#like everyone else can do it!!!!! why can't i!!!! why is my brain wired so weirdly like STOP GETTING FLUSTERED AND SOBBING GOD!!!!

[lighthouseas]

i like actually do not have the energy for anything ever

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Old Scars, New Blood 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, borderline bullying, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader has accepted that she’ll never be wanted, not only by the man she’s crushed on for years, but by anyone. That is until a new player enters the game. (f!, short!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen, Thor Odinson

Note: I hope you all have a great day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, at least on your end. Lloyd chews loudly, licking his chops, and sucking his fingers loudly. The rose tint is tinged gray.

You pull into the compound and shift into park sharply. You don't move as you wait for Lloyd to get out. He wastes no time ditching you, letting out a shameless belch as he drops down onto the ground. The door snaps shut behind him and you huff.

You look over at the garbage left in his place. That's exactly where you belong. Right there with the trash.

You swipe up the crumple bag filled with wrappers and his half-finished soda. The keys jingle against the paper cup as you swipe your phone out behind you. You dump what's left of the espresso from your own cup and sheath it around the other.

You elbow the door shut and cross the dark grounds. The moon is a sliver that offers little light in the dark. You approach the doors and enter to the muted ruckus of voices and clinking bottles. Yet another night of debauchery. You don't know how Lloyd hasn't fallen right in with his guests.

You go to the kitchen and jam the bag and cups deep in the bin. You have half the mind to go through the fridge and get rid of all those meals you slaved over. Just like everything else, he'll spit it back in your face.

You flip open the door and stop yourself. No, no, he got the reaction he wanted, you're only shooting your own foot at this point. 

Your eyes center on a dark bottle with a silver label. Fuck it. You snatch the prosecco and swing the fridge shut.

You march back down the hall and ignore the din that seeps through from the dining room and various other doorways. You go upstairs to your room and close yourself in, letting the wood slam into the frame. You're not even mad at him, you're furious at yourself. Why can't you just accept it?

You drop the keys on the dresser, your phone too, and keep the bottle in hand. You untwist the wire around the cork and toss it aside. You push with your thumb until it pops and a fizzle escapes the long neck. 

You watch the wisp that rises and you gulp straight from the bottle. You cringe as your eyes water from bubbles and the stringently sweet wine floods your mouth. You gulp until you can't anymore. A quarter of the bottle down, you plunk it on the nightstand and let it sink into your veins.

You undress lazily and leave your clothes on the floor. You don't give a fuck. For one night, you just don't want to think. Hell, if you drink enough, you might just do something real stupid.

You grab the bottle and carry it into the bathroom. As you bend over to twist the faucet, the wine creeps into your brain, hazing your vision in warmth. You pull the lever for the stopper and slowly push yourself straight.

You lean on the porcelain and take another swig. You pop your mouth off the rim and lift one leg, then the other. You ease into the tub, splashing slightly as the water flows higher and higher.

You lean your head back, resting the bottle against the edge as you grip it tight. The ripples around you and beneath the skin and numb the ache in your chest. You close your eyes, drinking without thinking, guzzling until your stomach is full and the tub is nearly full.

You lay as you are, basking in the heat of the water. You could fall asleep right there. Just drift beneath the surface.

That thought jerks you awake. You sit up, dizzy, and get to your knees clumsily. You reach over the side to clunk the bottle onto the tile. You flip the stopper and lift yourself.

You get out, feet crashing onto the bathmat. You cling to the tub and take a breath. You reach for the bar and drag the towel off. You don't feel too bad, just a bit unsteady.

You wrap yourself up and teeter as you bend to grab the bottle. You clamber towards the door. You nudge it all the way open with your elbow.

As you enter the room, you stagger to a halt. You don't expect the figure sitting on your bed, watching you enter as he faces the bathroom door. You blink and squeeze the bottle tighter. 

You're buzzed. No, you're drunk.

You skin singes with self-awareness. Not only of the alcohol that dulls your mind but of the single piece of fabric around you.

“It's not healthy to drink alone,” Thor grins, a paper crinkles between his fingers, “or other things.”

He shows the slip of paper and you shake your head. He clicks his tongue and squints at it, “didn't take you for a cherry girl.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head, confused until you recall hastily hiding away the receipt in your pants. Fuck.

“I don't really use lube myself. Don't need it,” he reaches to drop the paper on the night table.

“What are you…” you clamp your lips shut as a hiccup rises. You swallow it and sway. 

“I don't make promises I don't keep, “ he stands, towering over you as he comes closer.

“You… it was a joke, wasn't it?” You babble dumbly.

“Why would I joke about that?” He stops before you and wraps his hand around the bottle, “mm, not much for bubbly,” he wiggles it free and swiftly empties what's left before examining the empty bottle, “how was your little business trip, eh?”

You frown and cross your arms over the top of the towel, “why are you here?” You ask again.

“I told you–”

“No, why… why did you come here? He hates you.”

“I got that sense of him,” Thor chortles, “doesn't bother me much.” He backs away and sets the bottle on the receipt, “I'm here to play with him. Have a bit of fun. However, he's not as amusing as I hoped. But you…”

“I…” you shake your head, “I'm drunk. I need to lay down.”

“Happily,” he winks as he reaches for you.

You sidle away, “please, I…” you swallow and your eyes flit around, “I can't–”

“Because of him? You’re wasting your time,” he latches onto your hand and draws it away from your chest, “he doesn't deserve you, little lamb.”

“I don't… it isn't because of him…”

“You're a poor liar,” he tuts, “shouldn't take your lessons from him.”

“Stop,” you try to tug away.

“You don't know what you need,” he drags you towards the bed, “it isn't him.”

“Please,” you whimper.

“You don't need to be nervous, I can be nice, kitten,” he purrs as he yanks you against him.

“I can't–” you squeak into a yelp as the towel falls away from your body, “Thor, please–”

“Louder,” he swiftly picks you up with his hands on your ass. 

You writhe against him as he spins and falls with you onto the mattress. It bounces under you and you nearly choke on your tongue. You slap his chest as he leans over you and smothers your mouth with his.

You close your eyes as they tingle and you dig your nails into the fabric of his shirt. You whimper and feel around with your other hand as he kneads your ass. You're overcome by his brusqueness. More so, you can't handle the touch, the way his hot breath consumes you, and that flicker on your core that has the vision of another flashing in your mind.

You turn your head and let out a croak as your tears leak out, “I can't,” you whine, “you're right, okay? I want him. I'm a stupid girl that wants someone like him.”

You bring your hand up to shield your face as he lifts himself on his elbow. He hovers over you as you devolve into sobs, “I'm pathetic.”

“Shhhh,” the soft stroke along your cheek startles you, “little kitty,” he slithers, “shhh.”

He shifts and comes down to his side. He slips his arm under your neck as you curl up, trying to disappear. He rolls you towards him so your face is against his shoulder. He pets your head as he holds you.

“Oh, little one,” he cooes, “it hurts now… but I can make it so much better.”

He stays like that, embracing you as you quake in your despair. You keep your face buried against his shirt as his thick muscles fill you with a sense of security. His other hand rests on your hip but does not wander.

Heaviness drapes over you and your body slowly slackens. The wine dulls your nerves and swirls in your head. You feel yourself spiraling and quickly fade into the void.

❤️‍🩹

Your brow twitches and your nose itches. You nearly smack yourself as you throw your hand up and groan. The effort makes you wince.

Ugh, hungover. It's been a while.

You bend your leg and the blanket falls away to uncover your naked thigh. You frown and peek down as you lift the blanket. No clothes. You blanch and lay back, trying to summon the memories of the previous night.

The buzzing of the shower draws your attention away from your internal search. Along with the thrum is the deep baritone singing a song you've never heard. You blink, long and hard, and push yourself up.

Your heart feels as if it's stopped beating. Your breath catches and you look around the room. There's clothing hung over the chair in the corner. Men's clothes.

Oh god.

You wouldn't…

As the melody carries, slightly offkey, you recognise the singer. Thor. Oh. Oh no.

You curl your fingers against the mattress, barely able to hold yourself up. You remember the bath and then him waiting and him on top of you but everything else is gone. How can you not remember? 

A pit plunges down to your stomach. No, you're not like that. You've held out all these years…

Well, how many chances did you really get?

The shower cranks off and you gulp, hugging the blanket against your chest as you sidle around to the edge of the bed. You can hear him moving around, humming. You don't know what to do.

As the door opens, you try to think of what to say. Hi, good morning, what the heck happened last night?

You're speechless as he emerges butt naked. Brazen as he has himself on full display. Full display.

You snap your mouth shut as he uses a towel to dry his hair and winks as he drops it down to wrap his waist. 

“Morning, kitten,” he growls, “you seem chipper.”

You try to talk but can only cough. You reach to touch your throat and rub the lump free, “Thor, what… last night…” your voice cracks with each syllable.

“Ha, you think we…” he lets the suggestion dangle and scoffs.

You nod. Of course, he's all bluster. He wouldn't actually want you.

“When it happens, you will remember it,” he taunts, “I like to build up to sleep fucking.”

Your jaw falls open, “Thor…”

“Besides, if anything had happened, you would remember it.”

“I…” you flutter your lashes, “I should–”

“Well here you are,” he knots the towel around his waist, “lucid…”

“...get dressed,” you complete your previous threat.

You stand but he blocks you easily. He catches your shoulders and urges you back. Your legs hit the mattress and you sit, unable to fight his strength.

“Now?” You squeak.

He rumbles with laughter as his hands trail down your arms, “just a taste. To pep me up for the day.”

“Uhhh,” your voice rolls out senselessly as his hand crawls over the blanket and he tugs it. You cling to it desperately. 

He snarls and yanks up the bottom, tossing it over his head as he seizes your thighs beneath. You yelp as he bows and pulls your legs apart. You lose hold of the blanket and it rumples at your waist as you catch yourself on the heels of your hands.

You wriggle and try to resist him as his head pokes up beneath the blankets. He has you leaning back on your arms as he pulls your legs over his shoulders. You lift a hand and slap his head as you realise what he's about to do.

Too late.

Your hand falls against his head as his hot breath tingles along your thighs. His cool tongue slips between your folds and you gasp, electricity coursing through you. Oh!

You let out a pathetic noise as you push futilely on his head, still writhing as he nuzzles further into you. His large tongue spreads wide and he flicks it up over your clit. You spasm and yipe in surprise at another zing.

“Thor,” you breathe.

He pulls back for just an instant, “louder, kitten, can't hear you under here.”

He dives back in and the bed bounces as you jolt. You try to smack him again but only urge him. You gasp and quiver helplessly, toes curling and legs tingling. What do you do?

Oh god, what can you do? This is better than any toy you got hidden in your nightstand. This is an actual man. It's real and it feels so good.

He wraps his arms around your legs and rips you down onto your back as he lifts your pelvis higher. He hums into you and it ripples up to your chest. You hiss and slap the bed as lay defeated.

“Ohhhhh,” you drone out as you succumb to the delightful swirls.

He growls and your breath hitches. He turns his head, just for a moment, and nips your thigh, “louder…”

You mewl and utter his name. It's as much a plea for him to keep going as it is for him to stop. He laps at you again and you cry out. That seems to fuel his fervour as he suckles at you eagerly. 

Your voice rises without your permission. Your whines burst from you as you claw at the blanket and squirm. You can't hold back. It's more than just that moment, it's years of waiting, of wanting.

You don't care that it's not who you wanted. You don't care if anyone else hears. You can't think straight enough for any of that as you call out Thor’s name, bucking your hips desperately into an orgasm.

[void-occupation]

Some Lee!Alastor Headcanons to Fuel My Brain

The lee!alastor tag has been painfully empty for the last few days, so I've decided to contribute a few headcanons of mine for you all to see and consider as you wish. Feel free to add on to this post with headcanons/rants/fics/whatever of your own if you want, I was just personally experiencing withdrawal symptoms and needed to fuel my addiction lol

(These are tickle headcanons for those unfamiliar with the terminology. If that isn't your thing, just scroll right on by)

First thing's first. Something I think everyone is sleeping on? Scalp massagers. Specifically the wire ones. I personally think those things are ticklish as fuck, and I'm far from the only one. The majority of us have come to the agreement that Alastor's ears are also ticklish as fuck. Just take a moment with me and imagine the potential:

Someone (probably Angel, or Lucifer) gets a scalp massager and is going around trying it on other hotel residents when they aren't paying attention. It's just for fun, and they're getting the typical reactions (jumping away, super startled, or just completely Unphased). Then, they manage to catch Alastor by surprise and do it to him, but instead of the typical reaction, Alastor startles before bursting out into staticky giggles. Alastor has no clue WHY it tickles so much, but it does, and he's practically paralyzed in a weird half-curled position as whoever has the massager just keeps running it over is head over and over. He can't try to escape, he can only giggle and babble out nonsense words, especially when the ends rub up against his ears which only makes it MORE ticklish, which he didn't think was possible. After the other demon shows mercy (and somehow isn't immediately slaughtered) Alastor develops a healthy fear of the massager, and grows incredibly anxious with anticipation and adorably flustered any time someone brings one out

Speaking of massagers brings me to my second headcanon. This man CANNOT get a massage or he will absolutely die. People who are tense can be more ticklish as a result, and since Alastor is already incredibly ticklish, having tense muscles makes this 100x worse. I have really tense shoulders, and any massage there immediately makes me hysterical, and I imagine Alastor would be the same. If he was comfortable enough to do so, he would be the kind of person to absolutely die if he were to get a full-body massage because it would tickle so damn much - even through the pain that comes with massages. Rosie likes to pretend to massage his shoulders and neck just so she can tell him to stop squirming and giggling so much because she's trying to help him

Another quick headcanon. I like to imagine that he's mostly covered in fur, and while it isn't terribly long in most places, it can still get tangled after a shower, or after being smothered by his clothes all day, so he has to brush it regularly. This is an absolute nightmare for him. Even when he's brushing his own fur, he has to stop every few seconds because he starts laughing too much in certain areas, like over his sides or belly for example. No matter how often he does it, he never gets used to the feeling, and it only gets worse if someone else (usually Rosie) does it for him. At least if he does it himself, he can stop once he starts laughing. It makes it take a long time, but it's less flustering. If Rosie (or Satan forbid someone else for whatever reason) brushes his fur, she usually tries to get a much done at once as she can, so she usually keeps going until he's begging for a break. Also, she thinks it's absolutely adorable, so she'll keep brushing areas that make him squeal long after all the tangles have been removed

Last one for now is that he can feel the static from people's phones. If he's close to someone when their phone rings, he can usually feel the static of it crawling teasingly over his skin. It usually isn't a big deal, but if someone is being bombarded by calls that they keep ignoring (let's say Valentino obsessively calling Angel Dust), the static quickly becomes overwhelming and he'll beg the person to answer their phone or turn it off, if straight up bashing it against the nearest wall isn't an option. It doesn't tickle a particular area, more of an all-encompassing tickle over his entire body. If he gets to the point of begging them to answer, it's usually because he can't hold his laughter and squirming anymore and is trying not to make a fool of himself. He feigns annoyance so people don't find out the real reason he wants the calls to stop. The secret comes out when Angel absolutely refused to answer Valentino one day, but didn't want to turn off his phone because he was in the middle of doing something on it, and Alastor finally broke and curled up where he sat, giggling hysterically and begging Angel to turn his phone off

That's all I have for now, I hope you enjoyed these headcanons. If you decide you like them enough to incorporate them into anything you write/draw, tag me!!! I'd move to see it. Also, as mentioned earlier, feel free to add onto this as you wish, I'd love to see how you all make these headcanons your own

[robinminustherichard]

Eddie, sans mustache, is the voice of reason

(How I imagine the final scene could play out farther)

"He called me Buck." Buck mumbles, not even bothering to wipe the tear that slides down his cheek.

"I'm sorry, what?" Eddie asks, turning towards Buck. "You're on my couch crying because someone called you Buck?"

Buck simply looked at him, eyes wide.

"Don't, don't look at me like that." Eddie shook his head, taking another drink of his beer. "I am not Tommy that does not work on me."

"Oh my god-" Buck's voice breaks and he shoves his plams against his eyes.

"Whoa, Buck. You're gonna have to give me a clue here man."

"Tommy called me Buck, tonight. When he bro-" the rest of what Buck says is too muffled by his hands for Eddie to hear him.

"Still didn't catch that, bud. You're upset because Tommy called you Buck? That's literally what you tell everyone to call you."

Buck took a deep breath, pulled his hands away, and looked at Eddie with red-rimmed eyes.

"Tommy called me Buck after he broke up with me."

Eddie pulls in a sharp breath and winces, sets his beer down on the table and reaches over to clasp Buck's shoulder.

"Oh, man. Buck. What? Why the hell would he break up with you?"

"I don't-," Buck starts, pulling another rough breath in, "I don't know. I asked him to move in with me-"

"Buck-"

"No!" Buck interjected. "That's not even the issue. He started saying some crazy stuff about how he's my first but not my last and that if he moves in with me I'll break his heart."

Eddie sits, taking it in and letting Buck process more.

"So he broke my heart, instead. He broke up with me, called me 'Buck' like he hasn't been re-wiring my brain towards 'Evan', and walked out of my life."

Eddie breathes out, not quite sure how to tread.

"And-and-- it's such bullshit that he would do this! He changed my entire life in thirty seconds and then six months later gets to rip my heart out and leave?" Buck's fingers rip at the label around his bottle. "I can't believe this, Eddie. This is so stupid, and I don't even know how I messed up."

Buck looks dangerously close to crying again, so Eddie pulls him into the best hug that can be had when you're on a couch and also not wearing pants.

"Buck, I'm sorry man," he starts, patting him on the back before pulling away. "But you didn't mess this up. Clearly, Tommy's not thinking. He can't be thinking because everyone with eyes can tell you're in love with him. I've never seen you this in love."

Buck wipes at his eyes some more before nodding. Eddie takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't know what the hell Tommy is thinking. It sounds...it sounds like he's scared, like he's closing himself off to protect himself."

"But I don't want to hurt him, Eddie," Buck groans, mouth wobbling, "I love him so much."

"I know you do, Buck," Eddie sighs, running a hand across his face. "And I know where Tommy is right now. I've been where he is, and it's not a good place to be. Thinking that causing yourself pain now is better than getting hurt by someone else later; telling yourself that you won't feel gutted if it's you that pulls away before its taken away."

Buck looks at him, face devastated.

"But that's so....that's so stupid!" Buck breathes heavily, almost surprised by his own outburst.

Eddie looks at him, nods at him in agreement. "You're right."

"I mean," Buck starts up again, jumping to his feet and beginning to pace, "why the hell does he think I'm just going to have some fun with him and then leave him? I'm in love with him. Why the hell does he get to decide what I'll do in the future?"

Buck is breath heavily and runs a hand through his hair.

"A-a-and why does he get to just end things because he thinks I'm going to want something else? Someone else?"

Eddie is watching Buck pace and takes another sip of his beer.

"He doesn't even want to give me a chance! I told him that I want to see him even more and he decides to break up with me because he what, thinks I'm lying? Th-thinks I don't know what I want?"

Eddie shrugs, makes a non-commital noise.

"Well, no!" Buck stops, facing Eddie. He puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. "This is unfair and I can't believe he would even think that I would treat him as just some sort of, of; some sort of training boyfriend!"

Buck practically yells his last statement, breathing heavy and meeting Eddie's eyes.

"So," Eddie says, "what are you going to do about it?"

Buck looks at him, silent for a moment.

"I-" Buck starts, confident before he suddenly deflates. "I don't know, Eddie."

Eddie groans before standing up and setting both hands on Buck's shoulders.

"Buck." He stares straight into Buck's face, "you are going to go to Tommy's, and you are going to tell him all of this, and you are going to get your man back."

Buck nods, confidence coming back.

"Yes." He agrees with Eddie.

"You are going to bang on his door until he let's you in, and then youre going to tell him that he's full of it and that you love him, and that he doesn't get to decide how you feel, and you are going to tell him that for all this trouble he better have a court-side Lakers ticket for me to."

"Yeah!" Buck exclaims, nodding. "Wait-"

Buck starts to protest but Eddie is turning him and steering him towards the door.

"You are not going to let him mess this up, because he and I are supposed to go to another fight next month, and I can't even kick his ass for you because he could totally crush me."

Buck is sputtering, piecing together sentences like what, Eddie, that is not the point here--

They get to the door and Eddie throws it open, give Buck another gentle push across the threshold.

Buck turns and looks at him, his face unable to convey the confusion fear indignation upset that he's feeling.

"Buck." Eddie stops, holding onto the door with one hand. "I know you, and I know you're gonna fight for this. If he turns you down again, call me and I'll be there to pick you up--"

"Will you put pants on to do that or--"

"Don't be ungrateful," Eddie interjects, "you will go to Tommy's house, and you will remind him that you are a fully grown adult who is capable of having your own feelings and thoughts, and you will tell him that you love him so much that you are literally obsessed with him--"

"Well, I don't know about tha--"

"You will tell him that you stare longingly at a picture of him at 3 AM when you can't sleep in the bunks."

"How do you--"

"And you will," Eddie starts to adjust to close the door, "get. your. man. back."

Buck looks like he's going to protest one more time, but Eddie raises his eyebrows and starts to close the door.

"And for God sakes, tell him how weird you are about the Buck/Evan thing."

With that, Eddie closes the door on Buck, locking it securely. As he goes to turn away, he hears Buck call out one last time, followed by his stomping tread down the sidewalk.

"I'm only listening to you because you shaved that god awful mustache, so clearly you've gotten some sense back!"

Eddie rolls his eyes, walks to the couch and plops down on it. He pulls his phone out, brings up Tommy's message thread and types out a new one to send.

If you really thought that was going to work, you don't know Evan.

[elicathebunny]

❥ CREATING CELEBRITY ENERGY AND STAR QUALITY.

Have you ever dreamed of being famous or having some sort of influence? (doesn't have to be a very exposed influence like celebrities have, it could just have star quality and inspire/influence the people around you in daily life). Using celebrity energy and understanding how to use it can completely change your life around and open new opportunities for you.

(I found the topic of how stars come up to be stars quite interesting and no I haven't applied any of this to my life. I just think that this is interesting.

These notes are taken from other people and are summarised from videos that they have created. If you tap on the links from titles you can find the OG creators.)

LOA, AUTHENTICITY + CONFIDENCE:

Think about Norma Jeane Mortenson, better known as her persona Marilyn Monroe using what is now called the "Marilyn Effect".

'Whenever Marilyn Monroe walked into a room, she carried an irresistible charisma - a compelling blend of confidence, vulnerability, and charm. That's the Marilyn Monroe Effect. It's the power to captivate and influence others by being authentically you. ' - Eye Mind Spirit

❥ AUTHENTICITY + COFIDENCE

Authenticity means also being polarizing.

polarizing = the general public has mixed feelings about them

Being authentic has a magnetic effect. By being real you will attract people who resonate with that. But you also going to push away people who don't so it creates love-hate.

Being fake creates like, but no one will ever love you. The only way to be loved by everyone is to be fake and be this social chameleon.

You're meant to be you with your "authentic magnet" through humanity and find your tribe and your tribe is not everyone.

Don't introduce yourself as a vibe that you can't maintain.

Own your vibe but also be willing to be judged and tested on it

"You're going to be judged regardless". You're meant to be rejected by people in this world.

Being judged for authenticity hurts but only being accepted when your being fake hurts even more.

The more times you have to affirm that you are confident, the more it reinforces that you are not confident by default.

❥ LAW OF ATTRACTION AND ASSUMPTION

LOA does nothing if deep down you know truly that you don't believe in it. You cannot fool yourself with 20 affirmations that you repeat to yourself in the morning yet still have negative thoughts throughout the day. "Why are you not confident? What is the source." Do the inner work. "What do you actually think is broken in you? Are you truly living or are you trying to justify your existence? Who are you trying to justify it to?"

CELEBRITY ENERGY AND CREATING STAR-QUALITY

❥ CELEBRITY ENERGY

Famous people act famous before they even become famous. You have to create the energy before the fame can come. But there is a difference between being famous and being a celebrity. You can feel the energy of a celebrity even if you're not famous, but not all famous people have celebrity energy. - Think about the fame difference between Charlie Damelio and Marilyn Monroe.

Creating this 'celebrity energy' is something that you will have to create in public which can be embarrassing. But if you want to be famous you have to be okay with putting yourself out there for judgement and you have to believe what you're doing before anyone else can see it.

The people in your life are going to perceive what you're doing as threatening because you are changing your identity and that is triggering for them.

You have to overcome your brain's natural wiring to play small and be willing to be 'cringe'.

Fame is just a resource of people's attention, an exchange of your consciousness and their consciousness. So you consciousness has to be as clear and as authentic as possible. Authentic to you, who you naturally are.

Acquiring fame requires a deeper level of trust: Believing that the people around you and in the world will love and support you.

It amplifies ALL areas of your life so if you're blocked in another area, you won't create it.

Your art doesn't actually have to be that good: The difference between creators and influencers who make it and the ones who don't is how much they believe in what they are selling.

You have to start performing as if people already love you and your art/content.

If you don't believe that you are wanted then you are going to put up walls and won't be able to tap into celebrity energy.

You do not need any more strategy - You are energetically not available for people to perceive you for who you really are.

❥ STAR QUALITY AND MARKETING

Halloween costume/Hollywood hair theory - Memorable and unique features that make you stand out that could possibly be recreated as a costume, for example: Jojo Siwa, Ariana Grande, Melanie Martinez, Lady Gaga, Madonna, Ice Spice, etc.

Learn how to market yourself, and realise you as a person are a brand.

Learn how to sell and market to others but also to yourself

Work on your public speaking, charisma and personality (your vibe)

[yandere-collections]

Since the first post about it, I am now eternally rotating Yandere Town in my mind. Lately it’s imagining how the townspeople would react if the reader was a complete recluse. There’d be clandestine watchtowers in place with a view of the readers home, and any time they left people got some equivalent of an amber alert that their darling is out and about, so be on your best behavior! Everyone working double time to make every second count should they encounter the reader, tripping over themselves to try and make enough of an impression that they just might come out more often.

The more desperate folks get dressed in blue collar outfits and pass themselves off as inspectors who “just need to take a quick look around, make sure everything’s in order.” The reader is equal parts relieved that the town takes citizen safety so seriously and confused as to why five people have showed up in the last three days, not to mention that they seem more interested in chatting than doing any work. The local government cracks down on that pretty quickly, but a few people still slip through the cracks.

Once they all get some idea of what the reader enjoys, the events going on in town get weirdly specific. Checked out a lot of horror books at the library? Big horror movie night in the gym! Spotted shopping around the farmers market? Time for the local festival with plenty of fresh pies and homemade treats! Frequently stop by a certain restaurant? What do you know, they actually throw this big feast in town every year! Crazy how it just happens to fall on the readers birthday, huh? They wouldn’t want to miss it, would they?

And since I’m a big fan of darlings who can read between the lines, the reader catching on that people are acting weird and leaving the house even less than they did when they first arrived, and turning away any unexpected visitors, even if they really are there to check on the house. Unrest sweeping through the streets because nobody’s seen them for the past month, and the leaders have to resort to drastic measures to keep the peace. The fireman chalk up the destruction of the readers entire house to be a horrible case of flawed wiring, they really should’ve let someone check that out. Nowhere to stay? Don’t be silly! Anyone in town would be happy to take them in until they have somewhere new to stay. It’s a close knit town, so expect plenty of guests! Surely the reader won’t mind, they can’t dictate such things in someone else’s home, right? :)

(Apologies for the long-ish ask, it’s just been rotting my brain and I needed to get it all out of my system. Love the stories, love you, have a wonderful day.)

YES YES YES!!! You have reached into my mind and took my exact thoughts to the point where I don't actually have much to add to this.

I definitely think being a recluse would lead to more yanderes invading your privacy, ironically enough. If they can't come in for inspections, your "neighbors" offer to renovate and maintain your home. New paint, gardening, one of them even offered to start digging a hole in your backyard to put in a pool (no ulterior motives here! they totally aren't hoping to catch you in a bathing suit on the dozens of cameras surrounding your house). While you may be missing some things and you're pretty sure you have less locks on your windows now, you can't deny how much nicer the house looks. Hopefully you don't get too attached because, like you said, something bad may happen if you spend too much time inside. They won't resort to burning it down unless they're really desperate. Most of the time, a burst sewer line or power outage is enough. Maybe the utility company will shut off your water, forcing you to stay at a friend's for a while.

Never apologize for long asks! It's a genuine delight to see how excited people get about my writing <3

[bugwolfsstuff]

here's the w.i.p for ToL chp 2 so far (I have rewritten it multiple times now)

Can i please get constructive criticism or something because my brain keeps screaming at me to scrap it all and rewrite it again.

-----

I woke up in a bed with an elf pointing runes at me menacingly, one of my spawn scowling at me, and a dwarf pointing a harpoon at my face.

So basically a typical Saturday for me.

I couldn't get much of a look at where I was because of the weapons in my face, but I seemed to be in a guest room. The walls were white, and the only other furnishings were another bed and a shabby wooden dresser.

Well, this room was devoid of any personality, so I must've been in the home of my (probably dead) good friend, Randolph.

"Good morning," I said casually, gently pushing the harpoon away from my face with the tip of my finger. "Or is it evening? And get that out of my face, please."

"I thought you were in the walnut!" Alex yelled accusingly, as if it was my fault I wasn't in a walnut. Why would I even be in a walnut?

I rolled my eyes. "Can't a mother just want to spend time with his favourite son or daughter? Ever thought of that?"

Alex was, in fact, not my favourite daughter or son, alive or dead, but Alex did not need to know that.

"Quality time? You tried to kill us!" Alex snapped. "And it's son today, mom."

He said Mom like someone would say a very bad swear. Which, considering Alex's extensive vocabulary, tells me a lot about how much he loves me.

"Oh, build a bridge, son! You're already dead!" I snapped back, saying son the same way he said mom. Which was probably not the right thing to do or say in that situation.

Alex lunged at me and none of the others made an attempt to stop him. Thankfully, he wasn't holding his garrotte wire (which I technically gave to him, by the way), or I would have had a very bad case of decapitation.

I dodged....and rolled off the bed.

Yeah, not my best idea.

My bones made another sickening crunch as my body connected with the floor, and I debated whether or not my survival was worth it.

I managed to sit up against the wall. "Wait wait wait!" I put my hands up in surrender, "Just hear me—ouch—out".

"Never!"

"Fine."

Everyone looked at Magnus in surprise, including me who didn't think that'd actually work.

"What?" The dwarf almost dropped his harpoon, "Kid, you can't be serious!"

"Please be serious," I said, "don't be a douche." He could just pretend to want to help before going HA SIKE! And running his sword through me. Even though I knew that would be very un-Magnus-like. He's a healer. He doesn't do stuff like that.

"We should hear him out—"

I grinned. "Thank you, Magnus Chase!" I side-eyed my son, who was scowling at me from the bed, "At least someone wants to listen to me!"

"Shut up," Magnus said, he looked at me for a moment, his stormy grey eyes looking me up and down. "Your ribs are broken," He said finally, "I'll heal you, only if you swear on your troth to not hurt anyone here."

My grin widened, this kid was an idiot, he doesn't know I don't care about stuff like troth. 

I put my hand to my chest, "I swear by my troth that I won't hurt anyone in this room—"

"On this property, Mother" Alex rudely interrupted, "Your tricks won't work here".

If he was doing this to anyone else I would have been almost proud of the fact that he caught on to that.

Magnus smiled at him and—Oh my gods well isn't that interesting. You see dear mortals. That wasn't a friendly smile that was a loving smile. It seems my little snakelet has got himself a boyfriend. Very interesting, I could use that against them both later.

I shoved that thought to the back of my mind.

"I swear by my troth that I won't cause harm to anyone on this property" I amended.

[1o1percentmilk]

I'm just very affected by stereotypes around masculine vs feminine fields... I like fitting in, at least superficially, and I want to be liked. Growing up I was never actually told that I couldn't do anything because I was a girl, but I felt it... like, "girls are worse at math" and "girls naturally don't want to go into stem"... So I, as a girl who was good at math, felt an obligation to succeed in STEM, and prove to everyone that a girl could do these things! Even more, I wanted to prove to everyone that a trans man who was socialized as a girl could do STEM, and fight the stereotype that trans men are relegated to the arts and humanities, or only take up artistic careers. I wanted to be different and prove that trans men had the same capabilities as cis men.

But... as I get further and further into my tech career... I feel guilty because in my case... the stereotypes are right. I'm not good at math beyond calculus, and I don't have any motivation to pursue programming projects of my own. I'm not good at physics and while I'm good with computers, I don't go out of my way to get better at it. There are blips of enjoyment here and there and I try my best to cultivate interest, but the truth is that I am deeply unhappy with what I study. What I really want to do is to sit around and read and draw and talk to people. But I'm scared to admit it, because then that means they were right, and I can't do anything useful. In some form it strips away part of what makes me feel masculine and I don't feel comfortable with that.

I think that part of it is a burden on me to separate gender from profession and field, because I definitely do have a lot of hangups around that. I'm majoring in Computer Science because it makes me feel "malebrained" and I don't think that's like, a thought process that any normal person has. (I am not normal). But I think the other part is that it shouldn't be on me to represent an entire population of people. It's a good thing to do, certainly, but trying to be "good transgender rep" in real life shouldn't be any single person's goal.

Why should I be a more virtuous person, put more effort into my day, count my missteps more, for the reason of being a minority population? Why should I push myself to do things I don't enjoy for the purposes of pointing to someone that "HEY! I'm a man too! And I can DO STUFF just like men! Because hey! Men and women can do the SAME THINGS!" Maybe I'm making up a person to get mad at, someone who really believes that "female brains" aren't wired the same as "male brains."* But why can't I just be allowed to exist and make mistakes just like anyone else?

I don't want to have to be a shining pillar of society just to be a human.

*this footnote is here because I am quite sure that these people exist; in fact, I had a rather notorious Computer Science professor, Stuart Reges, for one of my first classes of uni, ever, who wrote an article titled "Why Women Don't Code." It's as bad as you expect, and is my Roman Empire.

[dirtyoldmanhole]

real dweeby navel gazing time

i think one of the reasons i am having genuinely, so much fun with this gunter slowburn fanfic despite sitting at a literal 53k words rn and with it probably being close to 90k all said and done, is it's ... writing the ship i see myself in the most by far on both sides.

like, ever.

this shit is the rawest most honest shit i've ever written.

i've talked a little bit about how corrin's memory wipe stuff is literally a 1:1 to my anesthesia/childhood surgery/physical therapy conga line of bullshit. even aside from the helpful textual 'here's how this works from a medical event standpoint' there's the 'here's the emotional scars that it will leave because yes it is a bodily/mind violation of a sense, over and over, and jesus all of this of this stuff goes so well thematically to the straight up fantasy bullshit of nohr with the underpinning of being hyper-aware to the themes of "power" "use" "what it takes to survive by emotionally dragging yourself through a minefield" etc. stuff i've been ruminating over since being conscious lol.

then my body's so whack from a physical joint perspective that there's also almost word for word conversations from gunter's side that i've had with my gf about how to navigate certian shit from a kink perspective but also like... how to maintain dignity when your body's kinda physically crapping out on you due to the march of time.... without loosing the sexytimes u know?

the concept of dignity in the face of being broken is a huge theme in this fic that gets echoed. very poignant for reasons you fates players know.

amusingly there's a scene near the end where corrin's helping him to shave after his stroke. (in one of fate's "clearly having a giggle at my expense" coincidences i've been in contact lately irl with somebody who's also gone through a stroke and man is it not easy) and it's this kind of perfect blend of she's helping him, technically, with something that could just be... god awful self loathing brainspace wise for him but it turns into this amazingly hot kink scene with some serious sizzling power exchange.

the dream, man!

there is a real thin line between being able to laugh at yourself *while* keeping that dignity to pointedly.... having to not look in the mirror some days. desire and shame being some real fucked up entangled wires too, in that sense.

the tumblr uwu approved discussions re: tricky medical/'my body is crapping out on me man and i can't hide it'/kink shit and having to be ~valid~ all the time gives me the hiiiiiveeeees man (and i'm not knocking it for other people, i know why it exists, but it sends my hackles up u feel).

and yet this fic still feels like, hot, in the fun sense.

there's enough fun whacko fantasy taboo elements in it that it doesn't feel .... oh no this ain't sexy this is Too Real, you feel, or too much like a trauma fic(tm)

there's the sexy yandere villain ossan (lol), corrin herself has one hell of a sex drive (and honestly that's yet another huge focus, that wish fufillment fantasy of this 'pure fragile princess chick that's fought over like a prize by everyone else' who gets to choose 'no i actually want the hot villain kthx'. she actually rants to him several times about being fought over and having everyone else from nohr/hoshido project all the shit on her.

(and him being all, I got you, I get it.)

he actually does!!!! that's the funniest darkest most ironic thing!! he's got that weird blend of being aware enough from a kink perspective and just 'went through enough shit' life perspective of why sometimes the most sacred, profound thing you can do for somebody is to break them when they ask for it. sometimes in the dark u just want the brain wires to go bzzt.

there is a weird as hell comraderie in the sense of facing very specific demons that only they have (which, again, hilariously, goes so well with the themes of revelation! invisible enemies/demons that only you two know about.)

and then i have like yet another essay in me about how literally every character i've RP'ed is a suspiciously similar to his whole... archetype.... like all of my RP partners have gravitated to playing the chicks in the het relationships and i've always RP'd the snarky older guy going through life snarking at shit and being a closet misanthrope (there's probably some presentation/gender-aligned stuff going there but this is already navel gazey as hell lol)

anyway

tl;dr i haz feelz

[thatgayhippie]

hiii sorry this is late i have been having a crazy day lol

so neurodiversity refers to anything (literally anything) that is out of the ordinary, ordinary being a "normal" functioning human. Neurodivergence or neurodiversity is used to collectively refer to a variety of mental disorders like Schizophrenia, Autism, ADHD, OCD, anxiety, etc.

ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), more commonly known as Autism, is a developmental and communication disorder. For me, and a lot of other people, Autism is a disability. It affects the way i see, feel and understand the world around me. Autistic brains are built different, as in, our brains lack some features of the allistic brain, like something called executive function, which helps in planning prioritising and getting tasks done. Autism also affects the emotion sensing parts of the brain, meaning i process and feel things very differently. Most notably, it affects the language processing and speech. Most autistic people struggle with speech and learnt to speak late (i was the opposite, i learnt to speak super fucking early---thats another cool thing about autism: we just dont develop normally). Most autistics struggle with tone, sarcasm, and social rules and etiquettes. We are also generally very sensitive to textures and sounds (i would rather die that touch velvet and i often get cranky in loud environments) because our nerves are more sensitive and get excited very easily. We also tend to have attention difficulties (thats another byproduct of executive dysfunction!) and have trouble with focus (not always though sometimes we enter a stage of hyperfocus where nothing else matters---seriously sometimes i hold in my pee and forget to eat because im too engrossed in whatever im doing). Also we tend to struggle with eye-contact because to a lot of us its overwhelming and feels invasive.

Autism is seriously under-researched and thats why we dont know a lot about it. Hopefully this changes in the future because it would be very helpful to know why my brain is acting weird but until then, hope this helps ((:

Oh it's totally fine! Are you good now?

Thanks so so much for this Mrun this is so very helpful because now I can begin to comprehend autism! Oh so everyone who has a mental disability would be under the neurodiversity umbrella? That's nice to have a little community label!

I see, so it is as if your brain is wired different? (And possibly the nervous system because you mentioned yoir nerves being really sensitive to textures?) I can understand why it is called a spectrum now too. Oh also I don't know any autistic person as of now but if I meet someone, should I ask for their specific needs or is that considered prude?

I can't thank you enough for this honestly, my book just gave me these 2 passages that hurt my brain so much.

[blooming-violets]

I don't want you to think I'm critical of dancing on her own OK maybe I am but I'm not here to .....make your day worse just give my own two cents I'm glad that peter gets therapy and I'm glad you mention peter is extremely young during all of this it makes me a little bit more empathetic to see his side of the matter and while it's wonderful that our lady character is capable to forgive him despite all this shit he put her through I still don't think she should be romantically involved with him like ever it not that he doesn't deserve her and bla bla (though that is also a very valid point) it not healthy for either of them she has seen him as an escape from her abusive childhood and clung on to the one thing she sees as normal it's quite similar for him to keep her with him because of his abandonment issues maybe there is quite strong love there but is it strong enough to take away the fact that they both view each other as coping mechanisms ? Im also much more optimistic and I like to think if anyone was in th place of the oc would've cut out peter along time ago which is what I wanted for them to go on healing parts separately from one another and find themselves and each other along the way again that's what is my hc for this actually that she views Gabe as the last starw forces him to move out And gets the fuck away from this man whose cut her of from so fucking much just cause he can't stand to have someone else in her life that's so so shitty but then I'm not her I don't even know how I would react if I was put in this situation humans are so weird in this way we are all wired differently while we like to think we want to do something some way we might do the opposite I guess I'm one of those people who like the "but this is the right way to go about things" ending rather than gray ending that don't satisfy me but that's my problem maybe that's what makes this fic so good for me it forces me to confront how I feel about morally Gray characters and complex situations rather than conforming to this good Black and white ending we have something Strange though it is also happy ending just not the one I agree with so yeah....the point of all this is youre a great writer thanks for writing this and I hope peter gets all the therapy he can lives with knowing that he's a very very lucky man cause I would've kicked him out a long time ago. I'm going to go ahead of believing that they never ended up together romantically

Hahaha this made me chuckle because I thought I was bad at rambling, run-on sentences with zero punctuation but I think you have me beat! I need to go reread this line by line because it's so much and I love it. And I'm glad you have your own opinions on it! That's what makes writing fun to me is seeing everyone's different takes and sides and who identifies best with what part. I love discussing my work and other people's work that I love in detail. Sometimes I think too many people just throw out a "this was good!" and then bounce. I want to talk about stuff and hear people's deeper thoughts. Esp for a fic like this, I knew it would potentially be divisive.

When I write, the characters sort of are their own people and I'm just their puppet for them to put their stories on the page. I don't know how else to describe it but I have such a clear picture of who they are, what they do, and why they're doing it that they become their own little entity chillin up in my brain. So when I write, I can say "How would x react to y?" And then they sort of take over from there.

For this particular story, I had two very broken, traumatized people. You hit it perfect by saying they were each other's coping mechanism. She has literally never had another friend in her entire life besides Peter. That is not healthy! None of this relationship is healthy. It starts off with Peter protecting her from bullies, the first and only person in her life to ever stand up for her, so she basically imprints on him as her savior. She views him through rose colored glasses. Even when he's horrible to her, when she looks at him, she only sees that scrappy little boy from the first grade beating her bullies with a stick. She can't separate that image of Peter from the man he's grown up to be.

Peter, on the other hand, is so psychologically broken that he's just as bad (actually, he's worse). He's torn between wanting to always save her but not being able to know how/being too scared of failing/her actually not needing him. He doesn't know how to navigate being a super hero and the deaths that come with that and how to keep up healthy relations. You are absolutely right when you say it's not healthy! It's very much not. His depression also lead him down the path of becoming hardened, bitter, and mean. He emotions are frozen up still.

What's funny is that I don't actually view the ending as happy. It feels almost bittersweet to me. She had been waiting her whole life for Peter to love her how she wants. This is the first time he's expressed that out loud to her. She's been waiting for that kiss for so long that I don't think anything else mattered to her in that moment. She's blinded by her childhood dreams. Peter is blinded by his fear of losing her.

Technically this isn't the "end" also. I mean, it's the end of me writing the story but they would still live on in the fictional universe. I do think that she would lose her virginity to him eventually and I do think he would be really sweet about it. But as for them working out long term, I really don't know. The thing about therapy is that it slowly unveils stuff about yourself that you didn't realize over time. (I also don't think a therapist would encourage this relationship, both hers and his, I think they would tell them to hold off on it). I doubt they will listen, though, because I know these characters. They are going to try before they are ready. They are going to try to force things and I don't exactly see the best outcome for them.

For the ending, it's not exactly happy or a finality of what they will be. It's meant to be hopeful and nudged into the direction of healing but that's where it ends.

The rest is to up to you, my love! Envision their messy attempts at a relationship to fail. Envision her striking up a conversation with Gabe a year into the future and him inviting out to movie. Technically anything that happens after they go back home is up to the reader! It's out of my hands!

Final points because I've rambled far too long, the story wasn't meant to be about what is right but what would happen if you put two messy, traumatized humans together and forced them into different situations. They wouldn't make the right choices because they've never been taught anything different. All she's ever known is Peter so, therefore, all she's ever going to chose is Peter...until she works on that in therapy and, hopefully, finds her own self again and learns how to live without her crutch. For now, they recognize their love for the other, whatever form that takes and, for now, that will have to do because they don't know any other way of living. Bittersweet! Not happy.

Thank you for this ask though. It made me happy that someone could even care enough to feel anger on behalf of a character I wrote and want justice for them. All I want is for people to love the creatures in my head as much as I do.

[cheesesteakphil]

🍽️🍿❌ and the fandom headcanon one I don't have whatever emoji that is. hope that isn't too many

(^ baby patrick. just in case)

Thank you for baby Patrick :)

🍽️: What is your Favorite Bugsnak?

It's a three way tie between Sherbie, Cheddorb and Millimochi. I genuinely think if I had to eat a bugsnak that Sherbie is the one I would enjoy most. Millimochi is also just so fucking shaped and to this day I still cannot stop saying it's name in the voice it has because it's SO satisfying to my brain. Cheddorb. It's a fucking cheese ball. Ball of cheese. Like the white bitch I am, I'm an absolute slut for cheese, and bugsnax allergy be damned I WILL consume that beast even if it kills me.

🍿: What do you think is the beef between Wiggle and Snorpy?

whatever the opposite of wlw and mlm solidarity is. wlw and mlm hostility.

Fr though I bet maybe Snorpy thinks because Wiggle is famous that she just *has* to be involved in the grumpinati in some way, why else would a celebrity be roughing it out on an island away from the spotlight? (kinda maybe a play on how it was a popular joke way back when that a shit load of irl celebrities were part of the illuminati, that's the best I got chief). I think it's one sided beef though I don't think Wiggle has genuine beef against Snorpy, but maybe he's not fully aware of who she is. Snorpy doesn't really seem the kind to be up to date with musicians, and maybe because of that, Wiggle's thoughts to him are mostly 'This fruit doesn't even know who I am I can't believe this. Everyone knows me.' /lh

❌: what's your least favorite bugsnak? Give us a detailed analysis on why.

Fucking. ok. Paletoss Grande. Motherfucker supreme. I am bitter about this rude ass piece of shit because it's such a fucking MENACE to me. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. It's partially due to the map design but the area outside Floofty's ship in Boiling Bay where that frozen whore roams makes it hard to avoid. And you gotta hang around there for a while doing quests. And every time I had to set up some elaborate loony toons ass type trap set up to get that thing to stop fucking following me. Not even catch it, just to get the beast out of the way so I can do my JOB. Catching it is a WHOLE other story it should NOT be that much of a pain in the ass. Maybe I'm not in on the sickest quickest popsicle melting/trip wire placement strats. Maybe so. But FUCK ME it's such a pain in the ass and the violence I will enact on that freak if there's ever a plush of it will be so venomous. Fuck Paletoss Grande.

🩷: What's a fandom headcanon that everyone agreed on that you love? Do you have any of your own headcanons you wish to share?

I don't really keep up with fandom wide stuff, especially since I've kinda just been keeping to myself recently and not actively participating but, if it's like, fandom wide agreed, but a lot of the time I see fanart of The Journalist™ (I mean like, Journalists that are portrayed as 'this is the standard player character' instead of an actual Journalist OC) they either have their face covered in some way, or are just absolute freaks (affectionate) that are aware of the game mechanics they have (no fall damage, respawn if they go too far in the water/get stuck etc) and I think it's very good. I don't really have any headcanons that I haven't already shared in the past. 99% of my bugsnax thoughts are just about Floofty and I know I have made those very well known lol

[zoguy1]

I've heard that phrase a lot in the shipping community as people want to excuse shipping aromantic characters.

Even though I typically steer away from serious shipping discussions, especially ones where my role should be listening to aro voices. However, I feel like I have something unique to bring to this discussion that I don't think a lot of allos think about when they say "aros can still be in relationships."

As an alloromantic, I cannot comprehend aromanticism. Not for a lack of trying. I went down loads of rabbit holes trying to understand aromantic people, their experiences, and how they feel the things they feel.

What I've learned is that aromantic has such a completely different experience then me. Even when they do feel attraction towards someone, it is not the same way how I feel when I'm attracted to someone.

I think back to the post I made about how because I have ADHD, I will never understand why neurotypicals use Adderall. I can't understand it because my brain is physically wired in a way that Adderall will always 100% of the time be a depressant for me and will never work as a stimulant. Never. Not in a million years. It's just something that I will never have experience with.

It's the same way trying to understand how aromantics experience attrition. Because my brain is wired differently than an aro's brain. I cannot, nor will I ever truly understand what they experience.

When I see people in the shipping community say "But aromantic people can still feel romantic feelings" I question if they know that how aros feels romantic feelings is a completely different feeling then how we allos feel romantic feelings.

We tend to think that romantic feelings is a universally understood feeling. But It's not. Even comparing two allos in how they feel romantic feelings is different. It's not as universal as we think it is.

And to all the shippers that want to ship an aromantic character. There is no loophole to aromanticism. There's no excuse or exemption. No matter what, you WILL piss off the aromatic community.

If it bothers you that you can't ship this character, then you need to think about why it bothers you instead of trying to exempt this character from the "no shipping" list.

And this isn't coming from a place of anger or judgment against the shipping community.

I'm coming from inside the shipping community.

I used to be in the same boat as all of you. I found it preposterous that a person. Anyone, fictional or not, could not value relationships, especially not romantic ones. I believed that everyone needed someone. Every character needed their soul mate. Hell, I made an entire doc trying to make sure every character in the Hetalia show/manga had a significant other.

I eventually accepted that there's nothing wrong with not being in a relationship with someone else. That it's okay that characters don't have a love interest, and that it's actually weirder that society values romance so much to the point we shame those who aren't in relationships. Think of them being loners, having a bajillion cats to "fill the void", the idea that there's something wrong with a person if they can't get a date. Etc etc. It's all weird allonormative propaganda.

"but aces and aros can be in relationships"

Yes, I know that, but do YOU know that aces and aros in relationships are still aces and aros? Do you internalize that? Are you aware that we don't just suddenly turn straight, or gay or anything else?

Yes, even demis

Are you aware that a sex repulsed asexual will still be sex repulsed even in a relationship, and so, might never fuck you?

Are you aware that a romance repulsed aro will still be romance repulsed even in a seemingly normative relationship and might not like doing typical romantic gestures and activities?

Are you aware that a sex neutral or positive asexual might not actually be sexually attracted to you at all even if they do fuck you?

Are you aware that a romance neutral or positive aro might not actually be romantically into you even if they are comfortable with typical romantic gestures?

Are you aware that our identities are just as permanent as yours?

[shallowseabed]

life update for a lost friend

Hey,

It's been more than a month since we last spoke. You never apologized for snapping, didn't even bother opening my message. Classic you, isn't it? Running away when things get messy. You feel "cornered" and just break whatever's in front of you and then you disappear. At least last time you had tried to apologize, this time I'm just left with your silence.

I haven't thought about you as much as I would have a year ago. It's strange not having you around, but I guess I'm getting used to it faster than I thought I would. I've been seeing your instagram stories, and I know you probably know. I wonder how you're doing, but I'm not gonna ask. I've had enough of all that, I've given up. It's funny, really. Never really thought you'd wear me down, but you somehow did. You never cease to amaze me.

I haven't really come up with an explanation as to why you said the things you said, or why you acted the way you acted. I thought you'd try swiping things under the rug, or that you would at least have an attempt at a self-centered apology. But nope. All I got was radio silence instead. And it's okay, you know? I'm not mad, I'm really not. Maybe silence was all we needed.

Things in my life have been weird. I don't feel much like myself, maybe I'm on a self-discovery journey like my therapist said. I'm not sure, but your absence isn't helping. I could use your company for a bit, and your ear for a bit of ranting.

I thought when you looked at me you saw me and nothing else, but now I've realized you were also seeing the labels hanging from my arms. You know, the ones people put there for some reason. I thought you were so exceptionally different, thought your eyesight went further than the rest of the world's. Boy, was I wrong. I now know that you always saw me just like the rest, and maybe that was the hardest pill to swallow. I suspect that, deep down, I already knew it. But it wasn't so blatantly obvious, so I was able to just ignore it.

Perhaps that's why I'm not mad at you. Because, very deep down, I know I needed this reality check. You're not the person I made you out to be, you're not even the person YOU led me to believe you were. You are so much different, almost unrecognizable. The only thing I don't get is the reason behind all this play pretend. Why would you waste your time trying to make me believe you were someone you're not? Doesn't it get tiring? I bet it gets exhausting. Is that what your sudden snapping was about? Were you tired of this false reality?

About me, I think I'm tougher than before. I've come to realize it's almost impossible for me to love people, and it's even harder to let myself be loved by anyone. I'm not scared of love, I just… don't know it. I don't know how to love people, I don't know how to feel loved, I barely even know how to feel at all. It's weird, because I can understand everyone else in the blink of an eye, but I can't make sense of what's inside me. I can put a name on what others are going through, I can understand their emotions as if I were feeling them myself. I can give people the words for what they feel deep inside, and bring some comfort to their troubled minds and soulds. Yet I can't even begin to understand what's in my very own mind. I can't even label it, and words keep failing me. Best I can do is draw it out, or describe it as something you'd think is completely unrelated. It's hard to make yourself understood when the right words haven't been invented yet.

Turns out there's a name for this: autism. I never thought I could be autistic. I have always believed my brain was wired differently, but I didn't think the word for it had been invented yet. Frankly, I still don't believe it has, but I guess autism is the closest guess we've got for now. My therapist says there's no cure, that this will never go away. He says I can make it better, but that I should stop trying to stop being the way I am. I can't stop being the way I am, but I can make it better, and I guess that's as good as it gets for me. Ha, life's getting back at me.

I guess this is like my Von Willebrand Syndrome. You can't make it go away but you can try to make it better with things that were created to treat something else but that, if you're lucky, should work just right.

I think this is just bullshit, all of it. I feel like I've been left out of the world. This world doesn't have the right words, explanations, feelings, eyes nor the right ears for me. It's like I was brought straight from space, some kind of uncommunicated freak. I'm starting to make peace with it, albeit. It's not easy, but I guess I make it work, somehow.

It turns out there are some things I do that are very uncommon and hard to achieve, and I was completely unaware of it. Did you know that, apparently, accurately picking up on patterns in order to predict actions and events is kind of a big deal? And that people's minds don't react in mili seconds to tiny changes in their environments? Did you know that most people can't decipher someone's backstory with just a few personality traits and behavioral patterns? Because I surely didn't.

I've been rambling for the last 30 minutes and I forgot where I was going. I guess all I wanted to say was thank you, for setting me free.

[anonil88]

I feel like if there was someone I was supposed to be at 27 this is not it. Like somewhere in the womb my wires got crossed and something disconnected. Something that was supposed to be plugged in and no matter how nimble I make my fingers or how gentle they are I can't plug that wire in thats somewhere deep inside my brain. If I could plug it in I would be better. If I could be different and smarter and more like everyone else I'd have succeeded. I wouldn't have decided to be a dumb artist that's good at what they do but doesn't have the skills to market themselves. Maybe I would have been a better daughter even though my mom made it very clear i was before she passed. I just like maybe I would have had the forethought to realize just how hard being queer is and just turned that off when I was young enough to stop being this way. If I could have just tucked the corners of myself inside a little longer to come out a little more normal. Better at math and science and less at creativity and English. More into how I can prepare for the coming downfall of what we knew as normal and less how to clean up a mess. I'd of been financially stable and less sad that I can't do anything. I can no longer help my grandparents or make my mom proud. I am drowning and everytime I open my mouth the water fills and I cannot speak. It feels like my jaw is wired shut and my head is in between my knees because I am failing yet again. I'm failing where I've never even succeeded. Even when the sun is bright and I've made some money from a painting I still know how far I am from any sense of stability. I am failing and I don't know why. It has to be this thing inside me that I can't get out this wire that I cannot plug in. Will my grandparents die before I stop with this silly skill that will not provide for me. Will I become homeless before I stop my brain from operating this way. I want it to be better I want it to just be normal so I can get the job the partner the dog cat and the way that normal people live. I want to shut my eyes and tuck the corners in.

$ app: NaniW13

[i-totally-have-adhd]

I think people sometimes assume that getting a late in life ADHD diagnosis is like getting bad news. Like getting a diagnosis of some horrible disease. But it's not. It's actually the best news ever.

Before I knew I had ADHD, I actually thought I was neurotypical and just really really bad at it. Like, yes, I'm neurotypical, but can't remember anything, I regularly lose all my possessions the moment I put them down, and can't stop cutting people off in conversation. In short, I'm just an impulsive, forgetful asshole who can't stop being impulsive and forgetful, but who is absolutely, 100% neurotypical.

You can imagine the toll this took on my self esteem. Thinking my brain was wired largely the way everyone else's was, yet I for some reason, couldn't do anything anyone else seemed to do so easily.

It didn't help that all my ADHD friends (there are quite a few) were so busy masking, or were so much better at some of the stuff I was failing at, that I didn't even know I was in the company of people like me all along.

Post-diagnosis, I can finally stop telling my brain to remember things the way a neurotypical brain would. I can stop expecting things of myself that are beyond my abilities. I can work on ways to remember the things I keep forgetting that match my abilities. It's been eye opening and wonderful.

I enjoyed my life before I figured out that I had ADHD, but there was always this mystery about who I was. I saw myself as ruthlessly proficient and a tireless worker, while also being slovenly, forgetful and making multiple glaring and careless mistakes at work each day.

To know that both of those visions of myself are true, and that both have a natural place in my life is extremely freeing. It frees me up to work on ways to improve the part of me that struggles, while nurturing the part of me that excels, without the confusion of wondering why they both exist inside the same person.

I realize that late in life ADHD diagnoses won't be super common on this website, as there aren't many of us older folks on here, but I'm hoping the content of this blog will be useful or at least entertaining for some.