#if this is acceptable to some people then that’s fine

[help-help-i-need-an-adult]

This!

I love to sing. I’ve been singing on stage and at every opportunity since I was 5.

I have traveled the country to sing. I volunteered to be awake every day at 4am and not get home till midnight during the final week of a semester every year to do extra singing as a kid.

I’ve sang with opera companies and local theaters and ballet companies as a volunteer.

When I was the age I was doing this, my dad told me to do what I love for a living and I’ll never work a day in my life.

The thing is singing is work. A lot of it. And it’s hard work.

(There are some lucky people who could refuse to do a lot of the things I’m about to get into and still be successful professional singers, but I promise you, they are not the majority of musicians.)

Specifically, I hate reading sheet music. I can read it and I’m really good as sight reading. But I hate it.

I hate wearing makeup. The older you get, the more you’re expected to wear makeup.

I hate heels. And shaving. And a slew of other things you are expected to do all the time if you’re a singer as an adult female. Dresses and bras and spanks and UGH! No thank you.

And here’s another thing. I watched my older sister who also loves to sing pursue being an opera singer since the age of 13.

She worked a job as early as 14 to pay for her own piano lessons. She went to a fine arts high school and trained under one of the most prestigious soprano opera coaches in the world. She couldn’t get into a college of the same caliber, but studied music anyway.

I watched her bleach her hair to straw and then stop. Over eat and then starve herself with a scary diet. Worry about her makeup every damn day and wear heels around the house so she would be used to them. Fret over outfits being exactly what would be acceptable in her profession of choice to the point where she didn’t have clothes for clubbing with friends. She wore a pink sweater and white pencil skirt to go clubbing with a friend once. She looked like she was going to church.

She got her 1st degree in music education because she couldn’t audition for an opera company till she was 35, and then didn’t use it because she hated teaching children.

She proceeded to work retail and food service and hate it and be miserable and mean to everyone around her because of it.

She became so critical of MY singing and MY appearance because she assumed I’d follow her footsteps to being a professional singer. I couldn’t sing to myself while doing chores without her stopping me to tell me I’d done xyz wrong. I couldn’t buy and wear a dress for an event without her spending hours telling me why it was ugly and how I’d get raped in it. (Nevermind how many other people told me it looked lovely, that shit sticks in your head in a bad way.)

She tried to force me into a diet at 14. I was 5’5 and 130lbs soaking wet.

She called me lazy for not having to energy and drive to pay for my own piano lessons. Nevermind that my teenager level paycheck was going to pay for my own medical care.

I know she kept going back to school for music and was working on her doctorate at one point because our brother told me about it. I have no idea if she’s auditioned and been accepted by an opera company or not. I stopped talking to her over a decade ago because I couldn’t take her abuse anymore.

She took dad’s advice so literally that she worked herself into a terrible person. She was just as miserable as our dad who didn’t follow his dreams at all because of money if not more so.

I watched her doing these things to herself and others and by 14 I realized I did not want that for myself.

I tried a few different things. I thought I might be a lawyer or historian or even a teacher.

In the end, college was awful for me. I never finished despite getting a head start on it at 15. I worked retail jobs until I landed my current position.

I like it a lot. More importantly, I love the life it affords me.

I like the work. It’s fairly repetitive and easy to manage. It even is contributing to a cause I find to be important to bettering the world.

I like the people I work with. I get to work from home and watch tv while I work and have a cat on my lap. I almost never have to get dressed unless I have an in-person meeting. Virtual meetings? No one cares what I’m wearing as long as I’m fully clothed. I’m far from the only one who doesn’t shave or wear makeup despite it being a female dominated space. It’s LGBTQ+ friendly and is actually being ahead of the curve on inclusion in many respects (wild for being in a red state).

Sometimes I get paid to eat s’mores and go on scavenger hunts. My hours are flexible. I have almost 400 hours of saved up sick time I can use. My boss is human and accommodating for things like death in the family even though my family now is a found family.

My pay isn’t stellar because my job is “entry level” but it still pays better than most anything else I’m qualified for without a college degree.

And I can afford to sing.

I sing with 2 local choral ensembles regularly. One of them requires me to wear makeup and shave and wear costumes when we perform. One just wants me to wear all black and not smell bad.

I volunteer to sing with fellow alumni of the prestigious children’s choir I grew up with. Their appearance requirements are somewhere in between the other two.

And I love it because it’s for me. I could stop if one group or another ever stopped filling my cup. I don’t have to read sheet music daily or panic over auditions or spend every day working on pieces I hate.

It’s lovely, because I can still love it.

This isn’t to say you can’t love the grind.

One of my choral ensembles had a director (we recently lost her due to a move) who does singing, our specific kind of singing, for a living. She scrapes by financially with making learning tracks and teaching and coaching. Her travel schedule is crazy because the quartet she performs and competes with live all over the country and they perform and teach all over the world. She wears makeup all the time and cute clothes and is comfortable in heels and navigating stages without her glasses.

Unlike my sister, she’s happy doing these things, but it still looks exhausting.

I don’t want to have to live her schedule. I don’t have her energy levels and never have.

I value my peace and I want my music to be for me. Not a pay check. I want to be able to interpret music and put in artistry I like sometimes. But other times I’m perfectly happy just being part of the group that meets once a week.

Figure out if depending on your art to eat would make you hate it. If so, do something else that you like and can afford you the life and art you love.

I see a lot of people who tell young people–especially young people who are heading into college–that they should “do what they love.” And they’re right. You should do what you love.

But there’s a world of difference between doing what you love for you, and doing what you love for a paycheck. 

I went to undergrad for graphic design and 3-D design–art and more art, I usually say–and I loved it. You know what I didn’t love? Trying to collect my fees from clients. Trying to meet unrealistic, over-simplified or over-specific briefs from people who didn’t know what they were talking about. Coming home, having worked creatively all day, with no creative juice left for the things I wanted to do.

You know what I would tell you instead? Do something that you can be interested in, with people you like.

You don’t have to love it. Loving your work can be a lot, and it often means you have to live in your job 24/7. Some people can do that. Not everyone can, or should.  But if you can find work that’s interesting enough that it doesn’t feel tedious, and people you can enjoy spending your 9-5 with, and you can make money, that’s great! It means you can do the things you love for you.

I’m in law school now. It’s interesting work, and difficult, and I like doing it. I like how complicated it gets, and I like the stories it tells. But I don’t come home and read law journals for fun. I come home, and I sculpt, and I draw, and I paint, and I read. I do these things for me.

And I love it. 

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Contronyms

Contronym

A word that has two meanings that are opposite or nearly opposite.

Example: Left means both “leave” (two people had left) and “remain” (How many people are left?), which are antonyms.

An antonym is a word that is opposite in meaning to another.

Contronyms are also known as Janus words.

Janus was an ancient Roman god with two faces that looked in opposite directions.

Another term for these words is auto-antonym, or a word that means the opposite of itself.

Technical terms for this phenomenon are enantiosemy, enantionymy, or antilogy.

Examples of Contronyms

Cleave

Comes from two different Old English words, clēofan and cleofian, which is how it got these two opposite meanings.

Cleave: to split, to separate (Owen swung the axe down hard in order to cleave the log into two even pieces.)

Cleave: to adhere closely, to stick (Young beaver pups cleave to their mother in the water until they are strong enough to swim on their own.)

Dust

When used as a verb, is a contronym.

Dust: to wipe the dust from (Every Saturday, he would dust the nicknacks on the bookshelves to keep them clean.)

Dust: to sprinkle with a powder or dust (The baker liked to dust their pumpkin bread with just a sprinkle of cinnamon.)

Overlook

Overlook: to fail to notice, perceive, or consider (I hadn’t finished the last two homework questions, but I hoped my teacher would overlook it and give me full marks anyway.)

Overlook: to look after, oversee, or supervise (The manager was required to personally overlook the transfer of valuable materials every evening.)

Sanction

Sanction: to authorize, approve, or allow (My parents wouldn’t sanction video games in our home because they thought they were too violent.)

Sanction: to penalize (The school said they were going to sanction the students for arriving late to class.)

Weather

The word weather is a contronym, but only when used as a verb.

Weather: to expose to the weather, to disintegrate (The paint on the house was chipped and weathered from the decades of rain and snow.)

Weather: to endure (We weren’t sure that we would be able to weather the storm if we didn’t find shelter.)

Back Up

Back up: to support (Ultimately, the scientists were unable to back up their claims with hard evidence.)

Back up: to retreat (The zebras backed up when they spotted the alligators in the water.)

Fine

The adjective fine has the potential to lead to some real misunderstandings about just how excellent (or not) something is.

Fine: of superior or best quality (To prepare for the Queen’s visit, the household staff cleaned the fine linens and polished the best silver.)

Fine (informal): satisfactorily, acceptably (Sandra thought her performance was fine, but nothing special, so she was surprised when she won second place.)

Original

The adjective original is an example of a contronym.

Original: belonging to the beginning of something (Despite being hundreds of years old, the painting was still in its original frame.)

Original: new, fresh, inventive (While sitting in the bathtub, the inventor was struck with an original idea.)

Pitted

The contronym pitted often causes confusion at the grocery store.

Pitted: having pits; in the sense of “mark or indent” (The sailor’s face was pitted and craggy from the wind and salt water.)

Pitted: having the pit removed; in the sense of “stone of a fruit” (My mom reminded me to buy the pitted cherries, because she didn’t want to take out the stones herself.)

Bound

Bound is an example of a contronym that has two different meanings because it actually has two different etymologies. The first meaning comes from the Old English bindan. The second meaning comes from the Old Norse būinn, “to get ready.”

Bound: tied, fastened or secured with a band or bond (The Mountie rushed to save the woman who was bound to the railroad tracks.)

Bound: going or intending to go, destined [for] (With all of their talents, the band was bound to be a success.)

Source ⚜ More: Basics & Refreshers ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[thoughtfulfiction]

The Game Plan

Author’s note: Merry Christmas Bolt fam🩵Still working on rewrites but I needed to write something new to get inspired. I am done with school so I’ll hopefully be able to get fics out more often!

Last time he was this nervous, he stood on shaky legs in front of a New York crowd accepting the William V. Campbell trophy. Public speaking wasn’t his favorite thing in the world and he hated talking about himself. But this was about a hundred times more important. And more nerve wracking.

When Justin suggested flying to your hometown to spend some time with your parents, you didn’t bat an eye. You’d been talking about making a trip back home after the season was over and were elated to discover that he was on the same page. Now that the time had come and you were looking at him as he drove the rental car to your family home, you couldn't help but think maybe he was regretting his decision. The man was constantly fidgeting in his seat, his grip on the steering wheel tight, eyes full of stress and semi concern.

"You okay?" You furrowed your eyebrows at him, urging your boyfriend to let you in on whatever was causing him such turmoil.

"What? Oh yeah no, I'm fine." He knew that sounded less than convincing. "It's just weird with the season being over. Almost like I have to learn how to relax again. This week will be good though."

Nodding in understanding, you place a hand on his leg hoping that the simple touch will ease his mind. Little did you know he was in the midst of a huge inner crisis. Justin rehearsed what he was going to say a few more times before pulling into your parent's driveway. Swallowing down his nerves, he grabbed your suitcase and his, walking toward the front door feeling like his legs weighed a ton each.

Your mom had already taken you away to the kitchen by the time he walked in, immediately lost in conversation about work and life while your dad grabbed one of the bags out of Justin's hands. The two men trudged up the stairs to drop off the bags, exchanging pleasantries and getting settled in before heading to the backyard to cook. Your dad loved Justin. He was the perfect partner for you, a perfect mix of fun/exciting and responsible/caring. He had seen you fall more and more in love with the quarterback over the years which made it easy to love him too. And getting to talk about football all day with someone who actually valued such intimate conversations about the sport helped.

All of the distracting small talk was out of the way, Justin had complimented your dad on his new grill and the improvements he'd made on the backyard and they had unpacked some of the nitty gritty details of the season and who your dad thought they should draft as perfect additions to the roster for the next season and the only thing that remained was the pit of nerves in his stomach that hadn't disappeared since boarding the plane.

"Something on your mind?" Your dad was observant, not really one to beat around the bush. He'd noticed a slight edge to Justin's voice since the two of you had arrived and was really trying to wait to give him some time. He'd obviously gotten too impatient. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Justin's had relationships before. Not many times, but he's felt security and love in other people, seeing a future with them and thought about what the rest of his life would look like. Being with you was not only the most serious relationship he'd ever been in but he found himself constantly planning for the future and setting his family up for long-term success, a family that he now couldn't envision without you. He swallowed thickly, suddenly overcome with emotion at the words that he needed to express to your father. "There is something on my mind actually," he clears his throat, trying really hard to maintain eye contact and not look down at the grill. "I wanted to come here first thing to ask you for your permission."

"My...permission?"

"Your permission, your blessing. Either one. Or both." Your boyfriend rambles on nervously, the words tumbling out of his mouth completely out of order and unlike anything he’d just spent time practicing.

Your dad still looks at him, confused. Justin sighs, "I love your daughter more than anything in the world. She’s the greatest thing in my life and I never thought I’d have the opportunity to be with someone so special. Now that I’ve gotten to be with her I don’t ever want to let her go and...it's really important for me to ask you before I propose."

In that moment it all begins to click and your dad nods. Here was one of the most calm and collected quarterbacks in the NFL stumbling over his words out of nerves because he wanted to ask for permission before getting engaged. A man who's build could arguably be compared to ancient Greek deities was a mere mortal when it came to you and it took every ounce of your dad's strength not to crack a smile. "You came all this way to ask me if you can marry my daughter. So you could do this in person?" The younger man nods. "Before I answer, can you promise me one thing?"

"Anything." Justin says without hesitation. He didn't care what he had to do, he just knew he was going to do it no matter what it took.

Your dad looks toward the house, watching you and your mom laughing while getting the sides set on the table. He looks back at Justin, eyes brimming with tears. "She is my greatest treasure. Promise me you will treat her like nothing less than that."

"I will sir, you have my word."

Justin holds out a hand and your dad pulls him in for a hug. "Welcome to the family son," patting him on the back. The quarterback swore he heard a crack in the other man’s voice but said nothing.

You watched the exchange from the kitchen, slightly confused because your dad didn't exactly give out free hugs like they were Halloween candy. "What is happening out there?"

Your mom catches her husband's eye at the end of the hug, seeing him point at his ring finger and trying to contain her excitement. "I'm sure it's nothing," she smiles, handing you another plate to set on the table, "Justin probably asked him if he wants to golf tomorrow. You know he's been trying to get more into it and bringing an NFL quarterback in front of all of his friends is definitely going to boost his confidence." The two of you stood in silence for a bit until you seemed satisfied with that answer and the two men were back inside, immediately distracting you from asking any further questions as conversation flowed as the food and wine were consumed. Justin helped your mom wash the dishes that night, deep in some secret conversation filled with sporadic giggles and all you could think about was how lucky you were to find someone that fit in so seamlessly. Little did you know they were planning a surprise that you'd never forget.

Step one? Find the perfect ring.

"Isabella, I need a favor," Justin takes a seat at the counter next to his sister-in-law. "You need to distract y/n for a couple hours so I can go through her phone."

Placing her own phone down, she looks at him like he's grown another head. "Why in the hell would I do that? Why would YOU do that?” The more she talks the more visibly upset she looks and Justin is severely regretting not being more specific.

“It’s—it’s not what you think. I just—”

She holds up a finger to keep him from explaining himself any more. “I just want you to know that I’m never thought you’d be one of those people and it’s really disappointing.”

He sighs, looking around to make sure that you aren’t walking in any time soon. “I heard you guys talking last week. About how you had a bunch of videos in your Tik Tok likes that helped you plan your wedding. Then she mentioned that she’s been saving some rings that she thinks would look good on her and I need to see those. So I can design the best ring.”

The tension in her body is instantly released and her features are filled with relief. She holds a hand over her mouth to hide a happy squeal before taking a moment to compose herself so she doesn’t give anything away when she sees you. “You’re proposing,” she whispers leaning in close so no one else can hear.

He leans in too, a wide grin on his face. “I’m proposing.”

“I’ll keep her busy,” she promises, giving him a fist bump.

A girls only DIY spa night in gave him the perfect outlet to grabbing your phone. As soon as the cucumber slices were on your eyelids and Isabella gave him the sign, your cellphone was in his hand and he got to work. He screenshotted 13 different ring designs, jotting down some notes in his own phone, looking at various ring styles and the cut that would best match the style that you were looking for. Then he jotted down some local jewelers to visit and design the ring in person, going as far as flying your best friend to Oregon for a few days under false pretenses that she had a work trip in the area and decided to stay at the ranch since it was nicer than a hotel.

Approximately four weeks after his initial meeting with the jeweler, Justin held the velvet box in his hands and admired everyone’s hard work. He’d had a hand in designing every crevice of the ring that looked much smaller in between his fingers as he examined the diamond. Fresh nerves were beginning to set in as the moment became more and more tangible and real. Once he found a secure spot to hide the ring, he moved forward with the next part of his master plan.

Step two? Come up with proposal ideas.

The beautiful thing about the offseason was that you still had to work remotely, so you’d be in your office in one corner of the house and after his morning workout he had all the free time in the world. The bad thing about that was that he had all this free time to sit and think about how he was going to set up an unforgettable proposal. Luckily, some of his receivers had come down for a Nike promo event and to throw so he had people to bounce ideas off of.

“What about this? I take her to Sofi and propose in the middle of the stadium with just the two of us. We have the video board showing monumental moments of our relationship and as she’s watching I just get down on a knee.”

Ladd takes a sip of water, making eye contact with Derius, who says nothing. Justin continues pacing, taking the collective silence as a sign to suggest something else.

“Don’t everyone jump up at once,” he lets out a nervous laugh, wracking his brain. “Maybe I could drive us to Napa Valley with dinner and some music?” That suggestion earned more interaction, some guys nodded, recalling their own proposals and having him take some pointers from their experiences. There was a time where he couldn’t log onto Instagram without seeing one of his teammates getting engaged and the only thing that made him more nervous than proposing was the media circus that would result from the news getting out. Yes, he wanted it to be special and intimate but the thought of the social media team getting their hands on it and invading your privacy was a little scary. Somehow he had to push that thought out of his mind and tackle one problem at a time.

“Private beach proposal in Hawaii?”

Simi stands up at the suggestion, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Sounds beautiful in theory, but aren’t you scared of having the ring so close to the water?”

“Yeah what if you’re so nervous that you drop the box and it’s washed away by the tide,” Ladd notes. “The less distracting things around you the better. Helps you focus on just her.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem, he’s obsessed,” Patrick says, walking by just to chastise his brother. Justin flips him off without uttering a word, an unwavering focus on the task at hand.

Nothing seemed right, some ideas were too flashy, too cheesy. He wanted to show you how much you meant to him, how you’d changed his perspective on life and balancing work and your relationship. That it was possible to do both because the right person brings things out of you that you didn’t even know where there. How do you encompass all of those feelings into one perfect location?

“I’m not gonna lie,” Simi says, voice full of sincerity. “You gotta let the perfect time come to you, you’ll know when the time is right. Trust me.”

Justin had no other choice at this point. He spent the next few weeks holding onto the ring, desperately looking for the right time. Spending all this time stressing and planning and plotting had really taken him away from you. There was an unspoken distance between the two of you and it had become increasingly upsetting. Even when you were in the same room it felt like he was miles away, stuck in his own head, shutting you out completely. You were starting to think that he was looking for a way out and couldn’t decide on a way to let you down easy. The thought of him tip toeing around a breakup made you nauseous.

“Why haven’t you done it yet? You can’t keep putting this off forever,” you heard Mitch say one morning after you came home earlier than expected from an in-person work meeting. Usually you wouldn’t eavesdrop, but Justin’s behavior hadn’t exactly given you a vote of confidence in the state of your relationship. You couldn’t even really remember the last time you went on a date without him looking like he was seconds away from getting sick.

Justin on the other hand had spent every dinner date thinking about whether or not this was the moment. Walking around with the ring in his pocket everywhere he went just in case, deathly afraid of you finding it on accident. That thought alone, of him walking in the house to you holding that ring box not only made him want to cry a little at the ruined surprise but also make him feel like throwing up. And he was tired of hearing everyone and their mom ask him when he was going to pull the trigger and propose.

Especially when he felt like it was happening every single day.

“I’m not putting it off! I just—this is harder than I thought. It’s not just something to check off the to-do list. I gotta do it right or I’m not doing it at all.”

He felt so bad about dumping you that he was putting it off…so he could do it the right way? What even is the right way to end a relationship? You didn’t want to stick around to find out, making your way back outside to sit in your car and think about your next move.

“Justin is planning on dumping me.” You sighed into the phone, calling your best friend.

“What? Where did you get that from?”

You spent the next 20 minutes explaining to her all the signs. His weird behavior, always on his phone but will never let you see what he’s doing or who he’s talking to. You feel like he’s hiding something but he makes sure to only give you minor details saying he’s planning a trip with the guys or talking to his agent about taking on different endorsements. It all just seems too fishy. Why is he torturing you like this by stringing you along? Should you just break up with him first?

“You have to act normal like you don’t suspect anything,” you hear at the other end of the line. Her voice is calm and reassuring which is nice because the last thing you needed to hear was that she didn’t believe you. “If he’s breaking up with you then let him explain him himself. Justin has never been someone to do things without a purpose and you know he’d never do anything knowing that it would hurt you.”

She had a point. “Fine. You’re right, I’ll hear him out and figure it out after I gather all the information. Thank you for talking me off the ledge.”

“You’re welcome.” As soon as you hung up the phone, your friend texted Justin that he should start acting a bit more casual because you were freaking out.

The next evening, he surprised you with a bonfire movie night.

“What’s all this?”

Justin pats the spot on the outdoor couch next to him, welcoming you to take a seat. “An apology? I’m sorry I’ve been off lately. There’s been a lot on my mind and I got so lost in my head that I’ve been neglecting you but that stops today. It had nothing to do with how I feel about you at all, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Care to share with the class what was bothering you for so long?”

You cuddle into his side, a sense of comfort immediately taking over the constant state of unease that previously surrounded you. Looking up at him, he places a gentle kiss on your lips, so soft it leaves you wanting more. “It doesn’t matter now, all that I care about,” he sneaks another kiss, “is being right here with you.”

“Well in that case,” you whisper, “we should make s’mores.”

Justin laughs, kissing you on the cheek and rising to his feet, helping you up before heading into the kitchen. The tray on the counter was loaded with various snack items, Reese’s cups, pretzels and strawberries along with normal s’more ingredients. As you made your way back to the bonfire and began to dig in, a thought popped into your mind while enjoying the stillness.

“We can’t do things like this in LA. You can’t beat the scenery out there and the background noise of the traffic isn’t exactly the most romantic.”

He looks up at the sky full of stars, remembering exactly why he bought land out here in the first place. “I’ve always thought about raising our future kids here. Los Angeles is where I work but this is home, they can grow up and be normal kids here. Play outside, go fishing, experience a childhood that has lasting memories. Not sitting in traffic for hours and never seeing a real tree.”

“Our kids?”

“Yeah,” he says without hesitation. “I think about Coach getting our son his first pair of khakis.”

You laugh, picturing it in your head, “and he’d probably get our daughter a custom pair of cleats to wear pregame.”

“Exactly,” he throws his head back to laugh at the image of mini versions of you and him being spoiled by his head coach. He grabs another strawberry, dipping it in the melted chocolate and feeding it to you. “How many kids do you want?”

“Let’s say it at the same time.”

He counts down from five, saying “three” at the same time you do.

Looking at each other in shock, you burst into laughter at the fact that you have identical answers despite the fact that you’d never openly spoken about it. You each knew the other wanted children but just didn’t know exactly how many. Justin felt like his heart might burst with an uncomfortable and overwhelming amount of happiness. If it wasn’t clear then, it is now.

There, in that moment, nothing seemed more perfect. He looked down at your hands, spotting the manicure you’d gotten last week before attending a wedding. Simi’s words came flooding back, you’ll know when the time is right.

And that time was right now.

“I’m gonna head inside and grab another water, do you want anything?”

“I think I’m okay. Thank you though,” you barely acknowledged the exchange, wrapped up in finding the perfect movie to watch as you scrolled through all the streaming services. Today, the most simply normal day was about to be extraordinary and his feet couldn’t carry him inside fast enough to grab the ring.

His heart was beating in his ears walking back outside. He clears his throat to get your attention and the look on his face makes you stand. “What happened?”

“I spent so long trying to create the perfect moment. But I just realized that every moment with you is perfect.”

Your voice catches in your throat and you’re forced to speak in a hushed tone. “What are you doing?”

He takes a deep breath, holding the box firmly in his hand. “I love you. You’re the one I want to build a home with, create a family with, grow old with and everything in between that this life has to offer. I’m sorry it took me so long, that I spent so much time trying to capture some picturesque scene that we’ll remember forever. You and I, right here is memorable. Being with you is all I’ve ever need, all I’ll ever need. For the rest of my life.” He opens the box and you audibly gasp, everything in your body tingling and buzzing with excitement. Everything made sense now, his nerves, the secrecy…everything. He was trying to make all of your dreams come true.

Holding your hand in one and the box in the other, he gets down on one knee. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you respond immediately, sounding out of breath while wiping a tear from your eye. “A thousand times yes, of course I’ll marry you!” Sliding the ring that fits exactly like it was tailored to your finger, he stands up and wraps his arms around you, a small tear escaping him.

Justin kisses you, a passionate deep kiss, relieved that everything had gone even better than he’d imagined, pulling you in so close that you can feel his steady heartbeat. His movements were long and slow, a slight grin against your lips as you give into belonging to each other. Lost in paradise he leaned his forehead against yours, both of your eyes still closed in awe that this actually just happened.

“Here’s to a lifetime of perfect moments and sometimes the best plan is no plan. I love you Justin, this is amazing I couldn’t ask for anything more incredible.” You pulled away, opening your eyes to look at your hand. “And this ring? You’re crazy.”

“I am crazy. Crazy about you,” he kisses you on the forehead, running his hand across your fingers. “I love you so much, fiancée.”

[severeprincesheep]

So many people do OMAD (one meal a day) why isn't this discussed more often. It's not going to hurt you and it's a perfectly acceptable way to live. Everyone should be incorporating intermittent fasting into their dietary habits in some way. If you only want to cook once a day, do it! As long as you're eating enough calories and nutrients that one time, it's fine.

What's REALLY Going on with the One Meal A Day (OMAD)Diet?

so tired of having to cook and trying to figure out wtf to eat, can I just have like. Specialized human dog food or something, like some vegetable and protein biscuits and a special drink so that I only have to think about maybe cooking something once a day instead.

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Whenever someone criticises AI in fandom, there’s always a bunch of people wailing “but I use AI to write! :(” , as if their hurt feelings have any weight. Bad news boys, if something sucks it really doesn’t matter if you like doing it. It still sucks. AI will still pilfer the real work of real people, launder it, average it, and feed it back to you at the cost of the planet in a way that will become increasingly monetised by (and is already controlled by) corporations - as well as gradually filling the internet with lowest common denominator SEO sludge.

“But my writing is bad without it” - if that’s the case, your writing is still bad with it, because AI-generated material is not your writing. You have many options, including some combination of “getting good” and “learning to accept being bad”, just like the rest of us. If you actually like writing, grit your teeth and get to work; if you don’t, then that’s fine. The world is full of oceans of cared-about, thought-about work, much of it free. Glory in it!

(BTW, if you haven’t read Ted Chiang’s articles on AI, I highly recommend; all of the ones I’ve read have been amazing. Here’s one!

https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-weekend-essay/why-ai-isnt-going-to-make-art )

[wallflowergirl2006]

Ice skating with your penguin hybrid lover.

CW: None

‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🐧⊹♡

Ice skating with your penguin hybrid lover can be either really fun and enjoyable or very embarrassing. When you’re first starting out he very much teases you in a playful manner. Like if you don't have good balance he will tease you and call you names like clumsy, stumblebum, awkward, etc.

He is very much an expert on the ice and will give you tips on how to loosen up and glide elegantly on the ice just like him. If you do end up falling on the ice. [Like me 😭] He will rush to your aid. His little snowflake just got hurt. He immediately checks for injuries only for you to tell him that you’re fine. He tries to check if you're putting on a front so you don’t look bad but when he sees you're genuinely fine he relaxes. He’s still kinda worried so he skates alongside you. It kinda feels like a mother hen looking over her baby chick.

The little chicks follow after the two of you happily sliding on the ice. Some of them are on their bellies, some are on their feet. But they happily greet you and your lover as they skate on by. The other female penguins also give good tips while passing by much to your boyfriend's dismay. He wanted to be the one to teach you, not someone else but you reassured him that you do not want to fall on your butt again. He begrudgingly accepts the help from the other female penguins.

Once you finally get the hang of it without needing his help you two start trying to do poses and without even knowing you two won a couples contest. The two of you then proceeded to start a random snowball fight with the little penguin babies. Which resulted in the kids winning cause it was 4 against two which then turned into a 6 v 2. The two of you end the day at home curled up on the couch with hot chocolate and some soft christmas music.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

Merry Christmas!!🎄🎁 [And happy holidays to people who don’t celebrate! 🎉]

[drdemonprince]

and let me just clarify in case it is not already abundantly obvious that MANY beloved depictions of BDSM/kink in fiction do not hold up to real-world community ethical standards scrutiny, and that obviously this is perfectly fine. Part of the allure of a fantasy is for the protagonist of the story to be able to access the exact sexual scenario that the reader or viewer dreams of for themselves, but without any of the work -- for a man to magically exist who already harbors all of your same fetishes, who will enact them on you gleefully without either communication or you having the sense of owing him anything in return, and if he happens to be wealthy enough to sweep you away from the drudgery of your regular life forever, then it's all the more escapist. It's absolutely FINE for our sexual fantasies to be unrealistic wish fulfillment without concern for boundaries or health -- where can we go for these impossible feats of pleasure if not our inner lives? the only problem I have is that people seem to find the complete removal from real life to be acceptable in Secretary, and will happily squint until the edges of the film's world smudges a bit so they can claim that everything is all above board and informative, but when it comes to Fifty Shades the illusion being sold is, what -- too corny? Too convenient? Too traditionally sexist? Too poorly written? For them to be able to suspend disbelief, and so they turn around and declare that the problem with the film is the financial coercion and poor scene negotiation on display, when they've praised those exact same qualities in plenty of other BDSM works. If you think 50 shades is lame and makes a person lame for liking it, just say that, but you can't disavow it from any true associations to the kink community completely. plenty of kinky people discovered themselves through exposure to that work, used it as a launching ground for roleplay, fiction writing, or scenes of their own, and some of those people went on to learn common BDSM community norms, and they are a part of our world and no more an embarassment to us than someone who realized they got a stiffy from Wonder Woman's lasso. this shit is all silly and virtually everyone who has been in our community long enough has harbored some impractical "problematic" or cringey fantasy.

so all those ppl who were like “50 Shades is a problematic and unfair depiction of BDSM, but Secretary is far more accurate and ethical” were all just high on Gen X nostalgia or something huh. 

bc uhh… of the two… Secretary is kinda worse in a lot of ways??? like at least in 50 Shades two people knowingly enter into a dynamic together and negotiate it explicitly, and there is no prior relationship being exploited. Like you can definitely raise issues about Christian Grey’s flashing of his wealth and status as being skeezy if you want, but ol girl has total freedom to not receive his advances if she doesn’t want to, and does in fact walk away from the negotiation table when she doesn’t want to do things. 

 but in Secretary the dude is literally her boss and just starts insulting her and hitting her ass at work one day out of the blue, never having ever talked about it, immediately after finding out she has a self harm history. and he just pulls out of the dynamic super abruptly one day after fostering a ton of emotional dependence on him, and says nothing about it. what the hell is wrong with the people who hold it up as a far less ethically troubling and more grounded depiction of the community or power dynamics? its equally absurd and divorced from reality and troubling. 

like…. im fine with both films they’re both stupid fun but uhhh … having just watched Secretary for the first time i am reminded once again that you really cannot trust what any fanon take no matter how wide spread it is online to be an even remotely reality grounded reaction to the original work 

[butchvamp]

i dont know how you could play veilguard and genuinely think the dalish elves are represented well in that game. you can't even play a dalish rook (except somehow they kinda are dalish, but also you can make them andrastian too, because actually you're not dalish but you do know elven and call them "our gods" repeatedly for some reason but your faith is completely unshaken by all of this regardless), there are no dalish clans in the entire game, the only one we do interact with is massacred off-screen but it's fine this time i guess because at least it's not our fault, and the two dalish companions are treated like shit by the writers and the narrative and the playerbase. the veil jumpers are not the dalish, these are separate groups, there are humans and qunari and dwarves all within the veil jumpers. the dalish are separate, irelin and strife and bellara all left their clans to join the veil jumpers. the actual dalish clan in arlathan is killed after the gods escape, there's literally a whole quest where you have to run around and find their dead bodies.

bellara is punished not once but twice with her brother's death for daring to pursue elven history, just like merrill is punished for restoring the eluvian before her. and then rook is the one that gets to choose whether or not to destroy the archive, despite not even being dalish. yes, bellara is smart and strong and brave but she also is belittled for her beliefs; her struggle at the start is played as a joke, her comments are all punchlines, and when you do get to talk to her she blames herself and feels guilty, and the game gives you no real option to comfort her. it takes the game killing her brother a second time for us to finally get to see her practice her culture without feeling guilty and without being mocked for it at his funeral, because now she's learned her lesson (but also they make sure to throw in a comment about how Weird it is, and also that all the other dalish clans have been doing the Wrong funeral rites, just to make sure we know how silly they are)

outside of davrin and bellara, the dalish are absent. strife and irelin both immediately accept the sudden revelation that their gods are evil with no pushback (and i don't care if this is because they know harding and varric, this is not communicated in the game). and apparently every other dalish elf just accepts it, too. how is this not depicting them as a monolith? did we play different games? dalish clans have their own traditions and cultures and would absolutely have different opinions about their own gods; the only way you get to see something even remotely close to this is if you take bellara and davrin out together and listen for their banters-- which are never mentioned or relevant anywhere else in game.

and no, i don't want the dalish to blindly follow the gods in veilguard, i want the entire narrative to just not be so fucking racist. the oppressed people's gods being revealed to be evil all along is just racist. nothing else can be "fixed" while this is the core plot, and we knew this since trespasser came out, since it was first revealed over 10 years ago. people have been criticizing this choice and the depiction of the dalish for over a decade. and they still continued with this storyline, despite the various other lore bits they did end up changing for better or worse... instead they just wrote out the dalish completely while still managing to perpetuate harmful anti-indigenous tropes that they've been criticized for repeatedly in the past-- that are made even worse with the total absence of any other dalish characters to counteract them.

[letmesleeponu4sumtime]

Lately I find myself lingering in a phantom space…Somewhere between light reflections and fog. This is my most comfortable state. This winter around 8-9 p.m. the fog rolls in thick at night, seeping in from the ocean, smelling faintly of sea salt and freshly laid asphalt that’s been rained on, permeating the air in a perfume-like atmosphere until mid-morning.

Two delightful scents.

Lately I yearn for strong smells. I purchased a $60 box of incense as a preliminary gift to myself this holiday, and I splurged on a $65 room spray from Aesop (I didn’t know it was $65 until the employee softly spoke as she turned the small handheld payment device out to me).

When I am attentive to scent, I feel like a finely tuned instrument.

Thinking back, this year has been a wonderful year for impactful moments revolving around scent. I found a new fragrance with notes of sea salt, ginger, seaweed, vetiver, cedar, and oak moss, a purchase from my month-long stay in Japan. I also purchased another fragrance during my trip that smells like an old monastery. I like that one post-shower, a very light spritz on the underside of my wrist, and then dabbed on each side of my neck lightly.

Every few nights I’ll dust my pillows with deep sleep pillow spray before I crawl into bed. I like lying on my back, feeling my body give way to my bed as the gentle smell of lavender finds my nose. The smell reminds me of when my mom used to make my bed as a kid; dusting my sheets and duvet with an essential oil concoction I can’t seem to emulate even when I follow her recipe line for line, drop for drop.

I had a small conversation with a few coworkers of mine over fragrance. One of my coworkers wears Bath and Body Works body sprays. I loathe the smell of that stuff; it turns my stomach. Is it just me or people that wear those fragrances always do too much? Even after they’ve left the room, the cheap smell permeates the air. For me, fragrance is intimate. When I crave the closeness of an indescribable feeling or the sensation of a kiss, I turn my nose to the soft inside of my wrist with a deep inhale. My eyes close momentarily, and I go somewhere between light refractions and fog. I like the idea of fragrance being a subtle hint, an unspoken suggestion, something that is noticed in a brief hug, swift passing, or when the wind blows a little too hard. The art is lost when you bomb yourself in it; it is equivalent to walking around with your fondest memories and most intimate thoughts and feelings accessible like a business card.

I’m reading Memory Police by Yoko Ogawa. It makes me wonder…what would I do if suddenly I woke up one morning and smell had disappeared? In the novel, some people are unable to forget the disappearances of things, while others accept the disappearances with no ties, as if the object never existed. I feel that I would be one of those people who wouldn’t be able to forget the disappearances.

[applestorms]

@jessaerys ok shit this took a while but WHATEVER. wammy's lore collection here we go :3c less analysis this time, this is mostly just to archive the main known details we have in canon about the house, and also the people from there more generally. however much you wanna accept all this/take it at face value is up to You, Dear Reader (and tbh y'all should just read all these if ur curious since they're all pretty short + have Interesting narrators. i'll include links to free versions). do whatever you want forever etc. etc. also, SPOILERS. obviously.

LABB: (listen here)

no this book isn't written by ohba. yes i'm including it. shush. anyways, most of the lore in this comes from mello's vague comments about beyond's backstory, but there's a Lot of interesting things established in this, so. here's a bunch of notable quotes. if you're not already familiar, please keep in mind that the narrator of this novel is mello, writing at some point shortly before his death.

"L. The century's greatest detective. In light of his staggering mental abilities, L died an unjust and untimely death. In the public record alone he solved over 3,500 difficult crimes, and sent three times that number of degenerates to prison. He wielded incredible power, was able to mobilize every investigative bureau in the entire world, and was applauded generously for his efforts. And during it all, he never showed his face." (pg. 10)

"So, what you're reading now are my notes about L. It's a dying message, not from me, and not directed at the world. The person who will most likely read this first will probably be that big-headed twit Near. But if that's the case, I will not tell him to shred or burn these pages. If it causes him pain to discover that I knew things about L that he did not, then that's fine." (pg. 10-11)

"I am one of the few people who ever met L as L. When and how I met him...this is the single most valuable memory I have, and I will not write it here, but on that occasion L related to me three stories of his exploits, and the episode involving Beyond Birthday was one of these." (pg. 11)

"Obviously, it never came to light that L--and more importantly, Wammy's House, which raised me until I was fifteen--was deeply connected to the matter, but in fact, they were. L, on principle, never got involved in a case unless there were more than ten victims or a million dollars at stake, and this is the real reason why he belatedly, but aggressively, involved himself in this little case, which only ever had three or four victims. I will explain further in the pages that follow, but for this reason, the case of the Los Angeles BB murders is a watershed event for L, for me, and even for Kira. It was a monumental event for all of us. Why? Because this is the case where L first introduced himself as Ryuzaki." (pg. 11)

"For any one else but those two [Near and Kira], my identity may be of no interest, but I am the old world's runner-up, the best dresser that died like a dog, Mihael Keehl. I once called myself Mello and was addressed by that name, but that was a long time ago. Good memories and nightmares." (pg. 12)

"She [Naomi Misora] briefly considered the idea that Raye Penber, or someone else, was playing a practical joke on her, but she found it hard to believe that anyone would be so bold to sign their name as such. L never revealed himself in public or in private, but Misora had heard several horror stories about what happened to detectives who tried passing themselves off as L. It was safe to say that no one would dare use his name, even in jest." (pg. 18)

"This was L, so he was undoubtedly solving several other difficult cases all at once. Cases all over the world. For him, this case was just one of many parallel investigations. How else could he maintain his reputation as the world's greatest detective? The century's greatest detective, L. The detective with no clients." (pg. 35)

"L had earned a certain degree of hostility from other detectives, and the jealous ones called him a hermit detective, or a computer detective, but neither of these is a particularly accurate representation of the truth. Naomi Misora had also tended to think of L as an armchair detective, but in fact, L was quite the opposite, a very active, aggressive individual. [swoon.] While he had absolutely no interest in social connections, he was certainly not the kind of detective to shut himself up in a dark room with the shades drawn and refuse to come out. It is now common knowledge that the three great post war detectives, L, Eraldo Coil and Danuve were all actually the same person. Certainly, anyone reading these notes is almost certain to know...though they may not know that L engaged in a war with the real Eraldo Coil, and the real Danuve, and emerged victorious, claiming their detective codes. The details of this detective war I will save for another occasion, but in addition to those three names, L possessed many other detective codes. I have no idea how many, but there were at least three digits' worth. And quite a number of those were fairly public detectives--just like, as anyone reading these notes must know, he appeared before Kira, calling himself Ryuzaki or Ryuga Hideki. Of course, Naomi Misora had no way of knowing this, but in my opinion, the name L was, for him, just one of many. He never had any direct connection to that identity, he never thought of himself as L--it was just the most famous and most powerful of the many detective codes he used during his life. The name had its uses, but lacked obscurity. L had a real name that nobody knew, and nobody will ever know, but a name which only he knew never defined him. I sometimes wonder if L himself ever knew exactly which name was written in the Death Note, which name it was that killed him. I wonder." (pg. 43-44)

"If we must discuss why L so adamantly refused to reveal himself, we can explain it very simply: doing so was dangerous. Very dangerous. While the world leaders should make efforts to ensure the safety of all the finest minds, not only for detectives, the fact is that the current societal systems do not allow for this, and L believed he had no choice but to protect his mind under his own power. By simple arithmetic, L's ability in 2002 was the equivalent of five ordinary investigative bureaus, and seven intelligence agencies (and by the time he faced off against Kira, those numbers had leapt upward several more notches). This is easy to think of as a reason to respect and admire someone, but let me say this as clearly as possible: that much ability in one human is extremely dangerous. Modern danger management techniques rely heavily on defusing risk, but his very existence was the exact opposite. In other words, if someone was planning to commit a crime, they would greatly increase their chances of getting away with it by simply killing L before they began. That was why L hid his identity. Not because he was shy, or because he never left the house. To ensure his own safety. For a detective of L's ability, self-preservation and the preservation of world peace were one and the same, and it would not be correct to describe his actions as cowardly or self-centered." (pg. 69 nice)

"So whenever L was working, he would usually have someone else as his public face--and in this particular case, the FBI agent Naomi Misora was filling that role." (pg. 70)

"Beyond Birthday had the eyes of a shinigami congenitally. It was not particularly difficult for him to track down people with the initials B.B. or find people who were fated to die on a certain day at a certain time." (pg. 94)

"Normally contact with a shinigami was a prerequisite for acquisition, but Beyond Birthday had traded nothing--he had seen through those eyes since before he could remember. He knew your name before you said it. He knew the time of death of every person he met." (pg. 94)

"You might think [the eyes] would hardly be useful without a Death Note, but that is simply not the case. The ability to see someone's remaining life is the ability to see death. Death, death, death. Beyond Birthday lived his life unceasingly reminded that all humans would eventually die. From the time he was born he knew the day his father would be attacked by a thug and die, knew the day his mother would die in a train crash. He had these eyes before he was born, which is why he called himself Beyond Birthday. Which is why a child as strange as he was taken in by our home, sweet home--Wammy's House. He was B. The second child in Wammy's House." (pg. 94-95)

"The competition between L and B. L and B's puzzle. 'If L's a genius, then B's an extreme genius. If L's a freak, then B's an extreme freak. Now it's time to get ready. There are things I must do before B can surpass L. Henh henh henh henh.' This thought was the only thing that made him laugh without needing to think about it. And those that know will recognize the laugh of the shinigami. Still grinning to himself, he faced the mirror, brushed his hair, and began applying his makeup. The reflection of himself in the mirror. Himself. As always, he could not see his own time of death. No more than he could see the death of the world." (pg. 96)

"We were raised at Wammy's House in England, in Winchester, as L's successors, as L's alternatives, but that does not mean we knew anything more about L than anyone else. Including myself, only a few of us ever met L as L, and even I knew nothing about L before he met Watari--Quillish Wammy, the genius inventor who founded Wammy's House. Nobody knows what's going on in L's head. But even so, I know how Watari felt. Looking at L's incredible talents from the perspective of an inventor--of course he wanted to make a copy, of course he wanted to create a backup. Anyone would feel the same. As I have already explained, L never appeared in public. L knew that his own death would increase the crime rate all over the world by a few dozen percentage points. But what if they could copy him? What if they could make a backup? That was us. L's children, gathered from all corners of the world.

"But even for a genius like Watari, creating a fake L was easier said than done. Even for Near and I, who were said to be the closest to L...the more we tried to be like him, the closer we got, the father away he was, like chasing a mirage. So I hardly need to tell you what it was like when Wammy's House was first founded, when he was still experimenting. The first child, A, was unable to handle the pressure of living up to L and took his own life, and the second child, Beyond Birthday, was brilliant and deviant. B stood for Backup.

"But B tried to surpass L, not become him...no, that might not be right. I have no way of knowing the inner workings of his mind. He...their generation was not like the fourth generation, with Near and I, all the children bound only to the code with the serial L. They were prototypes, never even given the L code, expected to fail. I prefer to refrain from idle speculation based on my own experiences, but, well, Beyond Birthday may have thought something like this: As long as there was L, B would never be L. As long as the original existed, the copy was always a copy." (pg. 104-105)

"The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases. L.A.B.B.--L is After Beyond Birthday. This reading is why I think this name is so much closer to the killer's intentions than the Wara Ningyo Murders, or the Los Angeles Serial Locked Room Killings. I wasn't talking about the names on a purely stylistic basis. Whether Beyond Birthday had put that much thought into it I have no idea, but if he had a specific reason for choosing to commit his murders in L.A., then that is probably why. I am sure he had a much more personal obsession with L as an individual than Near or I ever did. I can understand why someone would become a criminal in order to fight against a detective, which is why I can write something like this, but even so. What did he hope to accomplish by killing unrelated people? Or perhaps B simply wanted to meet L. Then he could use the eyes of the shinigami he'd been born with and see L's real name, see when L would die. He would be able to figure out who L was. Beyond Birthday had never told anyone that he had the eyes of a shinigami, and it would not surprise me at all if he believed himself to be some kind of shinigami." (pg. 105-106)

"Beyond Birthday challenged L. And L accepted the challenge. To put it bluntly, the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases were nothing but an internal struggle, a civil war within our home, sweet home-- Wammy's House. Unfortunate for the victims that got mixed up in it, but even if Beyond Birthday had not killed them, all those victims were fated to die that day, at that time, for some other reason, so logically and morally, their deaths were unavoidable. So in the strictest sense of the word, the only one who really got mixed up in their war was Naomi Misora." (pg. 106)

"L was said to never move on a case unless there were more than ten victims or a million dollars at stake. The only exceptions to this were cases at difficulty level L (extremely fitting), or when L had personal reasons compelling him to get involved. The Los Angeles BB Murders were both of these. I hardly need to point out the difficulty by this stage of the story, and L was essentially fighting his own dead copy. [harsh, dude.] The current head of Wammy's House had told Quillish Wammy/Watari, who had told L about B's disappearance in May, and ever since L had been looking for him even as he solved other cases. Wammy's House only knew him as B--they did not know his real name, Beyond Birthday, so this search was near impossible, but L knew who the killer was. He had not been looking for a killer so much as he was looking for a case. L had been waiting, expecting Beyond Birthday to do something to challenge him. L could move any policeman in the world, but in this case, he could not ask anyone for help except Naomi Misora...more than likely, for this reason. I don't think L really put that much stock in honor, but everyone is embarrassed by their own sins, and nobody wants those missteps to become public knowledge. L was the goal of everyone in Wammy's House. Every one of us wanted to surpass him. To step over him. To step on him. M did, N did, and B did. M as a challenger, N as a successor. B as a criminal." (pg. 116-117)

"No matter what she did, she had no way of knowing. That this killer, Beyond Birthday, could tell someone's name and time of death just by looking at their face, that he had been born with the eyes of a shinigami--she had no way of knowing that fake names were useless with him, completely and utterly pointless. How could she have known? Even Beyond Birthday himself could not explain how he had been born with the eyes of the shinigami, how he could use them with no payment, with no arrangement. Neither Misora nor L knew why, and, obviously, neither do I. The closest thing to an explanation I can offer is that there are shinigami stupid enough to drop their notebooks in our world, so there might well be shinigami stupid enough to drop their eyes." (pg. 193-140)

"'So, Naomi Misora...' said L, wrapping up. But Misora hastily stammered, 'Um, er, L...' but then she hesitated, not sure if she should ask this or not. 'You...know the killer, right?' 'Yes, as I said. He is B.' 'I don't mean like that...I mean, he's someone you know personally?' On the 16th, L had said that he had known the killer was B, and she had sort of known ever since, but two days before, L had said something that changed her guess to conviction. Whatever you do, please catch the killer. The century's greatest detective, L, would never say that about some ordinary indiscriminate serial killer. And the way his letter was just one letter long... 'Yes,' the synthetic voice agreed." (pg. 144-145)

"'I have nothing to do with him,' L said. 'To be completely accurate, I do not even know B. He is simply someone I am aware of. But none of this affects my judgement. Certainly, I was interested in this case, and began to investigate it because I knew who the killer was. But that did not alter the way I investigated it, or the manner in which my investigation proceeded. Naomi Misora, I cannot overlook evil. I cannot forgive it. It does not matter if I know the person who commits evil or not. I am only interested in justice.'" (pg. 145)

"My great and respected predecessor, the man whose actions were a strong influence on me personally, B, B.B., Beyond Birthday--obviously, I need hardly explain again that the murders themselves were not his purpose. So what was he doing? Again, I hardly need to explain--he was challenging the man he copied, the century's greatest detective L. A matter of winning or losing. A contest." (pg. 159)

"Since L could solve every case no matter how challenging, if he created a case so difficult that L as unable to solve it, B would have defeated L." (pg. 159)

"He knew that the moment he took action Wammy's House and Watari would alert L, so he did not even bother trying to stop them. He could only guess at which stage of his plan L would start to come after him, so he prepared things carefully, ready for L's entrance at any point." (pg. 159)

"B approached Naomi Misora, calling himself Rue Ryuzaki. Rue Ryuzaki--L.L. For anyone from Wammy's House, there could be no higher goal than identifying yourself with that letter--and Beyond Birthday seized this case as his chance. even Naomi Misora knew what had happened to detectives falsely identifying themselves as L, and B was from Wammy's House, so he knew this better than anyone--so this choice suggests the strength of his decision. He never once intended to survive--had had made up his mind. He was ready." (pg. 160) [trans. note: the name "Rue" in Japanese, ルエ (ru-e), is an anagram of エル (e-ru), which is how L is pronounced.]

"Naturally, his face and fingerprints would burn as well--he had always disguised himself with heavy makeup while he was with Misora, and he never left a picture behind, so even if someone directly affiliated with Wammy's House inspected the body, they would have no idea that Rue Ryuzaki/Beyond Birthday was B from Wammy's House. He had left nothing to connect Beyond Birthday to B." (pg. 162)

"B was presenting the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases to L as a case that could never be solved. That L could never solve. In other words, he had never prepared any clear solution to it--since the killer had committed suicide, disguised as the fourth victim, there was no longer a killer to catch, and no clues left to catch him with." (pg. 163)

"My poor, poor predecessor. Not only was he utterly and completely defeated, but he survived, driving home his embarrassment...he must have longed for death. Accept my condolences, B." (pg. 169-170)

"If I had space left over I had intended to carry right on into the other two stories I heard from L: the story of the detective war between the three greatest detectives, all solving that infamous bio-terror case, with guest appearances by the last of the alphabet, the first X to the first Z from Wammy's House; and the story of how the world's greatest inventor, Quillish Wammy, aka Watari, had first met L, then about eight year's old--the case that gave birth to the century's greatest detective, the Winchester Mad Bombings that occurred just after the third World War. But however objectively I look at things, I do not have the space or the time. Oh well." (pg. 170)

"She had spoken to L only once after the killer was arrested. He thanked her for helping to solve the case, and told her just a little about the background of the case. That B had been a candidate to succeed L, and that the pressure of that had driven him off track." (pg. 171)

"And a few years after his arrest, on January 21st, 2004, serving a life sentence in a California prison, Beyond Birthday died of a mysterious heart attack." (pg. 173)

C-KIRA: (read here)

near grief :pensive: pretty sure this was animated in the anime movie thing?? tbh i still need to watch that. Very interesting as some of the most recent post-main story lore we get about wammy's imo. less quotes now + more summarizing since these are just comics

near has apparently only "talked" to L once (in quotes since he didn't actually say anything, just sat in the back of the room doing a puzzle the entire time. real asf girl)

during this "conversation," roger or one of the orphanage heads set up the usual L screen + a camera/mic so that L could see all the kids and answer their questions.

notably, mello & near didn't ask any questions, just lurked in the back watching L with a "nasty look in [their] eyes," which near assumes is what made him pick them to be his top successors, considering the fact that he didn't actually look at any of their data. (somewhat seems to imply that L didn't actually give a shit about grades or anything like that when picking his main successors?)

while answering questions, near is caught off guard by one of L's answers. to transcribe it all directly here--

NEAR (NARRATING): At the time, I didn't think L would put it so bluntly. L: It's not a sense of justice. L: Figuring out difficult cases is my hobby. If you measured good and evil deeds by current laws, I would be responsible for many crimes. L: The same way you all like to solve mysteries and riddles, or clear video games more quickly... For me too, its simply prolonging something I enjoy doing. L: That's why I only take on cases that pique my interest. It's not justice at all. And if it means being able to clear a case, I don't play fair, I'm a dishonest, cheating human being, who hates losing...

not quite the monster speech, but fascinating all the same. near seems to imply that this answer sent some kids into a despair spiral, but it actually caused him to like L more and more, feeling that he was, "exactly the kind of person who wanted to achieve his own goals." kinda goes against the HTR13 ohba comment? shrug

The Wammy's House/L's One Day: (read here)

honestly i interpret these comics as like. canon crack fic. but anyways, here's the established L lore included in these two.

L was taken into wammy's as a nameless orphan at an unknown but likely quite young age

very soon after arriving he beats up all the other kids he meets--

he is "utterly incompatible," with all the other kids and monopolizes all the things he likes simply cause he's stronger than them and presumably could fight them for it-- naturally, he ends up usually just playing by himself

notably, this all establishes that L isn't the first kid at wammy's, that there was already at least one generation of older kids living there before he got there (and could eventually turn it into an L successor creating machine)

once watari realizes that L has some outstanding mental abilities, he gives him his own private room and a computer. afterwards, L spends most of his time sitting in front of the puter by himself

L requests that watari buy 1 million pounds with Japanese yen and tells him which stocks to buy, causing his assets to reach "almost 20,000 times the original amount," in two years. visually this is depicted as happening when L is still quite young

several years later, L stumbles across a serial murder case in the news, which is the first he solves, starting his new career path

-

L can stay awake for 100+ hours and then gets over it by sleeping for like 17 hours. pictures also may imply that he doesn't actually sleep in a bed, but just lies down sideways in his chair. RIP yotsuba light's perfectly designed sleep schedule

L also shits/pisses in the same position he usually sits in (frog-pose), facing the tank south park style

he is a big fan of cleanliness!! human washing machine etc. etc. honestly i think this is just another way for him to hold that same crouched position

text says he always has, "ten or so identical sets of clothes prepared for him," since he's picky about it, but the art itself shows way more than ten. also rare shirtless L moment?? (watari helps)

L does in fact go outside!! he likes roller coasters/theme parks, swinging, art galleries, live music, etc. though most of the time he just sits in his room thinking thru shit n solving cases.

[jennelikejennay]

Some people in the fandom are fighting right now over what this single moment from Lower Decks means. (Mild spoilers for the finale if you haven't seen it.)

In short, things are changing into alternate reality versions of themselves (infinite alternate realities in fact) and one of the things that changes is a regular TNG-Voyager Klingon into a Discovery Klingon.

So, does that mean Discovery happens in an alternate universe? Is that why it's so aesthetically different from TOS, which is supposed to happen near to it in time?

And wait, how similar are these universes? If two alternate versions of characters get together, does that mean their prime versions are together too?

In short, what counts as canon???

I've decided how I come down on this and I won't be swayed.

It's all canon, okay?

There is no prime universe. I feel like that's part of the point. Timelines branch all the time because of time travel, and I believe it's also been said that they branch sometimes because of choices or chaos: the universe where I turned right at the stoplight, and the one where I turned left. Whole new universe.

Parts of various universes are "canon," as in we see them on screen. Or we could say instead, the episodes we see do not always take place in the same universe.

TOS takes place in a universe or universes where Spock and T'Pring had an arranged marriage and don't really know each other. SNW takes place in a universe where they have a normal human-style engagement. In TOS's universe, the Eugenics Wars happen in the 1990s, while in SNW's universe (for reasons that are explained to us) they happen in the 2020s or 30s.

And that's fine! We can cleave to "canon" without feeling like everything that has ever been canonical must apply to the same universe. It contradicts sometimes, for one thing (a fact that drives my autistic ass insane). And it's limiting, to say that in 1970 we could write a Spirk fic where Spock is a virgin but in 2024 we can't without being "canon-divergent." Nah. I cleave to canon, but in the universe of season 2 TOS, or whatever. I'm allowed.

Perhaps this doesn't matter at all to you sane people out there, but as a person who simultaneously needs things to make sense and be consistent, and also believes we need to be free to accept whatever canon we like, it is such a relief to find a way to make it make sense.

Thank you, Lower Decks.

[atlasthegreatest]

Breaking the Ice / Dick Grayson x Sibling!Gender Neutral Reader

Which, Dick Grayson attempts to bond with his younger adopted sibling, Y/n.

Word count: 2135

Warnings: None.

A/n: This was requested by an anon. The gender wasn't specified, so, the gender is neutral. Hope you like it!

The Wayne Manor was unusually quiet for a Friday evening. The faint hum of Alfred’s vacuum cleaner reverberated faintly from the east wing, while the ticking of the grandfather clock in the study provided a steady rhythm. Dick Grayson sat cross-legged on the plush carpet in the living room, fiddling with the pieces of a half-completed puzzle. It was a rare night off for everyone. No patrols, no missions. Just family time—or whatever passed for family time in this house.

The door creaked open, and the sound of footsteps echoed off the hardwood floor. Dick glanced up, offering a lopsided grin when he saw his younger adopted sibling, Y/n.

“Hey, Y/n,” Dick greeted warmly. “Wanna help me out? I’m starting to think this puzzle’s missing pieces.”

Y/n, with their ever-present hoodie, pulled low over their eyes, shrugged. “No thanks,” they muttered, their voice barely above a whisper. Without breaking stride, they made a beeline for the staircase.

Dick sighed, watching them retreat. It wasn’t the first time Y/n had brushed him off, and he doubted it would be the last. They weren’t close—not like siblings should be. And while Dick could accept that relationships took time, Y/n’s wall of indifference was as impenetrable as the Batcave’s security system.

Jason’s voice broke the silence, startling Dick. “You’re wasting your time, Boy Wonder.”

Dick turned to see his younger brother leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Y/n doesn’t exactly do the ‘bonding’ thing. You should know that by now.”

“I know,” Dick said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But they’re family, Jay. I just… I want them to feel like they belong here.”

Jason snorted, pushing off the doorframe and walking over to the couch. “They belong just fine. They talk to me, don’t they? And Cass. That’s two people. More than some of us got when we first showed up.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but they don’t talk to me. Or Bruce. Or Damian. Heck, even Alfred barely gets more than a grunt out of them these days.”

Jason shrugged. “Maybe that’s just how they are. Not everyone’s a people person, Grayson.”

“Or maybe,” Dick countered, “they just don’t feel like they can trust us yet.”

Before Jason could respond, the soft pattern of footsteps drew their attention. Cassandra entered the room, her silent presence more comforting than any words could be. She walked over to Y/n, who had reappeared at the base of the stairs and gave them a small wave.

Y/n’s posture relaxed almost imperceptibly, and they managed a faint smile. “Hey, Cass.”

Dick watched the exchange with a pang of envy. Cassandra didn’t need words to connect with people; her understanding went deeper than that. She placed a hand on Y/n’s shoulder and led them toward the couch, where Jason promptly scooted over to make room.

“Great,” Dick said with mock indignation. “Now everyone’s on the couch except me.”

Y/n shot him a fleeting glance before turning back to Cassandra. “You didn’t have to make room for him,” they said dryly.

Jason chuckled. “Told you. They’ve got a sense of humor—just not for you.”

Dick sighed but couldn’t suppress a small grin. “Thanks, Jay. Really helpful.”

———————-

For a while, they sat in companionable silence. Cassandra pulled out a sketchbook and began doodling, while Jason and Y/n exchanged snarky commentary on a cheesy action movie playing on the TV.

Dick watched them from his spot on the floor, feeling like an outsider in his own family. But as the night wore on, he noticed small cracks in Y/n’s icy exterior. The way they leaned ever so slightly toward Cassandra. The way they let Jason tease them without snapping.

Maybe Jason was right. Maybe Y/n didn’t need to bond with everyone in the house to feel like they belonged. But Dick wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

The puzzle piece in his hand snapped into place, and a small sense of accomplishment warmed his chest. Maybe he’d never be the older brother Y/n wanted—but he could still try to be the older brother they needed.

“Hey, Y/n,” he said, holding up the puzzle box. “I bet Jason twenty bucks I could finish this before the movie ends. Wanna help me prove him wrong?”

Y/n hesitated, their eyes flickering to Cassandra for a moment before landing on the puzzle. “Fine,” they said, sliding off the couch and plopping onto the floor beside him. “But if you lose, I’m keeping the twenty.”

Dick laughed, handing them a piece. “Deal.”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Y/n settled cross-legged on the floor next to Dick, their hoodie still shadowing their face. They didn’t look at him as they started sorting through the pile of puzzle pieces, but it didn’t matter. Dick knew better than to push too hard.

“Okay,” he said, shifting the puzzle box to face Y/n. “This is where we’re at. Edge pieces are mostly done. It’s this middle section that’s killing me.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, picking up a piece and studying it with laser focus. “You separated the pieces by color, right?”

“Uh…” Dick hesitated, scratching his head. “I was getting to that.”

Y/n huffed, a sound that could almost be mistaken for a laugh if Dick didn’t know better. “No wonder you’re stuck.” They pulled the box closer, dividing the pile into smaller groups with quick, practiced movements.

Jason, still lounging on the couch, smirked at the interaction. “Look at that. You’re actually getting them to help. Miracles do happen.”

Y/n didn’t look up. “You’re just scared we’ll finish before the movie ends, and you’ll have to cough up that twenty.”

Jason blinked, caught off guard by the comeback. Then he let out a bark of laughter. “Alright, Y/n. If you win, I’ll throw in another ten just for the sass.”

Cassandra glanced up from her sketchbook, a small, approving smile curving her lips. She didn’t say anything—she rarely did—but her gaze lingered on Dick for a moment, as if to say, Keep going.

Dick took the cue. “Alright, team,” he said, tapping the puzzle. “Let’s do this.”

For a while, they worked in relative silence. Dick occasionally sneaked glances at Y/n, marveling at how quickly they picked out matching pieces. Their focus was intense, almost like watching Bruce when he was in detective mode.

“You’re really good at this,” Dick said casually, not wanting to break the rhythm.

Y/n shrugged. “Used to do puzzles with my mom. She loved this kind of stuff.”

The mention of Y/n’s mother hung in the air like a fragile thread. It wasn’t something they talked about much—or at all. Dick knew better than to pry, but he felt a pang of sadness for the life Y/n had lost before coming to the Manor.

“She must’ve been awesome,” Dick said gently.

Y/n didn’t respond right away, but their hands never stopped moving. “She was.”

The quiet acknowledgment was enough for Dick. He could feel the walls around Y/n shifting, even if only slightly.

By the time the movie credits started rolling, the puzzle was nearly complete. Jason groaned, tossing a pillow in Dick’s direction. “Fine. You win. But I’m blaming Y/n for this betrayal.”

Y/n smirked, holding up the final piece. “I think I’ll take that extra ten now.”

Jason rolled his eyes, digging into his pocket for cash. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t spend it all in one place, kid.”

Y/n pocketed the money with a small but genuine grin—one that caught Dick off guard. It wasn’t much, but it was a rare glimpse of the person behind the hoodie.

“Good teamwork,” Dick said, offering a fist bump.

Y/n hesitated, then bumped their fist against his. “You’re still not getting my twenty,” they said, but their tone was lighter, almost teasing.

Cassandra’s quiet laugh broke the moment, and even Jason cracked a smile.

Dick leaned back, feeling a sense of accomplishment that had nothing to do with finishing the puzzle. It wasn’t perfect, and it wouldn’t fix everything overnight, but for the first time in a long time, it felt like they were moving in the right direction.

As Y/n stood and started heading toward the stairs, Dick called after them. “Hey, Y/n?”

They paused, glancing back over their shoulder.

“You’re welcome to join us anytime. For puzzles, movies… whatever.”

Y/n didn’t respond, but there was a flicker of something in their eyes—something that looked a lot like hope.

As they disappeared upstairs, Jason flopped back onto the couch with a grin. “You’re like a puppy, you know that? Just wagging your tail until someone pets you.”

Dick chuckled. “Maybe. But you saw that smile, right? Totally worth it.”

Cassandra nodded, her expression soft. “They’ll come around,” she said quietly.

Dick smiled, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah,” he said. “They will.”

Bonus Chapter:

The Manor was steeped in darkness, save for the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the grand windows. The clock struck midnight, and the household was mostly quiet. Jason had already retreated to his room with a pile of books he swore he wasn’t reading, and Cassandra had disappeared somewhere in her usual silent way. Bruce and Damian were still out on patrol, leaving the Manor feeling both vast and strangely empty.

Dick was in the kitchen, rummaging through the pantry for a late-night snack, when he heard soft footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Y/n standing in the doorway, their hoodie pulled up as usual, though the drawstrings were loosened enough to reveal their face.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Dick asked, pulling out a box of cereal.

Y/n shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. “Something like that.”

“Join the club,” Dick said, pouring a bowl. “Want some?”

Y/n hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

Dick grabbed another bowl, sliding it across the counter toward them. Y/n moved to the fridge, retrieving the milk without a word. It was a simple routine, but in the quiet of the night, it felt oddly significant.

They sat at the counter in silence, the sound of spoons clinking against ceramic bowls filling the space. Dick stole a glance at Y/n, who seemed lost in thought, their eyes fixed on their cereal.

“You okay?” Dick asked gently.

Y/n shrugged again, a noncommittal gesture that Dick had come to recognize as their default. But then they surprised him. “I don’t… hate it here,” they said quietly, almost as if the words were being dragged out of them.

Dick blinked, caught off guard. “That’s… good to know,” he said, trying not to sound too eager.

Y/n poked at their cereal, avoiding his gaze. “I just… I don’t know how to do this. Any of this. The family stuff. It’s weird.”

Dick set his spoon down, giving them his full attention. “It’s weird for all of us,” he admitted. “I mean, look at this place. We’re not exactly the Brady Bunch.”

Y/n snorted, a small, genuine sound that made Dick smile.

“But,” he continued, “you don’t have to figure it out all at once. And you don’t have to do it alone. We’re all here, whenever you’re ready.”

Y/n didn’t respond right away, but their posture seemed to relax a little. “Jason says you’re too nice for your own good,” they said after a moment.

Dick laughed. “That sounds about right. He’s probably told you all kinds of embarrassing stories about me, huh?”

“Some,” Y/n said, a faint smirk tugging at their lips.

“Well, remind me to return the favor,” Dick said with a grin. “I’ve got plenty of dirt on him too.”

Y/n’s smirk grew into something closer to a smile, and for the first time, Dick felt like he was seeing them—not the guarded, distant version they showed to everyone else, but the person underneath.

They finished their cereal in companionable silence, and as Y/n rinsed their bowl in the sink, they paused. “Thanks,” they said softly, their back still turned.

Dick tilted his head. “For what?”

Y/n shrugged, their voice barely above a whisper. “For trying.”

Dick’s chest tightened, warmth spreading through him. He wanted to say something profound, something to let them know how much that simple acknowledgment meant to him, but all he managed was a soft, “Anytime.”

As Y/n turned to leave, they hesitated in the doorway. “Goodnight, Dick.”

It was the first time they’d said his name, and it caught him so off guard that he almost didn’t respond. “Goodnight, Y/n,” he said, his voice full of quiet affection.

As the door swung shut behind them, Dick leaned back in his chair, a small, contented smile on his face. It wasn’t a grand gesture or a dramatic breakthrough, but in the quiet of the Manor’s kitchen, it felt like the start of something real.

[lawofangie]

have you changed your old and set gpa / grades to a new one? i guess this would be along the lines of revision

also, for big exams or whatever that most people seem to have super hard times with even with studying the best they can like the mcat (medical entrance exam basically) how would you go about that? let’s say you didn’t want to do much prep for it, can you just assume you’re top percentile with the score you get back and if there’s inspired action you can get into that, or do you actually have to put in some level of work? this may have been worded badly LOL my apologies

i did! i believe my old one was a 3.0 or something like that and i manifested it being a 4.0! i'm currently a senior in highschool and the "hardest" thing i'm taking right now is physics. if i didn't assume my grades were always high and relied on the 3d to tell me how they were, i would probably be failing miserably right now.

personally, i hate studying and i always thought to myself about how i would much rather spend my time taking care of myself and improving my life somehow. i could be spending time with friends, my sp, family or trying new hobbies, going new places, traveling.. i've honestly always found school to be a waste of my time that i could be spending doing so many other things. i used to get so anxious and scared over school and put it on this pedestal like my future depended on it, when that wasn't true at all.

i had to realize that i was doing myself a disservice my pretending that these things somehow mattered more than my input, my wellbeing, and my say in matters. acting like anything depended on "top percentiles" or approvals is a way of distracting yourself from the fact that you are the one accepting this as true. you are the one deciding "if my grades don't look like this, i won't succeed", when in reality, your grades and scores are quite literally said to be a way of being prepared.

a lot of administrators actually don't know what standards schools are choosing by because even if you have the good grades and good exam scores, there's still that chance of you not being picked. this goes back to my point on reliance and how that's your conscious decision. also, leaving things up to "chance" or "luck" (a made up concept) is honestly stupid when you really think about it. you're choosing to let things decide themselves, but somehow you can't decide?

i've noticed that people often put trust in many irrelevant things, like gods, deities, stars, cards, palm readings, psychics, mediums, other people's inputs, etc. and i've realized that nobody ever puts trust in themselves for some reason. isn't that weird? it's fine when you put trust in the things you're not even sure where they originate, the validity, that you can't even see or be sure of.. but the one thing you can be sure of (yourself), is somehow untrustworthy?

it was for this reason that i realized that i need to get more comfortable with myself and deciding i have things without relying on some external factor to tell me that i do. it just doesn't make any sense and it doesn't even work. at the end of the day, your mind is going to sway one way, either you'll believe you succeed, or you didn't.

but anyways, what i'm saying is that being the top percentile is not at all necessary to reach your goals, because at the end of the day it is up to you and the way you feel about yourself, whether you realize it or not. you are the one deciding, even if you have good grades, where you are going to make it in life. you are the one deciding EVERYTHING about your life, your self image, your relationships, yourself, everything regarding you is up to you (obviously).

but, to answer your question properly, no. you do not need to put in any level of work. the law simply states to assume ("whatever you assume to be true will be true"), not to do anything else. everything takes care of itself the moment you simply decide it is true. inspired action is usually something done unconsciously, like for example, you want to manifest money. you decide you have $100. then as you randomly decide to clean your room, you look under your pillow and find $100. (this happened to me but i found it in my drawer lol).

inspired action and trying to force something to happen are two different things, again, one is done unconsciously and the other is done with the intent of hoping something happens. and what does hoping imply? it implies that you don't have it. if i said "i hope i have $100", i obviously don't have it. if i said "i have $100", then i very clearly have $100. you have to assume it in order for it to be true. and that means, you take your own word for it regardless of what you're being shown at this very moment. you have to decide that it already happened.

i'm sorry, i know this is the part that so many of you guys hate since you like being bossed around by other people, but this is how the law works. it's the only rule you've been provided with, and yet so many of you fail to follow it. an assumption is something you believed to be true without proof. the law requires you to believe something, we (coaches, bloggers, teachers, etc) are the ones telling you to believe something *positive*. the law itself is indifferent, you're free to believe whatever you want, good, bad or indifferent. nobody has control over your mind or thoughts but you.

and yes, it has to be you. not your friends, not your parents, not your teachers or professors, not your bosses, not the random strangers on the street, not the people you only meet once, you. because this is your reality. you're experiencing life as your own person with thoughts, feelings, opinions, goals, dreams, a functioning body (hopefully?), and your own eyes. it's yours, and yet so many of you struggle to realize that.

your manifestation is something that's supposed to happen naturally, it's supposed to find a way to grow into your world comfortably, like the example i just provided. (please don't take "find a way" out of context, i simply mean the "how" is not up to you. everything else is. the law of assumption is a law. it has to materialize, and it does, this is also not to say that it will necessarily be "unexpected" or "strange", you just won't know how it will unfold.)

putting in a level of work just comes from a place of doubt (or misinformation, but let's not talk about that right now). you doubt the fact that you can truly sit back and relax and have things work for you. it's a belief that will do absolutely nothing for you and not benefit you at all, though i'm sure a lot of you believe many things that don't benefit you, and you don't really seem to care.

and how would i go about applying all of this? i would simply decide that i have passing marks or that i got accepted into whatever school i wanted regardless of my grades. there is only one rule to manifestation, you can't break it, but you can bend it however you want as long as you assume. the only rule to the law is literally to just apply the law, so do whatever works for you.

if you just wanna feel good about your grades and feel even better getting accepted into a school, go ahead. if you're coming from a place of fear and feeling like you "need to manifest this or else", please take a step back and consider the fact that this is all up to you and i just told you it doesn't work that way. remember that you only feel this way because these standards have been drilled into your mind for years by the people around you. you've basically been conditioned to care about your grades and limit yourself to or only believing in getting going to school for a job.

we as people are the ones who give things we created significance and purpose. nothing is fundamentally real, it is all manmade, and so, you shouldn't be putting it on a pedestal. you are the only one keeping these standards alive in your head and keeping the assigned significance of these standards alive in your head. none of it really matters and we all know that deep down. we are all going to die one day and we literally live on a floating rock in the middle of fucking nowhere. please don't stress yourself out over stupid shit and live your life the way you want. just decide it's yours.

hope this helps! feel free to send me another ask if you still have questions. 🩶

[1byhwng]

( drabble ) “so sweet” -  최연준 (pt.1)

pairings - classmate!yeonjun x college!fem reader

warnings - MDNI (pt.2 will contain smut)

a/n — I was gonna post this yesterday but it wasn’t finished so here’s your late present 😭. sorry for it being messy i was trying to get it done.

it was no secret that yeonjun liked you, almost everyone in school knew. The only person that didn’t know was you.

You would receive candy’s and drinks in your locker along with a note almost everyday, and every note ended with ‘ — C.YJ’ .

Considering he was also one of the most outgoing people in the school, you already ruled him out to be the secret admirer. There were plenty of people with those initials.

The night before christmas yeonjun took the time to write a decorated letter for you.

”Hi, y/n. I know we haven’t really talked much or really at all but i think you’re very pretty —“ he stops scratching out the writing on the paper before tossing it aside somewhere “that’s not it—“ he sighs before grabbing another paper and starting again.

“Hi, y/n. I’ve liked you for a while. i like everything about you. you’re really kind and sweet it’s crazy more guys don’t find you attractive. I didn’t want to say my feelings because i was scared. i can’t say them in front of you or i’ll probably become a stuttering mess. so this is my way of saying i like you. y/n please like me back.” biting his lip he finally decides to place it into the envelope, hoping you would accept it.

——————

The next day, you wake up from the sound of your alarm blasting into your ear. Sitting up, you yawn before getting out of bed and heading downstairs since you didn’t have to get ready for your class until 11:00 which was 4 hours away.

You see your mom standing at the counter cutting up something, turning when she here’s your footsteps. As soon as she sees you her face lights up and she practically runs over to you “so?” she grins brightly at you. “so..what?” you ask, making your way to the fridge with you mom following behind. “oh c’mon, “ she groans “did you tell him yet?” before you could answer she cuts you off “ and don’t you even ‘tell who?’ me, did you tell yeonjun that you like him yet?” she probed.

“mom—i didn’t tell him because—I..he wouldn’t like me back.” you stammer, trying to reason with her only to receive a groan from her.

“i bet he likes you back.” she shrugs going back to cooking. “i’m not in high school anymore mom.” you counter “he has like a million girls on him every day so why would he choose me.”

Your mom sighs, turning to look at you “just ask him y/n,” she smiles “the worst that could happen is he says no—but i doubt that will happen.” she reassures you.

You groan in defeat, “fine.” you get up before heading up to your room to get ready.

——————

As you’re doing your work, you see yeonjun walk into class. Late. As usual but that wasn’t on your mind. Today was the day you tell him that you like him. Today.

You feel butterflies fill your stomach as you think of all the outcomes that could possibly happen. What if he laughs at you and mock your confession in front of everyone. what if he already has a girlfriend. what if he says yes only to use you and leave. what if—

“hey y/n? can i sit here?” you here a voice above you. You look up and see yeonjun looking down at you. god was he tall. “y-yeah of course, no problem ?” you stutter moving your bag to the floor.

why did you feel like a high schooler with her first crush. Technically he is you first crush.

Once he’s seated, you can feel him looking at you as you work—try to work. “can i tell you something?” he speaks up holding a letter in his hand. You look over to him confused, not really sure what he would say.

“i’ve liked you for a while, y/n. So, i wanted to give you this as my christmas present.” he smiles, handing you the letter. After you read it you look at him shocked “yeonjun…I can’t believe t-“

“miss l/n. save your conversation until after the lecture.” your teacher interrupts, causing some to turn and look at the two of you. You mouth ‘i like you too’ to him before paying more attention to the school work but the fact that he liked you wouldn’t leave your head. maybe this was the best day of your life.

[nikist-4-n]

So you’re saying people don’t deserve forgiveness? It’s so funny but maybe everyone’s morals are different but everyone deserves forgiveness no matter what has been said or done. Now if you choose not to forgive that up to you but forgiveness leaves a bitter heart and will rot away at you. Because no one is perfect but yourself in dodo’s situation say you did all the stuff she did would you not want forgiveness? I don’t think it’d be fair to say you don’t deserve it. But it’s fine you’re young and under developed and still growing and learning

1 So you’re saying people don’t deserve forgiveness? It’s so funny but maybe everyone’s morals are different but everyone deserves forgiveness no matter what has been said or done

Now when did I say that? Sure ( some ) people deserve forgiveness, doesn't mean that we forget. And that memory can easily lead to resentment because ur heart is not at peace. What dodo did she could've easily apologized in the beginning -heck I begged her to- but she ignored me and only when she thought we cut her off she apologizes? That's messed up and if u think that it isn't then I don't know what to say to u. And yh anon we all have different morals, but my morals don't want to forget what she did, just because we can easily forgive others doesn't mean I'll forget what she did.

2 Now if you choose not to forgive that up to you but forgiveness leaves a bitter heart and will rot away at you.

Actually how dare u anon. All my life I've forgiven people and gave 22259 chances but they've still hurt me over and over again (those who saw my close friends stories on Insta will know ). And what u should do is let them go. Because forgiveness and forgetting are two different things. Ive forgiven my boy bestie but I didn't forget all the things he's said to me. And for ur information I told dodo over and over again to apologize but she didn't listen to me and then when she faced the consequences for her behaviour she realised she messed up. And by then it was too late. Sometimes others hurt people too much for them to just accept an apology. Sure we've forgiven people but we didn't forget. And that's where dodo comes in. I've forgiven dodo but I don't want her in my life nor did I forget what she did.

3 Because no one is perfect but yourself in dodo’s situation say you did all the stuff she did would you not want forgiveness?

Ok let's say I did that anon. If something chei did bothered me I would've told her. And if it's something in my personal life I would've taken a break from social media so I don't lash out at people who don't deserve my rage. And if my friends told me my behaviour in the beginning I would've apologized immediately and tried to make things right. What dodo did was ignore me calling her out and lashed out at chei for 2 weeks before we had enough and it was too late. And that's what u should learn anon that stuff that people do/say cause emotional wounds and a simple apology does not cut it at all. That's when we need to cut people off for good.

4 I don’t think it’d be fair to say you don’t deserve it. But it’s fine you’re young and under developed and still growing and learning

Yes it would because some things just don't deserve a simple apology. Dodo acted mean and ignored chei for weeks and just accepted us to take her back?? No because she showed us that she does not like chei. We don't just dislike people for no reason, there has to be a reason and if it is not stated we're gonna go with that answer. And how does ur age justify ur behaviour? Sure ur maturity is low but ur not dumb to realise what u are doing. She was actively being mean to chei, she knew it hurt her and that's why she did it. And also chei is literally younger than dodo but didn't act like that. She's sensitive and could've taken her insults to heart but instead she kept quiet and tried to protect her, you anon. Because we all know it's u dodo hiding behind anon so let me say this: please get out of my inbox and stop trying to defend urself, ur explanations just fall flat. Sure u have points ( barely ) but ur arguments fall flat and are ignorant and close minded. I'm tired of having to explain why ur wrong, it's just getting boring and annoying having to type so much.

Please let me know what u disagree with in the comments I'll love to see different opinions ^^

[madisoenc]

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧?

yes, ask yourself that: "what am I waiting for?" and navigate in that, no one is going to manifest for you, no "universe" is going to give your desires to you, there is no external force, it's all YOU!!!

you have to be brave and once and for all accept your power, if you never go all in, you will never be able to live the life of your dreams.

be fr, you know the law is real, there are millions of people out there sharing success stories and being successful just by applying what you already know.

do you think all of us are lying?? nooo!!! if you're a person who need proof (i understand you i was there too) look at Ariana Grande, she talks about manifestation and look where she is, look at Taylor Tookes too, Michael Jackson... out there are people who are a living proof that the law is real!!!

i understand you, at first is a hard pillow to swallow that you create everything of your reality just by accepting it as true, but is a fact, is a LAW, it cannot fail you!!! be comfy on that.

i dare you to see how powerful you are!! as Taylor Tookes always says, manifest some random things, for example: seeing a colour car that you never see, a pink frog, hearing a specific song on the radio...

manifesting these things helps you to realise that is all YOU, everything comes within you. All you have to do is assume you view it everywhere, because you do!!!

you DO NOT even have to affirm 500000 times, you don't have to script, you don't have to listen to subliminals... but don't get me wrong!! if you're a person who feels better doing methods, is totally fine, but you have to understand that the methods are not what manifests, it is just you, ALWAYS.

when you start to fixate on your reality, you start to see that you create even the "little" things.

madi <3