive attitude really does make a difference, even when everything around you tries to pull you down in a pit of negativity. Another lesson I learned the hard way.

13) After many relationships, an exhausting amount of research and trial & error life experiences, I have realized that every so-called "-ism" and social rule in life, is all complete bullsh-t!

14) Racism is still alive and well throughout the world. It is to the point now, that its not even a lifestyle here in the United States. Now, its a sickness. There is a cure for that: GET OVER IT! You don't like different races for whatever retarded reason, go swallow a can of paint thinner & light your mouth on fire!

15) Be careful who you allow into your circle. Not everyone in the world is your friend. You're murderers come with smiles. Another lesson I learned the hard way.

16) I use to think Superman was invincible. Then, he got Lois Lane pregnant. 'Nuff said.

17) Be careful how you treat others. One hand really does wash the other.

18) I have no problem with spirituality. I believe in God. I go to church, not because "my pastor" tells me I'm obligated to go. I go for me. I understand why a Christian is a Christian. I understand why a Muslim is a Muslim. I understand why a Jew is a Jew. I understand why an Atheist is an Atheist. I understand why a Buddhist is a Buddhist. I understand why you believe or don't believe. I respect. However, one thing I cannot get or understand is why is a satanist a satanist. So, you mean to tell me you want to worship a demonic god that wants to kill you? Ummm, yea. Can't co-sign that. You may not agree, but it is what it is.

19) With every generation, hoodrats keep getting worse and worse. God help us all.

20) Now that I'm older, I am sorry for the wild and bad things that I did as a kid...but, I regret nothing. I learned from it.

21) Getting your driver's license is one of the most overrated life experiences ever. Yay me! I got a freakin' ID and can drive anything that moves. Yeah, well no one warned me about how expensive car insurance is or about road rage or how to properly buy a car with out getting ripped of. THANKS FOR THE FAIR WARNING, JERKS!

22) I really wish I could go back and do 21 all over again. I really messed that age up. Oh well, you live and you learn. Moving on.

23) The internet use to be the greatest form of information. Now, its just another form of entertainment that makes stupid people famous.

24) Anything is possible. Whether its sensationalized, rumor, or fact, in between the lines you will find a slim margin of truth. Never rule out anything. If there's one thing this world & this country has taught me is that, given enough power, money, passion or the right circumstance, anyone is capable of anything.

25) The U.S. government really is full of crap! I can't understand some of you who still insist on going thru life either as a conservative republican or a liberal democrat. They both have the same agenda & both of them DO NOT care about you, no matter who you vote for. WAKE UP!

26) This is for the single men: Being a simp is not how you get females to like you. If you go around, putting the wrong type of female on a pedestal, get your feelings and manhood destroyed then wonder why you're so stressed and gotta pay thousands of dollars in child support, then far as I'm concerned, you deserve what you allow. Another lesson in life I've witnessed happen to young men who didn't know any better.

27) Bacon is the greatest comfort food ever!

28) Wearing a suit and a smile goes a lot further that sagging jeans, over-sized shirt, gold fronts, and a mean mug. Another lesson I learned the hard way.

29) Ghettos are the same no matter where you go. Doesn't matter if its the projects, the barrio, the trailer park, we all share the same struggle.

30) Life is too short to be bitter, unforgiving and angry all the time. Enjoy your time here on Earth, because no one gets out alive.

                            -Mikey Valdez