#i might not even finish it just because it's so difficult and uninteresting for me

[steakout-05]

something that had always been really frustrating for me when i was still in math classes in school was trying to watch the teacher actually work the problem out on the board and still not understanding wtf was happening. for some context, i heavily suspect that i have some form of dyscalculia because math and numbers literally do not compute properly in my brain. it'd be too long to explain the full extent of my possible dyscalculia here but math literally does the mental equivalent of maxing out the CPU power and memory of a computer to the point where it freezes and lags to my brain.

math class was always stressful for me because no matter what i did and how much progress i made, there was always a lack of understanding i had when it came to trying to work any math problem out long term and remembering anything. it felt like there was always something i was missing, so when the time came for the teacher to explain and go through a math problem step-by-step on the whiteboard, i made sure i paid as much attention to it as humanly possible as child-to-teenager me could muster and even then i still did not understand how the fuck they solved it, all because of one thing: the teacher pulling a random number completely out of their ass that happened to be the key to solving the problem.

like. i don't think i can illustrate how frustrating and isolating this was to experience with words alone. here i was, paying as much attention as i physically could, trying my damned hardest to memorise each individual step and calculation in order to understand how to get from point A to point B. everything made perfect sense up until the teacher suddenly stops for a second and writes a seemingly completely unrelated number there with no context as to why it's there in the first place, and then, in that singular moment, everything immediately comes crumbling down and i'm left completely confused. and somehow, everyone else around me perfectly understands it except me. like. imagine sitting there, giving the teacher all the attention you possibly could, literally watching and studying their hand movements just to understand every single step, only to be even more confused than your classmates, who you're pretty sure were half-asleep during the explanation, who also say they understand how the teacher came to that conclusion. what. the actual fuck.

when i try to explain how infinitely confusing and irritating this was for me, i'm reminded of a quote from that video Patricia Taxxon made about DHMIS: "The rug is pulled again ... There was never any hope of following the thread, understanding is impossible.". even when i was literally trying my best to possibly follow anything that was happening, the rug still gets pulled out from under my feet and i'm sent all the way back to square one of not understanding a single thing and being confused again. all because the teacher didn't explicitly explain how they got that random number that was apparently singlehandedly necessary for solving the equation and where they got it from, apart from that place being from literally fucking nowhere.

it's really no wonder that i eventually stopped giving a shit about paying attention in math class, because even when i was, it was still daunting and incomprehensible as always. why bother trying anymore when trying still gets you nowhere? trying to ask the teacher where they got that number from was an impossible to understand task as well, as their either snapped back with a "well you should have been paying attention" (even though i WAS but whatever) or they do explain that they added the first two numbers from the equation together or something, but now i'm wondering why they didn't just explain that in the first place like they did with everything else instead of seemingly just assuming everyone would know to do that.

by the way, if i had to give an estimate, my math ability is probably still at like. a 5th grader's level at best. so uh. yeah it's not good. still, it is kinda funny to me though, not only because i do find a bit of humour in the situation, but also because some people are often so quick to judge someone's intelligence purely based on their mathematical abilities alone. like. the idea of someone calling me dumb for still needing to do addition with my fingers despite the fact that my reading and language levels are considered above average is really funny to me lmaooo

[analogwriting]

Childhood Crush

Chapter 19: Vanadium

Killer x gn!reader word count: 2.8k a/n: hopefully releasing two chapters will make up for the cliffhanger eheehhehe

Working with Myra was hard at first. Mostly because all you could think about was what she had done - the pain she had caused. Slowly, she became tolerable. You treated her like a colleague, nothing more. You didn’t talk about anything else except work. She had tried to talk about something else a time or two, but you shot her down. You were uninterested in anything she had to say unless it pertained to the research at hand.

“You’re making it difficult to act civil.” You turned to look at her with a blank expression. “And why would I want that? That has nothing to do-”

“With the research yeah, whatever. I��m trying to make amends and you’re making it impossible.” 

“Why would I want to make amends with the likes of you?” Your blank expression slowly turned into a glare. You weren’t in the mood. 

“If we’re going to work together - we might as well get along.” She looked annoyed and you couldn’t believe the gall of her.

“Get along? Did you forget what you did?” You felt like pulling your hair out. How hard was it for her to just fuck off? Things are going just fine without trying to ‘be civil’. “Why can’t you just get the picture? You left me bitter.” You let out a hollow laugh. “All that’s left is bad blood.” You’d never forgive her. She had completely destroyed your crew and your brother lost an arm because of his recklessness thereafter. It was a pipeline that she caused.

Myra looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite make out. It seemed like a sea of emotions on her face. “I thought you’d be able to understand where I came from. You and I were like two peas in a pod. Two of the same mind. I figured if anyone could figure out why and forgive - it would be you.”

Your eyes widened and you still just…couldn’t wrap your head around whatever the fuck she was on. “What burns the most, Myra, is that you lied right to my face. All that time together - two years, mind you. Was any of it real? Were you just nice for the experiment? For your research? Cause that was one hell of an act that you put on.” The domestic bliss of it all - was it all just a lie? The extent she was willing to go to manipulate you was astronomical.

The scientist looked at you before shrugging. “I cared about you, yes. I needed you to succeed in my mission, so your wellbeing was important.” You just stared at her, dumbfounded. What kinda card was she trying to play now? “That’s not…” Did this woman care about anything? How were you so blind to it before? This was a completely different woman than the one you knew; the one you knew was warm, inviting. She was cold and calculated; heartless.

“What, y/n, can we do to help you move on from this? We need your complete focus. Obviously your feelings towards me are too strong for you to operate properly. Would yelling at me help? Would letting all that anger help aid you in this mission?” You just stared at her as she spoke. You head was spinning from the sheer audacity of this woman. Once again, you felt like an absolute fool for ever having liked this woman in any capacity. She was worse than Kese. She had no remorse in her actions.

“You…you can’t relieve these demons, Myra.” You felt your eye twitch as you tried to keep yourself calm. You were so…you didn’t even know. You felt so many things that they all just conflicted with each other. “You can’t make this okay for me. You’re the one that caused these feelings.” You shook your head, closing your eyes and took a deep breath. You just needed to calm down. She wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t worth your anger. You had a task at hand that needed your attention. You needed to finish this so you could get back to your crew. You had so many things you needed to do.

“But your efficiency-” She stopped short as your dagger flew towards her, slamming into the wall right next to her head. Her head slowly turned, looking at the blade - her eyes meeting with her logo. “You’re the one impeding my work right now.” You looked at her, your breathing ragged as you were now worked up. You were trying with every fiber of your being not to absolutely throttle the life out of her. “Now, no more chit chat - get to work.”

She swallowed hard, nodding with wide eyes. You seemed to finally pull some kind of emotion from her. So, she wasn’t a robot after all, huh? It was just an act. It seemed whatever facade she had was starting to fall. She started crumbling. 

“I’m sorry,” she said in a strained voice. You looked at her - this time your face was void of emotion. “I did care. I cared about you so much - that’s why I sent you back with your brother. Because what I did was wrong and I…I wanted to repent for what I had done.” You just looked at her as she slowly slid to the ground - you only let her live because she had Lily. You kept her alive for her. You weren’t going to rob her of a parent.

“Don’t ask me for forgiveness - I’d rather watch you bleed,” you said before walking out of the lab. You needed some time away from her. You needed a breather.

--

After that…incident, Myra didn’t try to make any more small talk. She followed your lead, letting you order her around as needed. It seemed that she realized who was really in charge now - that you weren’t to be pushed around like some helpless, insecure person anymore like you were when you were staying with her. You were your own and strong. Shit, you almost rivaled with how you used to be. 

Eventually, you were ready for human trials. You weren't going to make Toko try yet; she was just a child. You took some willing adults, having them try your samples. None of them died, luckily enough. The most that happened was…nothing. Most of them were duds. 

You were irritated. Everything was right but why wasn’t it working? You tweaked and tweaked and tweaked it but nothing seemed to be changing - no matter what you did. You wanted to pull your hair out.

“You should head to bed. A fresh mind will help.” You just glared at Myra who held up her hands. “I’m just saying. You’ve been tweaking it for hours. Besides, all the subjects have gone to bed so you can’t even test it right now.” Without another word, or waiting for a response, she left you to your thoughts.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair, letting your head fall back with a long sigh. You supposed she was right. Everyone was asleep, so you couldn’t even test the new formula anyway. You stood up, stretching as a yawn escaped your lips. You were exhausted. You were working from sun up to sun down every day - it was starting to take a toll on you but…

You couldn’t give up now. 

A nap. All you needed was a nap. You walked over to the loveseat that was in the lab and in moments you were passed out.

Crash. 

You bolted upright, squinting in the dark. You saw a small figure over by your desk. Your heart stopped as you ran over to the light and turned it on. Toko was standing there, beaker shattered at her feet. “Toko!” You ran over to her, sliding on your knees - not even paying attention to the glass that was imbedding itself into your knees. 

You took her face in your hands. “Toko! Answer me!” You searched her face and she looked at you with wide, confused eyes. No, no, no! What was she doing here? Why did she drink what was in the beaker?

“T-Toko thought this was the kitchen…” Fuck! You should’ve locked the door. Tears began to line your eyes when her face started to move. “T-Toko?” you whispered, emotion clear in your voice. You couldn’t live with yourself if anything happened to her. At this point you heard voices coming from down the hallway, heading towards you.

Shit. If Toko died, you might die. You told your brother not to die, but here you were - probably going to die. Though, you’d gladly accept the fate because you made a mistake and hurt someone so innocent in the process.

The twisted smile on Toko’s face began to shift; corners of her mouth uncurling and slowly sliding down. Her large smile slowly closed and her face slowly relaxed. Your own eyes widened. Was it working? Or was she dying? You weren’t sure. “T-Toko?” you asked, your voice cracking.

Suddenly, tears appeared in her eyes and she started wailing. She threw her arms around you as she cried and cried, and you held her there in disbelief. Did it work? Did it really work? You held her close, looking up as Hiyori appeared in the doorway, stopping dead in her tracks as she saw the scene before her.

“Wh-” 

You looked at her, tears rolling down your own face as you held the crying Toko. You slowly stood up, still holding her as she continued to sob into you. “Is she…crying?” Hiyori’s voice was full of disbelief and you nodded, smiling through your own sobs.

All those years of being unable to unleash those negative emotions properly were coming forth all at once. You knew she was never able to properly grieve for her father either, so…it was all coming out now.

Tears began to fall down Hiyori’s face as she watched Toko. It was clear that she wanted to hold out and hug her, but she was holding onto you so tightly and her body was shaking so much that she didn’t want to interrupt her. She needed to get all of this out. You had a feeling that these next few days were going to be absolutely exhausting. You were going to have to do this one at a time - to give people a moment to collect themselves.

Though, Toko was a small child compared to the adults. They might be able to hold better, but for now, you were just going to let her do what she needed to do.

It wasn’t long before the small child was passed out against you. All that emotion had taken its toll and wiped her out. You slowly handed her off to Hiyori. “She should at least sleep good,” you said with a small smile. Hiyori nodded, smiling at you. “Thank you so much, doctor. I-I don’t know how to thank you.” 

You shook your head. “No need to. I’m just doing my job.”

Hiyori let out a small laugh, knowing it was going to be pointless arguing with you. “I’m going to tuck her in, you should rest as well, doctor.”

You nodded, waving as they left.

--

As you predicted, the next few days were rough. There was so much crying, touching, and wailing. You didn’t like being touched all that much by people you hardly knew, but you knew they couldn’t really help it; overcome with emotion and you were the nearest person to them. It was draining what little social battery you had past its breaking point. You were slowly realizing that you only had a social battery with your crew.

“On behalf of Wano, we cannot thank you enough,” Momonosuke said, inclining his head to you. You shook your head, holding up your hands. “I mean, you guys provided free room and board, not to mention all the other shit that I needed so…we’re even?” 

He looked at you with a surprised expression. “Even still, you are so humble. Is there really nothing else we can do for you?”

You shook your head before you realized something. “Actually, yes. Could you, perhaps, lend me a boat and supplies? I’m going to need to take a bit with me since I’m pretty sure my brother doesn’t have anything that I’m going to need on his ship.” At least for now. You’d eventually be able to restock and everything would work out in the end.

Momonosuke nodded and smiled widely. “I would be more than happy to provide you with a ship and provisions!” He looked to one of his retainers who nodded at his silent command and headed off. He turned to look at you. “Thank you again.”

You held up your hands. “Please, I’m begging you. If I hear that phrase again, I might go insane.” You heard it so much over the past few days, you weren't even sure if it was a real expression anymore. Momonosuke only laughed and put his own hands up. “Fair enough, doctor. I will mind my tongue in the future.” 

When you headed out, Hiyori popped up with Toko. They were both smiling, a genuine one from the smaller. “We’re going to miss you!” Toko chimed, running over to give you a hug. You knelt down, wrapping your arms around her. “Oh, I’m going to miss you too. I’ll make sure to call and write, okay?” 

Toko looked up at you with a bright expression and nodded. “Okay!” She ran back over to the other woman, holding her hand.

“Have fun with your hunkidy do of a man,” Hiyori chimed on your way out and you stopped. “My what?” The woman just laughed, leaving you absolutely confused. Who the hell says that? What does that even mean?

--

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for them to gather the things that you had requested. You were double checking things on the port when you heard someone say your name. You grimaced, turning around to see Myra. C’mon, couldn’t she leave you alone? She stopped as she saw your face. “You…are still mad at me?”

You just looked at her and she frowned. “I-I said I was sorry. I never meant for it to go as far as it did I-”

You just scoffed, shaking your head as you looked at your clipboard. “Spilling every lie you’ve spilled before,” you said in a dismissive tone. You shook your head. “Still, I’m not forgiving you.” You looked at her with a determined stare that bored into her soul. “And I never will.” 

Her eyes widened at you as you radiated sheer anger from your very being. She took a step back as you took a step forward, towering over her. “I hope that you never hear my name without your chest in flames.” Your tone was resolute and full of venom as if you were placing a curse on her. You could tell it already was. After all, she had sent you to Wano where your brother had been. She was obviously feeling guilty. She had tried the tough act and you tore right through that.

You were on a warpath - not to be fucked with. You had a mission and you’d be damned if you were going to let Myra get in your way. Though, you were leaving now and you couldn’t be happier. You just wanted to see your brother again. To see the crew again. To see Killer.

Man, you had so much to tell him. You had made the decision to confess your feelings, no matter how it ended up; you just couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. Though, Hiyori made it clear that it wasn’t as secret as you thought. If your brother had caught on, who the hell else had?

--

After bidding farewell and more tears being shed, not from you - you were pretty sure you were all out, you finally sailed off. Unlike your brother, you weren’t going to dive off the side of a fucking mountain, you were going to take the official port. 

It didn’t even take that long and you weren’t sure why your brother made a fuss about it. Though, when you thought about it, he was just showing off anyway. It checked out actually. Constantly in some kind of dick measuring contest with someone.

Once you were out on the sea, you took your brother’s vivre card from your pocket, getting ready to set course. 

Your heart stopped as it burst into flames.

[onlycosmere]

The Gift of Not Feeling

by Janci Patterson

I want to tell you a story about my friend Brandon.  It’s been eighteen years since this happened, and in the intervening time I’ve told this story to fewer people than I can count on one hand. 

I have kept it to myself largely because I know Brandon isn’t the kind of person who wants the good things he does blasted to the world, and I never wanted to embarrass him.  And if that’s what I’m doing now, I’m sorry for it. 

Last week, someone wrote an essay I won’t link here (as you’ve probably read it and I don’t like giving it clicks) that treated my friend at once like a circus freak who lacks feelings and also somehow as someone who is uninteresting and undeserving of attention. The article also treated two separate communities I love with contempt. I seethed about it for a couple of days, but I didn’t really entertain the idea of saying anything online, because it’s not my place and responding to the media is not professional. 

Then yesterday I read this, and I finally had something I wanted to say.

I met Brandon Sanderson when I was twenty-two years old.  I was just finishing my undergraduate degree and he was just finishing graduate school, and we had some classes that overlapped.  From there, we were in a critique group together and were part of a social group where we all hung out quite a bit.  None of us had families yet, and Brandon’s first book would come out during those couple of years, so none of us had intense career demands yet either. 

At that time in my life, I was a mess.  I had arrived at adulthood with several chemical and behavioral disorders that I did not yet understand.  My brain would sometimes and without warning explode in a horror show of fear and shame and pain so strong it felt physical.  I didn’t know what was wrong with me—indeed, I had been suffering from the depression and anxiety for so long that, in my mind, they were me.  I had no way to separate what was happening inside my head from a reality outside of it.  To me, everything I felt was real.  Because my mind filtered everything that happened outside of me through a lens of terror and agony, the world was terrifying and torturous.  In short, I was living in hell.

Most people, when I tried to describe what was happening in my mind, reacted in unhelpful ways.  I don’t blame them—very few people are equipped to know what to say to someone suffering as intensely as I was.   They would try to minimize it in an effort to minimize their own discomfort.  They would try to fix it, when it wasn’t something anyone could fix.  Or, worst of all, they would react in horror, having deep and terrifying feelings of their own about what was happening to me.  It was empathy, but it only reinforced to me that I was scary, Iwas broken, I was wrong.

And then there was Brandon.  Brandon has the fine distinction of being the first person in my life to suggest to me that what I was reacting to, the reality I was living in, was not in fact real to anyone but me.  His first and honest reaction to what was happening inside my head was genuine and unfeigned interest.  It didn’t matter how big or terrifying the emotion was.  I could tell him I hated him (and did) and his reaction, every time, would be to say, “That’s so interesting that you feel that way.  Why do you feel that?”

Why indeed?  I didn’t know why I felt that.  Brandon taught me the words “cognitive distortion.”  He taught me that reality could warp as it entered my brain, that the reality I was reacting to might not be real at all.  It might be all in my head.

Of course, it’s not helpful to tell a depressed person that their problem is all in their head—when it’s done in a dismissive way.  But Brandon wasn’t dismissing me.  He believed I had a genuine and difficult problem—but that problem wasn’t me, and it wasn’t the world around me, either.  It was as if I had spent my entire life living in a box, and I didn’t even know it.  I thought the box was the real world.  I thought the box was me.  I thought the box was all there would ever be to life, and, I think reasonably, I didn’t really want to live it anymore.

But along came Brandon Sanderson. He opened the lid to the box, looked around with interest, and said, “it’s so interesting that you live in here.  Do you know that there’s a whole world outside of this box?  Do you know that other people don’t see you the way you think they do?  Do you know that you exist, separate and independent of this box? Do you know that the box isn’t you at all?”

My whole life I had assumed that my illness and I were synonymous.  Everything that happened inside my head was me, so if it was bad and wrong and a mess, then I was bad and wrong and a mess.  There was no escaping from it, because everywhere I went, my entire life, I would always be me, and it was me.  And then my friend looks at me and says, as if surprised, “Why would you think that’s you?  It’s not you at all.  It’s happening in your head and it isn’t normal and you exist completely separately from it and it doesn’t have to be this way.”  It was as if he assisted my will save to disbelieve the illusions, and suddenly I could see it:  The horror I was living in was just chemicals in my brain.  It was just thoughts in my head.  And yes, depression is real in the sense that chemicals are real, and thoughts are real. And I would never want to minimize the very real effect it can have on the people who suffer with it. But it wasn’t reality.  It was a powerful illusion, but it was only an illusion, and if I could learn to think outside of that box I was trapped in, I could be free.

I could tell you about the other help I needed at that time.  I could tell you about how I needed to move, and Brandon found me an apartment.  I could tell you how I needed medical treatment (obviously), and Brandon helped me navigate resources to make that happen.  I could tell you about the time he sat with me in the ER and told me that the doctors weren’t taking me seriously, and they should be, and I needed to keep talking to people until somebody did.  But none of those things are the point of the story.

The point of the story is this: Brandon gave me the most important gift anyone has ever given me in my entire life—a gift that I am absolutely certain is the only reason I am still alive today.  It’s a gift that has made every good thing in my life possible every day since.  He gave me the gift of not feeling.  Instead of getting carried away in his own emotions when he saw what was happening to me, he gave me the gift of reflecting back to me a logic and patience that a person can only have when they keep their emotions in check.  I owe everything to that gift, so you can imagine the fury I feel toward anyone who would denigrate it.  Brandon is not a freak.  He’s also not the perfect paragon of virtue people sometimes present him as.  He is a person—flaws and all—with a very powerful gift that saved my life, and I doubt very much I am the only one.

Here’s the rest of the story: it took me a couple of years to climb out of that box.  I had professional help.  I did CBT.  I learned to retrain my brain to see the world outside of the lens of depression and anxiety.  For a long time, when a depressed thought would come into my mind, I would ask myself, “What would Brandon say about that thought?  Would he accept that as reality?”  And if I knew he wouldn’t, I would make myself reframe the thought, hammering it into shape until I found a thought about myself that I believed Brandon would accept.  I wanted so badly to live in his reality, the one he saw outside of that box.  I wanted to be able to see myself the way he saw me, as a person with a problem and not a person who was a problem. 

After a few years, I got my mental health to a place where I no longer lived in a constant emotional crisis.  At almost all times in my life since then I’ve been somewhere on the healthy part of the mental health spectrum.  Notable exceptions were during the postpartum period with both of my kids, and one year during the pandemic when I got hit with several personal crises at once.  Even then, I knew I was not the illness.  I knew I existed separately from it.  I knew I could crawl out of the box again, because it was only a box, and not the true reality I knew existed beyond it.

Here’s the thing about my friend Brandon—I owe everything to him, and I’ll never be able to pay it back.  He wouldn’t want me to.  He would be horrified if he thought I felt like I had to.  I joke about Brandon asking me for a favor when he asked me to finish Bastille for him—because that “favor” did a lot more good for me than it probably did for him.  But the truth is, if I am able, I will always do a favor for Brandon Sanderson.  Not because I feel like I have to pay him back, but because it feels so good to give literally anything back to a person who gave me so much.  (And that’s not even counting all the professional opportunities, or the fact that he talked me into dating my husband.) 

But really, I will never be able to pay this back.  Never ever.  So I do my very best to pay it forward.  When I encounter people who deal with similar issues, I do my very best to give them the gift of not feeling.  To sit with them and let them say all the scary things in their heads, and to react with genuine interest, but without emotional reaction.  I have sat with people who want to die, and done my very best to reflect back to them that I’m not afraid of their feelings, that I will of course want to make sure they are physically safe, but that I don’t think it’s scary that they have those thoughts, and that I think they are a real, whole person outside of those thoughts and those thoughts will never define them.  That skill has served me well.  I may never be a person who experiences little emotion (ha!) but I have learned to be a person who can set aside emotion when it’s necessary, and I learned that from Brandon, too.

So I am grateful for that gift.  The gift of not feeling. Because not feeling most definitely does not mean not caring.

Over the years, I have listened to a lot of opinions about my friend Brandon.  I have heard people say things with authority in both the positive and negative, things that I knew to be both true and false.  I’ve never felt the need to correct these things—he’s a public figure and people are going to see the persona and think what they want about him and it’s not my place to try to turn that ship.

But if I could tell you just one thing about my friend, it’s that he’s wonderful. Not because he writes books, and certainly not because he’s perfect, but because he’s a person, and like all people, he has unique gifts that enable him to make a difference in other people’s lives.

[angellayercake]

did anyone ask for "i hate writing" yet?? I'm terribly curious what that could be!

I am sorry I am only seeing this now. I'm not sure if it is me being incompetent or Tumblr or both but anyway 🙃 apologies!

'I hate writing' is my working document for Banchetto because writing it (or not writing it as the case usually is) stresses me out so much! I know I haven't updated in forever but I genuinely am still chipping away at it. I am just way too overinvested in this story and although it is all planned out in full actually getting from outline and draft to finished is a difficult process haha

But saying that I do have something finished from the next chapter so here it is a treat/apology 💜

The shift was subtle at first as you had spent a great deal of time in his rooms anyway. In a matter of days that time grew longer and longer until you rarely left on more than an errand from morning to evening. He would ask you to sit with him as he worked, join him for meals, linger in the kitchen as you prepared and even once attempting to help you clean the dishes. That is until he ended up dropping a plate in his inattention, the resounding crash making your heart skip a beat in a much less pleasant way then it usually did around him. You couldn’t even begin to be annoyed with him though, his apologetic puppy eyes forcing you to let him off with only a banishment to the kitchen table and a kiss to the tip of his nose. 

Affection was easier now, not always so underlined with that awkward tension you had almost become used to. He liked to touch you. To lace your fingers together across the table when you ate, rest his hand on your waist when you stood together, play with a lock of your hair as you spoke, press a chaste kiss to hand or your cheek in passing. You had been hesitant at first to return his affection so boldly but the way he would glow when you reached for him first, his wide smile emphasising your favourite creases at the corners of his eyes, was enough to override your self consciousness. 

There was still tension there, hot little frissons if you look into his eyes a bit too long or his body rests a little too close. Part of you wants to chase it but there was no need to rush. You chose to relish in this period of getting to know each other better, talking about your likes, dislikes, views and opinions. Other times it is like you just wanted to exist together. It is comfortable in a way you never imagined you could be with him but you are more sure now than ever that ‘Papa Emeritus III’ who had led the Ghost project and the church was only a very superficial part of who he was. 

There’s a childlike glee in him every time he tells you stories of his life peppered with ridiculous puns and dorky jokes that feels so far removed from the persona you had though you had known previously. And yet you can see how he thrived as a performer and took to that role so naturally. He puts his whole self into recreating the tale he is telling with animated hands, exaggerated expressions and often silly voices whether he is talking about his misspent youth, rising through the clergy ranks or touring adventures. You would start to feel very uninteresting in comparison until he would start to tease stories from you. Your worst cooking disasters that have him crying with laughter and disbelief that you could ever make a potato explode. But when he asks you of your family and your childhood you see a sad wistfulness in his expression that makes your heart hurt and you hope that one day he might open up about some of the harder parts of his life as well. 

[utilitycaster]

Just wondering.... why is the Imodna codependency such an issue meanwhile no one had a problem with the codependency between Widobrave?

Hi anon, this is a great question!

I've actually covered this - I don't think their situations are as comparable as many people think! Here's the post about that in case you haven't seen it. And, as the anon in that post points out, Widobrave did get a lot of pushback and hate, actually. It sounds like you might be very new to the fandom, so I want to give some gentle advice: it's worth being careful about assuming a certain form of discourse did not occur. Often, it has. I understand it's difficult to prove a negative (ie, that Widobrave did not receive hate) and it's even more difficult to do so via the Tumblr search, but Caleb and Veth's relationship was frequently criticized, diminished, and treated as not just insistently platonic, but also strictly familial. But back to the original question: I think that Caleb and Veth far more quickly built other relationships and were able to express anger with each other - Veth's outburst towards Caleb in episode 48 is a standout moment that resulted in a greater understanding, and I think I'd feel much more positively towards Imogen and Laudna as a potential romance had Laudna been able to make the same accusation, that Imogen's people did this. Was it a fair accusation from Veth? No! But it eventually cleared the air, whereas Imogen and Laudna keep sweeping everything under the rug, ignoring that the rug is now so lumpy they can barely walk without failing.

Another reason is simple numbers and recency. Widobrave, as of this post, has about 280 fics on ao3. Imodna has 1,085. This increased popularity may indeed lead to increased scrutiny. We're also, as the previous paragraph hints, talking about a ship that is in an ongoing campaign, so you're going to see far more posts talking about it than a ship from a past campaign, simply because it's still unfolding and is the subject of current discussion! Recency bias is a very real thing, and it can be difficult to adjust for, but when making this sort of comparison, it is vital to do so.

I would also be remiss if I did not address the elephant in the room, which is the nature of the fans who ship them. I'm sure this question is intended in earnest good faith, but I'm afraid I've gotten a pretty significant amount of harassment specifically from people who ship Imogen and Laudna together and don't like anyone who points out the flaws in their relationship. I've never received the same from people who shipped Caleb and Veth, despite never really shipping the latter, and indeed, and this is obviously my limited experience, but the people I follow who do ship Widobrave often embrace the flaws and conflict inherent in the ship. There are many Imodna shippers who are wonderful - especially those who do like to explore the flaws and codependency and how it might one day resolve - but, understandably, those few bad actors attempting to ignore the lack of development in the relationship or even worse, advocating for it, have really been very unpleasant to deal with. As a result, it's led me to consider more deeply why I find Imogen and Laudna's relationship uninteresting, romantically, and so that's probably another factor in why I specifically have explored Imogen and Laudna's issues far more than Caleb and Veth's. (For me personally, it's also that I was a lurker for the first year of the Mighty Nein campaign; I was binging Campaign 1 concurrently and didn't finish until July 2018, and didn't make this blog until around New Year's 2019, so I've written comparatively fewer thoughts about early Campaign 2). But getting back to the previous point, I think something people who send hate or baiting questions on anon may not always realize is that it often has the opposite effect as intended; it leads people to defend their opinions, and in doing so often strengthens their convictions as they find more evidence, which leads them to make even more posts!

Anyway, I hope this helps - obviously, this is only my perspective, and I sincerely hope anyone else of whom you ask this question extends the same good faith, honesty, and openness to other perspectives that you are bringing. I do however urge you to at minimum attempt to find some discussion from the era of early Campaign 2 to get a better understanding of how Widobrave was treated, just to ensure better responses to your inquiries. Anyway, welcome to the fandom!

[cromcrux]

I just finished watching Exception and I must say I really enjoyed it. It's a very fun mystery thriller with eye catching visuals and really interesting character designs.

It's a very tight made story with a small cast so it's easy to follow.

There are some scenes that aren't shot in ways that I really liked (there is a spinning scene that I understand the purpose of but feel could have been done better a different way). Some shots linger on rather bland or uninteresting scenery which is a shame because some of the design elements are fantastic and would have made for a much more interesting shot.

Dialogue is well done, the characters are consistent in their actions and behaviors, even if I don't necessarily like how they acted or reacted.

Mack has my favorite character design, but I'm a sucker for a broody, goal-driven punk.

Of the characters, I liked Lewis's design the least. I understand why he looks that way (they have all three masculine base body types: V, O, and square), but he is visually the least interesting to me. His personalities make up for it though.

I also love that they don't over explain the world or the characters. There is some delving into back stories, but just enough to make them feel real and always in dialogue between a character who is familiar and one who isn't (the three male characters clearly knew each other prior to the show).

No one over explains things. Each character has their own speciality and so only explains within their knowledge base.

Final spoiler free thought: I love the design of the ship. It's beautiful to me.

Spoilers going forward. Be warned.

The mystery is very well done. No one character is telegraphed as being suspicious but they also all have just enough not-known that it's difficult to clear any of them, excluding the doctor (though in the show they don't discount her potential involvement).

Patty, in my opinion, is foreshadowed very well. She is odd from the beginning and it seems like she isn't well known by the other crew members. It isn't striking at the beginning because we don't know if any of them are or are not familiar with each other.

I really like Lewis's monster design, I like that he has difficulty speaking due to the mangled shape of his mouth and throat. I find the arc of him adapting to his new body and regaining control of himself very interesting and I love the narrative beat of Mack switching from "it" to "him" immediately after he realizes his friend really might be in there somewhere. Making it clear that Mack was only using the pronoun "it" to mentally distance himself from the concept of it still being his friend Lewis. This being shown even more strongly later on when he is the first to be ruled out.

The autophilia by Patty is both a little creepy (because up until that point she really hadn't shown interest in much) and feels almost obvious. Of course the only person she could trust with such a dangerous mission would be herself, and there is real genuine care shown between the two different prints.

Overall the show left me thinking, which I enjoy. It brings up questions of personhood, was each print their own person? At what point is a copy no longer a copy? In world there were laws and policies about how to treat printed people, laws about who couldn't be reprinted and when exceptions can apply.

It brings up but does not answer: Is a copy still human if it's molecularly identical but not born in the traditional fashion? Are we just our memories and the body we inhabit is just the host?

I highly recommend this show. It's only eight episodes so it's not difficult to finish in a reasonable amount of time. If you watch or have watched it, please let me know what you think!

[thebookishautisticblog]

Loss of identity after discovering you're autistic as an adult - a personal essay

Growing up, I felt like I had two very distinct and separate personalities. There was the person I was at home - talkative, passionate, funny - and the person I was elsewhere - reserved, quiet, uninteresting. This was due to the fact that I felt safe at home; I knew I wouldn’t be judged and I knew there was very little I could do that would lead my parents to not like me anymore. Meanwhile, at school, I cycled through friends very quickly because after a certain point people seemed to stop liking me. I never knew why but friends generally started to be mean to me or they would get bored and go and join another friend group. This led me to start masking heavily, not that I was aware that that’s what I was doing. I tried to hide every part of myself that I thought people didn’t like and I tried so hard to be known as nice because that seemed to protect me from being judged. I became a textbook people pleaser. Whilst the real me is still more visible at home, I think my personality has dulled down over the years as the pressures to fit in have taken a toll on my sense of self and my mental health. I feel like the mask has gone from being something I slipped on when I left the house but that I could easily take off when I came home, to something that just stays on most of the time.

I think this partly came about, kind of ironically, when I made my first real friend. All my previous “friends” had either just straight up not liked me or had never really made the effort to truly get to know me, so I was never that close with anyone. That was up until I met this girl I’ll call Susan. It took a long time for me and Susan to grow close but eventually we did and she actually seemed to get to know me and still like me. Except, she hadn’t actually gotten to know me, she’d gotten to know the mask that was hiding the parts of me that some people find off putting. I also got the impression that that might be the only version of me that she actually liked because when the mask would slip and I would ramble or I would bring up some niche interest that I had at the time, she would look bored and not really engage with me, just moving the conversation straight onto another topic when I was finished. This was my first real feedback that the mask was doing its job; that it’s not that people don’t like me, they just don’t like certain parts of me. This made me think that maybe if I just worked hard at keeping those bits hidden, then it was possible that everyone would like me. It also kind of dashed my hope that maybe someday people would come along who liked all parts of me because even my closest friend didn’t. Therefore, it just felt easier to keep the mask on all the time instead of risking the bits of me that I wanted hidden peeping out. 

This brings me to my recent autism diagnosis. It turns out that pretty much all the traits people seem to not like about me are autistic traits. These include: giving too much or too little eye contact, having little facial expressions or body language, finding it difficult to start conversations, wanting to infodump about my interests, and a hatred of small talk among other things. After my diagnosis, I also got a name for what the mask was and I realised that I’d gotten so used to pretending that I’d  pretty much stopped thinking of it as pretending anymore. As a result, I was left feeling like my sense of self had been wiped away. Now that I wanted to take the mask off because I could see how much it was harming me, I realised that the person underneath had all but disappeared years ago. Even now, a few months down the line, I still don’t feel connected to who I am and I don’t know what to do about it. It probably hasn’t helped that I’ve been very socially isolated this year due to taking time out from education. It’s hard to figure out who you are in a vacuum. 

I hope to one day figure out who I am again and thankfully there is no time limit by which I have to do that. If anybody out there has any advice on how to do this, I would greatly appreciate them letting me know. 

[kazhewbrekker]

january book reviews

the stolen heir : holly black ⭐⭐⭐⭐

it took me about a week to read this book and by that i mean i read half, wasn’t impressed, took a week and came back and finished it. like with the cruel prince, the beginning and middle of this book aren’t all that exciting in my opinion, but holly takes the cake as usual for her incredible endings. honestly at this point reading a holly black book is worth it just to see how she wraps it. but yeah, i think it was a good starting point for the duology, im positive the prisoner’s throne will be better, as was the case with tcp > twk. im happy to say towards the end i had really connected with oak and suren/wren, however i feel like despite how fun of a concept it is to put wren and jude in direct opposition its...hm, bad ? to clarify, i wish that i felt conflicted on who’s side i was rooting for. but even if wren was in the right, which...bridle aside she isnt, i would still be in jude’s corner simply because even with all the time spent with wren it’s not enough to...connect with her on the same level as i did with jude. and thats a heavy ask to be fair; jude is one of my favorite character’s in the ya/new adult genre. but i think a understandable worry with this duology is that the folk of the air series might overshadow this new story holly black is trying to tell. i can’t say definitively if it has or has not, but i think she’s done a better job of balancing the new characters and plots with reference to the old. it’ll really be a testament to how well she can keep both separate and important in the next book as she’s hinted that jude and cardan will have a bigger role (which makes sense, since we’re uhh going to war. uh oh).

the invisible life of addie la rue : v.e. schwab ⭐⭐⭐

i read 60% of this book probably over a year ago. maybe two. on a plane. this is a reoccurring problem. but i gotta say, schwab is the queen of concepts. she hasn’t had a single book concept that i wasn’t at least a little intrigued by. unfortunately, uhh, this doesn’t always translate to an interesting plot. the beginning of this book is good, it’s engaging (as far as i remember), bestie lost me when she introduced the most uninteresting man in the world: what’s-his-name. no actually, what was his name--hold on--henry ! his name is henry. he is boring. i understand his purpose in the story, but uhh, the most interesting thing about that man was...the deal he made with the devil i guess ? and that gets revealed so late in the game you have to wade through addie being infatuated with this Regular Guy (not that i blame her when he’s the only one that can remember her), but god, yeah that’s a pretty comprehensive reason for me putting this book down for so long. the ending though, see this is the important part, the ending was very good. i was happily surprised how open-ended it was. though the hopeless romantic that lives deep inside my chest and chews on my bones will continue to believe that the dark could learn to love, okay. i don’t think that should be held against me, either way addie wins. slay queen.

daisy jones & the six : taylor jenkins reid ⭐⭐⭐

very different book from the two other before this, lol. im pretty sure i picked up this book offhandedly the last time i went to b&n, i read the seven husbands of evelyn hugo last year and wasn’t...super impressed ? authors tend to hit me a lot harder with their debuts then second or third releases. for some reason. i really respect reid for her use of journalism styles to tell these fictional stories, how much historical research probably goes into making everything seem realistic. i do think--as a personal opinion--writing about music is a very challenging thing. it’s very difficult to properly convey how music sounds, or feels, without being able to hear the music itself. (i feel the same about dancing, but that’ll probably come up another day). but the story is as much about the music as it is about the complex interweaving relationship of the characters in and outside of the band. shout out to my girl, camilla, the best character in that book. i think the most impressive thing to me about the book, besides the stylistic choices (aka the interview aspect), is how the waves minor characters like camilla or teddy or simone make deeply effect every aspect of the story. very akin to real life, there’s so many people that can change the game for you--especially for character’s like daisy and billy who are so deep in substance abuse and addiction at certain points. overall, really great book, the very last page made me laugh out loud.

beach read : emily henry ⭐⭐⭐⭐

emily henry books feel like a guilty pleasure to me at this point. i started reading her books on my flight to new york last summer, which is coincidentally where i picked up a physical copy of beach read that slept in my suitcase for uhh...six months ? anyways i finally decided to read her after talking about emily henry and her books with a friend of mine. it was a very good decision on my part--this is my favorite of her books. i feel like i need to start with the things i dont like about this book, lol. my biggest pet peeve with contemporary romance is that every single one of these characters is an author, or a publisher, or does something in the literary industry. please stop. i get thats where a lot of these authors have experience, it is their field, but jesus christ can we just have like. an illiterate main character. someone with an undeniable hatred for everything book-related. let’s be quirky and different...please ? all that said, january and gus have some actually great conversations about writer’s block and how it feels to write outside of your comfort zone. i’ll say out of all the books ive read in recent years that have to do with writers (another of which being an emily henry book 🙄), this is the best its been done in my opinion. the relationship development in this book is just very gradual and i love that, the fact that they knew each other before, but not deeply enough to be friends so we still get to see them get to know each other beyond their work is really important to me. sidenote: completely understand what january means when she’s talking about the sad and depressing shit people write about in an undergrad creative writing program. good lord. the heavy topics in this book felt very well handled in the context of...yknow a romance novel, it was kind of nice to have a love interest that wasn’t like...secretly a huge asshole who’s hiding the worst secret in the world. they had me worried for a second there when the exwife showed up, but the swerve at the last second was very appreciated. this book would have a very different review if that had been handled differently. lemme tell you, lol. overall, very enjoyable, probably the most fun ive had in this genre since the hating game. wow.

[myimaginarywonderland]

Whenever someone tells me they didn't enjoy Andor or didn't finish it, I immediately know exactly what kind of person they are and I think I need to talk about this.

The problem is, Nowadays you just have Marvel movie, Blockbuster after blockbusters. Movies filled with 0 storyline that all act the after the same principal of good guy has to save something or someone and you get bombarded with actions shots. You get bombarded with movies that look incredible but literally require you to turn your brain of because otherwise you see how senseless the stories are. I am not judging you for enjoying a movie like that but it's sad to see how this is now a form of standard when there's storywise 0 effort.

Take some of the biggest movies these last years. Spiderman home coming: The entire story shouldn't have happened in the first story because a.) a sorcerer with that power should know not to fuck around and b.) someone should have genuinely talked to Peter and he should have had time to explain. Instead you give a plot that brings back beloved characters just to what, completely erase any character development they might have had? They were literally cheap version of the heroes they were in the beginning of their movies.

Or Endgame, a mess of storyline with way too many characters and plot holes that was just used to make profit with basically no love.

But it's not just limited to Marvel movies.

Oh no, you have a bizzilion movies like Horror movies that don't even bother to just come up with new stories instead you have another part of scream, another haunted doll movie, ...

There's just cheap action, some good shots and a plot so boring you can basically predict it without watching a movie.

And then people get so used to these genuinely bad movies (because nothing would be good without the cgi etc.) that they can't even comprehend that a good story needs build up and a bit of originality.

A good story means the more time moves on, the more you understand not only about the setting of the movie but also about the story, the characters etc.

You don't just get everything established within 2 episodes and have the rest used as stretchers.

A good story makes callbacks to things, gives hints that you only understand once you have finished it.

A good story will have you feeling all emotions, in all their complex nature because people are complex and you can see that. There's nothing as easy as good and bad especially in a setting where you are forced to be no one. Because that's what Andor tells.

Andor tells the story of the people.

No fancy jedis who might have some powers to save them.

No resistance leaders like Leia who grew up with the "perfect" roll models.

No, just normal people.

The best friend who loves too much.

The mother who cares for her child.

A man who fucks up.

Someone desperate to get validation even at the expense of someone else's life.

A person that is is just evil. A person that just enjoys having power over someone else.

The shop handler who has to extra careful about any possible side businesses.

The average worker who just has to stay quiet.

The person who truly believes in resistance.

There aren't always heroes. Very rarely do people just get to be that.

And these aren't heroic stories.

These are just people.

People who are forced to live under a cruel regime that sees anything small as an offense to them, that will hurt you for even so much as thinking different.

People who are forced to either comply or risk their lives trying to hope for any small change in the future.

And what does someone like that do in an extreme situation?

Well those stories are told in Andor.

So, no it's not boring or fast paced. The characters aren't uninteresting or too complicated.

It's just realistic. It's human.

It's difficult and complex.

It's frustrating, it's angering, it's depressing because that's exactly how it should be.

This, Andor is the reality of some many of our families , hell for many it still is a reality.

[thessalian]

Thess vs More Library Trawl

Still poking through the unplayed games. Generally focusing on stuff like interactive story and life sims and stuff, mostly because I got up way earlier than I generally like to on a day I don't have work and I am exhausted. One more week until I have my week off, and then maybe I'll have the spoons to finish up Horizon Forbidden West base game, at least. Still, digging through the games library for treasure in all the stuff I've acquired over the years is kind of fun, all told. I mean, sure, some of it goes in the "Meh" collection, but at least a fair few of those were a Humble bundle or something. If I get bored with browsing through my games library like I used to read the backs of video boxes at Blockbuster (yes, I am old enough to have that be a major cultural reference point for my childhood), I can probably pick up an old favourite. I understand that Wylde Flowers has had a bit of an update, and there's some romance options I didn't take before, which might be nice to try. Also I've been meaning to pick up Spiritfarer again - starting from the beginning because it's been a long time. I just never finished it because I wasn't ready ... which is ironic or fitting or both, given what that game's about. Or I could just play more West of Loathing, which is rapidly climbing my Favourites chart.

Anyway, stuff I've played so far:

Doki Doki Literature Club - Well, that's one I'm going to have to start over, because I wasn't aware when I started it that I was going to be playing as a) male, b) otaku, and c) borderline shut-in. Not that there's anything wrong with that necessarily; just went into it with the wrong mindset. Still, I see what the things I read about this one mean - it's already low-key disturbing. Not necessarily in a bad way, but I think I want to save that one for when I have a few more spoons. So it's in the "A Further Look" collection.

Cattails: Wildwood Story - I was hoping for simple but cute and fun, and sort of got it, but the pixellation and everything made it awkward for a cat colony sim. That went directly into the "Meh" collection and probably won't be leaving it any time soon. It's just not quite uninteresting enough for "Nope". Almost, but not quite.

Scarlet Hollow - this one's been basically all over everywhere, and on playing the first chapter, I can see why. It went in the Favourites but I'm probably going to take it one chapter at a time. Savour it, kind of. But it's definitely my kind of thing - creepy, funny, and straightforward from a UI and mechanics perspective.

Tell Me Why - there's a fair bit of stuff by DON'T NOD in my library. Guess that shouldn't surprise me. (Though I notice that Life Is Strange: True Colours wasn't done by DON'T NOD, so kind of wonder what prompted that decision from SquareEnix.) Anyway, this one's been easier to get to grips with mechanically than Life Is Strange was, even if trying to position myself just right to look at things is difficult at times (not sure DON'T NOD ever cracked that properly). The story so far is ... yeah, I'd say I'm invested. Another one that went into the Favourites but another one where I might take it a little easy on it because it feels like it's going to be intense.

Blegh. 26 degrees and this isn't even the hottest it's going to get today. I hate the summer.

[shewrites02]

Gone Too Long |Shikamaru x Reader|

Summary: Not having his partner around begins to toll on Shikamaru

Word count: 3k

Lady Tsunade was assigning weekly chores to all the Shinobi who had yet to be assigned a mission. Usually these tasks were reserved for Genin, but this week had been slow for the village. Many Chunin and Jonin were left task less aimlessly patrolling the village.

"Shikamaru, you'll assist Iruka at the Academy for the remainder of the week."

Shikamaru let out a long dreadful sigh before muttering "What a drag, that's so much work." Just above his breath.

Shikamaru complaining was not out of the ordinary, but him complaining in front of the Fifth Hokage was and everyone took notice. Lady Tsunade slowly looked up from her journal with her eyebrow slightly raised. She was offering Shikamaru a chance to apologize before she completely ripped into him like she often did with Naruto. But all he did was smack his lips and cross his arms against his chest.

"Forgive him Lady Tsunade, he gets like this whenever y/n is gone on a mission." Ino announced proudly as a devilish smile graced her lips.

The other ninjas futilely tried to suppress their laughter but soon the whole room erupted into a uncontrollable fit. Even Lady Tsunade's scowl had turned into a humorous smile. Shikamaru's face began to turn beat red as his fellow shinobi teased him.

"So that explains his nasty attitude this whole week. Me and Akamaru knew there was something up with you!" Kiba laughed after Akamaru barked, agreeing.

"I bet his attitude will change once he gets some... special attention" Tenten snickered.

This even warranted a light chuckle from the stoned face Shino Aburame.

"Special... Attention?" Naruto mumbled completely lost. as usual he wasn't paying any attention and the joke had gone completely over his head. Kiba leaned over and explained the joke as clearly as he could. It took Naruto probably a full minute before he caught on and laughed with the rest of them.

Shikamaru grumbled under his breath, but didn't argue. As much as he hated to admit it to his friends, not having you around severely impacted his day to day interactions. He was constantly irritated because he didn't get as much sleep with you gone. The side of the bed where you usually reside seemed like a gaping hole with you not there, and no matter how much tossing and turning he did he was never comfortable.

He was frustrated that he couldn't come home to you after a long day of working with idiots. Even if you did nothing but tell him to give his teammates a break he missed the sound of your voice soothing him. He missed laying in your arms while you lectured that not everybody was a genius like him. At this point he would settle for your hands just gracing his.

And most of all he was distracted by the crippling fear that one of these days you might not come home to him. Shikamaru undoubtedly knew that you could handle yourself. Yall had spared a couple times and you'd come close to beating him more than once. But the idea of not being there to protect you often left him feeling helpless.

With these thoughts constantly running through his mind, it was difficult to focus on the seemingly mundane tasks he was often given. To be honest the only times he wasn't thinking of you was when he was on his own missions, and even then his thoughts were reserved for keeping his squad alive and staying alive himself specifically to see you again.

"Well you'll be glad to know she's coming back today, I'll be expecting you to be in a better mood tomorrow!" Lady Tsunade teased before shushing the crowd and returning to give out assignments.

-

Just as Shikamaru had thought working at the academy was the exact mindless work he dreaded so much. They could've put him with the younger children, given him a challenge, well at least that's what he thought. Instead he supervised a group of kids around the ages of 9 to 11. These children were no stranger to Shikamaru or his legacy, actually any shinobi rumored to have amazing talent or great potential was a topic of discussion amongst the children in the academy. The stories they've heard of Shikamaru and the Nara clan as a whole were impressive enough to earn their respect. In fear of potentially earning themselves a bad name with someone they could possibly call their squad leader once graduating, They gave Shikamaru absolutely no problems.

"Shikamaru Sensei... is it true you forfeited your last match in the Chunin exams?!" A little boy shouted across the blacktop as he and a large number of his classmates came rushing towards the lazy uninterested ninja.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I told you, Idiot!" A young girl exclaimed, hitting the previous boy in the back of the head with a scroll she had. "He was running out of Chakra and knew he couldn't finish the fight!"

The young girl's confident proclamation surprised Shikamaru. Every ninja in the village knew the story, but very few knew the reasoning behind his actions. Usually the only ones who accurately recounted the story were those who saw the match with their own eyes.

"Who told you that?" Shikamaru inquired.

"Y/n Sensei told our whole class the story the last time she came to the academy, had all of us try to figure out why you'd throw a match that you practically had won. She said it's her favorite story to tell students who are about to graduate."

"Yeah she said it's still the most amazing match she's watched during the Chunin exams, even now!"

"She told us that if we wanna be half the ninja you are, we always have to be thinking two steps ahead."

Shikamaru couldn't stop that infamous smirk from creeping onto his face. He loved hearing that you spoke to your class about him, that you even bragged about how talented he was, even if it was to a bunch of children. You admired him not only for the person he is, but the ninja he's become and that was a great honor to Shikamaru.

"Look, it's y/n Sensei, she's back from her mission!" The little girl from before yelled pointing over at the village's entrance. All the children fervently yelled your name in a vain attempt to get your attention. The academy laid on hill that allowed them to peer down at the entire village, though they could see you, you could not see them.

Shikamaru acting as if he too were one of your students rushed to the fence to see if they were correct, if finally the love of his life had returned home. Sure enough right alongside Kakashi and Tsume there you were. Your smile is as bright as ever despite having a few minor scrapes and bruises. Butterflies filled the pit of Shikamaru's stomach and what was just a sly smirk had turned into a full blown smile, teeth and all. He's heart fluttered, but skipped a beat at the same time it was like he had seen you for the first time.

"Go ahead, class is wrapping up anyway!" Iruka whispered over to him.

Shikamaru was stunned, he was so entranced by the sight of you he was completely ignorant to his surroundings. For the first time since he graduated from the Academy he had let Iruka sneak up on him. Your being gone had even a greater hold on him than he initially thought. He needed to see you right now.

He thankfully patted Iruka on his back before darting off toward the exit. He knew you'd first go to Ichirkau Ramen to pick up dinner for the two of you, a tradition set in place to celebrate a successful mission. So if he could move quick enough he could make it to the flower shop and back to the apartment the two of you shared before you. He did not want a cold empty uninviting apartment to be what greeted you once you returned home, especially after seeing you had endured wounds while on your mission. Honestly he didn't want you to have to worry about a thing.

Once he fumbled into the door, he immediately began to prepare for your arrival. He lit every candle he could find and arranged them around the perimeter of the bathroom while the water for a hot bath drew. He even went as far as to place rose petals in the water. Something he never understood but knew you would appreciate. When that was handled he placed one of his t-shirts on the counter and dimmed the lights. He could hear your footsteps approaching down the hall.

His nonchalant nature made it absolutely impossible for him to display any type of excitement or anticipation willingly. Due to this he sprinted back to living snatching up a book that was left on the coffee table and pretended to read it as you walked into the room.

He lowered the book just below his nose being careful to conceal the wide tooth smile he had behind those pages.

"You're home." He announced very casually.

You laughed. He never exceeded those two words when it came to welcoming you back, never a "I missed you" or "I'm so excited to see you" always those two words. When you first started dating such a dull response hurt your feelings, you wanted him to be jumping for joy to see you. Now the promise of hearing those two words was the primary motivation in completing your missions.

"And look, ramen!" You squealed slightly shaking the bag.

Shikamaru glanced over at the bag then returned his gaze to his book. You scoffed slightly offended, this was your favorite part of coming home, pigging out on loads of ramen after eating forest food for a week. Shikamaru knew this! He'd let you recite the details of your mission to him while he attentively listened, it was when you explained all the scrapes and bruises you inevitably always returned with.

"Go get cleaned up so we can eat." He demanded eyes still glued to that stupid book.

Your face fell, that childish giddy smile now wiped clean away. Shikamaru had never had a problem sharing at least a quick meal with you before you hopped in the shower. You were well aware of the toll half a day's walk had on one's body, but was this your boyfriend's crude way of telling you, you smelled. You sat the ramen on the dining room table not bothering to suppress the pout on your face.

Shikamaru got a glimpse of your expression out the side of his eye and immediately felt guilty. Perhaps there was a better way of getting you in the bathroom to see his surprise for you. One that hadn't made you feel so self conscious or small. For such a genius he made some stupid mistakes.

He placed his book on the coffee table to meet you in the kitchen. Bypassing the food he snuck behind you, creeping his arms around your waist before planting a small soft kiss on your cheek. Shikamaru snuggled his head into your neck before speaking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so crass." He mumbled against your skin. "But I do have a surprise for you in the bathroom."

You perked up at the mention of a surprise. A wide grin sneaking on your lips as the scowl you held earlier dissipated. Shikamaru had always been a thoughtful boyfriend even if he was so coy in his interactions with you. He'd fill the apartment with roses for your anniversary , then downplay the extravagant act when you walked in the door. He once planned an entire surprise birthday party for you just to spend the entire night proclaiming he barely did anything. You were excited to see what considerate display your partner had put together this time.

You let out a small gasp as you walked into the romantically decorated bathroom. The dim candles created such a relaxed yet intimate ambiance to the entire space. You chuckled some at the rose petals. Despite the countless lectures both you and Ino had received on how pointless it was to pick the petals off of roses when a person could simply just give their partner a bouquet of roses, he still included them in your warm bath.

"Shika... you didn't have to do all this."

"It was nothing." He reassured disregarding the full speed sprint from the academy to the Yamanaka flower shop, then to the apartment. "Here let me help you."

Shikamaru assisted you in removing your garments. He knew how even the smallest tasks could bring out the failure's in your body after such a long mission. Something as simple as slipping out of a pair of cargoes seemed like a feat to a body so sore from what felt like an endless battle. He let you grasp onto his forearm before dipping into the tub and sinking shoulder deep. The warm water against your ailing body felt almost euphoric. As usual Shikamaru knew exactly what you needed.

Of course your generous boyfriend could not stop there, running you a bath was not enough. He was going to bathe you himself too. Tenderly rubbing the dirt and grime from every cut and scrape on your body.

"How'd you get this one?" a question he asked ever so often. His tone is always dull and irritated.

Shikamaru hated to see you covered in bruises. You called them a causality of the job, but to him they were just a sign that he wasn't there to protect you. He would try to ignore the small ones, but any that seemed too deep or painful he felt obligated to inquire about. Although he never liked the answer. That's probably why wiping away your wounds was so therapeutic for him. If he couldn't prevent the pain, at least he could alleviate it now.

"A shuriken hit me, cheap shot." You huffed.

Your boyfriend's face didn't soften, in fact you were sure you saw him actually grimace at the mention of you getting hit. You wondered why he even tortured himself asking questions he didn't want the answer to. Nonetheless you weren't going to let some small injuries ruin your first night home.

"Rumor around the village is you missed me a whole lot while I was away. "

Shikamaru's cheeks instantly flushed as he averted his eyes away from you. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously as a few unsure chuckles fell from his mouth. He was searching for the words to say.

"I ran into Naruto at Ichiraku's, he said you had such an attitude with all of them. Heard you even snapped at Lady Tsunade you missed me so much."

"Damn, Naruto!" He mumbled underneath his breath. "You mess up my whole routine when you leave!"

You let out an exaggerated sigh at the tired excuse.

"Give it up Nara, you missed me!"

Reluctantly the shadow ninja accepted defeat. He laced his now wet hands with yours and brought them to his lips. He planted a trail of endearing kisses up your arm to your elbow before gently returning your hand to the soothing water.

"I'm a mess when you're not here. I swear you occupy so much space in my brain, I can't even think straight. I miss you so much."

The revelation caught you off guard. Maybe it was his lustful entrance of finally having you home after a month, but Shikamaru very rarely was this vulnerable with you. Such words blossomed butterflies in your stomach. It was as if Shikamaru was confessing his feelings for you for the very first time.

"I love you so much y/n."

"I Love you too."

The two of you feel into a comfortable silence. Shikamaru stood to grab you a dry towel. Reluctant you feel deeper into the water, Although drawing colder you couldn't imagine getting out the tub just yet. After all it had been weeks since you allowed yourself to be pampered in such a way. You wanted to savor every moment.

"God, this feels so good." You moaned in pleasure.

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow at your blissful proclamation, that infamous smirk plastered on his face. He approached the tub, abandoning the towel on the counter, and kneeled behind you. He snaked his hand up your torso, fondling you some before they landed at your neck. You'd have let out a small gasp if the familiar feeling of his fingers lightly squeezing your throat hadn't completely knocked the air out of you. He kissed his way from behind your ear down to the base of your neck.

"I can make you feel better."

-

The next morning the two of you found yourselves in Lady Tsunade's office, along with your comrades. As usual the Fifth Hokage was assigning daily tasks, when her eyes fell upon Shikamaru. His demeanor was clearly different from yesterday, His hands had returned to his pockets and his scowl had been replaced with a content grin.

"You seem to be in better spirits Shikamaru." Tsunade announced inquisitively. "I assume you've resolved that issue of yours?"

The other shinobi snickered at her insinuation. The attention made both you and Shikamaru look down at the floor hoping it would open up and consume you two whole. Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck, eyes closed before answering.

"Yes Ma'am."

[magicalyaku]

I spent two very great weeks of vacation in Seoul (and Jeju) with my friends and am now begrudgingly home again. I still managed to squeeze in a bit of reading time. My TBR didn't get any shorter though, because of the 10 books I read, 8 were from the library and only one of those was on my reading list beforehand. Great!

Solange wir die Sterne sehen (Liam Erpenbach): This was kind of heavy. Both from the flowery writing style and the topic of a serious illness. But it was done well and really sweet. Next to the romance, there's also a great and very important platonic relationship which is something I'll always appreaciate.

Fence 1-4 (C.S. Pacat, Johanna The Mad): After the heavy read and with just a week to go before my vacation I didn't want to start anything I might not be able to finish or too difficult. So comics it was! I borrowed all the volumes my library had. (And I will be the first one to get it once they buy the fifth, hrhr!) A fun read!

A Far Wilder Magic (Allison Saft): Another month, another YA fantasy book I did not like! 8D And what a shame, because the cover is lovely and the blurb sounded so good, but I never got into the writing style and the world building. I just expected a real fantasy instead of a "just like our world but with alchemy" and a real hunting adventure and not a silly competition event where the only action is the five mile walk from the house into town and back. I liked that for once the girl was the mysterious and strong one while the boy was the noisy, easy-going type. But I was a little dispappointed that her strength was just a "I need to keep it together" and not "I'm proud of who I am" kind of strength. And also that sex scene on the beach? "There was sand everywhere but I didn't care." Well, I did care. Gross.

The Foxhole Court (Nora Sakavic): I fully admit that I've been brainwashed. I've seen this book before and was always uninterested because sports and that hideous cover. Then my tumblr radar flooded me with fanarts and quotes for three weeks and I cried "But the cover is so ugly!!" and then a certain person went and made pretty new dustjackets, which made me suffer thoroughly, and then my library said "Look, it's available right now!". I couldn't help it. The universe told me to read! D: And what can I say, I loved it. Maybe it's thanks to the fact that I read A Far Wilder Magic right before and loathed it, that I had a much easier time appreciating things done well in The Foxhole Court. (Skip if you don't want lengthy examples: In AFWM the author uses way too many pronouns for my taste. As in several paragraphs with no mention of the name. At one point it even was the heroine and her mother talking and it would have been easy to use the names of either woman as none was used in the sentences right before, yet it was "she" in one sentence referring to the mother and "she" in the next referring to the daughter. (I know that this can work but here I was just confused). I'm a writer myself and I struggle with writing scenes like that and my beta-reader told me I use too many pronouns, so I'm probably extra aware of such things in the books I read. It annoyed me to no end in AFWM. And then came TFC with four boys talking in the same scene and it just worked and I was a little amazed. Funnily enough, something similar happened back then with The Raven Cycle. I hated the book I read before, it was so boring and the characters were incrediby lame. I DNFed it and started The Raven Boys and within the first 50 or so pages I realised that even though it introduced like a million characters at once I already knew and liked every single one better than I did with 3 people after 200 pages of the former book. 8D (Needless to say that TRC is one of my favourite series)) Back to TFC! For once, there's a bunch of interesting characters! I mean, yes, they’re all weirdos and the violence and drugs are kinda a lot, buuuut ... Neil can handle himself. Also, the showdown was a duel of words! And nothing of what Tumblr teased me with happened so far (which to be honest makes it more fun), so I'm looking forward to the next volumes!

Keeper of the Lost Cities 1 (Shannon Messenger) (Audiobook): This one is so long, omg. I'm usually bad with audiobooks but I started listening on the flight home from Seoul. And then kept listening at home while rolling around on the floor wallowing in despair that my vacation is over (and probably jetlag). It's definitely a series starter book. So many small things happening one after each other and the one big thing in the end doesn't even get resolved. But it's cute and interesting enough or else I would not have made through 12 hours. The only thing I did not appreciate as much was the amount of suffering Sophie goes through. I do like my characters suffering a bit (never say no to a cute boy crying), but she's only 12 years old. No need to torture her that much. Also girl, what's with that "I'm glad he won't be my big brother"? You have no idea, what's good! D: Keep Fitz as big brother and Keefe as a boyfriend, if you ask me. (Apart from the fact that with 12 or 13 you really don't need a boyfriend at all.)

This Is Why They Hate Us (Aaron H. Aceves): I borrowed this one from the library after I tossed another book after 50 pages because I could not bear another YA heroine with secret magic powers. It's not like I hate 17-year-old girls, but as I said in the previous post I have no patience for them at the moment. The best friend in This is why they hate us? I wanted to choke her in the beginning! 8D "Oh Quique, your summer can't be good without a boyfriend!" "You're 17 and haven't kissed anyone yet?!" (not literal quotes) I hate reading stuff like that. Luckily, it got better later. There were a lot of different topics crammed into and I'm not sure if it did justice to all of them, but in the end I think it was a decent story about finding oneself. After the bumpy start I decided to mainly read it as "life experience" (as in I'll never be a 17-year-old boy so reading about them makes me believe I can write about them better), but as it went on I actually came to like it.

Wo Träume schlafen gehen (Marta Kubis): This one was hard. From the blurb I thought I'd love it. 12-year-old girl, her big brother, an airship and an adventure? Sign me up! It's also pretty short with 200 pages yet I still got bored in the middle and once again neither liked the writing style nor the heroine ...

On a final note, due to ... things happening, I started watching Yuri on Ice for the first time ever. Between that and the other All for the Game books I think, my October will be fun! uAu~

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (14)

all posts in the master list

--

He said with his whole chest HE TOOK MY GIRL OUT

What the fuck?! I’m not his girl????!! 

And then he just fucking ran away, typical fucking idiot bitch behavior 

I’m so annoyed. Has he said anything to you?

Like, honestly, this is such bullshit! Who does he think he is!? HIS GIRL FUCKIN REALLY????

Brady was definitely not going to love the string of texts you angrily sent him but you were far too irritated to care and lately, he was really the only person you could talk to about Matthew. 

Because of ‘less than ideal ice conditions’ you had another day off and you weren’t sure what to do with your free time but you were confident that it was going to involve alcohol. 

Whatever was going on between yourself and Matthew had presented itself in the form of a giant dumpster fire and you were going to need something stiff to really think through it. Not in the mood to socialize, you decided against texting a few of your friends to meet for brunch, instead going to the local liquor store and grabbing two bottles of your favorite red wine and a small container of Fireball. 

You were sure you were going to regret the Fireball because taking shots of cinnamon whiskey while drinking red wine was fucking disgusting, but whatever, treat yourself, right?

++

Drunk. Druuuuuuunk. You were fucking hammered. 

“Why the fuck hasn’t he texted back,” you mused, “what could he possibly be fucking doing?”

Entirely too intoxicated, and too impatient in general, you called Brady.

“Everything ok?” he answered immediately.

“Yeah, yeah I just want to know if Matty talked to you.”

“Matty? Fucking hell, have you been drinking?”

“No,” you lied, “I’ve never had a drink in my life.” 

“My god, you’re wasted. Are you at home?”

“Yep!”

“Good, stay there.”

You didn’t argue as he ended the call and you downed the rest of your glass of wine. Twenty minutes passed until someone was pounding on your door and you were far too inebriated to bother checking who was knocking. 

Regret set in as soon as you opened the door.

“Getting fucking hammered they day before work isn’t a good look,” Matthew pushed past you and barreled into your apartment, “time to sober up.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You fucking heard me, Matthew, no.”

“Brady told me you had a lot to drink but I obviously underestimated him.”

“I like Brady, he’s nice to me.”

Matthew’s frown slipped into a grin as you spoke about his brother, “You need to sleep.”

“It’s like, 4pm, I don’t need to sleep.”

“Whatever you say.”

He quietly let himself out of your apartment as you poured another glass of wine, but not before grabbing a bottle of water from your fridge and ibuprofen from your medicine cabinet and sitting them the side table next to your bed. 

++

You woke up with a pounding head and heavy limbs. The amount of alcohol you consumed the day before was insane and you couldn’t believe you were up. You hadn’t bothered with your phone at all after calling Brady the day before but now you were catching up on your messages. 

From Brady:

You’re fucking gone. I’m sending Matt to make sure you’re good.

Don’t get pissed at me for that.

Text me when you’re up again, want to make sure my future sister is stable.

From Matthew:

Text me when you wake up, I’m kind of worried about you.

Please text me as soon as you see this. Please.

You fired off a message to Brady, letting him know you were safe and healthy and only slightly hungover. The last part was a lie, you were incredibly hungover, but he didn’t need to know. You ignored Matthew’s messages and didn’t bother to respond. You weren’t sure if drunk-you was trying to look out for hungover-you but you were more than grateful for the bottle of water and ibuprofen sitting next to your bed. 

As you dressed for work, you downed as much water as you could and tried your hardest to not look how you felt, which was like you’d been hit by a semi truck. You would need an entire lake’s worth of water and even more caffeine to get through the day.

++

“You’re kidding me, is that 9x9 white lightening?”

“It might be…” you trailed off, taking a sip of your coffee. 

“Rough night?” 

“A little bit.” 

You dropped into a chair next to your coworker and tried to ignore her judgement of your highly caffeinated, incredibly sugary drink. The morning meeting was always boring but you had a feeling that today’s would be worse, given all the forces working against you. 

Just as you suspected, the morning meeting was uninteresting and as soon as you exited the conference room, refilling your water bottle was the number one priority. 

You weren’t paying attention to what was happening in front of you, instead keeping your eyes on your phone and heading to fill your bottle until you slammed into the hard chest of someone else.

“Jesus Christ,” you spat, irritated that someone got in your way, “watch where you’re going!”

“Take your own advice,” he responded, and you knew exactly who it was that you’d run into, “thanks for texting me back this morning. I even asked nicely.”

“Oh,” your cheeks reddened, “sorry, didn’t check my phone.”

Matthew rolled his eyes, “no need to lie to me. I talk to my brother.”

Oh. Well, you were definitely fucking caught.

“Sorry, sorry, I just, sorry.” 

You avoided making any further eye contact with him and hurried past, trying your damnedest to get as far away from him as you possibly could.

*

He would never admit to anyone that it hurt, but it definitely hurt. 

“Sorry, didn’t check my phone.”

She lied and that sucked. She had no problem updating Brady, a person she’d never even fucking met, but she couldn’t be bothered to keep him in the loop?

He was serious about moving on from whatever feelings he harbored toward her but it was difficult when she was standing in front of him, even if she was lying straight to his face. 

Matthew needed something temporary, a bandaid, to get him through the night and he knew exactly who the call. Eden would answer and she would be more than happy to the spend night in his bed. 

++

“You’ve been kind of weird lately,” she pressed a kiss to his Adam’s apple as she waited for his response. 

“Sorry,” Matthew tried, “i’ve been off my game.”

“I get it, pressure and all that,” Eden continued her trail of kisses down his neck and across his chest.

He should have loved it. He should have enjoyed her soft lips make their way down his neck to his hips but the only thing he could think about was not Eden. He let her continue, though, and made sure he didn’t say the wrong name when she sucked him off. 

It wasn’t until she was seated on his hips, sliding up and down his erection that he realized it wasn’t fun for him anymore. Sleeping with anyone he could bring home used to be exciting and fun and kind of mysterious but not anymore.

He felt bad about it, but all Matthew wanted was for her to finish and get out of his apartment. He didn’t even care if he found his own high, because honestly, the only person he wanted to help him spill over the edge was someone else. 

There was no more denying it, no more pushing his feelings aside as he slept with women that meant nothing to him. 

He had a small taste of her, in the drunken kiss she’d given him, but now he was sure he needed more. No, not needed, he had to have more. He had to have her entirely. 

[uncloseted]

How do I know if I have ADHD or if I'm just procrastinating because school work is boring and I want to sleep? Sometimes I struggle to do my homework especially if it's late or I had to go to work and my friend keeps telling me it's a symptom of ADHD if I can't focus enough to do my work.

You might have ADHD if most of the following statements are true about you, and you have experienced these situations often or very often throughout your life:

You have trouble wrapping up the final details of a project once the challenging parts have been done.

You have difficulty getting things in order when you have to do a task that requires organization.

You have trouble remembering appointments or obligations.

You avoid or delay getting started on tasks that require a lot of thought.

You fidget or squirm when you have to sit down for a long time.

You feel overly active and compelled to do things, as if you're "driven by a motor".

Other signs of ADHD include if the following statements are true about you often or very often, and have been throughout your life:

You make careless mistakes when you have to work on a boring or difficult project.

You have difficulty keeping your attention when you are doing boring or repetitive work.

You have difficulty concentrating on what people are saying to you, even when they're speaking to you directly.

You misplace things.

You're distracted by activity or noise around you.

You feel restless or fidgety where you're expected to remain seated, or leave your seat when you're expected to remain seated.

You have difficulty unwinding and relaxing when you have time to yourself.

You find yourself talking too much in social situations.

You find yourself finishing the sentences of the people you're talking to.

You have difficulty waiting your turn in situations where taking turns is required.

You interrupt others when they're busy.

Everyone experiences these symptoms once in a while, but if you experience them often and they're getting in the way of your life, you may want to talk to a doctor about getting evaluated for ADHD.

The way I would personally describe the difference between ADHD and procrastination is that when ADHD is preventing me from doing something, I want to do the thing but I can't. If you'll excuse me for being pretentious for a minute, it reminds me of the ending of Waiting for Godot:

Vladimir: Well, shall we go?

Estragon: Yes, let's go.

[They do not move]

Vladimir and Estragon know they should move. They want to move. Emotionally, they're trying to move. But they can't physically do it. This is a conversation I have with my brain all day long about everything, important or unimportant, things I enjoy doing and things I'm uninterested in. "Shall we brush out teeth?" "Yes, brushing our teeth is a good idea. It's important for our health and something we want to do." [Christina does not move]. "Okay, we'll wait for three more minutes and then we'll go brush our teeth." [three minutes pass, Christina does not move] "Okay, if you go brush your teeth, then you get a reward." [Christina does not move] And so on, and so on. For me, it's like a form of paralysis, except I know my body can move; it's just my brain that won't send the signals.

Procrastination is different. It's when you don't want to do the thing so you're not doing it, even though you know you should. Generally, people who are procrastinating are doing something else that's productive or enjoyable. They're just not doing the task that they should be doing. And when someone who's procrastinating is at the wire, they can do the work that they've been putting off. People with ADHD can sometimes do the task in a panic at the last minute, but just as often they miss the deadline entirely.

That said, procrastination is often indicative of its own issues. I've said before on here that I don't believe in laziness as a concept, and I stand by that. Procrastination isn't an issue of willpower. It's a result of an inability to manage negative moods that we have around a task. We procrastinate because the task is boring, or gross, or anxiety-provoking, or we're afraid that we'll fail at the task so we don't want to start it at all, or we resent that this is a task that we have to do, or we're not sure where to start, or we're not sure we're capable of achieving the task... to stop procrastinating, we don't need to "be less lazy". We need to address the underlying negative moods that we associate with doing this task instead of adding to those negative moods by blaming ourselves for not being able to do the task. We need to be able to practice self-compassion by forgiving ourselves for procrastinating, and we need to come up with strategies for coping with those negative moods.

Some ways to manage those feelings are:

Cultivating curiosity about the procrastination. Why are you procrastinating? What emotions are you feeling? Where do those emotions come from? What are you feeling in your body?

Reframing the task. Find ways to think about the task that are positive. Instead of being something scary that you might fail at, maybe it's an opportunity to practice a skill or learn something new. I always try to remind myself of this gif when I feel like procrastinating:

Consider only the next action. Break your task down into small pieces, and then focus only on the immediate "action step" in front of you. If that's too much for you, you can think in hypotheticals- "if I was going to do this task, the next step I would do is this. Then I would do this."

Just do 5 minutes. Sometimes, the biggest hurdle to get over is just starting. If you tell yourself that you only need to work on the task for 5 minutes, and then you can quit, you're more likely to start. Then, once the 5 minutes is up, working on the task doesn't feel so bad and you can continue to do it.

Temptation bundling. Do something you enjoy doing alongside the thing you're procrastinating. Maybe you don't want to clean your room, but you do want to listen to a new episode of a podcast. Maybe you don't want to exercise, but you do want to watch a new episode of TV. If you pair an action that you want to do with one that you should do, you're more likely to actually do the one that you should do.

Make temptation more inconvenient. This is maybe an obvious one, but it's harder to procrastinate if you make it hard to procrastinate. Put your phone on do not disturb and work somewhere that has limited distractions.

The last thing I want to quickly touch on is that you mentioned you have trouble with procrastination when it's late or you had to go to work. Your "procrastination" might just be that you're tired. No person has an unlimited supply of energy, regardless of how much willpower they have. So maybe it's not that you're procrastinating, but rather that you're just out of energy. If that's the case, you may need to commit to sleeping more hours every night, improving your sleep hygiene, managing your time more effectively, or cutting back on commitments in your life that are draining your energy.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

silver, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Who said humans were animals of wisdom? For Yoongi, they’re animals of regret. Does that justify him cheating on his girlfriend with her/you? Absolutely not.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, smut (fem reader, car sex, fingering, m-receiving oral); non-idol!AU; angst; cheating; don’t do this to your significant other, please; Yoongi’s POV

--

Bad decisions are born from frustration and resentment.

None of it was supposed to happen. His life was fine, perfect in some people’s eyes. He was dating the girl his parents had introduced him to because it made them happy. She was polite, had a good background, and a nice smile. There wasn’t anything wrong with her.

Except he felt miserable.

Min Yoongi felt suffocated, uninterested, and annoyed at their lack of chemistry. His girl was pretty, the conventional kind of prettiness that couldn’t be denied. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Maybe he just didn’t understand beauty or something. Maybe he was being selfish for wanting more. At the start, it was alright. It was a fun little game, figuring someone out. But instead of a maze, he was on a seesaw, trying to determine if this up and down was as simple was it seemed. It sucked. And now Yoongi wanted to get off, but it seemed too difficult. Too difficult to disappoint his parents, her parents, and her aspirations of him being a good little husband.

He wanted to throw up thinking about it.

And then, she was there.

Dark lipstick and a playful smile. Black eyeshadow, eyes like a panther. Silver rings that glimmered in the flashing club lights.  Silver chain necklaces tangled in a mess around her neck, framing that slightly rounder face instead of the conformist v-line everyone was starving themselves for. Black oversized hoodie that hung on her smaller frame, paired with that short, short black dress paired with chunky black ankle boots. Thighs that he wanted to sink his teeth into and mold with his hands.

That night, Yoongi had sat there with his beer, fixated on this new presence and wishing for the first time that he was single as fuck. He didn’t know if it was because he was so unhappy in his current relationship or if it was because he liked the way she looked. It didn’t matter. He burned with jealousy as she chatted with the bartender, silver rings flashing as she moved her hands animatedly to her story. At home, Yoongi had a good little girl waiting for him with her vanilla tastes and it made him sick to his stomach.

The worst part was, other than being boring as fuck, his girl was fine.

He watched as she leaned on her hand, grinning as the bartender poured her another shot. The grin of someone who did not give a fuck what anyone thought of her actions. Yoongi wanted to shove his dick into that face.

His phone buzzed and he wanted to throw it across the club. Instead, he pulled it from his pocket with a neutral expression and checked his messages. His girlfriend asking if he was alright or if he needed to be picked up. He responded that he was fine and that he would call a taxi home to be safe. Told her he loved her and realized he didn’t even mean it.

He must be the awful one.

When he looked up, she was gone. Good. Maybe she had finally left to give him and his mind some peace.

Jeon Jungkook was looking around, blinking confusedly. The youngest in their group, Yoongi always thought he looked the cutest when he was bewildered. Yoongi raised his eyebrow.

“Something wrong, bro?”

Jungkook frowned. “Where’s Taehyung?”

Ah, yes. Kim Taehyung. The one Yoongi thought was the most trouble even though he was a year older than Jungkook. Maybe it was because they had different viewpoints and they often clashed in opinion, Yoongi finding him too childish and simple in mentality in comparison to his. But eventually they learned to get along – a different viewpoint is not necessarily a wrong one. Yoongi learned that being childish once in while might actually lighten his outlook on life.

Alright, to be honest he realized he was a bit of a pessimistic jackass.

In any case, it was with that question that shit started to go downhill. Because the next thing Yoongi knew, Taehyung’s boyish, boxy smile came back with a grin and dark lipstick smeared down his chin. Next time he was with his friends, she showed up again, elbow resting on Taehyung’s shoulder, looking cool and comfortable in her black leather jacket and tiny as fuck black T-shirt dress.

Yoongi hated it.

She wore too many silver accessories that flashed in the light and made her stand out. Her makeup was too dark and haunted him in his dreams. She would sit next to Taehyung like his pet panther, complimenting his dark hair and sharp jawline with her wildness. It was torture, because Yoongi knew that he had a pretty little thing with a cute little voice waiting for him at home. It wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was this dangerous-looking woman who climbed into Taehyung’s lap and straddled him right in front of them, unashamed and unapologetic. Her fingers tangled in Taehyung’s hair and Taehyung’s large hand planted firmly on her ass as they had a casual conversation with Park Jimin like nothing weird was happening. Jimin had an open mind about it all – for him, as long as his best friend was happy, he didn’t see the problem. Also, she liked to press her tits against Taehyung’s chest and Jimin was a pervert.

Okay, yes, Yoongi knew he was jealous as fuck.

When Taehyung and her parted ways after a few months, he thought he was free. He thought he could forget about it all. He and his girlfriend were happy. They didn’t have sex anymore, but that happened sometimes. It was normal to settle down a bit after the honeymoon phase – if their few times of starfish sex could be considered a honeymoon phase.

He knew he was being overly mean, but he honestly didn’t give a shit at this point.

It wasn’t until he was having dinner with one of his close friends, Jung Hoseok, that he thought about her again. Hoseok was smiling, handing him some grilled meat, and chatting away. He liked talking to Hoseok. Hoseok made everything more light-hearted and fun. Hoseok was going on about something, but when Yoongi looked up, he saw her. All the way at the front of the restaurant, standing there with a leather jacket and tight black jeans. She was handing an elderly woman in a dirty apron a thick stack of papers and smiling. Tiny white crop top, lips painted dark red and eyes smoked with black. But the elderly owner was smiling, nodding as she pointed to the papers and spoke about them. The silver rings and silver chains flashed in the fluorescent lights.

Hoseok noticed his change in demeanor and turned around.

“Oh, that’s that woman Taehyung was seeing not too long ago,” Hoseok noted, tilting his head. “Taehyungie said she’s some kind of accountant for small businesses, but I didn’t know she did it for this place! Shall we go say hi?”

“No.”

Hoseok turned around, staring at him. “Huh?”

Yoongi looked down, staring at his bowl of rice. “She seems busy. Let her be.”

“Oh... Okay.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He wanted to smash it. Instead, he pulled it out of his pants and stared at it. His girlfriend, asking him to come home and not stay out too late. He frowned at it.

Hoseok prodded him and smiled. “Ah, sorry, have I kept you out too late? You better go home – I’ll pay today.”

Yoongi shook his head, pulling out his wallet. “No, no, I’ll pay. Least I could do,” he said. He pulled out some bills and stood up. “Stay and finish eating. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“Hey, hyung,” Hoseok called as Yoongi began to walk away. Yoongi turned to look back at him, seeing his friend’s heart-shaped smile and calming brown eyes.

“You should do what makes you happy, okay? Don’t get too caught up in who you think you should be.”

“Ah… right.”

He left the restaurant, out into the night. The cheer of the bustling street, filled with happy couples and laughing friends. The happy noise taunted him. Yoongi zipped his parka, shoving his phone deep in his pocket. He could smell the delicious scent of meat and rice from the restaurant behind him, mixing with the faint scent of cigarettes and car exhaust.

He looked up and she was there. Standing a little to the side, speaking with an older guy who was eyeing her tits. She shook her head, moving deftly away from his outstretched hand. Her fingers curled into a fist, silver rings flashing.

“Hey.”

Her head whipped around, eyes widening as she recognized him.

“I thought we were leaving? Come on.”

Yoongi grabbed her hand and pulled her along, burying them in the crowd. Her silver rings cut into his hand, but he held it tight, as if he was afraid that she would run away. After a few meters, she pulled her hand from his grasp.

“Oi, you didn’t have to do that,” she said sternly, frowning.

Yoongi shrugged. “I was just trying to save you the assault charges.”

She sighed and raised her hands, as if she was admitting her guilt. “Eh… alright then. Thanks, I guess.”

It was awkward. They never really talked when she was dating Taehyung, mostly because he knew he couldn’t control his mind when he was around her. She was polite to him, but there was definite distance between them.

“Hey, uh… can I ask you something?”

She tilted her head, running the tip of her tongue over her painted lips. Fuck.

“Are you seeing someone?”

“Me?” She pointed to herself and laughed, shaking her head. “Nah, I don’t want to be in a relationship. Just casual sex for me.” She pointed to him. “But aren’t you with someone? I recall Taehyungie telling me you had a cute little girlfriend.”

“We broke up.”

He said it without thinking. His face was neutral. She pursed her lips, watching him carefully.

“Hmm, I see,” she finally said.

He told himself to do it. He wanted it. He wanted it right now.

“Want to come with me for a bit?”

-

That’s how they ended up in the back of Yoongi’s car, her ring-covered hand grabbing the back of his head, pulling his lips to hers. She smelled like dark cherries, sugary and heavy. He felt her hot breath on his lips, her tongue darting out and licking him like a snake.

“What do you want? Your dick sucked? My pussy on your face? Me bouncing on your dick or on all fours?” she whispered, biting his lower lip and tugging on it lightly.

Fuck. All of it and there wasn’t enough time or space. “Don’t tempt me or I’ll rip your clothes off,” he growled.

She chuckled slyly, crashing her lips to his. Her lips were slippery, lipstick smearing against his lips as he kissed her, sucking on her tongue. She moaned into his mouth, so hot and sweet that his cock strained in his pants. She pulled back, lipstick down to her chin. One look in the rearview mirror and he knew he looked the same.

“Damn, Yoongi, you look sexy as fuck,” she breathed, grinning at him.

He felt his cheeks grow hot at the compliment. He hoped the dim streetlights of the parking lot didn’t give him away. She unzipped his parka, pulling his black shirt up his chest. He raised an eyebrow. She smirked, running her nails over his skin, giving him goosebumps. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Hey, if you’re going to look, let me look too.”

She raised her hands and grinned. “Sure.”

She shrugged off her leather jacket, letting it fall. Pulled down the straps of her tiny white crop top, letting her breasts spill out from the top. His eyes widened seeing her hard nipples right in front of his face. Tinted windows or not, it was still a semi-public area.

It made him even harder, if that was possible.

He reached up and rubbed his thumb against one, breath hitching at the hardness. She raised an eyebrow.

“Please don’t tell me you’re a vanilla boy,” she taunted, rolling her eyes.

His eyes narrowed and he pinched them roughly, making her squeal.

“What was that?” He let his voice drop several octaves, pinching them again.

She winced, but didn’t back down. “Best you can do?”

He gripped her nipples tightly and pulled up, earning him a pained moan. “Who do you think you’re testing?” he drawled, feeling her grind against his lap, too much fabric between them.

“That’s better,” she growled back, cocking her chin defiantly.

He grabbed her breasts and dug his nails into them, rubbing his palms against her nipples. They were deliciously soft, the skin smooth against his callouses. He could feel the cool metal of her silver necklines against his fingertips.

“Take off your jeans.”

She struggled to get out of them, pulling her jeans and panties off together. His heart skipped a beat as he witnessed the string of her juices snap against her thigh, glistening in the low light. The scent of her sex filled the small car, intoxicating him.

“Already wet for me, huh?”

She smirked. “What can I say? I have a weakness for assertiveness.”

He let go of her tits, tracing his fingers on her thighs. The thighs he dreamt about, the thighs he jacked off to when he was alone in the shower, the thighs he watched enviously clamp around Taehyung’s waist right in front of his face. They practically fucked when they were in public and it made him jealous and angry seeing their obvious lust for one another.

He sunk his fingers into those juicy thighs, sucking in a breath in satisfaction. Fuck, they were so fucking soft, so full and sexy in his hands.

“Spread those lips for me,” he breathed, eyes fixated on her pussy.

She leaned back a little, tongue in cheek. His eyes widened as he realized she had a tattoo on the right side of her inner thigh. A laughing cartoonish skull. God, what lucky fuck had done that? She reached down with her ringed fingers and forced her pussy open with two of them, wet, shiny, and quivering, the pink bud swollen with need. His arousal so strong that he would remember it for nights on end.

He reached out and pulled her to him by the waist, sliding his fingers up her inner thigh. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, nipples brushing against his skin. He squeezed the flesh next to her pussy, feeling her juices drip down the back of his hand. She sucked in a breath in anticipation. He turned his hand, brushing a fingertip against her wetness.

“Such a fucking tease,” she hissed, grabbing the back of his head and tangling her fingers in his hair.

He grinned devilishly. “So needy. Tell me what you want.”

Her lips brushed against his, eyes boring into his, burning with desire.

“Finger me with those delicious hands of yours.”

She kissed him, roughly, and he plunged his fingers into her wetness, almost moaning into her mouth as he felt her walls clench around him. He ground his knuckle against her clit as he worked her, turning her into a ruined mess above him. He was sure her juices were dripping onto his pants, covering him with her scent.

“Fuck, Yoongi, fuck!”

He didn’t care if she came or not, just kept pumping his fingers in and out of her, hard and fast. Her necklaces clattered against each other, clinking in rhythm of his thrusts. Each moan was his adrenaline, fingering her so hard she was bouncing in his lap, probably making his car rock with the motion.

He didn’t even care if someone knew. In fact, he wanted someone to know.

Her rings dug into his skin as she gripped onto his shirt, shuddering as she came all over his hand, so slick and wet that he slipped out by accident. He readjusted, but she grabbed his hand, pulling it up.

“You trying to put us in jail?” she snickered, backing up a little.

“If I can still fuck you in jail, does it matter?” he countered, licking his fingers. Oh, God. Sweet with a hint of sour, so fucking delicious that he wanted to drink it out of her right now.

She pushed him up, unbuttoning his pants as she did so. She yanked them down, his bare ass sticking to the leather of his seats. That kind of thing would really annoy him if it wasn’t for her bending down. The metal of her rings felt cool against his cock. She opened her mouth, tongue out and ass up. The image burned into his mind.

Fuck his girlfriend, he should have taken her home so they could have fucked on his bed.

She took him in her hot mouth, swirling her tongue around the head. Down, down. Lips pressed against the base of his cock. He could feel the lipstick leaving an imprint on his skin. Messy and erotic, exactly what he wanted. He pressed his head against the window, groaning as she began to bob her head up and down, awkwardly positioned in the car. The head of his cock hit the back of her throat and he moaned, feeling the muscles grip the head tightly before backing up again. The head scraped against the roof of her mouth, making his eyes roll back in his head with pleasure. Was getting head ever this good? Were lips really this soft, mouths really this tight? Her hands were gripping his hips, rings pinching his skin a little, but he didn’t care. The hint of pain heightened his senses, mixing with the pleasure.

He felt her pause and he looked down, seeing her mouth open just a little. He felt her tongue press against the base of his balls, teasing them and coating them in saliva.

“F-fuck me…” he hissed, breath hitching as she started up again, faster, tighter. He gripped the seat, not wanting to grab her head and ruin her pace. Her tongue pressed against the bottom of the head and he groaned, feeling the familiar tension at the base of his stomach.

“S-shit, I’m going to–”

He didn’t get to grit out any more words, because they turned into a dragged-out moan as he shot into her throat. She swallowed, holding to him tightly. He could hear each gulp loud and clear, punctuating his damnation. She licked him slowly, softly. He gasped at the sensitivity, squeezing his eyes shut as she milked out every last drop.

His dick slid out of her mouth with a wet plop, limply falling between his legs. Dark lipstick down to her chin, smokey eyes devilishly looking up at him. At that moment, Yoongi knew.

She was who he wanted.

-

Yoongi sat in the driver’s seat, wiping his mouth with a spare tissue. He was a sticky mess underneath his clothes. He didn’t really want to think about what he had just done. He could still smell her, her taste still coated on his tongue.

He sighed. He pulled out his phone from his pocket, turning it back on. He waited patiently, sitting in the darkness. He had offered to drop her off wherever she liked, but she just laughed and said she would be fine.

“I’m worried about the poor fool who tries to pick you up,” he had said with a smirk.

She was halfway out of his car, turning back and smiling.

“No promises.”

He touched the scrap of paper on the dashboard. He should throw it away. He felt the vibration of his phone, loading up all the messages and missed calls. He didn’t have to look. He knew who it was. After a long moment, Yoongi unlocked his phone and swiped all the notifications away.

And then he saved a new contact.

-

part ii

--

masterpost

[solomonish]

hello! i saw that ur requests were open for prompts, could u maybe do "playing Mario Kart after the kids are in bed and cursing all the other drivers out" with MC and Lucifer in like the future when they have a family and stuff lol tanku uwu

Ficlet Requests! (CLOSED)

is it just me or does the cat peach AI always seem to outrace all the others?

Playing Mario Kart after the kids are in bed and cursing all the other drivers out - Lucifer

A long time ago, Lucifer didn’t believe you when you made passing comments on how hard-headedness didn’t miss a single member of his family. He always turned his nose at the idea, telling himself that you meant to take him out of the lineup. With how stubbornly his children refused to go to bed, though, you hoped he filled in the blanks and knew just where they got their attitude from. You didn’t bring it up, as you were completely uninterested in an argument, but you couldn’t hide the smidge of ‘I told you so’ on your face when Lucifer finally returned from their rooms.

When he sat on the couch, you heard him let out a great huff. It was hard to remember that he was older than you could begin to comprehend, and his soul seemed even older than that. As he ran a hand through his hair, you silently held one of the small controllers out to him. When he didn’t take it fast enough, you shook it a little bit, the swinging wristband catching his attention.

Lucifer did nothing to hide his confusion as he glanced from the controller to you. “Did the kids not put their games away? Or did you forget to unlock the top piece again?”

Frustrated with his sly remarks, you tossed the controller so it landed in his lap. If it looked small in your hands, his long fingers made it seem like a controller for a fairy, rather than an adult.

“They did not turn off their games, but it’s ok. I thought you and I could play a few rounds.”

Lucifer looked at you as if you started speaking gibberish, conveniently forgetting that this wasn’t a new occurrence in your house. Perhaps it was his pride that prevented him from admitting to himself that he played video games with his family - or perhaps it was his pride preventing him from admitting it because the next logical confession would be to admit that he frequently loses to his spouse. That was probably what made him so willing to accept your challenge: that innate desire to win and be the best.

Normally, you would start teasing him before the races even started, judging his kart choices and bragging about your stats while refusing to show him what you aimed for. However, since the kids had been so difficult to put to bed, you kept your comments to yourself. Even if there was a tense air of competition between the two of you, tonight was one of the more relaxing competition nights.

Or, that was the hope. You made the mistake of choosing the course that Lucifer was best at and found yourself falling behind. Still, you were trailing behind him, taking the turns as best you could and hoping he might swing out a little too wide. Just when you thought you could take the lead, a shell came from one of the AIs and hit you. When you swore underneath your breath, Lucifer spared you a glance. 

"Getting into it?" He asked, preening himself on his victory already. With a growl in your throat, you opened your mouth to respond when another shell flew on screen, this time taking him out.

"HA!" You shouted, chuckling at the disbelief on his face. Then, remembering the fussy children who were (hopefully) slumbering in their rooms, you repeated in a whisper, "Ha."

The look he gave you as you both crossed the finish line, placing somewhere in the middle (though you were ahead of him by a second), was two warnings in one: keep your mouth shut so you don't wake the children, and keep your mouth shut if you don't want a sulky husband on your hands.

"Hey, we can get Cat Peach next race," you answered, shrugging and turning your attention to the TV. You kept your plans to sabotage him and take first to yourself. By the wary expression on his face, Lucifer already knew.