#probably nothing like the asker intended

[daveysjackie]

for the ask game!!

the things we become (the selves we leave behind)

- @we-are-inevitable ✨

@we-are-inevitable i took that sentence and RAN with it

Davey and Jack have known each other since before they could even talk. Their mothers are friends, united by the fact that they’re foreigners in New York with very young sons.

The boys are the best of friends and rarely spend time away from each other.

Jack has the same world view as his mother. He sees beauty in everything. She inspires his love for painting, immortalising the beauty with whatever he can. By the time he’s six, he’s dabbled in about ten different types of artistry, even photography. Even though they live almost hand to mouth, his mother never lets him feel that squeeze, buying him whatever he wants for his next artistic endeavour.

Davey is more like his father. He tells a damn good story, even though he’s young and his language is limited. He sees beauty in words, fascinated by how stories used to be told from person to person, long before books were common. He would write his own fairy tales and read them to his parents at night instead of them reading to him.

They always encouraged each other.

When Jack has the opportunity to design a welcome poster for their elementary school, Davey encourages him to do it. And whenever he passes it in the hall, for years, no matter who he’s with, he makes sure to mention that his best friend designed it.

Similarly, when there’s a young writers competition in their first year of middle school, Jack encourages Davey to submit a story. When he wins, Jack gets it printed into an actual book for Davey (with a cover designed by him of course)

Then Jack’s dad gets a job opportunity in Santa Fe.

They promise to keep in touch, write letters, try to call but they’re still heartbroken because they’ve never been so far from each other.

And to their credit, they do try.

But then Jack’s dad is arrested because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is killed in prison. And then it’s just him and his mom and Davey falls by the wayside because he’s all his mom has now. He spends less time drawing and more time studying, doing whatever menial jobs he can so the two of them can keep the roof over their head and put food in their stomachs. It’s a struggle but they just about make it work. 

Until Jack’s mother is diagnosed with cancer.

He drops out of school at 14 to earn money, lying about his age (I’m short for my age) so people will actually give him a job because he lost his dad, he can’t lose his mother as well.

His efforts give his mother nearly three more years with her son before she passes.

Meanwhile, Davey is upset that he barely speaks to his best friend and does his best to move forward.

Everything changes when his dad is injured.

Yes, they get money because it happened while he was on the job but there’s another baby on the way and they're forced to move to a not so pleasant neighbourhood. His parents assure them that they’ll be fine and everything will be okay but Davey sees the injustice for what it is and why should the family suffer for growing just because their primary breadwinner can’t work?

He abandons his fictions and throws himself into the facts, researching old political movements and legal precedents set by people who just wanted to be treated fairly.

When they meet again, they don’t even recognise each other.

Davey is at the local library, doing some research for his next case. He asks someone stacking books on the shelves for help to find a specific text. The person seems vaguely familiar but Davey dismisses it as his stressed mind  playing tricks on him.

He doesn’t realise it was Jack until he glances at the picture of him and Jack, aged 7, that sits beside his bed.

He goes back to the library the next day but can’t find him. He almost believes that the stress has finally gotten to him and he’s lost the plot and leaves, only to crash right into Jack who’s just coming into work.

It takes a minute for Jack to recognise Davey as well but they’re both overjoyed at being reunited.

Jack has to rush into work but they exchange numbers and make plans to meet up that weekend.

Both spend the rest of the week idolising the other. Jack is convinced that Davey is one draft away from becoming a literary sensation and Davey believes that Jack was so close to opening his own art gallery.

When they meet up and the truth is revealed, the rose tinted glasses they thought of each other through are shattered.

Jack reveals that his main job is as a mechanic but he’s also working to finally get his high school diploma and then maybe even give college a try but he’s not quite sure what degree he’d pursue if he did.

Davey tells Jack that he’s a lawyer for civil cases, primarily for compensation and workers rights after what happened to his dad.

They leave that reunion, disillusioned. Neither is anything like the other remembers.

And the part of them that realised they were in love with the other realises they were in love with who they used to be.

They meet again the next weekend, both believing it’ll be the last time.

Then Davey pulls out a book. Its cover is worn and the spine is destroyed but Jack recognises it instantly. It’s Davey’s story that he had printed all those years ago. Davey admit there’s never been a day that he hasn’t sat and admired the cover.

Then Jack bashfully admits that the reason he also works in the library is because he believed it would be the best way to find out if Davey ever released a book like he always wanted to when they were younger.

They’re both very different people to who they fell in love with all those years ago. And their first love will always be that boy in their memory. But maybe they could learn to love the new people each other has become.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Miss Raven, may I ask for a list of the flaws in Leona’s plan from 2nd book? I knew of a couple myself at some point but i forgot what they were 😅 I was hoping you could list off as many flaws in the plan as you could find. 🤔

Please note: This post ONLY addresses the issues with Leona's book 2 plans to get Malleus out of the picture as per the asker's question. Book 2 has several other issues with its narrative (such as Leona's lack of screen presence/interaction with Yuu and co.), but I will not be counting them here.

The problems with Leona's plan are, as I could identify them:

NO Savanaclaw students were among the injured. Does this not automatically make them look really shady????

Savanaclaw students form a wall around Ruggie to shield him from sight when he uses his UM. This, too, is hella suspicious... You're telling me that there's an oddly high number of Savanaclaw students at the scenes of the crimes and yet not one of them got injured??? IT MAKES THEM LOOK EVEN SHADIER THAN BEFORE, ESPECIALLY SINCE THEY HAVE A REALLY OBVIOUS MOTIVE.

Leona openly talks about his evil scheme in his own dorm. A dorm with seemingly no sturdy doors that open and shut. A dorm that just brought in a bunch of freshmen that he doesn't know well and may not be on board with what he's doing. A dorm with a lot of beastmen... that have sensitive ears... and can probably hear you monologuing from quite a distance away...

Ruggie is sloppy and Leona just does not care about it when he really, REALLY should care; he is overly reliant on a "lack of evidence" to exonerate them. Ruggie blatantly shows off his UM and reports this to Leona. Why does Leona show like ZERO concern about this?? Why does he believe the school cannot do anything without proof? Literally nothing is stopping Crowley from detaining him under suspicion of guilt, or at least having someone watch him like a hawk if they suspect something... which will just make it that much harder to execute his plan.

Leona doesn't seem to care either when Jack overhears his plan; he just... expects Jack to feel pressured by his dorm members + the hierarchy to not squeal???? Same issue as the previous bullet point; Leona should be caring a lot more about concealing their identities than this.

Leona assumes a regular ass stampede will be enough to kill/injure Malleus. The reason provided is that Malleus wouldn't dare to use his magic to get away when it might "harm" innocent bystanders. OKAY, what's stopping Malleus from poofing out of danger? This is an even stupider point because we literally see Malleus VANISH IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE when Yuu meets him for the first time in this very same book.

The potential political fallout. I doubt Twst intended to go into the consequences of what would have happened if Leona's dumb plan had succeeded, but surely if he was caught in the act or even suspected to have had a hand in it, it would impact the relationship between their countries since Leona and Malleus are both princes??? And that sounds like it would be a massive shitshow 💀

I've done my own book 2 rewrite, which attempts to address most of these issues with Leona's plan. There is also this follow-up post, which expands on some of the ideas I proposed in my initial rewrite. Tons of other people have book 2 rewrites as well! And you can write your own book 2 rewrite! Literally almost anything is better than the canon book 2--

[kkoffin]

Don't you realize that male and female are social constructs? They're ideas. Scientists don't even believe biological sex is a thing anymore, we're all just people. Gender is almost like religion, it can change, some people are really sure on theirs and others aren't, forcing someone into one is always wrong. Do you know why you're cis? Do you ever think about the possibility that you're not, about what it would be like to be something other then what you were born as. Would you still feel like a woman if you didn't have a womb, if you didn't have breasts or genitals or estrogen? It was a combination of contemplating these things, and mystical experiences with the goddess Hel that got me to realize I was agender. I thought I would lose certain things when becoming nonbinary and genderless, but I didn't. I don't know about you, but know you can be happy as an enby or a boy, you can be loved, and cherished and comforted as an enby or as a boy. I don't know if you're nonbinary like I am. You might find you really do identify with womanhood, but if you do really want to be a woman, then know that that's the same feeling amab women have. I know what it's like to think the way you do, I used to think that way, and I've had bad experiences with men and with the expectations society has for people with bodies like mine. But you don't have to take your pain and call it womanhood.

I wouldn't usually respond to this kind of ask, since if begins with the premise that "sex isnt real", and I really don't bother arguing with that level of disconnect from reality, but this ask was so absurd in so many parts that I feel the need.

I want dear asker to know, this is not intended for you to reply to if your response will simply deny the existence of sex and lie about science. If you do reply with something I don't consider constructive for my blog to reply to, I will delete it, probably not read it the full way through, and spend my time on something more productive than arguing simple lies and misinformation. I only reply to this ask as it provides a brilliant example of the absurd arguments TRAs base their belief system on, and how easy it is to disprove, how truly "belief" based it is, much like a religion(/cult). + I might hyperlink it as an example of my beliefs in my pinned post at a later date.

Scientists don't even believe biological sex is a thing anymore, we're all just people.

I would love to see a source stating that majority, or even a considerable minority, even more than 1% of credible scientists globally don't "believe" in biological sex. Maybe you can find one person with a biology degree who said it, but this is simply not real. It's a ridiculous argument, and it's hardly worth wasting my time on, so I won't.

Gender is almost like religion

Sure is! We'll see more of that in a minute. I thought we stopped forcing others to participate in our religion, and calling for their deaths and trying to silence them for not being part of it and affirming our unreal beliefs in the west in like. the 1900s? Thought we knew this was a bad thing.

If gender is like a religion why on earth are you so insistent that I must believe in it? As you'll see in later paragraphs, I simply don't. I sure believe others believe in it, and force it on me, and expect things from be based on it, but I do not believe its real, as in has any basis in reality. Same way I don't believe an Abrahamic god is real, and yet if i were in some countries, I would be forced to participate and be treated a certain way because of it.

Do you know why you're cis? Do you ever think about the possibility that you're not

I'm detrans. I realized that there's nothing wrong with being a woman, and it's not something he/him pronouns in bio will change, as I will explore later.

what it would be like to be something other then what you were born as. Would you still feel like a woman if you didn't have a womb, if you didn't have breasts or genitals or estrogen?

Say, hypothetically, I were born with a penis and without a womb etc. If I still "felt like a woman" as you put it - I assume you mean if I still felt feminine, I would still wear dresses and grow my hair long. That wouldn't magically make me female. I would be a feminine man. Just as I'm currently a masculine woman. How I present myself, masculine or feminine, and how I care about how others perceive me has nothing to do with my biological sex. I present how I want, regardless of genitals, but being feminine does not make someone female, vice versa.

If you don't mean to say "feeling like a woman" is feeling feminine, then no. if I were born with a penis and without a womb, I would not "feel like a woman", because woman is not a feeling, it's a simple fact and an experience that only an adult human female can have. Men cannot "feel" like women. If I were born with a penis and XY chromosomes I could only "feel" like a man, same way a white person cannot "feel" like a POC.

mystical experiences with the goddess Hel

I'm respectful and may occasionally dabble in witchcraft/wicca/pagan stuff, but - and I cannot believe I have to say this in the year of our lord 2024. it's not the 1700s anymore, we should be past this - your "mystical experiences" do not surpass reality, a need to recognize and destroy sex-based oppression, and is not justification for pushing an ideology.

got me to realize I was agender. I thought I would lose certain things when becoming nonbinary and genderless, but I didn't. I don't know about you, but know you can be happy as an enby or a boy, you can be loved, and cherished and comforted as an enby or as a boy. I don't know if you're nonbinary like I am.

Again, I'm detrans. I tried genderfluid, I tried being a "boy", I tried being non-binary. None let me escape patriarchy, and I realized that no matter what pronouns in my bio, no matter how I cut my hair, no matter what surgeries I got or hormones I took, it would not make me not female. I realized that if I were alone in the woods, with nothing but trees and birds and rivers, It would not matter my genitals, or what clothes I wear, or anything. That scenario, alone with nature, is the only place/time women can escape patriarchy, and the moment I did, it didn't matter if I was a "girl" or a "boy". Sex is real, and is only a biological aspect of your body. It's breasts or periods or a lower internal body temperature, and although sometimes inconvenient, it doesn't matter. You talk about "forcing someone to be a certain gender", I don't force anyone into a "gender", I don't believe in gender. I think gender should be abolished. I do not have a "gender", I am female, and I am treated by patriarchy as such, as they think a female person must act a certain way. That's gender. I want my daughters and granddaughters to be free from that, thus why I pursue women's liberation.

Side note, this paragraph is so. creepy to say to a detrans person. cult-like. sorry. "you will be loved as a boy/enby" "you will be cherished" "you wont lose anything" okay yeah i'm not interested, please leave me alone now. You sound like muslim preachers in my dms telling me to reconvert.

You might find you really do identify with womanhood, but if you do really want to be a woman, then know that that's the same feeling amab women have.

As previously stated, I do not "identify" with womanhood. I experience it. I do not "want" to be a woman. I am. I don't care if I wasn't. It's only a fact about myself, again. same way POC do not "identify" with or "want" to be POC, they just are.

I know what it's like to think the way you do, I used to think that way

Very obviously, you do not, considering you keep assuming I either do or don't "identify" with being a woman. You very clearly do not understand the point behind our ideology. Gender is not real. Sex is. Again, I'm not arguing with "sex isn't real" because its so beyond stupid and anti-intellectual, and anyone who touches grass would realize that. Females carry a large, immobile gamete, men carry small, mobile gametes. these are the two sexes, and when each gametes interact with one another, we reproduce, and the baby is carried by the female. Yes, some animals have it slightly different, that doesn't mean it's not real in both them and humans. Yes, intersex people exist, they have a disorder regarding their sex development, but are still one of either sex. Yes, you can be unable to reproduce, that doesn't mean you aren't still one of either sex. None of these things disqualify the existence of two sexes being needed to reproduce in humans.

Further, women did not suffer for tens of thousands of generations for you to simply say they don't exist. To deny the existence of sex is to deny sex-based oppression. Men have known what women are for hundreds of thousands of years, and that's why we haven't been able to vote, we've been raped and sold as sex slaves, we've been told we are less intelligent, we've been genially mutilated for male pleasure, etc etc etc. I am not defining "womanhood" by our suffering, I am simply stating examples of oppression against women. These women were not treated like this because they "felt" female, or because they "identified" as female. They were abused simply because they are female. Women tried to escape it by acting like men countless times through history, and it only made men more angry, as we were leaving our "place", that being socially constructed "gender"/femininity, and we were bastardizing the male sex by acting like or pretending to be part of it. Those women did not "act like men" because they were trans, they did it to escape the oppression people of the female sex face, which you seem to love to deny.

I've had bad experiences with men and with the expectations society has for people with bodies like mine. But you don't have to take your pain and call it womanhood.

See: last paragraph

Being a woman is not defined by pain, it's defined by existence as an adult human female - the lack of a Y chromosome, or being of the sex with a large gamete. Female is only one word in that. Women are also adults, and most of all, human. That's most of the experience. Our femaleness does play a huge part on how society treats us, that's gender, and it plays a small part on our experience as a living creature. I do not mind that experience as a living creature, I do mind gender. I want to abolish it. I do not want to be treated differently to a man based on something which has no material relation to our differences.

Quite simply put, my desire to free the world of "gender" as a social construct, and my desire to fight against it overrides my (futile) desire to simply run away from it, and A) still suffer, B) leave other women behind. Pronouns, short hair, "passing" etc will not escape patriarchy. Abolish patriarchy. Abolish gender.

and sex is real.

[cripplecharacters]

Hello!

I have a character I am considering be OCD (or possibly OCPD) and she is the narrator/POV character for a large portion (1/3) of the book. My issue is, if I decide to give her any condition related to compulsions, intrusive thoughts, etc, how do I get across the severity of the condition while neither pounding the readers over the head to the point of boredom/frustration, nor minimizing/erasing her symptoms by just ignoring them until they are relevant to the story? (The plot's focus is not on her disability, but disability is an underlying current through the whole book.)

I think this would be much easier of a balance to strike if it were a short story, especially since i have written short stories before from the POV of characters with similar issues, but this is going to be a full-length novel, and she'll probably be the narrator for like 60,000 words, and that is a lot longer for a reader to keep interest in her.

To be clear, I'm not asking for a list of symptoms or anything like that. I have been doing research and continue to, for that. I'm just wondering how to strike the balance between those experiences and turning off the reader from repetitiveness.

Hi asker,

What I think is you don't always have to describe all the thoughts in detail. If there's common themes/recurring imagery or the like in her thoughts, you could focus on that to minimize repetitiveness.

For example, if one of her themes is that she worries she might accidentally hurt someone, you could describe it in the first times it happens in-story as something like...

"As I walked next to Michael, I worried i might hurt him without intending to. What if I tripped and fell onto him? We were near the road. I always worried. I focused on counting my steps to make sure nothing would go wrong."

As in, you don't have to specify how exactly she's worried it might happen, or that her brain is giving her thoughts that it could happen in way A and B and C. And then, at some other point, when the triggering situation happens again, you can do something like,

"Michael walked next to me. I counted my steps. He told me about...."

However, you can absolutely embrace that repetitiveness as a narrative style. The more repetitiveness you write in, the more anxiety you are conveying, because you're conveying the thought loop that OCD causes.

You can also focus on the emotions your character feels during thought loops and compulsions to varying degrees. Sometimes she might be more distressed than other times. Sometimes she might just be annoyed. Sometimes she believes the compulsions more, sometimes she tries harder to resist them.

I would actually suggest picking up books with protagonists with OCD, just to see how this repetition is played with in the stories.

Books I can recall off the top of my head that I have read that have a protagonist with OCD are Turtles All The Way Down, The Goldfish Boy, and OCDaniel, and I don't remember myself getting turned off by repetitiveness at any point. I recommend them as interesting reads, but I read them all a while ago and can't go into much detail. They are all also YA or Middle Grade just because I enjoy those types of books, haha.

Hope this helps,

mod sparrow

[askfriskandcompany]

so how far can we go as askers? we cant physically harm anyone but can we gaslight people? can we convice/manipulate someone to do things for us wierd route style? how far will you let us go? (i personally dont intend to harm any of the main characters if that concerns you)

I guess you could gaslight people? Maybe? If it made sense and accomplished something. I'd probably let you gaslight Susan for example, assuming she appeared.

Nothing like the weird route though. You're not allowed to do things that I might consider straight up evil.

-TQ

[polkadotpatterson]

Hi hello for the ask game: 🍓🫐☀️ (with sun being, if you want - two quotes from an earlier and recent work respectively that are thematically linked/reprises of each other 👀)

🍓 favorite poetic quote from a wip

honestly I feel like 90% of my poetic ability goes into my PMD fic which I have not touched in ages but I swear I do fully intend to finish it bc it's very dear to my heart and I'm pretty darn proud of it. anyway here's a bit from the half-finished chapter that's been sitting in my drafts since uuuuhhhhh. don't worry about it

And so you climb. Past the clinging flowers and the skeletons of trees, past the soft blue-green streams, past rocks the colour of lightning that grow more jagged and angry the further you go. And all the while, the vortex of clouds tightens around you, the dark gray-purple-black of Zapdos’ rage throbbing like a bruise on the sky. There's thunder beneath your feet and thunder above your head and thunder in your mind and the world is nothing but thunder, but you keep going.

🫐 a line from a published work that you’re proud of, but no one’s mentioned yet - or if you can’t think of one, an underrated line in general

well since we're already on the subject of PMD, here's a little bit about how mesmerizing oceans can be, just for you :)

The sea. The sea. It stretches out in front of you forever, a limitless expanse of water fading into the horizon. Your pond looks like an insignificant puddle next to the ever-changing ocean, this bright blue world that you could explore for the rest of your life and never see all of. Before you know it, you're right up at the edge of the cliff, staring down at the clouds as they glide across the water to join the waves in a hypnotic dance. You want to dive in and wrap yourself in all of it, let it surround you like a blanket. You want to leap through the waves until you’ve forgotten what it's like to walk on land. You want to dissolve into seafoam and fade into the deep. You-- You feel a nudge on your shoulder.

the pmd world is beautiful and also kinda messed up and that's a very fun combo to write :)

☀️ asker’s choice of published work: two quotes from an earlier and recent work respectively that are thematically linked/reprises of each other

hehe nice sun 2 reference :) well ok how can I see Themes and Reprise and not go right for Dot's rhythm. I looooove incorporating that into their pov, not just the literal recurring one-two-three but the way they often think and talk in three words or sentences at a time, and how at first they do it more when they're hyperfixated on pitching or going full No Thoughts Only Blaseball, but gradually come to both do it less and also reclaim it as their own thing and not something forced on them by the gods... yeah ok this is gonna get a bit long let me slap a readmore on it lol

there are soooo many instances to pull from here but I think the best parallel is probably from over and over and then over again, where they spend the whole fic feeling guilty and trapped in being unable to do anything but be a Perfect Pitcher even when it's the absolute last thing their team needs from them, helpless against the power of the gods as they watch the innings tick on and their teammates in more and more danger, spending hours of practice afterwards trying to not be perfect for once and the gods simply won't let them...

One. Two. Three. The blaseball makes a perfect rhythm even outside of the game, always hitting the wall within the boundaries of the ever-present rectangle they can see in their mind, strikeout after strikeout after strikeout. Dot reaches out fingers to draw the ball back to them after each throw, not needing to move from their spot. One. Two. Three. Perfect. Chosen. Unstoppable. One. Two. Three. Heartless. Ruthless. Unstoppable. What does Jaylen do, when everything is pounding loud in her head and the world is too big and too small all at once and everyone stares at her with hate and fear and she knows that her hands and her life aren't hers anymore and probably never will be again? Dot doubts that the answer is “more pitching”. One. Two. Three. Throw it somewhere else. Anywhere else. Stop doing the same thing over and over and over again.  Why? the gods demand. This is perfection. This is what you are. This is a gift that many would kill to have. You think too much of killing, Dot tells them. One. Two. Three.

versus it’s how I know that I’m still here where Dot has finally been unlearning their whole I'm Just A Pitcher thing and with the alternative being losing everyone they love, they finally fight and take their power and use it for something different, use it to tear holes in reality and come home :')

“You are not the only gods who gave me powers.” The squid? The squid is nothing. Without us, you are nothing, too. “Then I would rather be nothing. Take my stars. Take my pitching. Take my life. Take whatever else you want, but you can't take me. And you can't take my family, either.”  You know not what deal you are making. It will not end well for you. It is better to give in. Almost there. They’re almost there. They kick and push and struggle against the tide, watch the right world come back into focus. Almost there. Just a few more strokes. Reach the shore. One. “This is non-negotiable. I am taking what is mine. Myself.” Two. “I won’t let you steal me anymore. I have learned a thing or two about stealing. More than even you know.” Three. Stop that! Someone must take your place. You cannot stay in this world. “I'm through with being told what I can't do. I'm through with being dragged around. I'm through with all of it.” The field is within reach now, their teammates standing confused and concerned under the Dallas sky, the right Dallas sky. Dot had never thought of it as home, but they realize now how foolish they’ve been; everything in this world is home, all of it, and they’re through taking that for granted. You cannot run from us forever. We will find you. We --  “Don't talk to me in threes. This is my rhythm now. Not yours, never again.”

you tell em Dot!!! this is a pretty incoherent post lol but I went into it in more detail here back in the day

[writing-prompt-s]

Hey there! First time anon asker, long time follower. I appreciate all the work you do for this blog. Just want to keep the conversation going about the Edison quote you retweeted, on "giving up" versus "knowing when to stop." Though Edison sucks as some comments pointed out, I happen to agree with the quote to an extent. I'm curious to know more about your experience. First, some background for my opinion: I work as a student tutor for fellow college students. One of the biggest things we learn as tutors is how to encourage students NOT to give up when they face a challenge. Lots of people, especially first-gen college students, give up when they're struggling in class because they assume they're "not smart enough" or something along those lines, when research and my personal experience show that that's not true. They are able to change their school habits and seek out help, but only if they already have a mindset where they believe they can do it. Those who don't believe in themselves are less likely to seek help and thus, more likely to fail. Students might also drop out of college or get bad grades because of things outside of their control, like losing their job or other difficulties that make it hard for them to continue at college. This is also an issue because some (not all) colleges have programs to help students during difficult times, but many students don't even try, they just drop out. I have benefitted from some of these programs personally, so even though they can't cure everything, these programs should be considered when a student is struggling. And sometimes, dropping out of college IS the best decision for a person, whether they intend to return later or go a different path. It's just that for many students, they don't have to give up on their education/career goals because of the hardships they're currently trying to work through, but they believe that there's nothing else they can do. The solution may be out there, but they "give up" because they didn't look for it. As a tutor, that's why phrases like "don't give up!" are so important for the people I work with. Not because college is for everyone or that people should sacrifice their well-being for a degree, but because students (again especially first generation college students, students of color, and low income students) have such low confidence in themselves and their ability to learn and grow through obstacles. The Edison quote wasn't about college, but I'm using my experience as a college student and tutor as a more concrete example of why the Edison quote could be useful. College student or not, I think having a "don't give up" attitude can get you through some hard times. So all of this is to preface my question: in your opinion, how can we know the difference between a healthy, "I will do everything I can to meet my goals" situation and an unhealthy, "I will sacrifice everything" situation? Sorry for this lengthy ask btw, if you don't want to respond I completely understand. Just hoping to hear your insight to the topic more. Thanks for this blog and for sharing your thoughts! -S

Hey S!

Read “The Dip” by Seth Godin. It counts about 80 pages but reads like 30. I highly recommend reading it and using the ideas in guiding your students. When you read it, it’s mostly common sense with a bit of oh damn, nice! But sometimes common sense needs to be conceptualized, made concrete, or put into context, and this little book does just that.

The main idea is to know if you should quit or persevere during ‘a dip’ by forecasting the probability of success and take costs/rewards into account.

However, this might not be everyone’s best skill, so some people might need practice or guidance. As Ray Dalio points out in his book ‘Principles’, everyone is wired differently. Just as our bodies come in different shapes and sizes, so do the compositions of our brains. Some people might have weak bones or naturally have lots of muscle mass. Others might regulate emotions well, or are weak at visualizing the future. (By the way, neuroscience tells us we can shape and improve our brains!)

The different compositions of our brains also affects communication between people. Everyone encodes and decodes information differently, and then also gets filtered through one’s own life experiences. So advice such as ‘first seek to understand, then to be understood’ is paramount before encouraging people to ‘not give up.’ If the other person doesn’t feel that you completely understand their situation, saying that actually might work counter-productive!

In my opinion, in most cases 'don’t give up!’ is a good motto for college students. You know what to expect from college. If you do x you will get x. If you stick through the dip (time spend getting good grades), you will get the reward (degree). However, as you point out, some students might face additional stress outside of college, or society might already have put them at a disadvantage. It might just become too much. You helping and encouraging students who are at a disadvantage is incredibly helpful. As humans, we are naturally wired to be interdependent. We cannot do everything by ourselves, nor should we want to. We thrive on meaningful relationships and social connections.

So where is the line between healthy and unhealthy? That’s actually a very tough question. Most people tend to think of life as a journey, always trying to get somewhere, trying to achieve something. It would mean telling people how to live their life and I have no clue. Of course, if in trying to get to your goal your body shows signs of it being unhealthy, stop or take a break. Stress is good, but not to the point where you break down. Self-management is key. Overall I would say it’s healthy if your values align with the process to achieve the goal, the goal, and the consequences of achieving it. But then again, always be realistic. Quitting frees up time, energy and other resources that can be spend on achieving a different, perhaps more rewarding/meaningful/attainable goal.

An attempt at a more concrete answer would be:

It’s impossible to generalize what is healthy and what is unhealthy as everyone has a different idea of what that is and is living their own complex life. Therefore, on a case-by-case basis, people should be taught to take a step back sometimes, contemplate what they are doing, analyse it, be open-minded, seek help from (qualified) people and ask for feedback and advice, and then make up their minds themselves whether what they are doing is healthy or not.

As @zeadtalost said in the comments: “Man’s gotta know his limitations”. But then I would like to add to it that ‘man’ should not be fool enough never to test what they believe to be their limitations. Because what you say is true. Often limitations are in the mind, and overcoming them is what will make people more confident and capable! So please keep doing what you are doing. I doubt you find this a concrete answer, but I am pretty sure the book by Seth Godin will help you lots! Also, by the length of your ask I can tell you are very dedicated and a compassionate tutor, and it’s your caring attitude that will give your students the best chance of succeeding!

[abybweisse]

🤡

^ Because this theory is insane and borders on crack, but one of your answers got me thinking: what if John Brown is a demon, but he didn’t come to Earth without being summoned? Maybe his sacrifice was Prince Albert's soul? 😳

You aren’t asking me to reply with a crack theory, so....

🤔 to discuss a theory

This 🤔 applies to all theories being presented by askers, even if they are crack.

You’re not the first to suggest this, though I don’t recall whom I first read it from. It’s a rather old idea, though.

The best scenario for that would probably be that she didn’t intend to sacrifice him, but the demon claims it’s her sacrifice (because Albert means something to her), just like our demon claims real Ciel’s death was our earl’s sacrifice (because Ciel means nothing to the cult but everything to our earl). Then they make a contract.

But I’ve never really liked the idea because I can’t think of a scenario for Prince Albert to become a demon sacrifice.

Also, I suspect that Albert died years before this “John Brown” entered the scene. Historically, the queen first mentioned Brown in her personal journal in 1849, while he was a hunting attendant for Albert. In 1851, he became Victoria’s horse master. Albert died of illness in 1861, and Victoria became even “closer” to Brown. Then Brown died in 1883, at the age of 56. He was a scruffy and thickly-built Scotsman who wore a kilt most of the time.

So, here’s the thing. I know Yana-san plays around with the timeline and character portrayals, but it’s really odd to have “John Brown” in the story, in 1889, when he should have died six years earlier. And to portray him as a young-looking, clean cut man with white hair, white uniform, etc.

But the queen looks pretty much true to history; Yana-san didn’t make Queen Victoria some beautiful young woman. Why not?

I suspect that the Kuro “John Brown” we see is a fraud. That the original John Brown, more closely resembling the historical one, still died in 1883. And perhaps he was a sacrifice. Accidental or otherwise, and this demon (or angel!) made a contract with the queen. Then she names this entity after the John Brown who had died, since he’s filling the same role in her household.

I’ve posted about this before, but it might be hard to pin down with tags. Anyway, the topic intrigues me. So, there’s some somewhat vague circumstantial evidence in favor of “John Brown” being a fake, more specifically a replacement for the “real” John Brown.

Baron Kelvin first meets Vincent and his twins several months before their 10th birthday, in 1885. Perhaps this was even late 1884. Sometime between that event and December 14, 1885, Kelvin shows up at Phantomhive Manor and tries to speak with Vincent again. Ch32. He interrupts Vincent and Diedrich talking about a new “project”, and they also briefly mention the “Windsor incident”... from two years earlier. If it’s 1885 during this interruption of their discussion, then the “Windsor incident” was ~1883. The year John Brown historically died. Also, he died at Windsor Castle.

So, my theory (and I don’t even consider it crack) is that the actual John Brown dies, regardless of how or why, and this new “John Brown” steps in to replace him. He might have been summoned, or he might have simply appeared. But he offers Queen Victoria a contract.

Something else I’ve discussed before: Neither of them seems to have made wise choices, when it comes to the terms of the contract. She fell for the offer to make her feel like her Prince Albert has returned to her (the hand puppet)... and he might have agreed to an open-ended contract or one he cannot fulfill. He might (and this part is crack) have even made a contract with someone else, too....

[kiruuuuu]

I had the pleasure of talking this through with you, @cerosin​, and the end result is.... definitely unhealthier than your initial request, but I hope you’ll like it anyway :) I also certainly took my time with this, thank you for waiting and thank you for the request 🖤🖤 (Kapkan/Glaz, Rating E, angst fluff + smut, ~4.6k words)

.

He can tell when it gets bad again.

Obviously, there are the spontaneous bursts, attacks he can neither predict nor prevent and therefore has to react on the spot, but those have receded: the people around them have learnt how to avoid triggering anything, and Glaz has learnt how to remove Kapkan from these situations efficiently. No, this isn’t about sudden, blind panic, not about shortness of breath or wild eyes. This is about the prickling right below Glaz’ skin; like a constant stream it erodes the sense of safety that’s built up over weeks or, if they’re lucky, months. Erodes the complacency like it’s dust settling in bit by bit, undisturbed and growing. Glaz has stopped minding boring. Because boring implied a routine, and calmness, and freedom from -

From the alternative.

From what’s happening right now.

If anyone asked, he’d reply that he feels safe no matter what. That he’s in control, and even if he’s not, that he knows how to regain it; after all, he senses it coming as it accumulates slowly, yet not so slow he doesn’t notice. He’s safe, even if he wakes up to a sharp jab in the side or a hand around his throat, because he can deal with it. He’s safe, even if temper flares hotly at him like an open flame, because he knows it might lick him, leave a stinging burn, but it will never consume him.

He justifies himself to this non-existent asker, someone on the outside, a concerned citizen. He does this a lot, conducts conversations like he’s Plato writing a dialogue between his teacher, Socrates, and someone unimportant, someone only necessary to play dumb and prompt the next wall of text. Glaz goes into great detail until this imaginary person is convinced. He wonders what this says about him.

So yes. He’s as confident as ever, though he takes the warning signs seriously. He listens to the tone rising in volume with each passing day, powerless to stop it but capable of manipulating it.

.

“You’ve already asked me twice what I want for breakfast so stop fucking talking about it”, snaps the love of his life, a man who leaves him breathless in so many ways each and every day.

Glaz doesn’t mention how Kapkan has failed to give a straight answer so far, and instead defuses the tension with a bratty: “Guess I’ll just feed the leftovers to the neighbour’s dog then.”

He can basically hear Kapkan perking up at this, even if his back is turned. If possible, his lover would eat meat for literally every meal, and heated up for breakfast, he’s even more unable to say no. “You know I’d eat it out of her bowl if necessary”, he grumbles, the fire having died down as quickly as it reared up. Glaz has gotten extremely good at appeasing him over the years.

“I’ll take that as a yes then”, he summarises and tosses the scraps in question into the microwave. Self neglect is one of the largest red flags Kapkan wears on his back whenever it gets bad, and it’s the one Glaz will combat head on. It’s the one he’s allowed to mention as it doesn’t scream you’re abnormal, you’re ill, you’ve got issues – instead, he can disguise it as stress, something easily forgettable, low priority. As such, it’s easiest to deal with as he can remedy it immediately: suggest taking a bath together, which is something Kapkan never refuses, or he offers to cook, pretends he’s not feeling well and needs company so Kapkan joins him in bed early. Once there, his lover falls asleep quickly, but left to his own devices, he’d stay up till morning.

No, he doesn’t need to babysit him, Glaz informs his imaginary interviewer politely yet firmly. Kapkan can and does take care of himself. But if he can facilitate it, why shouldn’t he? He receives more than enough in return. Kapkan would die for him in a heartbeat, he knows this because it almost happened before, he’d do whatever Glaz demands of him, he’s a reliable presence in Glaz’ life, loving, supportive, strong. Their infatuation is mutual and not diminished by demons which are not Kapkan’s fault.

It’s difficult to predict how this episode will go. Some cumulate in a fight, be it verbal or physical, others peak unnoticeably and then ebb until Glaz nearly forgets about the whole thing, can’t imagine a universe where they aren’t the world’s most perfect couple. People often don’t appreciate their health until they fall ill. Glaz has learnt to fiercely appreciate the days on which every smile is teased out gently instead of requiring heavy machinery to surface.

.

They met in Spetsnaz, a perceived eternity ago, and by all rights should’ve separated unscathed instead of their lives intermingling the way they did in the end. Glaz’ hand to hand was rubbish and Kapkan consistently disappointed in him, leaving them both frustrated with each other, yet not to the point of memorability. Kapkan should’ve remained that morose instructor with the hard set to his mouth, and Glaz his largely incompetent yet well-meaning student of which he’s probably had plenty. Nothing about him was remarkable – nothing about either of them, really –, until some people fell ill and some others got married, and suddenly Glaz was accompanying his fellow Spetsnaz on an extended hunting trip. As if Glaz had been fifteenth in line for the throne and fate removed all fourteen in between, and now he was at his coronation, not entirely sure how he got here.

It wasn’t the two of them alone, of course, a few acquaintances and curious souls went with them, but overall not enough people to comfortably hide one’s personality for an entire month. This is when Glaz noticed that Kapkan, when talking about his passion, was easy to look at. The glint in his otherwise piercing pale eyes was contagious and Glaz inquired a lot more about hunting in general and Kapkan’s experience specifically than he’d originally intended.

Usually, Glaz falls easily, almost at the drop of a hat. Someone smiles at him wrong, someone does him an unexpected favour, and he’s gone. Lost. If this happens, it’s fleeting. But when it takes him a while to even realise he’s staring and hovering, it means it’s serious.

They require five years to get together.

During that time, they keep invading each other’s life almost by chance, end up assigned to the same place or on the same mission, and the grin he receives when they meet once more is a genuine one. Glaz longs for more and ever more: a laugh, then a touch, time spent alone, time spent alone that’s timeless and neverending in their minds. Every new bit which he almost wishes into existence he treasures and keeps it close to his heart so it warms him during the time between their meetings. This is how he thinks of his days now – either real, actual events, or merely waiting. When Kapkan isn’t there, reality loses its focus.

He doesn’t remember the words leading up the kiss and it’s something he regrets to this day. Vaguely, he recalls words too brazen and brash for his otherwise quiet, timid character, though they probably were nothing but innocent to others. But Kapkan – Kapkan understood, Kapkan who’s known him for years and can tell it’s unusual for him, and he let it happen. Despite nothing coming back, Glaz wasn’t under the impression of his flattery to bounce off the hard exterior, rather he noticed it penetrating the roughness, finding holes in its defence. Kapkan soaked it up. He refused to dance but admired Glaz’ efforts nonetheless. And so they kissed.

Kissed in full gear, the relief of an uneventful mission flooding their systems, perched in the snow next to each other and lost in conversation instead of paying attention to something their colleagues had under control anyway. A routine extraction, no support needed, and Kapkan pulled down the cloth hiding his lower face when Glaz offered him some warm coffee, and then their lips are touching, their breath visible in the icy air and Glaz’ shoulder killing him over this odd angle.

Despite going home alone that day, he got no second of sleep. His heart wouldn’t calm down, and neither his thoughts. I’m the happiest man alive, he thought, clear as day and not a doubt in his mind.

.

“Strip.”

It does have its good sides. Two, as far as Glaz is concerned: Kapkan sticks to him like Velcro to wool, knowing nobody else can keep him in check the way his lover does. The worse it gets, the more excuses pop up to stay at home, to go out alone, to take Glaz along. He doesn’t mind switching topics and reading body language like a hawk if he can hold Kapkan’s hand in return, witness his dry wit and remarkable patience.

The second positive side effect is linked to the first. Being around each other constantly leads to certain things.

Glaz takes his time because he knows Kapkan likes it this way. He follows their established routine and discards his sweater first without revealing any skin on his torso. The motion exposes his arms, which he flexes subtly – he doesn’t need to cast a glance at his lover to know his eyes have strayed from his face. His t-shirt is next, showing off his chest and the ridges of his abs through controlled breathing and contracting his muscles at the right moment.

It’s slow, this ritual of theirs, deliberate, hides nothing. Glaz feels more and more naked in more ways than one, as if he’s laying his soul bare together with his body. Undressing is too profane a word, can’t come close to denoting what’s happening between them. He bathes in Kapkan’s attention, normally is indifferent about his own body but now takes pride as he’s being desired – a conscious action for its own sake. Kapkan wants him. It’s a state of being rather than a base need.

He isn’t unaffected. The more fabric lines the floor, the warmer the air gets: Glaz is sweating in the cool bedroom, cheeks reddened and his excitement visible, even more so once he’s fully nude. He breathes hard and dares not meet Kapkan’s gaze. This isn’t about him, after all, this is about obeying and allowing Kapkan to let off steam and an exercise in control. This is how Kapkan convinces himself he’s in control. He needs to be, desperately. And challenging him on this is the last thing Glaz wants.

“Lie down.”

The command is sharp yet leaves Glaz’ skin unmarred: he’s used to this, even looks forward to it when he begins noticing the change in Kapkan’s behaviour. Complying is natural, the sheet a cold relief under his heated body. He expected to be ordered to suck him, which is the most common request he receives in moments like these – he likes drawing it out but Kapkan usually can’t wait to be inside him, so he rarely gets to blow him under normal circumstances. Right now, when it’s about showing off the power he holds over Glaz, Kapkan doesn’t mind dragging it out. Quite the opposite.

“Hold these.”

A twitch between Glaz’ legs, he can’t tell from which body part (or maybe both?), because he knows what these words mean. He doesn’t have the peace of mind for this, he’ll fail and it’ll all be over, he already knows this. Not once has he passed this challenge, not once was he able to see it through to the end, resulting in a heavy throb in his crotch for the rest of the night until he could take care of himself without Kapkan knowing. It’s the sweetest torture, but torture it is nonetheless. He’s sure he’ll disappoint his lover.

Regardless, he lifts his hands until he can put his fingers together, letting Kapkan place objects between each pair of fingertips. Tonight, they’re bullets, threatening to slip out and fall onto his belly immediately. Whether or not he’ll be satisfied today relies entirely on his ability to hold them, restrain himself from sudden movements, concentrate until it’s over. If even only one drops, Kapkan will stop.

His tongue is hot, scorching hot, and velvety smooth, and Glaz’ eyelashes are fluttering. He stares at the bare ceiling, praying to an unknown deity for strength and presence of mind, and then he’s enveloped whole. His body shakes with his stuttering in- and exhales, but he keeps the ammunition where it is. For now.

This is what it must feel like when he services Kapkan. Hardly more than teasing, only just enough to keep his pleasure climbing and climbing, however minuscule the progress. Glaz cherishes every centimetre he slips further into the wet heat and curses it simultaneously. His mouth is struggling to produce sound as it doesn’t seem to know what’s appropriate; no moans escape him, his gasps are aborted and all that leaves his throat is a pained gargling, almost unwilling because he wants this so bad, wants to enjoy it yet has to stop himself from losing to the overwhelming pleasure.

Only when Kapkan sits up does Glaz realise how tense he is, that every muscle in his body was painfully taut. Bit by bit, he relaxes consciously, fighting back the memory of how it felt to be touched, licked, loved like this in order to focus. One of the metal objects has shifted, so he corrects it. Just in time before a hand closes around him.

The callouses on their own do nothing for him, but paired with perfect technique and the knowledge of all his sensitive spots, it’s nearly too much. Glaz moves into the motion, lifts his hips in the hopes of a speedier resolution, cursing inwardly when the rhythm slows to a crawl in response. Kapkan isn’t making this easy for him, that’s the whole point. The ministrations cease again for a moment, Glaz’ thighs are lifted, his legs bent, and this time, when he feels a tongue exploring him, it’s further down.

He squeezes his eyelids shut. This is too much. He can’t bear it. His toes twitch with pangs of discomfort, but when the hand returns, the mixture tilts into nothing but pure bliss. With every lick, his hands jolt, and he’s somehow still holding on to the bullets, without knowing how but not caring, not when he’s being opened through nothing but Kapkan’s mouth. He can feel his breath ghosting over his skin.

When he can’t take it anymore, he seeks other outlets. He digs his heels into the mattress, throws his head left and right, moans and whimpers and keens at the digits probing deep while a slick muscle tugs on his rim and a tight grip brings him closer and closer. He’s shivering as if it was below zero, and still his fingers don’t budge. The centre of his universe are these five gleaming items, and fanning out from there is deep elation emerging from inside him. Moving isn’t against the rules, so he writhes and rises and falls, strains upwards and downwards and rides towards his climax with chattering teeth. He can’t lose himself or everything will be in vain. But he wants to, oh does he want to.

His orgasm shatters him. His back curves as soon as the first wave hits him, and there he remains, right on the zenith, the sensations hardly fluctuating – instead it’s a steady stream of impossible pleasure and relief flooding him and his rigid form. He’s so tightly coiled that he presses out the bullets from between his fingertips, the warmed metal falling to his stomach and mixing with the long stripes painted onto his own skin, but he couldn’t care less. It’s monumental and leaves him shuddering for a minute afterwards, still revelling in the intensity of the moment.

Sinking back into the pillows, it’s as if a spell has been lifted. Kapkan regards him with a mixture of pride and smugness, warming Glaz’ heart: gone is the no-nonsense stare, the hard set to his mouth, the roughness in his touch. They smile at each other, a soft palm trailing over Glaz’ hips and thighs, and all he wants is to sleep curled up against this man whom he knows so well.

“Turn around”, says Kapkan. And though there’s a gentle hint in his voice, it’s obvious he won’t accept a no.

He doesn’t ask whether it’s alright for Glaz, because he’d let him know if it wasn’t. They’re both aware Glaz would speak up, meaning his compliance directly implies permission. This unspoken rule makes a lot of things easier.

No preparation needed, Kapkan has worked him open with his mouth and fingers already, so he slides right into the sensitive and overstimulated hole. Up to the hilt. Glaz’ whine is lost in the pillows.

“You’re beautiful”, Kapkan whispers and Glaz feels it in his throat, balls his hands into fists and clenches them around the sheets because he won’t be shown any more patience this evening.

Despite the discomfort, he likes this, too, the rawness of it and the glimpse he gets of undisguised emotions. In between sharp snaps and hard thrusts, Kapkan compliments him, each of his words melting Glaz below him, and the kisses now and then mask the loud noises. He doesn’t dare reciprocate, keeps his vocalisations garbled and takes it without moving, drinking in the growls and not commenting on the teeth burying into his skin. They’ll leave marks, he knows this.

This is what Kapkan’s composed attitude from before hid, this is what he really feels. Glaz would never deprive him of this, no matter how uncomfortable it is, because it’s one of the purest displays of Kapkan’s love. He can’t get enough of Glaz, doesn’t seem to know what to do with all this affection he harbours, so now and then it spills over. It’s reassuring. Their feelings for each other are this strong.

While Kapkan showers, Glaz gathers the bullets and lines them up on the bedside table. Reflecting the soft light from outside, they shimmer like golden stars.

Glaz is aware they might use them to end someone’s life.

.

This time, the climax announces itself. Like a freight train, it makes itself known from quite a distance away, whereas Glaz is chained to the tracks; he’s got a date and even a time when he’ll be able to stare into the conductor’s eyes. He realises with horror that he’ll have to ride this one out, no way around it: Kapkan is scheduled for the exercise and found out before Glaz did, eliminating the possibility of approaching Harry about it. His defence would’ve been weak yet honest – in the moment, Kapkan will act and react exactly like his intensive training ingrained in him, no doubt about it. It’s the after which causes Glaz considerable anguish. But re-assigning him would draw his attention and then Glaz would bear the brunt of it personally and not by association.

Kapkan has been getting worse for a while now, his light, restless sleep a good indicator for rising agitation, and as soon as he hears about the exercise, he knows. No way around this either: he knows. Stubborn as he is, he’ll walk right into it expecting a different outcome, will deny any parallels locked in his mind between watching his colleagues go down, not knowing where the shots were coming from, expecting to be next, and experiencing much of the same in a controlled setting. I know it’s not real, he says, and then a different voice must pop up in his mind later: But this was. Remember? Let me remind you.

Glaz is fully aware of what will happen and Kapkan too, and still inaction is his best option. He distracts him with little sessions of having Kapkan describe a mutual acquaintance or friend while drawing exactly what he says and then prompting outraged chuckles when he presents the final result. He cooks every day, either breakfast or dinner, and Kapkan lets him. This is what worries Glaz the most, because he’s sure Kapkan can tell he’s walking on eggshells around him, and instead of calling him out on it, he accepts it quietly. Seems to appreciate the kid gloves. He’s never done this before, and it’s terrifying.

Two days before the scheduled catastrophe, Glaz finds himself in the kitchen, staring at the open cutlery drawer and catching himself wondering where he should stow it all. It takes him a long while to realise he’s crying, and even longer to understand why – Kapkan is in good hands tonight, out with people Glaz knows he can trust, and he’s had a relaxing evening involving a long bath, a good film, and delicious leftovers. He should be feeling better than he did all week, yet it’s achieved the opposite effect: all the pent-up tension is flowing out of him in salty droplets now that he doesn’t need to be painfully aware of his surroundings at all times. His joints are aching and he’s shivering; stress has caught up with him as well as all the thinking he postponed to less rainy days.

He thinks about how eerily calm Kapkan has been. How much he has postponed as well.

Slamming the drawer shut, he heads straight to bed and ignores the icy tendrils curling around his limbs, even though they only recede once Kapkan has joined him hours later.

.

The next morning, his outburst and physical discomfort become crystal clear, though the newfound explanation does nothing to quell Glaz’ dread. He’s ill.

Neither the first time nor the last he’s dragged himself into work despite a fever, though most of his co-workers care enough to point out his paleness. Staring back from the mirror is an ashen-faced shadow of a man drenched in sweat, and though it’s probably only the flu, the implications are far-reaching. Depending on whether he gets better today or not, he won’t be able to work tomorrow. Or accompany Kapkan. Cushion his fall.

At the end of the day, it seems an impossibility – concentrating on anything requires much more brain capacity than he has to spare, and keeping himself hydrated and fed is a task so monumental he can’t possibly shoulder it twice. Barely does he notice Kapkan shoving him into the shower to wash off the uncomfortable clamminess left on his skin, and the next time he’s lucid, he’s in bed with a jug of water on the nightstand. He must’ve been forced to take some medicine as the aching isn’t as bad anymore, he no longer feels like shedding his own skin and the pounding in his head has subsided. Like this, he can hardly depend on himself.

The air is fluffy snow on his skin, impeding his movements and causing his teeth to clack together as he fights his way to the living room, intent on spending every minute he can in Kapkan’s presence to soothe them both. All he gains, however, is an angry snarl and a manhandling the way he came – his lover isn’t having any of it. Still. He remains by Glaz’ side and he probably has his own pitiful whining to thank for it. Throughout the rest of the evening and the night, whenever he wakes up, there’s a solid presence behind his back. And even if Kapkan barely sleeps himself, he stays right where he is.

.

Waking up to an empty bed is a blow Glaz could do without. He feels better – marginally –, but what sends him into a full blown panic is the realisation that it’s out of his hands now. However Kapkan reacts today, he won’t be present to absorb the shock, and he can’t figure out the best course of action when he’s ignorant of what happened. Calling someone else to inquire in detail seems messy as it’d get them talking, meaning all he can do is wait.

So he waits.

Waits like someone on death row, barely touches the food Kapkan placed next to the refilled jug and skims the books next to the food listlessly. And waits. Waits for the inevitable jingling of keys, steps which might be soft or loud or disorientated, maybe the calling of his name. Several hours, he waits for it and when it happens, he’s still not ready.

“How do you feel?”, is Kapkan’s only question as he helps Glaz up, wraps him in a spare blanket and changes the soaked sheets.

He takes an eternity to answer. “Better”, he says through the headache and the shivering.

A stern glance. “You’ve always been a horrible liar.” And that’s that.

They spend the evening next to each other once more, Kapkan devouring his dinner while awkwardly perched on the mattress and reading something on his phone, and Glaz still waits. It’ll happen. It can happen any moment now, he knows this, knows the exercise took place as he got a text about it, and so he waits.

He recovers over the weekend and returns to work on Monday. They went for a few walks which left him weak but sharper-minded due to the fresh air, but as much as he scrutinises the mild-mannered man by his side, he finds no indicators of a lurking rage, simmering deep below. He knows it’s there. He knows it will surface in some way, maybe not directed at the environment but inwards.

Kapkan showers without a reminder. He brings Glaz meals and drops a comment about Glaz’ schedule being so messed up he doesn’t even know when to eat anymore. He tries to draw a squirrel for half an hour and only stops because Glaz is dizzy from laughing so much.

Gradually, he stops waiting. Healthy again, he knows he can deal with it whenever it comes, and so he focuses on the present.

And it never happens.

.

About four months later, Kapkan snaps at a grocery clerk for something insignificant. He leaves Glaz drooling, panting, shuddering and wholly satisfied that night after two hours of rigorous teasing. The next day, he jumps a foot in the air over someone dropping their phone.

A few people ask Glaz whether Kapkan is alright. He just smiles and assures them that yes, he’s doing fine. No, he doesn’t need any support. Yes, he’s got it all under control.

This time, he doesn’t need to justify himself to anyone made up.

That evening, he develops a fierce headache. It turns into a migraine so bad he can barely walk, so he whispers to Kapkan that he’s going to bed early and no, he doesn’t need to join him, he’ll be alright, he doesn’t need anything, and still he’s encased in strong arms not five minutes later and forced to swallow a pill which he instead hides under the mattress. He suggests some ice cream might help, and a shoulder massage, and miraculously, he feels much better the next morning.

When he enters the kitchen, Kapkan is whistling to himself, horribly out of tune and unconcerned who might hear him. He only whistles on good days.

“Better?”, he greets Glaz with a tone implying it’s Glaz’ own responsibility to remain healthy, but pulls him to his chest regardless, carding a hand through his hair gently. He’s soft. When Glaz nuzzles him with his nose, he lets out a low chuckle which reverberates in Glaz’ own torso. He’s never felt this safe.

“Yes”, he mumbles against warm skin. “Much better.”

[kittenshift-17]

Hiiiiiiii I was wondering what plans you have for Fervidity? I don’t mean to be annoying or putting pressure on you! I’m just curious! 🤗 I hope you have a great day and good luck with writing what you’re wanting to write! 😊

I’m gonna preface my response with “I’m not angry, but...”

LOL, I love when people feel the need to throw in a variation of “I don’t mean to be annoying” or “No pressure, but...” because it means they acknowledge that sending the ask/review/comment IS going to be at least a bit annoying, and that they know bringing up a story that hasn’t been updated in months/years DOES put pressure on the author, intended curiously or maliciously. Like, they know, and then they’re like “But if I put in this ‘disclaimer’ about my intentions, I can still send it, it’s fine.”  And with an elongated “Hiiiiiiiiii” as the lead-in, you just know the sender knows that what they’re going to say after it is likely to upset someone.

I confess that when I get these kinds of queries I typically have to force myself to take a few days before responding to avoid snarling at the asker, because most often, they ARE well-meant, and not supposed to turn me into an angry bear biting off heads. BUT they usually drop in during the night while I’m asleep, and I wake up to them first thing in the morning before I’ve had even a whiff of coffee and frankly, it’s just a bad time all around when I read them on the first, like four runs. Because despite the “I mean well, but here’s an antagonizing query” desclaimers, y’all know how they come across when devoid of tone and deprvied of even a pename to address the query to. 

So, just FYI, you can kill an author’s interest in touching a fic at all with variations of “When are you going to update the fic I like?”. 

Just so y’all know.

And it’s often poorly met when I say shit like that, but the honest truth is, a lot authors get frequent questions, queries, flames, and prods about whatever you’re asking about. IT’S NEVER JUST YOU ASKING. I looked back through my post archive and this month, alone, I’ve had 3 people ask me about “my plans” for Fervidity. Could all be the same person, getting naggy. Could be 3 different curious indiviudals. 1, to me, is genuine curiosity. 2 feels like a prod to get my butt into gear. 3 plummets directly into “poke-the-bear” territory, and I get growly.

Ya get me?

So while to the asker, or a random reader of the blog, it looks like an author being nicely asked about something they created by a curious fan, to the author, it can feel more like nagging. Is that.... clear? Like, I’ve prefaced this with a mention that I’m not angry, and I’m not, but you need to understand that if any creator reacts “poorly” when asked something like this, no matter the intent of the query, it feels like being nagged,

And, I mean, I get it. I haven’t updated Fervidity in 20 months. That’s just shy of two years. And I haven’t bloody touched it. And y’all are being sweet and all like, “Hey, so I like that thing you made, is there more?”, 

but it feels like 

“Yo, bitch, gimme what I want! Stop being so fucking slack! You’re a waste of space. Why did you share it if it’s not ready? God, you’re so useless. 2 years and you haven’t touched it! You’re so selfish! We want it now! Give it to us now! Why aren’t you writing it? Oh, my god, can you just finish something for once in your pathetic life? You’re such a disappointment.”

That’s what goes through my head, anyway. And, in fairness, that’s my own self-doubt and self-loathing super-imposing itself onto your (probably) innocent question, but THAT’S what goes through my head. That, from discussions with fellow authors and artists, is what goes through all our heads. We KNOW how goddamn long it’s been. We feel guilty. We feel worthless. We feel useless and pathetic, and like we’re a huge disappointment. 

And every time you ask about it, you make use feel that way again.

Think of it like having a big nasty zit on your face. You know it’s there. You hate that it’s there. You just want it to go away. Because people are staring. It’s red and pulsing and ugly. And then someone comes up to you and prods it and calls attention to it, and asks why you haven’t done anything about it. An incomplete fic is a vile blemish on the face of every author, and we want to be told it’s not that hideous, and that it looks fine, and that it’s going to be okay. 

So, in short, the disclaimers do nothing to protect people’s feelings except maybe warn them to brace for being exactly what the disclaimer says not to be. And questions like this kick the hornet’s nest of insecurity inside every creator. So, like, think before you post, and word these things nicer to avoid making authors cry.

As for my plans for Fervidity - all I can offer you is that if I had a chapter ready to share, I’d share it. 

*shrugs and slouches off in search of my coffee and the shattered fragments of her self-worth*

[towndev]

Are you still active? Also are you still working on Quirk Assist?

I am still around, yes. I haven’t really been writing devlogs here for any of my projects, though. It’s not that I’m writing them somewhere else, I just haven’t been writing devlogs (maybe I should be?). As for Quirk Assist, I haven’t done any active development for it in a long while. I had aimed to use Java to create a better version that would work cross platform and work better than the current AHK driven version, but that proved to be difficult, if not impossible. The reason that cross platform Quirk Assist is such a challenge is because each operating system has different input systems and each has to be hooked in an individual and unique way. Java isn’t well configured for this job because it is meant to run in the Java Virtual Machine, circumventing the unique traits of each operating system. I was using a C++ based library that java could hook into that was meant to address these issues on multiple platforms, but some essential functionality was missing. For example, I could send and detect keystrokes, but not intercept them. I had to send backspace keystrokes the moment an input was detected, but that was a sloppy solution and the keyboard felt like it was fighting me, rather than assisting.

The library I was using is called “JNativeHook”, available here: https://github.com/kwhat/jnativehook. It looks like it hasn’t been updated since 2017 so I doubt they added the functionality I need. I see a couple others (from a quick google search there is this one https://github.com/dyorgio/jinputhook) but nothing that provides what Quirk Assist needs. I would need to write a C or C++ program from scratch designed to skillfully hook several different operating system input architectures in precisely the way I need, and that is a very tall order. In addition, I am sure it would set off all kinds of antivirus alarm bells, because someone making a program like that for ill intent would be able to cause significant damage.

In general I have set Quirk Assist development aside, I have other priorities in life and it would take a herculean effort to deliver a stable multiplatform solution. The current version has its quirks and issues, but it still does do what it is intended to, if even just on windows. I still enjoy homestuck stuff here and there but I don’t really follow it as closely as I did years ago.

I know you as the question asker probably don’t care much about my other projects, but for anyone else watching this blog who cares about my other projects like Hardboot, I am still around. I haven’t worked actively on Hardboot in a long time, but I still have everything I need to work on it. When I migrated computers I also migrated my workspace for Hardboot. I often think about finishing it, but it needs significant refactoring. When I started developing it, even the concept of encapsulation was unknown to me, not to mention the poor thread safety. I still want to finish Hardboot but it is not my top priority either.

In general if anyone wants to get in touch with me, sending an ask here should definitely work. I mostly lurk these days but I am around!

[mulanxiaojie]

“I can’t read Mandarin.”

This is how non-Chinese sometimes put it when they’re trying to be politically correct. I understand the intention, even though it comes out strangely, because you only read and write Chinese, not Mandarin.

Or: “What do you mean when you say you speak ‘Chinese’?” someone might tell me authoritatively. “There are many languages in China.”

This is all true. I’ve learned, over time, that who and what is “Chinese” is a complex and contested topic in a shifting landscape. It depends on who’s saying what to whom.

For example, a Chinese mainlander speaking English to a non-Chinese person will ask “Do you speak Chinese?” and be referring to Mandarin. A Hong Konger or Taiwanese may use the word “Chinese” to refer to the language, but would also be likely to say “Mandarin”. Similarly, if a Hong Kong local says “Chinese”, they may be referring to Cantonese.

Speaking Mandarin, a mainland Chinese person might use the words “中文” (zhong wen), “汉语” (han yu) or “普通话” (pu tong hua) to refer to Chinese. These words loosely translate to “Chinese language”, “Han language” or “Standard speech”.

But a Hong Kong or Taiwanese local speaking to a non-Chinese person in Chinese will say “你會講國語嗎?”, using the word “國語” (guo yu) which literally translates to “Can you speak the National language?”

Or the Hong Kong local might ask in Cantonese if you speak Chinese, if you’re of Asian descent like Jo is, with “你識唔���講中文啊?” (lei sik-m-sik jong zung man ah), again using the characters “中文” (here pronounced zung man) to refer to Chinese. But here they’ll almost definitely be referring to Cantonese, even though it’s using the same characters.

In Hong Kong or Taiwan, “National language” (國語, guo yu in Mandarin, gwok yu in Cantonese) is the word used to differentiate Mandarin from local dominant languages, including Cantonese in Hong Kong and Taiwanese languages (the local flavours of Hokkien and Hakka) in Taiwan.

In short, the same collective of words can refer to multiple languages, and understanding what is intended is an exercise in contextual awareness.

--

Being “Chinese” is just as complicated as speaking “Chinese”.

Firstly, if you’re not Chinese (or generally Asian), it’s hard to get this right. It took me probably a decade of bouncing around Asian countries before I got a sense of it. In Western societies, for those of us who are not of Asian background, we’re discouraged from asking people where they’re “really” from (and you’d never phrase it like that). The implication when one asks that question is that one is looking for differences against which to juxtapose oneself, rather than commonalities one might share. So we say “ABC” (American-Born Chinese), “BBC” (British), “CBC” (Canadian) and “ABC” (Australian, this time), or various other variants for other backgrounds, and are sensitive to the fact that people might look Chinese but have been born in Lubbock, Texas and grown up in Orange County, California.

But after a while in Asia one learns that really, there are many kinds of Chinese (let alone people from elsewhere in Eastern Asia), and knowing a bit about where someone’s from helps you understand where they’re coming from.

Let’s take a few examples.

If someone was born in China and grew up in the Mainland, they’re almost definitely Chinese ethnically, culturally and by nationality. Ethnically they’re either of the Han Chinese majority, or one of the minorities like Uighur, Korean, Russian, or maybe even the extreme minority of Persian in the case of one of my friends. Culturally, anyone who grows up in the Mainland has some inescapable aspects of Chinese culture. On a superficial level, this manifests in things like a feeling one should remove one’s shoes at the door (common to anyone in continental Asia and San Francisco), then proceeds through to a few culturally entrenched beliefs like the importance of hard work and giving gifts in the form of red packets or moon cakes, and goes all the way up to a generally abstract and usually non-religious but highly philosophical perception of the world. People who grew up in this environment are highly aware of the dominance of the Chinese government (whatever they think of it), are cognizant of the fact that their parents or grandparents experienced the Cultural Revolution and the incredible tragedy that brought upon the country—whether or not they speak about it—and generally feel lucky to have what they have. In terms of nationality, they’ve got an id card or passport that says “People’s Republic of China” on it.

If born in the west (the US for example), someone of Chinese descent is likely to identify as Western (e.g. American, or French or whatever) in most circumstances. But to some, they’re still Chinese, despite their passport, despite views on the world and despite even their own will. To other Asian friends who grew up in the west, they’ll share a lot, but share a lot more with those of Chinese background—regardless of what kind of Chinese background that is. It’s hard being even vaguely Chinese and visiting any Chinese country. People would speak to you in Chinese languages and expect you to understand. Since not all people born and raised in western countries speak Chinese languages fluently, this situation can raise judgment, a few insecurities, and sometimes guilt. It’s a very different experience to visiting a country in Greater China as another kind of Asian (like Jo, who is of Korean background) or a total foreigner (like me). The expectations are different. (We’d feel the same pressure if we visited Korea or Iran.)

The people of Hong Kong are different again. They’ll share a lot of views common to most of China and even Asia. Views like the importance of deference to elders, modest dress (an evolving definition) and belief in at least one form of traditional Chinese medicine are common. Hong Kongers will even call themselves Chinese. But that doesn’t mean they’re part of the PRC, and (as I indicated above) they may strongly assert that they are not. Their passports will attest to this. The Hong Kong Special Administrative Region Passport is a passport issued only to the permanent residents of Hong Kong who also hold Chinese citizenship. Note that last bit. It gets quite complicated! But basically, you get one of these passports if you have one parent who also has Chinese nationality and you were born in Hong Kong. I don’t know if the parents had to have claimed their Chinese nationality at the time of birth, but I wouldn’t want to dive into that bureaucratic black hole.

In Taiwan, being of Chinese descent ethnically differentiates you from the Aboriginal people of Taiwan, but could still mean you have ancestry from anywhere over the island of Taiwan or elsewhere in China. Chinese people in Taiwan probably speak Mandarin, though not always as the dominant language, which might be Taiwanese, also known as Taiwanese Hokkien (locally referred to as 臺語, Tai yu in Mandarin pronunciation). I spoke to some people in Mandarin and then only half-understood the reply, because they responded to me in Taiwanese—a strategy that would work with most locals (and maybe other Mainland visitors who have more of a knack for other Chinese languages). At other times, I’d say something in Mandarin (like numbers, or the names of foods when buying things) and then be taught the local Taiwanese words for them. Using local words subsequent times always got a better response.

And beyond the boundaries of where the PRC asserts its authority, you can also be Chinese and be Malaysian, Indonesian, Thai, Singaporean or Filipino (or a national of a few other countries). In those countries, there have been immigrant Chinese populations for a number of generations, the descendants of whom still identify as Chinese. The implied language spoken varies dramatically. It’s pretty common for someone who’s Malaysian Chinese to speak five languages: English, Mandarin, Hokkien, Cantonese and Malay… not to mention Hakka, Teochew and a few others (but generally not more than a few Chinese variants at a time). People in Thailand who identify as Thai Chinese, on the other hand, may speak no Chinese languages at all. They might tell you they’re of Chinese descent, or they might not—regardless of how much it changes (basically nothing, except maybe an understanding nod to the fact that their great, great grandparents escaped poverty from the south of China), the way they identify is highly individual.

Overall, I would never suggest putting people in a box. Every individual has exceptions. The above is just a quick glimpse into the complexity of Chinese “identity”, itself a fluid construct. But understanding some cultural background helps us feel more at home with people without having to go over many basic questions. Even just knowing that someone is only one generation away from poverty can help many of us with similar backgrounds feel like we have something important in common. So take the above as a glimpse into a rich world that I’d invite everyone to explore for themselves.

Who are we?

These days, when people ask us where we’re from, we assume good intentions: That they’re trying to connect with us. I tell them I’m from Iran (I’m really not… but it’s why I’m brownish), and Jo says she’s from Korea. They may have follow-up questions, but usually this is enough to satisfy the asker. Worst case, we’re doing a pretty good job at representing those two countries, and let them have it for free.

What we’ve learned so far from travelling is not just who we are, but the importance of the nuance of where other people are from. We’re looking forward to diving deeper into what makes people tick in more parts of the world.

[queenofthyme]

November Third (part eight (a))

@o0o-chibaken-o0o this is getting long so I had to split up the year into TWO PARTS (but I’m sure you won’t mind since it just means +++content). 

bingo l part one l part two l part three l part four l part five l part six l part seven l part eight (a) l updates to come...

Draco didn’t want to play. But it was an hour until November third. And he knew something was bound to happen with Potter anyway. Better it be under the disguise of a game than something with more weight. They’d never addressed their unconventional conversation the previous year. Understandably, it had been lost amongst greater concerns, what with Harry Potter saving the world and all, not to mention Draco’s life.

It was a game of truth or dare, but, somebody (bloody Pansy) had brought enough veritaserum for everyone. So the stakes were raised.

Draco had already decided there was no way he was choosing truth. That no matter how awful a dare, there could be nothing more awful than being forced to reveal the truth of his feelings. Because that was the only question anyone ever asked in these stupid games. And Draco wasn’t a fool.

But before he was given the spotlight, the content of the dares made the choice a little bit harder. Draco wasn’t fussed that Weasley had been dared to take off his pants or that Pansy had already kissed Luna twice - once on her turn when she dared Luna to kiss her, and then once on Luna’s turn when Luna did the same thing back. (It was technically against the rules to dare someone who had already had their turn - but with Pansy in charge, no one was going to question it.)

What Draco was fussed by, was the dare Potter received from Seamus just after midnight. (The traitor - Draco had thought they’d become good friends this year.) 

“I dare you,” Seamus said without even asking Potter his preference - no one was picking truth anyway, “to give Draco a hickey.”

Draco’s head darted over to see Potter’s reaction so fast, he thought he might have given himself whiplash. Potter was already staring back at him too.

The room was silent - for once - as everyone waited to see how Potter would respond. He could always say no. Pansy had made it clear at the start of the game that anyone could, and should feel free to leave at any time without any repercussions. The veritaserum had been optional too, but no one wanted to be the only one who refused - not drinking it would be telling in itself. 

Draco waited impatiently, scanning Potter’s face for any tell of how he might choose. Potter was still staring back - not giving away anything. Until he raised an eyebrow - as if asking Draco: Is this okay?

Draco shifted his head in the slightest nod - that he hoped no one else would notice - to confirm his consent. He kept his face impassive so Potter wouldn’t mistake his willingness for eagerness, despite the fact that it totally was.

“Okay,” Potter said quietly to Seamus. “I’ll do it.”

Immediately, the room buzzed up again, with chatter and wolf whistles, courtesy of Blaise - and did that one come from Granger? Potter stood up, and the buzz softened.

Everyone watched as Potter walked across the circle to Draco, wiping his hands on his jeans. Draco didn’t move. Perhaps it would have been proper to meet Potter in the middle of the circle, but he was frozen. All he could do was let Potter come to him.

Potter had to drop to his knees to meet Draco where he sat cross-legged on the floor. Potter hadn’t even touched him yet, and Draco’s heart was already pounding against his chest. How was he suppose to sit through the whole process of a hickey without giving himself away? Acting disinterested required concentrated effort. And it was hard to concentrate on anything other than Potter’s lips which would soon be -

“Where?” Potter asked, turning away from Draco to address Seamus.

“I’m sure my neck will suffice, Potter.” Draco responded quickly, worried Seamus might decide on a location far too mortifying for an audience. He was a dirty bastard.

Potter turned back to Draco and fixed him with a look of determination. It was the same face he wore when duelling and the fact he was wearing it now, to give Draco a hickey, was a little arousing. No, who was Draco kidding? It was incredibly arousing. And still, Potter hadn’t touched him.

Potter leant forward, and placed his arms on the floor either side of Draco, trapping him in place - which was not unwelcome. And then his head ducked down to Draco’s neck and hovered there - his breath against Draco’s skin already causing goosebumps. Potter still hadn’t touched him.

And that was the problem. Potter just hovered there, unmoving, certainly not producing a hickey, but causing Draco’s body to spark to attention all the same. It was unbearable.

“Get on with it, then,” Draco tried to snap, but his voice came out much more breathy than he intended and ending up just sounding desperate. Which he was, of course.

At least it prompted Potter to finally do something. And that something was…shit…one hell of a something. Draco didn’t consider himself a sensitive person, at least not physically. He’d experienced enough pain to render his skin considerably tough for an 18 year old. But, shit, pleasure. That, apparently, was completely different if the heat - no, that wasn’t right, he knew what it was to be burned - the warmth that spread through his body was any indication.

It didn’t make sense that Potter could press his lips against Draco’s neck in one small area, but somehow make it feel as if those same lips were everywhere, leaving behind pure ecstasy in their wake. Which may have sounded rather dramatic. But these were Harry Potter’s lips on Draco Malfoy’s neck. So dramatic was a given.

And then those lips actually started sucking. And Draco lost control of all his motor functions. At least that was the only explanation for the excruciatingly humiliating sound that came out of his mouth. And there was no denying Potter heard it because, one - it was LOUD, and the room dissolved into giggles immediately, and two - Potter paused what he was doing, only for a second (thank Merlin), but it was enough. Enough to confirm that Draco had been terribly terribly exposed.

Although, he was being given a hickey. Was he expected not to enjoy it? It didn’t matter that it was Potter. Even though Potter’s presence alone was enough to make Draco shiver. Even though Potter was very talented at it - how did he even know how to do that with his tongue? And oh merlin, yes, this had everything to do with Potter. Everything. 

But no-one else had to know that.

When Potter brought his teeth into the mix as well - grazing them lightly against Draco’s neck like he knew exactly what he was doing - Draco had to close his eyes. He couldn’t look at their audience anymore. This was mortifying. And yet, literally the best thing Draco had ever experienced.

How long did it take to leave a hickey anyway? There should have been a mark by now. Except Potter was moving his mouth around quite a bit, not committing to a single area, and clearly dragging out the process. It had to mean he was enjoying it too. It had to. Or perhaps he just liked to make Draco squirm.

Either way, Draco wasn’t complaining. The longer he got to have Potter’s lips on his neck, the better. He would surely never live this moment down - since the entire eighth year was witnessing it - but even so, each second of pleasure was worth it.

All too soon, Potter was pulling back, leaving a cold spot on Draco’s neck. Draco opened his eyes to Seamus approaching - inspecting his hickey far more closely than necessary. Potter was already walking away, back to his spot on the far side of the circle, which was probably for the best. What were they going to say to each other after that?

“Nicely done, Potter,” Seamus announced loudly to the room, “but I did only ask for one hickey.”

Draco jerked a hand up to cover his neck as everyone laughed. He didn’t dare make eye contact with Potter.

“Over to you, Potter,” Seamus said, winking at Draco before returning to his seat. He really was a bastard.

Draco kept his eyes on his knees which he had propped up and crossed over in front of him. He was curious as to who or what Potter would dare, but he knew if he caught Potter’s eye, he’d just start blushing, and that was not something he wanted anyone to see. Not something he wanted Potter to see.

“Harry,” Pansy said in her sickly sweet voice - nothing good ever came from that. “Why don’t you dare Draco? He hasn’t had a turn yet. I’m sure he feels very left out.”

Draco lifted his head to fix Pansy with the dirtiest glare he could manage. She was a loyal friend, but merlin, she could be cruel.

“Right,” Potter said, voice a little breathless, as if he’d just spent most of his energy on giving someone multiple hickeys (!!!), “Malfoy, I dare - “

“Truth!” Draco yelled out quickly, turning to Potter. ‘I choose truth.” Whatever dare Potter was planning - however tame - Draco couldn’t do it. Not right now.

Potter blinked back at Draco for a moment. Everyone else was staring at Draco too. He was the first to choose truth. And he knew why. The risk of revealing something humiliating under veritaserum was too high. Truth was awful. You were completely at the whim of the asker. Anything they wanted to know, anything Potter wanted to know, Draco would expose as easily as if he’d just been asked about the weather.

But Draco held out hope that Potter was merciful, that he’d go easy on Draco. And he was right. Well, at least, Potter tried to. “Why did you pick truth?”

Draco froze. A much less pleasurable warmth filled his body, bringing colour to his pale skin.

“Boring!” Pansy called out, irritated that her plan hadn’t been successful. She didn’t know that Potter had asked exactly the right question to expose Draco, and render his choosing truth absolutely pointless.

All eyes were on Draco. He could feel the veritaserum clawing at his throat, encouraging him to say all the things that could ruin him. “I - I didn’t want to have to move,” Draco managed to say, rather reservedly at first, although he knew the veritaserum wouldn’t allow it for long. He fought against the rest of the explanation, holding it back with everything he could, but it was fruitless.

“Because - “ Oh merlin, this was it - “Because I’m hard, okay? And I didn’t want anyone to see.”

Someone gasped obnoxiously - probably that Ernie Macmillan kid - and Pansy clapped her hands together. Draco, still watching Potter, witnessed his mouth fall open in a way that did not help Draco with the particular problem he’d just told his entire year about in the slightest. Draco crossed his legs tighter.

“Is it because -“

“One question, Potter. One,” Draco interrupted quickly. People could put two and two together on their own - there was no need to explain why -

“Did Harry get you all hot and bothered?” Pansy teased, such vindictive glee in her voice that Draco wondered what the hell he had ever done to her to deserve such torture.

It didn’t matter that the rules stipulated one question, because the veritaserum was in effect all the same, and Pansy had asked him a question. So Draco had no choice but to say: “Yes.”

“Of course he did,” Draco continued, trying to play it cool - at least, as much as possible under the circumstances. “He was giving me a bloody hickey for merlin’s sake!” He wanted to add that Potter could have been a goblin and the outcome would still be the same, but the veritaserum wouldn’t let him exaggerate quite that far.

Draco didn’t even know if all the eyes on him were satisfied with his defence - it wasn’t exactly a denial. He couldn’t lie. But he could hardly bear it if people actually thought, well, knew, that he had the hots for Potter. And they just kept on staring, like Draco would reveal something else, or that they might catch a glimpse of the evidence between his legs - evidence that he was keeping securely hidden.

“I am rather good at giving hickeys,” Potter announced in a loud voice, drawing some of the attention away from Draco. “And blowjobs too,” he added staring right at Draco. Oh fuck.

Potter was making Draco’s erection situation worse - if that was possible. But at least his words had drawn all the attention of the room now. No one seemed interested in witnessing Draco’s erection when they could hear about Harry Potter’s blowjobs. Typical.

And then Potter mouthed a word at Draco that took a second to interpret. Run. Oh. Potter was saving Draco. Again. Draco wasted no more time reading into it further, and took his opportunity, jumping to his feet and turning around in the same motion to hide his crotch from the room.

And then he ran. Which was a little awkward with the hardness in-between his legs. But he had no choice. He had to go into hiding forever. Or at the very least, until his erection died down. Which could be a while. He could still feel the way Potter’s lips, his tongue, had felt on his neck. Merlin. If he wanted to get rid of his erection fast, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands, literally. It was the most practical thing to do. 

Draco darted into an empty classroom and locked the door. 

Bingo progress...

@o0o-chibaken-o0o so I’ll hold off on confirming if you were right or not since this is only part a, but you’re 2 for 3, so it’s looking pretty good...hmmm...

I hope you enjoyed this tame introduction to the adult things™ that I know you are impatiently waiting for. And hint hint, I am sure part b will be right up your alley. 

I feel like we’re getting close to bingo...you have to shout when btw. 

[jealously-is-a-curse]

Hello there! You should answer all 100 TMI asks ☺

100 NSFW TMI Questions: 1. Are you a virgin? No 2. Does anyone besides you know your bra/penis size? Yeah everyone knows i have small titties. 3. Do you know anyone who has any STDs? No 4. Were you married when you first lost your virginity? 5. Do you swear under celibacy? Nah fam 6. When did you first lose your virginity? If you haven't, when would you like to? I lost it when I was 17, so in year 12. 7. Have you ever gotten tricked into aphrodisiacs or alcohol for sex? nope cause im not stupid 8. Have you walked in on someone masturbating/having sex?: no thank god, and i hope i never do!! 9. Have you ever seen someone masturbate or have sex with their permission? nah 10. Where is the weirdest place you have had sex? no where really, for me still it the kitchen table like ppl eat of this and i did that on there damn. 11. If you had to chose one, would you have outdoor sex or car sex? outdoor sex, im over car sex. 12. When was the age you first masturbated? Whether you knew it or not? probably 18 years old 13. Have you ever helped someone "finish"? yeah lol every guy my age 14. Have you ever had an erection in the past month? (clitorial counts, too): nah 15. When was the last time you have had an erection? (clitorial counts, too):dunno 16. Have you ever had an erection and someone noticed?:ahah nah 17. What is your method of masturbation? (ie. toys, clitorial, prostate): clitoral 18. What is your bra/penis size?: small size bra 19. Has anyone seen your private parts other than yourself or a family member?:yeah i always walk around naked infront of my mum lmao 20. What is the strangest thing you have ever put up your vagina/anus?:nothing 21. Do you like rough sex or intimate sex better?: i like both, depending on the chemistry between me and the guy. 22. When was the last time you masturbated?: couple weeks ago 23. When was the last time you had sex?: 3 weeks ago 24. When was the last time you watched porn?: does tumblr porn count? if so everyday lol 25. Have you ever bought a sex toy? If so, which one did you buy last? First sex toy? If not, which one do you plan on buying when you do?: first sex toy i brough was a mini bullet, its my fave. 26. Guys: Circumsized? yeah but really isnt an issue for me. 27. Which not-genital part of your body do you like being touched?: my neck 28. Which genital part of your body do you like being touched?: obvi my clit 29. Girls: Are you able to achieve orgasm just through breast stimulation?: no i actually dislike my breast/nipples being touched 30. What color/type of underwear are you wearing?: right now i have pink ones with green leaves on them. 31. Have you ever sent someone a picture or video of you in the nude? Did it include sexual actions?: yeah, whatelse is snapchat for? :))) 32. Have you ever posted a picture of image of you in the nude on a website?Did it include sexual actions? No, no no. 33. Have you ever anonymously sent/posted a picture or video of yourself in the nude? Did it include sexual actions? Nope 34. Have you anonymously sent a sexual ask to someone on tumblr?:nope 35. When was the last time you have had a wet dream?: literally couple nights ago. 36. Which wet dream was your favorite?: I dont think i have any faves cause i dont rememeber them all haha 37. Is there a friend you would willingly have sex with?: maybe, but im scared it would wreck the friendship. 38. Is there a celebrity/character you would willingly have sex with? Oh too many to name. 39. Have you ever masturbated with someone? yeah 40. Have you ever took a shower with someone that is not a family member?: Ive had the opportunity to but i have bad skin conditions so i avoid it haha 41. Favorite sexual position? If you are a virgin, which position interests you?: id say reverse cow girl 42. Do you like being called a slut or whore in bed?: yes 43. Are you into any BDSM?: havent really tried it out but would love too. 44. Have you ever wanted to have sex with someone but knew you couldnt for any reason? Why?: hmm this answer is the same as question 37 45. Turn on's?: guys who eat pussy 46. Turn off's?: guys who dont eat pussy 47. Have you ever had a sexual fantasy about someone? Was it about anyone other than your lover?: nah 48. Have you ever had phone sex? Video sex? Chat box sex?: yeah, i mean who hasnt. 49. What was the weirdest thing that has ever turned you on?: not to sure 50. Do you like dirty talk?: yeah I do, but i hate returning it back haha 51. Are you loud or quiet during sex? Masturbation?: quite as i live at home and all the bedrooms are close. 52. Have you ever been inturrepted during sex or masturbation? Who/what?: nope 53. Most embarressing sex/masturbation story?: guy was eating me out nek min he got a blood nose during it haha so awks 54. Most hilarious sex/masturbation story?: hilarious sex story is guys who last 5 mins 55. What kind of porn do you like to watch?: tumblr porn 56. First type of porn you have ever watched? (ie. lesbian, hentai, threesome): oh in year 12 the boys made me watch black guy with asian girl LOL 57. What was the most recent type of porn you have ever watched? What category was it under?: tumblr porn 58. Most hilarious/stupidest porn you have ever watched?: oh tv shows about girls who go into the porn industry aged 18 and cry over it haha 59. Have you ever fantasized over someone older than you? How much older?Younger? How much younger?: yes yes my year 7 high school teacher, who is probs in his early 30s now, now probs 8 or so years older 60. Favorite sex toy (if any)?: i dont have a fave one, id like to explore new ones 61. Have you ever had to break up with/divorce someone because you weren't satisfied with their sex?: no but i stop seeing guys right away if i dont like the sex with them. 62. Have you ever used anything/gotten any surgeries to improve sexual performance/feel?: no, im only 21 dont need too haha 63. If someone you knew asked for a nude image, would you do it? What about a tumblr follower?: nah wouldnt do it for a tumblr follower 64. Have you ever told someone any wet dreams/fantasies you've had about them?: haha nah i keep that to myself. 65. Do you like to have sex like they do in pornos?: yes 66. Have you ever confessed to someone that you got an erection over them? What about masturbated to them?nah 67. Are you able to be secretive when you masturbate? (like able to be quiet so no one can hear?: yup 68. When was the first time you achieved orgasm?: only couple years ago 69. Is there only one way so far that you have been able to achieve orgasm? (ie. only by using toys, only from 1 positon,only from masturbating a certain way): yeah i can only achieve orgasm with playing with my clit or sometimes getting eaten out. 70. Favorite type of oral?: sucking dick? 71. Strangest sexual positon you've tried?: none yet 72. Have you ever made up a sexual postion?: no 73. Girls: During sex, vaginal or anal?: vaginal 74. Girls: During masturbation, clitorial, vaginal, or anal?: clitoral 75. Do you like to be dominant or submissive?: both 76. Have you ever masturbated to someone?: no 77. Have you ever masturbated because your sexual partner wasn't there when you needed them?no 78. Have you ever had a one night stand? Do you still keep in contact with them?yeah and nah dont even remember his name 79. Have you ever had a friends with benefits? Are they still beneficial?: yes i have and no because feelings get involved. 80. Have you ever had sex with someone who wasnt your partner?: yeah all the time i dont have a boyf 81. Has any of your partners had sex with someone else?: n/a 82. Have you ever gotten pregnant? Were they your lover's or someone else's?: no and i hope it dont! 83. Birth control or condoms?: both 84. Do you ever masturbate to porn?: yes 85. Does anyone know you masturbate? Did you have to tell them?: haha yeah my bestfriend knows 86. Did your parents ever find out you were sexually active?: yeah 87. Do you have any STDs?: no and dont plan on getting any 88. Have you ever masturbated to a fictonal character or celebrity?: no 89. Have you ever had sex during "7 minutes in heaven"?: i dont even know what that means x 90. Spit or swallow? Or do you not like oral?: swallow, i dont like giving head but i do it anyways hahah 91. Have you ever been rejected for sex? Have you ever rejected someone else?: no but yeah i reject sex sometimes 92. Do you have someone who said they are willing to take away your virginity if you havent lost it by a set age or if you just want to have a good time? haha yeah 93. Have you ever experiented with the opposite sex?: no, only kissed a few girls, tho i would like to some day try it out. 94. When you first lost your virginity, was it intended or spontanious?no not at all. was scary lol 95. Has anyone ever walked in when you were taking a shower with someone? no 96. Did you ever tell someone once you lost your virginity?: yeah my bestfriend, few of my friends and my mum aahah 97. Does your lover know if you have masturbated?: i wish i had a lover 98. Does your lover know that you want to have sex with them but cant? n/a 99. Do you like masturbation?: yes 100. (Asker's ask) If i were to ask you if we could have sex, would you say yes? : no sorry xxx

[eeee-lye]

@caseydickdanger, on this blog because I try to minimise the non-toy chatter:

You don’t need to thank me. (This is one of those “I hate that people are grateful for my doing nothing more than minimum level human decency” moments.) I think best intentions were made by the asker (and I’m trying to take a more positive-leaning approach to folks on STB, so I’d probably say that even when secretly doubting*) but holy fuck did it read as potential hate for folks with personality disorders and ... nope. Can’t let that go unaddressed. Not on my watch. Not ever.

Because you’re absolutely right: the hate on personality disorders and the folk who have them (especially folks who aren’t in the cutesy Cluster C area, and I say that as a cutesy Cluster C) is as rampant in disability and ND circles as everywhere else. Because the shit I’ve experienced is the barest tip of the iceberg and if that shit is far too much, anything more is so far beyond acceptable it’s beyond me to fully process.

And I don’t want that hate anywhere, but sure as hell not on my blog.

There’s no acceptable target for ableism.

* Struggling to read intent in language because, y’know, autism, usually has me assuming they intended the worst and flipping out in a rant. I’m trying to do that less. Not saying I’m succeeding, just that I’m trying. Somehow, I’ve ended up running a blog where people think I’m nice ... even though I’m a bitter, angry, ranty, judgemental person with self-esteem so low that I operate on the assumption that if I know something, it’s therefore so worthless everyone else should know it. And then I get angry because people better than me (everyone) should know what I do and more than I do, and I can’t understand why people better than me don’t know something when I know it and I’m not very smart or capable. (If you’re better than me, damn it, you should know this! Why don’t you?) Being nice is hard when you’re like that.

(Please, followers, don’t take that last paragraph as a fishing expedition; it isn’t. I’m just trying to explain how absurd the whole situation is: being bitter and judgemental with non-existent self-esteem makes assuming good faith and communicating in good faith really fucking hard.)

[streetsmartbusinessschool-blog]

7 Ways to Create an Extra Hour in the Day

Tragically, we're altogether stayed with 24-hours in the day and 168 hours in the week so an additional hour daily simply is beyond the realm of imagination. Or then again is it? While we can't mystically deliver extra time on the clock, we can consider how we make the best utilization of the hours that are accessible to us.

Time isn't the foe.

We as a whole have probably some authority over how we allot every 24-hour time span and a few people appear to be greater at it than others. So what are the key to running a normal that implies you leave work feeling quiet and fulfilled as opposed to dashing out the workplace feeling pushed and pondering where the day went? Here are a few arrangements that have been appeared to enable representatives to reexamine their mentality to time and keep feelings of anxiety low.

1) Value your time

While we discuss investing energy, it's much better to consider contributing it. This concentrates the psyche on the possibility that there ought to be some arrival for the time we contribute. In the event that you care for the minutes, the hours will deal with themselves. Plan your day around making an incentive for a considerable length of time and don't squander any of these valuable assets. Ponder giving others 'a chance to borrow' your time as you would about giving them a chance to obtain your cash.

2) Think nature of results, not amount of info

We run a choice of rest workshops and consistently somebody will solicit, 'what's the base measure of rest that I could pull off?' The reasoning behind this inquiry is that in the event that we can get time from rest, at that point we can assign it to more work, fit in some mingling or get up to speed with family errands.

What must be considered inside this methodology is accomplishes additional time wakeful empower you to accomplish more? Also, this inquiry should be seen in connection to short, medium and long haul results, the reason being that while skirting significant rest may give you more opportunity for different things over the time of a couple of days, keep this up for a really long time and your capacity to work to your maximum capacity slowly winds up dissolved as absence of rest and lacking time to rest, recoup and revive the batteries before long makes up for lost time with you.

An unquestionably progressively fruitful procedure is to design every 24-hour time span to incorporate the rest you need and afterward build up how you make the best utilization of the staying waking hours. Odds are on the off chance that you are refreshed and centered around each errand you need to finish, you'll accomplish things more rapidly and to a higher standard than if you compel yourself to take on employments feeling blurred peered toward and drowsy. This will spare time over the long haul.

3) Get hydrated

An extract from 'Lack of hydration and its consequences for execution' by Asker Jeukendrup and Michael Gleeson says, "Exercise execution is debilitated when an individual is dried out by as meager as two percent of body weight. Misfortunes more than five percent of body weight can diminish the limit with regards to work by around 30 percent" (Armstrong et al. 1985; Craig and Cummings 1966; Maughan 1991; Sake and Randolph 1990).

There is a reasonable parallel between athletic execution and execution at work. Envision entire workplaces in danger of a diminished work limit of 30 percent basically from not drinking enough water. At that point envision the amount increasingly engaged and viable staff would be and how much better ready to complete things rapidly and improve their time-productivity they would be in the event that they basically organized drinking more water.

It probably won't be a conspicuous connection for some however drinking water spares you time.

4) Monitor and deal with your vitality levels

Inquire as to whether being sound or taking care of themselves is essential and chances are they'll state yes. Get some information about their ordinary commitment to taking advantage of their wellbeing and prosperity and you may not get such a positive reaction. Prosperity is one of those regions where there is frequently a hole between the craving and the activity, the knowing and the doing. The issue is that on the off chance that you don't improve your wellbeing it tends to be difficult to upgrade your time. On the off chance that you don't feel extraordinary, you're probably not going to almost certainly work to the best of your capacities.

The most straightforward approach to defeat this is to quit seeing sound living as simply one more thing on your plan for the day and start seeing it as the absolute most critical thing on your rundown that will support your accomplishment in everything else that you do.

Considering making vitality instead of overseeing wellbeing is by all accounts all the more rousing for most with regards to settling on normal and reliable decisions that contribute towards improved prosperity. At that point consider the everyday decisions you make that will enable you to encounter higher, increasingly reliable vitality levels so you can improve your productivity and complete things quicker.

In the event that you consider all your everyday way of life decisions, including what you eat and drink, how you get dynamic (or not) and what work you take on, in connection to the inquiry, 'is what I'm going to do going to give me vitality or deny me of vitality?' at that point you'll before long end up settling on various decisions and making a prudent circle where more vitality implies increasingly effective utilization of time and additional time allows you to consider how best to utilize your improved vitality levels.

5) Choose how you invest your energy and make life intriguing

You'll have heard the expression, 'On the off chance that you need something done, offer it to a bustling individual.' Why is it that the individuals who are occupied frequently appear to be progressively successful? Generally this is on the grounds that bustling individuals fill their timetable with numerous things they need to do just as every one of the things they realize they need to do.

There's no greater method to dawdle than to have a long daily agenda with nothing on it that is especially motivating yet in all actuality, this happens now and again. We as a whole have components of our employments that are more 'upkeep' than 'dynamic' yet they do should be finished. Try not to give these employments a chance to eat your time.

As opposed to lingering and wandering through these errands consider rather what else you truly need to do today and that you could possess energy for on the off chance that you complete the exhausting employments rapidly and effectively. The way toward doing less fascinating assignments may never end up spurring yet finishing them and proceeding onward to something considerably more energizing can goad you energetically.

A note of alert with this methodology. It's imperative to give a little idea to what the things you truly need to do every day may be. This sounds evident yet I have run over an astonishing number of individuals who battle to consider energizing approaches to invest their energy with the outcome that when they do end up with some subtle 'save' time, they don't know how to manage it and rapidly come back to browsing messages and tinkering around the edges of exhausting employments that truly don't require doing right at that point.

Be sure about your arrangements. Create an impression like, 'On the off chance that I had an additional hour in the day I'd use 45-minutes to exercise and 15-minutes for arranging'. Timetable these spaces in your journal and afterward work effectively to get them going.

6) Reset your work clock

Not truly as this could be mistaking for others in the workplace however consider how you oversee time as the day progressed. Time after time individuals intend to go for lunch at 1pm just to get them taking care of potential issues until 2pm before they inspire something to eat. Correspondingly the journey to leave the workplace at 5.30pm normally finishes in a scramble to get to a point where they can run out the entryway by 6pm or even later.

Set your parameters of the day all around obviously and make a little shortage with your hours. Maintain a strategic distance from any days where you continue dedicating an ever increasing number of minutes and hours to work time that may not be high caliber and consider rather how you could accomplish most extreme outcomes with the hours you are happy with resolving to work.

On the off chance that you need to eat at 1pm, set an alert for 12.45pm to remind you to go through 15-minutes wrapping up advancement from the morning. On the off chance that you have to leave at 5.30pm, set your caution and expect to have the day's assignments finished by 5pm.

This furnishes you with a room for mistakes every day except, all the more critically, will likewise enable you to contemplate how you compose yourself, especially in connection to how you organize what you do, the frameworks you use to work proficiently and, where fitting, the manners by which you delegate.

Think need the executives, not time the executives. In all actuality if something truly is a need, you will set aside a few minutes for it. On the off chance that you feel that you have numerous needs however time is short, you'll be persuaded to discover better approaches for apportioning assets to guarantee results in all territories without you having to overcommit your hours. Invest energy in methodology and the board and you'll spare time on operational issues.

7) a definitive need the executives question

In spite of the fact that we as a whole vibe in a hurry, there's as yet the fundamental conviction that tomorrow gives a security net or we'll discover a space one week from now to wrap up those things we don't get around to today. Be that as it may, imagine a scenario where you couldn't depend on tomorrow or one week from now. In the event that you all of a sudden must be out of the workplace for a month after today, in what ways would this change how you spend your next couple of hours?

Make this inquiry consistently and you'll before long find that you build up an effectiveness that in a generally brief time can enable you to cut out an extra an hour every day. You would then be able to appreciate contemplating how you'd like to contribute this additional time.

From a hierarchical point of view, compelling need the board requires a component of trust and a receptiveness to do things any other way yet it merits the exertion. A culture that energizes reflection and arranging time joined with supervisors that are quick to be drawn closer with proposals of new techniques and frameworks, and who are then ready to execute positive arrangements where suitable, is a motivating work environment. Staff are put resources into working viably and feel engaged to bode well their proficiency is being undermined.

The outcome is a transport