#they get picked up every couple months if that! sometimes books get stuck in the backpack for a while but it's a relatively protected spot!

[eyrieofsynapses]

Okay, this is super fascinating to me, especially because I rarely buy books due to a) library, b) money, and c) space issues (I only have a couple shelves I can properly dedicate to books). So I try to get good ones when I do. I also have a wide variety of young versus old second-handers!

One thing not mentioned here that I was curious about were comic collections. I have three older second-hand comic volumes:

Honestly, I've never picked up a paperback collected comic volume that didn't feel like it might fall apart with even mild abuse, but these are doing pretty good. The Sandman volume has some pretty badly ripped front pages from a careless prior owner and those are at risk of falling out, but otherwise it's doing just fine. (I wouldn't have bought it otherwise.) It's from 1994. The Flash volume is from 1995, the slimmest one, and has definitely seen use but held up well. The Birds of Prey collection, from 2006, is in quite good condition but also seems like it hasn't really seen use (and I can't find literally any of the ones from after it for a reasonable price so I've been reluctant to actually read it).

Now, here's the similarly-sized 1995 Flash volume versus a Titans volume from 2017 (of which I have two), bought brand-new:

...which is legitimately starting to show the spine's backing through the pages after light use, and feels like it's going to start falling apart if I so much as flip through it. Versus the Flash volume, which couldn't care less:

This is fascinating to me, because these older volumes from the mid-1990s, perfect bound with slightly flimsier paper than the 2017 volume, have preserved very well given their construction. This is consistent with the volumes I picked up from the library, about five years ago; almost anything published in or after the 2010s was just... shitty. The older ones were much better off, assuming they hadn't seen too much abuse as library books sometimes do.

Back to hardbacks, though. Lots of my books are second-hand oldies. My favorite are the pair that collect all of the original Sherlock Holmes stories. I bought them secondhand clearance. They had the worst dust covers imaginable, torn and ripped and ugly as sin, but underneath the cloth binding was perfectly fine and they had barely a mark. I have no idea when they were first sold--they don't actually say. But they're bound with signatures, albeit glued together, with a bit of lining along the inside of the spine. Here's the bigger one:

I've carried these around on multiple trips, including to camp. They lay relatively flat and have held up well. I am very, very fond of them.

Another Sherlock hardback, this one a copy of Hound of the Baskervilles that I picked up quite a while ago when my middle-school library was giving away old books:

This one is perfect-bound, and you can tell, because some of the inner pages aren't doing so well. I keep it with a rubber-band around it so it doesn't fall open and strain the binding. But the thing is: I CAN DO THAT. I'd never consider it with most books, out of fear of bending under pressure. The thickness of the cover allows for it, though it's almost a detriment, because it means the book is less flexible against the perfect binding and pulls at it. I suspect that's partly why the binding wore out over time. That cover is so protective, though, that it's survived...

Oh yeah. 37 years. This lil guy is from 1986. I've carried it around a lot and it's older than I am by a good bit. Doing reasonably good!

Now, those versus my newer hardbacks. This is an annotated copy of the Screwtape Letters from 2013, though I bought it only a couple years ago, so it might be a newer printing? It is a bit less than $30 in the US. I got it for much less, thanks to someone selling it brand-new secondhand online--it arrived in its original packaging--but it's... perfect-bound. Probably. I honestly cannot tell if it has very teensy-weeny signatures, but I don't think so?

In any case, it's nicely made--the paper is good, the endpapers are thick--but... take a look at that back endpaper.

...yeaaaah. It's falling out. I've carried this one in my backpack a little, but not THAT much, and that shouldn't have strained that part of the book. I haven't even read it all the way through.

Finally, two books I bought a couple months ago, and one of them actually gives me some hope.

Stars, Hide Your Fires, by Jessica Best (fantastic queer sci-fi murder mystery book, by the way, go check it out). Hardcover's a bit under $20 (paperback's cheaper if you want it). Also perfect-bound. Not too shabbily, but no signatures, and the glue binding is... ehh? It's pretty good for what it is, but the theme of perfect binding continues.

Now, here's another I bought on the same day, also published 2023: Leaning Toward Light, a genuinely gorgeous poetry collection about gardening. And lo and behold: SEWN SIGNATURES.

It's a little hard to tell there, but you can see it from the other end and one or two inside pages. (Drat the image limit.) It is probably glue-bound beyond that--I can't quite say--but hey, it's from 2023. It is a decade younger than the Screwtape Letters collection, has a ton of front and back full-color pages, and it's about seven bucks cheaper at $22. No dust cover, but the cover itself is gorgeous, I don't use those beyond the shelf and they tend to be so easily damaged they're not worth it anyway.

My sole gripe is that the cover is very easily battered--the coating is wearing off already in a few spots, and it has mostly been secured in a pocket of my backpack lately, so not great. Otherwise, it gives me hope that there are actually some companies making decent hardcovers at half-decent prices.

That said: there are many reasons why I like used books, though I regret that it doesn't directly support the author. One of those is exactly this: these days, a used book from two or three decades ago seems more likely to survive actual use than one published within the last decade. Manufacturers don't seem to realize that the fast fashion mindset doesn't exist to readers. If you want a book published a while ago, maybe go find a secondhand copy instead of buying new.

publishing companies will be like ~ooh this is a hardcover oooh it's so durable that will be $35~ and then you see the actual book and it's like. "perfect"-bound with endbands glued on crooked and a completely plain paper cover under the dust jacket. my dudes this shit is a mass market paperback with delusions of grandeur

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 7

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6

Robin’s been keeping her eyes peeled, and things have only gotten weirder.

Chrissy and Steve are still tied at the hip, still holding hands sometimes in the halls, she’s still wearing his letterman jacket any chance she gets. It all screams perfect textbook couple destined to win prom king and queen in a few months and pop out boring babies with glorious hair a few years later.

Except, she’s seen Chrissy leave two more notes in Eddie’s locker, has seen her and Steve pick up random books out of the library and pull envelopes out of them. She’d think the pair were pulling some sort of horrible prank on Eddie, if Chrissy wasn’t so goddamn nice.

And she’s seen Steve staring down the other boy, more caught in Eddie’s pull then even Chrissy is. It’s like he’s trying to melt Eddie’s eyeballs straight out of his skull with the force of his gaze. For his part, Eddie never even seems to notice.

That’s not even mentioning whatever the hell had happened in the cafeteria last week when Eddie had kissed Chrissy’s hand, and then Steve had whisked her away before Jason could start some sort of pissing contest.

Even the band nerds were all atwitter with that development.

And then there’s the other guy: Jeff.

Before this whole cluster of a situation, she hadn’t known Jeff from Adam, but now he’s everywhere. It feels like every other day now he’s climbing into Chrissy’s passenger seat and they’re speeding away, not a Steve Harrington or Eddie Munson in sight.

Or they’re in the library doing the same mail pick-up that Chrissy and Steve do together. Once, Robin had even seen Jeff by her side as she’d dropped a note into Eddie’s locker, which might be the wildest part of the whole situation; Robin had been under the impression that he and Eddie were friends.

There’s some benefits to being invisible: no one notices her.

So, she’s got all these building blocks to the juiciest gossip in Hawkins High for probably decades, but, no matter how she stacks them together, she can’t make them into a picture she understands.

All she knows is this: Steve Harrington is up to something shady.

Robin’s got her eyes open and a mission of the heart. She’ll protect Chrissy with all she has, and if Steve gets caught in the crossfire? That’s fine with her.

*** 

Chrissy’s still all over Harrington. He doesn’t get it, can’t comprehend why someone who leaves him such lovely, lovely notes has stuck herself to that douche’s side.

Eddie doesn’t get it.

Is it the status bump? No, can’t be, even Eddie knows the guy’s fallen a few pegs down the ladder since whatever the hell had happened with Wheeler last year.

Maybe it’s the looks? He’s got that swoopy hair all the girls fawn over, and the features to back it up. But Chrissy’s never struck him as that shallow, no matter how hot the guy is.

Is it the money, the car, the nice clothes? What does Steve Harrington have that Eddie doesn’t?

Is it the way he leans up against lockers, smiling at every girl in his sight like they’re his whole world? The way he tucks a lock of hair behind their ears, eyes smoldering, touch gentle? Steve goddamn Harrington with his jockish good looks and sweeping charms. 

He just—doesn’t get it.

He also doesn’t get why he hasn’t received a note in his locker for a couple days now, not since Eddie’d come up to her table in the cafeteria and kissed her hand.

Her nails had been painted a perfect pink, and when Eddie looked away to stare Harrington down, he’d noticed the guy had nail polish on, too: a bright yellow that would have suited him if it wasn’t chipped to hell.

It was such a small, incongruous detail, but it niggles at Eddie late into the night. It doesn’t fit with who Eddie knows Harrington to be. 

It didn’t fit, and he’s tired of nothing fitting together the way it should, so he’s been avoiding Harrington like the plague.

So, when he catches Chrissy in a rare moment where Steve’s not loitering in her periphery, he approaches again, hands raised like, see here, I’m harmless!

She smiles at him, white teeth damn-near glinting where they peek out from behind her lips. Eddie’s reciting sonnets in his head.

“Miss Cunningham,” he says, bending over at the waist and bowing low as she laughs at him. “Would you give this lowly Dungeon Master the honor, nay the privilege, of accompanying him on his quest this Thursday?”

Chrissy’s head’s tilted to the side like an inquisitive dog as she asks, “in plain English?”

He bounces closer, pleased to have even gotten his foot in the door. “My Dungeons and Dragons club is starting a new campaign tomorrow,” he says. “Want to come play?” When she purses her lips instead of answering, he scrambles to continue. “Or even just watch?”

Chrissy’s lips are still pursed, but she’s nodding slowly, like she’s thinking about saying yes. “That might be fine,” she replies. “Where should I meet you?”

And that’s how he finds himself with Chrissy Cunningham sitting in at the next Hellfire session. Gareth’s awkward because he always is when there’s a pretty girl in his vicinity, but Jeff smiles and chats with her like they’re old friends. Doug doesn’t seem to care one way or another, too focused on getting the newest campaign started to care about an interloper.

It goes off without a hitch, Chrissy’s presence blending into the background. He forgets her entirely until the end of the session when she starts slinging questions at them, and Jeff starts patiently explaining what a modifier is, and how they know which dice to roll as Eddie packs up his supplies. 

He’s got grand ideas about taking Chrissy home, had even cleaned out his van for it, but Chrissy was always destined to pop his ego.

“That was great, Eddie!” Chrissy cuts in, barely waiting for the party to finish celebrating to speak. “But, I’m already late to meet Steve, so I’ve got to go.”

“Uh,” Eddie says, staring at her retreating back, “okay.”

She turns back around right before she’s through the drama room door, still smiling as she calls, “see you guys next week!”

She’s going to see Harrington, the bane of Eddie’s current existence, but she did say it was great. No, she’d said Eddie was great.

Truly a mixed bag.

Eddie takes his time wrangling the boys out of the room and into his van, determined to hold onto the high of Chrissy Cunningham watching him DM—no way would he let Harrington of all people ruin his night.

*** 

She damn-near runs out of the drama room, lie leaving a bitter taste on her tongue—she’s not late to meet Steve, isn’t planning to see him at all.

It’s just, she knows what that gleam in a boy’s eyes means; Eddie was about to do something stupid. Ask her out, or try to flirt, or do something else both embarrassing and heart-crushing for Steve.

So, she’d done what she’s best at in uncomfortable situations: she’d lied.

Now, she’s just gotta get out of the school before anyone can call her on it.

The school’s eerily empty, the fluorescent lights only on in patchy segments, luring all the lingering students into the poorly-lit parking lot where Chrissy’s car waits. She just wants to get into her bed and wait until she can debrief with Steve in the morning.

She’s just twisted the key in the lock and begun pulling it open when a hand reaches past her and slams it closed. Chrissy jumps, fear coiling through her stomach and rapidly churning into anger. She turns, back to her car, ready to curse out Eddie or one of his other club members, but the words die unsaid in her throat.

It’s not Eddie; it’s Jason. His hand’s still slapped onto her door, keeping it closed, and in the dim light of the parking lot, his eyes are almost glowing. She wants to take a step back, but he’s effectively boxed her into the side of her own car.

“Are you serious, Chris?” he asks. The nickname sounds wrong in his mouth, all toxic and chopped up. Not at all like when Steve says it. “You really are hanging out with freaks now?”

“Jason, I—” Chrissy starts, hating the way her voice trembles.

“Are you sleeping with that freak now, too?” he demands, crowding farther into her space. “Harrington was one thing, but Munson?”

He says Eddie’s name like it’s a curse. She’s scared, still, but suddenly she’s furious that she wasted years of her life with this douche, that she’s still wasting time being afraid of him.

“He’s better than you’ll ever be,” she snarls, unsure if she means Steve or Eddie. It doesn’t matter, it’s true for both.

Without wasting another word on the jackass who’s made it his mission in life to make her feel small, Chrissy yanks her door open. It hits him in the face, sending him stumbling to the asphalt with a groan.

Even still, she rushes to slide into her car, ramming the key in and backing out without even checking her blind spots for unsuspecting pedestrians.

Jason’s just making his way back to his feet when she glances into her rear-view mirror before turning out of the parking lot and onto the street.

Her hands shake on the steering wheel making the car jerk about.

She doesn’t go home.

All the lights are on in the Harrington house, and she worries for a second that his parents are home for once before she sees the solitary car in the driveway. She parks behind it, taking the extra minute to line her car up perfectly parallel to it, hoping her hands will stop shaking by the time she’s done.

Steve’s waiting on the stoop by the time she makes it out of her car and up the driveway, hands still shaking with aftershocks of flight or fight. His arms are crossed, and he’s scowling down at her from his casual lean against the closed door.

“Will you come to Hellfire with me next Thursday?” she asks, voice wobbling around the request.

“Was it that bad?” Steve asks, scowl shifting into a teasing smile before she steps into the halo of the porch’s light and he catches sight of the expression on her face. “Are you okay?”

His hands are on her shoulders, warm and grounding against the chill that’s seeped into her skin. She reaches one of her hands up to brush the wetness from beneath her eyes. “Will you come?” she asks again, question firming up and sharpening now that she’s here, safe.

Steve’s hands squeeze, warm, warm, warm. “Course, Chris,” he replies, and she was right—it is better coming from his mouth. “Want to come in?”

She follows him into the house, curling herself up small in the corner of his couch, relieved when he sits close. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t rush her at all, just waits, patient the way Jason never was.

“You’re a great fake boyfriend, you know,” she says, smiling when he laughs and knocks their shoulders together.

“Well, as your fake boyfriend, do I need to kill Eddie?” he asks, and when she looks up from her knees, his eyes are almost shining with sincerity. “Because I will, you know.”

“I know,” she says, cheeks warming, not because she likes a boy, but because she has a friend, a real one who would pick her even over his crush. “But, Eddie was nice.”

Steve hums, slumping into her further. “So, who am I killing?”

“No one!” Chrissy replies, laughing just a little. Steve’s just like a dog with a bone; she’s always been a dog person. “Or Jason, maybe?”

“What?” Steve barks, all playfulness gone from his voice. “What the hell did he—”

“He didn’t do anything!” she rushes out, making space between their bodies so she can meet his heated gaze. “He just freaked me out.”

“But, he can’t—”

“But, you’re a good friend, and will come to Hellfire next week to keep it from happening again, right?”

Steve groans, slumping back into her and hiding his face in her hair. “You’re the worst,” he grumbles, only continuing when she pinches him hard right beneath his ribs. “But, fine! I’ll go!”

“Thank you,” Chrissy replies, glad she hadn’t gone home to recover alone.

Steve rubs his face against her head like the freak he secretly is. “Anytime.”

They stay there, bathed in the quiet of their shared companionship and the frankly alarming number of lights Steve has lighting up his entire house.

She’s almost dozed off, slumped into his side when Steve asks, “but, like, how was it?”

She laughs, body shaking with delight instead of fear this time as she replies, “Eddie Munson is such a nerd.”

PART 8

[nicksbestie]

Nooks And Crannies - M. Sturniolo

a series

part two (read part one here)

Summary : You always seem to be somewhere in the bookstore Matt works at, never buying anything, just reading, and while Matt is technically not supposed to talk to customers for so long while he's on the clock, he can't help himself.

Warnings : none yet!

Word Count : 1134

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : introduction of the reader's point of view!! i'm going to try to avoid the use of y/n as long as possible, don't hate me if it gets thrown in every now and again though! sometimes it's unavoidable <3 enjoy!

You had just moved to a new city, where you didn’t know anything, or more importantly, anyone.

You were so excited for the change of pace. While you were a person who absolutely hated change, sometimes, when it is desperately needed, it can really spin your world upside down, and you previously hated being right side up. After moving in last week, you had spent nearly twenty four hours out of every single day unpacking and trying to set up your apartment so it really felt like home. You were feeling cramped, and you knew that you absolutely had to get out and do something. So, you were walking the downtown streets, loving the fact that this city was walkable, and really just exploring. 

You were getting fresh air, and learning your new surroundings, familiarizing yourself with what was around you. You made a mental list of all of the places that you wanted or needed to visit. You were coming out of a furniture store when you spotted the cutest building on the corner, vines encasing the roof and coming down around the windows. It looked absolutely beautiful, and you wondered if the name of the shop had been named for the plants hanging on it, or if they had been planted to match the name of the shop, as engraved in the stone read “The Ivy”. The paint on the window said “Bookstore and Coffee Shop”, and below were their hours. 

It was only the middle of the day, so you knew that they were still open, and you pushed the door open. A gentle ringing went through the shop as the small silver bell above the door told people that there was a new person coming into the store. You saw the cashier glance over to see who had come in, flashing you a gentle smile before returning to the person that he was checking out. You smiled back, immediately feeling welcomed in the shop as you looked around, noticing just how cozy it was. One of your first thoughts was that you would love to get a job here. You had your rent paid through the first month, and you still had your old job, as it was a virtual, and flexible career, but just in case things went awry, you would love to work at this adorable store.

You went over to the coffee shop first, ordered something to drink, and once you got it, began walking through the aisles, picking up book after book, stacking them in your arms. You didn’t have a luxurious amount of money to spend, even though your job did pay you well enough to be comfortable, so you loved to go sit at bookshops and read for hours there when you had time. That was exactly what you planned to do today, since you didn’t have to be home for a couple of hours. You were looking around the shop, in the back corner, when you noticed the same worker who had been working the cash register now stocking shelves, and reading one of the synopsis on the books. He didn’t notice you, and you didn’t try to catch his attention, simply taking note of the fact that he was there. 

You moved into another aisle, running your hand along the books on the shelf before the tips of your fingers hit something metallic. You wrapped your hand around it, tugging it forward, but it didn’t move. You couldn’t see exactly what it was, as it was inside the inner corner of the shelf and the shadow made it a bit difficult to make out the shape. Thinking that maybe it was stuck on something, you pulled to the side, planning on pulling forward next, but the entire bookshelf moved. It wasn’t loud, the bookends holding the books tight and still so they didn’t fall off, and the bookshelf shifted to the right. You noticed light coming out from the small break in the shelves, and you realized the thing you had pulled on was a handle. You admired how silently the bookshelf slid, and since it wasn’t locked closed, you opened it more, going into the tiny room behind it.

There wasn’t a massive space behind these bookshelves, but there were two big bean bag chairs next to a small table, carpeted with a colorful rug, and all of the bookshelves were double sided. You set your books down next to the chair, on the floor, setting your coffee down on the small table between both chairs. You didn’t want to risk knocking it over onto the books since you hadn’t bought them. You noticed there was a small throw blanket sitting in the other bean bag, and you sat down on the comfortable chair, setting the blanket over your legs, before taking a drink of your coffee and picking up the first book on your stack. You fell into the story, completely losing track of time as you turned page after page.

You had no idea how long you had been sitting there, but just after you picked up your second book, completely fascinated with the synopsis of it and dying to read it, you heard the bookshelf slide open and a person step in, immediately turning his back to you, clearly having not noticed your presence yet. He turned around, and you immediately recognized him as the employee from earlier, and his cheeks tinged slightly red as he recognized that there was someone else in the room.

“Oh. You’re… in here.” 

You set your book down, beginning to feel like maybe you were somewhere that you shouldn’t be, and you stacked up your stuff, moving to stand.

“Should I not be? I’m sorry, it wasn’t locked, so I thought-” 

You were cut off by him shaking his head and speaking.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong, I just… never see anyone in here.”

Relaxing back into the chair, you thought about his words.

“Really? Nobody? It’s amazing back here, you’d think it would be crowded.”

He shook his head again, having his back turned to you again as he picked a book off of the shelf.

“No. Most people can’t figure out how to open the shelf, they think the handle is decorative. So I come in here to take my break.” 

“Oh, well I can leave! I don’t want to cramp your space.” 

He turned back around with the book, sitting down, taking the name tag off of his shirt and setting it next to your coffee. It read “Matt”. He saw you looking at it, and spoke again. 

“I’d tell you my name, but you’re reading it, so.” 

You smiled, laughing a little, introducing yourself, and he smiled back. 

“My break is only thirty minutes. You should stay.”

taglist : @blahbel668 @mattsgirlfrieeend @69isabella69 @mayhem-72 @iculdstealurgf @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturnioloslife @heartsforkarina @nervousrebelglitter @sturniclo @elliegrace-7 @mattsturnioloisbae @strnilo @dazsha19 @patscorner @hailee22sstuff @tworosesblackthorn

~ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!!

[smoky-lucine]

Back from the Dead

Dean Winchester & Little sister!reader After Dean dies, Y/N is stuck mourning for months. When he is freed from hell, he tries to call her. Angst, Sam's mentioned but not actually there, more Bobby than anything 💀 This is my first fic i'm posting omg! hopefully it turned out alright

After Dean died things quickly fell apart. Sam clearly wasn’t okay, and neither were you. You got new cases here and there, but it wasn’t the same without Dean. You and Sam decided to slow down on hunting for the time being to grieve. Days turned into weeks, crying turned into drinking, praying turned into attempting crossroad deals, and eventually you woke up one morning alone in the motel with no trace of Sam.

You tried calling his phone for days, tracing any of his aliases, looking into any cases nearby hoping he found one on his own. He was completely gone.

After a couple weeks of searching, you called Bobby. He hasn’t heard from Sam in weeks and offered for you to stay with him instead of living from a motel. You took a bus to his home, and he greeted you with a big hug. You both don’t like to admit it, but he’s been more of a father to you than your actual dad ever was.

He let you move into his spare bedroom, and that's where you spent the first few weeks. Bobby would leave food at your door. He would sometimes try to come in and talk to you, but you weren’t very talkative anymore. Occasionally he’d practically drag you down to the library. He either needed help researching for other hunters or would tell you, “Spending all your life in that damn room won’t help you at all. I know it’s hard. We’re both hurting Y/N, but please just talk to me instead of suffering up there all day.”

Most nights he could hear your nightmares. He wasn’t there when Dean died, but he was there when you all buried his body. He couldn’t even imagine what it looked like actually seeing him die. Bobby could hear you crying in your sleep, begging Dean to keep breathing. He would come in and wake you up when you would start to scream. He couldn’t stand hearing you relive your brother's death every night.

Eventually the two of you were able to talk and mourn Dean together, slowly grieving and beginning to move on. You started to spend more time downstairs, researching, watching TV with Bobby. He even got you to go out to dinner one night.

The two of you would talk about Sam sometimes. Bobby would hear you late at night sobbing on a voicemail to him hoping he would finally pick up. You both knew he was alive, making your confusion on why Sam wouldn’t talk to you even more saddening. Bobby didn’t have much to say to comfort you anymore.

“I’m sorry kid. I know he’s out there somewhere; he’s just trying to mourn and move on too.”

One day you were cleaning up the library while Bobby made lunch, when you got a call. Nobody calls you anymore. Looking at the unknown number you cleared your throat and answered, putting the call on speaker.

“Hello?” You say, still putting away books.

The person on the line gasped. “Y/N?”

“Who is this?” Bobby hears you on the phone and stands right outside of the library to listen in.

“Y/N! It-It’s Dean! I can’t get a hold of Sam where are you guys?”

Your eyes pop out of your head, and you drop the book you were holding. “Dean? You can’t be Dean.” Your eyes cloud up with tears and Bobby runs into the library.

“Y/N it really is me please listen to me kid. Listen I don’t know-” Bobby grabs your phone and takes it off speaker.

“You listen to me idjit I don’t know how you got this number or why you think this is funny, but I better never hear you playing these kinds of damn tricks on us ever again.” You hear the person on the line start to talk but Bobby ends the call. You sat down at the desk and broke down. You hadn’t heard Dean’s voice in months, but it really did sound like him.

Bobby pulled a chair up and put his arm around you. “Kid I know you weren’t expecting for that to happen but we both know that wasn’t him.”

“How was it not?” You sobbed. “That was his voice. I know that was his voice.”

You lean into Bobby, and he holds you as you sob. He tried his best to comfort you, but he wasn’t very good at it, and he wasn’t exactly sure what was happening either. It took a while, but eventually you calmed down and you guys decided to just relax and call it an early day.

Later that night you were in your room getting your things ready to shower. You grabbed your clothes and started to make your way to the bathroom when there was a knock on the door. You weren’t sure who could be here at this hour. You put your stuff in the bathroom and start going down the stairs when you hear Bobby grab his knife and you hear a fight break out. You take your own knife out of your pocket and run to the front room.

There you see Bobby and Dean fighting. “Bobby! It’s me!” “My ass!”

You couldn’t believe Dean was right in front of you. He looks completely fine, like he wasn’t torn apart by hell hounds just a few months ago. Like you didn’t bury him just a few months ago.

“Wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed. You’re about the closest thing I have to a father.” Dean looks terrified and Bobby stands still. You drop your knife in shock and they both turn to look at you.

“Dean.” Your face is white as a ghost, your heart pounding.

Dean’s eyes soften and he stands up. “Y/N.”

He starts to walk towards you and Bobby blocks him. He stares at Dean for a second and touches his shoulder. He still doesn’t believe it. You run up and push Bobby’s arm away, hugging Dean as hard as you can. Dean hugs you back and you both sigh a breath of relief.

You pull back and take it in. Deans alive. Right in front of you.

You can’t help but to start crying for the second time that day. Dean tears up a little too. “Baby I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you had to see that happen to me.”

“I knew it had to be you calling. I was right.” You both pull back into the hug.

The three of you sit down to talk about what happened. Dean asks where Sam is, and you have to explain how he left you with no warning and you had to come here. He can’t even believe it. Bobby explains the last few months and that in the morning we can start looking for Sam again.

In the meantime, Dean takes a shower and eats an actual meal. Bobby tells him that he can either take the couch or share a bed with you. He chooses the latter.

You and Dean get in the bed and it’s still a shock that your oldest brother is right here in front of you. You lay on his chest and take a deep breath. Months ago, he wouldn’t let you come close to him if he was tired, but he thinks that tonight and possibly the next few weeks could be an exception.

“Y/N, we’re going to fix all this. I’ll make sure of it. We’re gonna find Sam, we’re gonna figure out who brought me back, and I’m going to make sure you never have to go through this again. I promise.”

“I can’t believe you're actually back. I’ve been praying for this for months.” You yawned. It’s been a long day and you both were quickly falling asleep. “I missed you.”

“I know you did kid. I missed you so much.”

[comiverse]

A truck ton of Nightmare headcanons:

• He 100% has a reading monocle.

• He's very... touchy. Not emotionally, but instead physically.

• Every time he enters an unfamiliar place, he absolutely needs to explore every inch and corner-- and he will not rest until he does.

• He is a very curious and explorative bean, but he hides that under his stoic facade.

• Since he was stuck as an apple for most of his existence up until the apple incident, he barely knew how to walk or talk at first-- and the only reason why he had remembered the gist of walking and talking was from observing the twins whenever they were near the tree. Passive had to teach him the rest after the incident though.

• The rooms in his castle tend to just... shuffle around as needed. Like, you could open a door that used to lead to a bathroom just a few minutes prior, and now it might lead to a bedroom or something. Whichever room you need to get to will be the room you'll wind up in whenever you cross through any of the doorways.

• He'll often read books that he knows Passive likes, just so that Passive can read them over his shoulder.

• His tentacles tend to grab things whenever he's spacing out or not paying attention. His subordinates have to tell him to put down vases, books, and sometimes even themselves daily because of his tentacles randomly picking them up.

• The first time he saw a slug, he called it a 'living booger'. The first time he saw a snail, he called it a 'living booger with a house on its back'.

• He hates himself, and genuinely thinks that he shouldn't exist. He also regrets taking over Passive's body, but there isn't much he can do to reverse that.

• He is incapable of fully lying; everything he says has to have some level of truth to it, otherwise he can't say it.

• He has no regards nor filter when it comes to giving people the brutal, honest truth.

• He mentally tormented Ccino for close to a year until Ccino tried to end it all. He had saved Ccino last minute, but he didn't stop targeting the poor guy until a couple months later when he discovered Hatetale.

• He's kidnapped Hate multiple times to keep the guy closer to the castle, but he has no idea how Hate keeps managing to escape.

[theorphicangel]

now playing…𝐠𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 | miguel x fem!reader

track 002 on ANGEL’S PLAYLIST

“I’ve never known someone like you…tangled in love, stuck by you from the glue.”

Stuck.

Like your favorite magnet souvenir from your trip to Madeira that you won’t dare separate from the fridge. Or like the one time, when he was younger, he jokingly dared Gabriel to lick an icy pole resulting in his tongue getting stuck.

Back then he got so much shit for it. As a punishment, his mother forced him to go out and shovel out snow for the neighbors for free. He called Gabi an idiot for listening to him in the first place back then but they both laugh about it now.

What he’s trying to get at is that he’s stuck.

Well and truly stuck.

Like a fly that flies too close to a spider’s web, realizing too late how close he is and in a blink finds himself in numerous sticky knots.

Miguel’s moment of realization happened on a random thursday. A Thursday which you chose to come and spend with him. It was late, at least it was for you. He remembers when you had described your routine to him, start to finish. You said that sometimes as early as nine you’d be in bed, he scrunches up his nose at the thought – his insomnia immediately rejecting that notion.

So you sitting on his kitchen counter in an old t-shirt of his at 11pm seemed to be a complete anomaly. You keep him company as he cooks a tomato risotto. Your favorite. Gently, he stirs the dish as he silently listens, legs swinging as you ramble about practically anything and everything.

You ended up staying over that night.

And that’s when he realized he was stu–

No, that isn’t the right word…he thinks more glued.

Inseparable.

That’s a word that he would’ve never expected to be using. Not for someone like him; someone who began to grow accustomed to the idea of spending the rest of his life alone. A single coffee mug in his cupboards and a lonely toothbrush in a pot almost became a permanent portrayal of his life.

Almost.

Now you’ve infiltrated his life. His old, coffee stained mug was thrown out and replaced by a matching set. One for him and one for you. Now, his toothbrush shares a space with yours. One that he couldn’t help buying after the first time you stayed over. ‘Just in case’ he told himself, concealing his incessant craving for you to stay over again.

But now, he can’t even imagine falling asleep without you. You’ve quietly noticed how he can’t sleep unless he’s touching you. Either an arm around your waist or a leg hitched over your thighs as you lay in his arms.

After a couple of months, Miguel makes space for you to come in, letting the glue set between you. Now a makeup brush lives next to his bathroom sink, your socks now get mixed up with his, his hoodies are suddenly disappearing and on multiple occasions you’ve accidentally left behind an earring or two on his couch. Now, a small jewelry bowl of your lost pairs is kept on his bedside table, if one day you ever come looking for them again.

Now, he’s ordered your favorite book after you read a few pages to him one night. Your soothing voice leading him to become invested in the plot. Now, he begins to decorate his once soulless apartment, letting you pick and choose what looks best on his walls. Now, he’s thinking about a day in the far future where you buy your first house together.

With each and every waking second that you spend around him the bond he feels grows stronger. He’s captivated, the door to his soul – for the first time – is open by no more than an inch.

At first he panicked at the loss of control. Like the fly on the web. He didn’t think he was capable of loving someone. Insecurity poking and prodding at him every hour of the day. He was afraid of messing up. So afraid that at one point he ended up pushing you away, deciding to break the bond himself. The idea of being glued to you scared him immensely. What if he messed up? What if one day you’ll part, no longer wishing to be glued to him anymore? His thoughts plagued him, following him around like a lost puppy.

It took him a while to grow out of it, to the point where Gabriel had to come over and talk some sense into him.

But…that was back then.

If you asked him how he feels right now, as you lay in his arms for the nth time, everything feels right.

And suddenly…

he doesn’t think the idea of being glued to you is that bad anymore.

reblogs are much appreciated!

[coneyislandbabey]

my back is broad, but it's a-hurtin'. -> e. roundtree

WARNINGS: profanities, sexual tension lol

SYNOPSIS: The push and pull between you and Eddie Roundtree was never-ending. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, you always came back together. word count: 2,120

NOTES: this is part 2/8 of the beast of burden series. Part one can be found here!

Pittsburgh, 1969

“What do you think of her?” Warren asked. You, him, and Eddie were standing in a row against the bar of the nightclub you’d be playing a couple hours later. He was staring in the direction of the stage, where Billy stood messing around with the microphone, his new girlfriend, Camila, standing on the floor in front of him, angling her camera up to capture him in photos. 

“I like her,” you responded. She’d only been hanging around a week or two at that point, but she was kind even while being a little bossy. She had the kind of attitude a girl needed to have any kind of equal partnership with a guy like Billy Dunne, surely. 

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’ll last long,” Eddie said from your other side. That was a fair assessment. Billy had gone through quite the impressive string of girlfriends, just in the two years you’d been with the band. They stuck around for a few weeks, a month or two tops, and then they were gone, and Billy would start bringing around a new one.

“I don’t know,” you hum. “Seems like maybe it’s different this time.” You hoped it would be, at least. You really liked Camila, she got involved and tried to get to know the rest of you guys a lot more than any of the other girls Billy had brought around. She didn’t know much about the technical side of the music, but she made up for that in enthusiasm. Plus, it would be nice to have another girl around, in a more permanent sense. You’d known that rock music, and The Dunne Brothers band itself, were a real boys’ club, but man did it really fucking feel extra like a boys’ club sometimes. 

“I hope she stays. She got us that spot in the paper last week,” Warren said. That was true, too. Camila would come along to every gig and take photos the whole time, and then submit them to the local papers to try to get the band a little spot in the ink. It didn’t work, usually, but you all got lucky with the last one. It was more than surreal to see the shot of the five of you up on stage, rendered in newsprint black and white. 

Things were picking up, in a subtle way, sure, but a way none of you could ignore. You were booking more gigs, more people in the area were recognizing you. Hell, you were getting out of Pittsburgh fairly often, booking in Ocean City and Philly and Wilmington and a half dozen other places. It felt good. Really fucking good. It felt like you were proving your talent, your worth in this band, with every crowded and well-received show you performed. 

“Alright, sound check!” Billy called from the stage, gathering your attention. “We’re just gonna do one song and make sure everything is good.” 

You pushed off the bar and made your way to the stage, slinging your bass over your torso as you went. 

“Let’s do When the Sun Shines on You, yeah?” Billy asked, stepping up to the mic. You all started in on the song, and you immediately lost yourself in playing your bass. As usual, as the song progressed, you and Eddie seemed to drift nearer and nearer to each other on the stage. Your parts, musically, already played off of each other so often, so it only made sense to you that it was reflected physically. It was as if you and Eddie were playing to each other, or at each other, a frenetic conversation. During the more intense songs, you would drift so close that your hands almost bumped each other whilst playing, before you’d sweep around and head back to your side of the stage.

When the song was done and the sound was thoroughly checked, you sat your bass down and stretched your arms over your head. The guys vacated the stage quickly, but you came to sit on the edge, swinging your legs and looking out at the venue, where the employees were readying the space to open soon. Shortly after you sat down, Camila ambled over to you, her camera dangling from a strap around her neck and a sly smile on her face. 

“Hey, Camila,” you smiled, nodding at her. 

“Hey,” she said brightly. “So.” 

The way she drew out ‘so’ into three syllables was incredibly suggestive, and you only raised your eyebrow at her in question. She stepped closer, lowering her voice as if she was about to impart a secret. “What’s the deal with you and Eddie?”

For a moment, all you could do was blink at her. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “I think every stranger in this building could tell there’s something there. So, what is it? Are you guys a thing?”

You burst out into bright, sharp laughter, shaking your head. “God, no, Cami, it’s not like that at all. There’s nothing going on between me and Eddie.”

Camila weathered you with a stare, both unimpressed and unconvinced. “Right. Sure. I have never seen two people behave the way you do when there's ‘nothing going on’.”

You laughed again, deftly changing the subject to talk about her and Billy, hoping to god that your cheeks weren’t dark with blush. Were you that obvious with your crush on him? The thought was so mortifying that it made you want to die. For a while, you had managed to convince yourself that it was a minute, meaningless thing, your crush. That it had only come to be because he’d helped you learn those songs back in ‘67, helped you earn your spot in the band. You had assumed it would go away after a while, but it didn’t. All it did was grow into something more pathetic and embarrassing every time you saw him, because there was no way he was experiencing the same turmoil over your relationship, and more importantly, there was no way you could act on your feelings even if he was. 

Later, the whole group of you were hanging out in your garage, getting drunk off the cases of beers Warren bought immediately after you left the gig. You were curled up on the middle cushion of your ratty leather couch, feet tucked up underneath you and a beer nestled in your lap. Graham was on one side of you, fast asleep on the arm of the couch, his own empty beer bottle having fallen from his prone hand and rolled away. Eddie sat on the other side of you, one arm stretched on the back of the couch behind you, his thigh touching yours. Billy was drunkenly playing some old nursery song on Graham’s guitar, and Warren was loudly (and also drunkenly) cheering along with it. 

Camila, who was sitting on the rug next to Billy, caught your eye from across the room. She looked pointedly from you to Eddie and back to you, quirking an eyebrow in a silent question. You narrowed your eyes at her in return, imperceptibly shaking your head. She shot you a disbelieving look, but dropped it for the moment. 

“I’m starving,” Warren said suddenly, hand to his stomach. 

“Of course you’re starving, man, you’ve got the munchies,” Eddie laughed. 

“My stomach is eating itself,” he responded pitifully. 

You rolled your eyes at his antics, but you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face. “Alright, I hear you. I’ll go get you a snack.”

“I love you more than anyone else here,” Warren said emphatically as you stood, and you just laughed at him, ruffling his hair as you passed him. 

“I’ll help you carry stuff out,” Eddie announced, getting up to follow you across the yard and to the house. 

You walked up the back steps, before stopping abruptly at the door and peering inside to see if any lights were on. Not expecting your sudden stop, Eddie walked directly into you. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, but you couldn’t help but acutely notice how close to you he stayed. 

“Okay, my whole family is asleep in there,” you said, turning around to face him. You were standing so close that your face almost met his chest before you looked up. “That means we have to be absolutely silent on this mission.”

“Mission?” he asked, amused. 

“Yes. The very important mission of providing famine relief to the dying Warren Rojas,” you nodded solemnly. 

“If you want me to be quiet, you have to stop being funny.”

“I can’t help my charisma, you’ll just have to be strong, Eddie boy,” you responded, and he nodded seriously, doing his best to keep a straight face. In your drunken state, you fumbled with the knob of the door trying to get in, and cursed yourself for the noise. Your parents knew about the band by now, obviously, and being as you were an adult at this point, it was not like they could stop you from being in the band even if they wanted to. However, you weren’t exactly of age quite yet, and if they found you standing in the kitchen, drunk and with a boy they weren’t fond of at that, you’d have hell to pay.  

Finally, you managed the knob and swung the door open slowly. You turned to Eddie and pointed to the pantry, mouthing the word ‘chips’ to him. He nodded, tip-toeing his way over in exaggerated movements that made you want to fall to the floor with laughter. Instead, you turned your back to him and headed toward the fridge, intent on grabbing some of the water bottles that your parents kept on top of it. You were able to reach one, but the rest had been pushed further back by someone, and your fingertips could only brush the plastic, not grasp them. Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, and you turned to see Eddie watching you struggle. 

“Let me help,” he whispered, stepping forward and reaching above your head. His free hand went to your waist to balance himself as the other grabbed enough bottles for the group, passing them down to you one by one. You did your best to ignore his hand, to ignore the way it set every single nerve ending of yours on fire. When he was done grabbing water bottles, you turned around to go, but Eddie didn’t move. Moments passed, and the two of you stood there facing each other in the dark of the kitchen. Dimly, you were aware that Eddie’s hand was still on your waist. It would be so easy, you thought, to cross the mere inches between you and just kiss him the way you’d imagined doing dozens of times before. It would be so easy to just drop all of the water bottles on the floor and grasp his face instead, so easy to– 

But no. The only thing that could come out of you making a move on Eddie or him making a move on you would be teasing from the rest of the band, probably even them suspecting that the only reason Eddie suggested you for bassist way back when was because he had a thing for you, not because you were talented. But you were talented. That was why you got the spot in the band. It didn’t matter how true that was, though; the minute you became anything other than one of the guys here, your very integrity would be questioned. 

You stepped backward until your back was against the fridge, putting some space between the two of you. Eddie cleared his throat, the sound impossibly loud in the otherwise quiet room, and stepped back as well. This had been your dance for the last two years; get close, closer than close, tip-toe right up to the edge until all there was to do was take the leap or fall backwards. Every time, for one fleeting moment, you thought you’d finally decide to take the leap, but you never did. And neither did he. So, the dance continued. 

“Let’s get out of here before my parents wake up,” you said, and Eddie nodded, turning around to lead you back to the kitchen door. When you got back to the garage, the two of you distributed chips and water, before sitting back down on the couch. Eddie’s arm stretched back out along the back of the couch, your thighs touching. Just like you had been before. Just like nothing at all had changed. Because nothing had, had it? Nothing ever did. You couldn’t decide if that thought was a relief, or a thorn digging ever deeper under your skin.

tag list: @eonnyx @celestialstar111 @whataloadofmalarkey @sapphiclm

[reflectionsofthesea]

Hiii I’m back! It's been a pretty stressful and busy time at work, so I'm less online than usual, but still learning finnish daily! It's actually being my saving grace: getting to detach myself from work,routine and stress and just putting my head into something completely different that I enjoy doing. Putting a read more because I wrote a lot here:

I've been progressing with my exercise book, and learned how to express the need to do something 'i have to...' and also the imperative tense. Really useful stuff. I also finally finished trascribing all puhekieli 'basic rules' on my notebook!

Some new stuff in my daily learning routine:

I started listening to podcasts and short stories! I was a bit intimidated at first, but now I've been enjoying doing it every day when I am cooking, cleaning the house or even when drawing/working. I'm listening to a beginner's podcast and can basically understand a good 80% of it, which is making me feel so proud and motivated hahaha. The crazy thing is that even if I don't understand a couple of new words, I can follow the conversation and the topic and I always know what the host is talking about, it's crazy. I'll definitely continue listening to podcasts and stories daily because I think it's helping A LOT and truly making me feel like I'm making huge progress and my brain is enlarging lol.

I started using LingQ! The importing videos/podcasts feature is super useful, and I imported some videos in finnish from youtubers I found and having LingQ generate subtitles in finnish for me and translation in english, so I can study them is so useful. That way I can exercise listening to more puhekieli and expand my vocabulary. It helps that the videos are super fun and entertaining themselves, so I genuinely want to know what's happening hahaha. (one was a Sims4 house building video, another one a travelling vlog)

I tried writing some 'stories' for the first time, this is also an advice I heard from a video, that helps with getting your brain used to constructing sentences and phrases. I already did this in a smaller way, writing very short sentences practicing different grammar rules to commit them to memory, but this exercise really makes you put more effort into building longer and slightly more articulated sentences, like phrases you'd say to someone when having a chat, or thinking out loud. I decided to pick some random themes and just write what I can about them! The pink underlined words/verbs/adverbs are things I had to look up because I didn't know how to say yet. I think this is a pretty fun and creative exercise to do though, and I can see how it can make your brain faster at producing sentences on the long run :) It will be fun to keep doing this when my vocabulary grows and I can say more stuff! (I saw a writing exercise idea on tumblr that was describing your Dnd characters and something about their personality/stories, and I really want to do that!)

Overall, I'm feeling really good and motivated. I remember feeling a bit stuck a month ago, and now that feeling is gone, and I feel like I improved a lot. I really think implementing new exercises like the written stories exercise and especially listening a lot has been so useful and important into me feeling like I'm growing more in this language. I'm really glad I fought my inner doubt and saboteur and just did it. I also gander at posts written in finnish here on tumblr and realized I understand a good 70/80% of what's written in there. Sometimes more or less, depending on how long the post is or how specific the words used are. But that's pretty crazy to me and really satisfying!

Also, if you need some inspiration for your language learning journey or some good tips (like the listening to podcasts and writing stories I'm currently doing), please watch this video! It really inspired me to keep going in my journey :)

[orchidsangel]

hello ml!!

i was curious abt how big of a reader you are. like, if books ever interested you or if it’s just fics of tumblr mby?

and if books for you, what are your favourite(?)?!

hi robin!!!

oh gosh, i used to be such a massive reader. like genuinely addicted to reading, could knock out multiple books in a day. i remember one time when i was in elementary school, the book fair came around, and i asked to go to the nurses office so i could get out of class and look at the books.

i think sometime in middle school, i stopped reading as much, and by high school, i almost completely stopped outside of stuff assigned for class. and even then, i would skim over stuff and just quit a few chapters in.

i've got adhd so my attention span is really short, and my brain just won't function normally when i read, so i find myself rereading the same sentences over and over again to make sure i understand them, which just gets really frustrating. so idk, i stopped reading full-blown books bc of it. which is crazy because i do still love reading, i just hate that my brain's a little wonky and won't let me do it in peace.

a couple years back, i had to take english over in summer school, and it was basically a free reading period, so i ended up reading three entire books that summer, which may not be a lot for some people, but for me, at the time, it was really big. and last year, i finally finished a book that i had started two years prior but put down because it was just fucking insane.

i hope to read more this year, and literally, just last night, i raided my mom's classic lit shelf. planning on reading dracula or the picture of dorian gray!

as for my faves, it's hard to say because every book that's really stuck with me was something i read 2+ years ago, but the party by robyn harding was one i really loved. i read it in 8th grade, and it definitely wasn't for kids, but idk, i've never been one to stick to my age group. emergency contact by mary h.k. choi was a big one for me. i read that in 9th grade as a freshman in high school, i believe, and i followed it up with permanent record also by mary h.k. choi. i really loved both books, which was surprising for me because i'm not really into romance, but what i liked about them was how the entire plots weren't focused on the relationship, like it was more than that.

when you reach me by rebecca stead was a book i read when i was 10, and i still think about it to this day. i get the urge to reread it because my ten-year-old brain couldn't fully understand what was going on, but i did really enjoy it. during that same time in my life, i read the books absolutely normal chaos by sharon creech and a crooked kind of perfect by linda urban. both are books i think about often, especially a crooked kind of perfect, i reread it multiple times.

the most recent book i finished was credence by penelope douglas which…no comment. (literally put it down for two years before picking it up again and then had to put it back down for another six months)

my most recent fave was beware that girl by teresa toten, which i really really loved. although, the ending was a little lackluster, so i choose to ignore it and focus on the parts that i loved, which was pretty much the entire rest of the book.

i also enjoyed we were liars by e. lockhart, which was recommended by booktok before they became a bunch of smut fiends. i really did like that one, i didn't expect the end, and it was a good read to me.

there's definitely more that i've read in my life and enjoyed. i was a big geronimo and thea stilton lover when i was a kid, along with junie b jones and any iteration of a diary that could be found (dork diaries, dear dumb diary, diary of a wimpy kid). but lately, all i read is fanfiction, and i don't even read that much anymore.

i suppose the best way to exercise my brain muscles and get back into the habit of reading is to pick up a book and read, but ahhh, my eyes get so tired, and i already spend so much time staring at words while writing and doing homework. but i do really miss the feeling of being thoroughly enthralled in a book and not being able to put it down.

speaking of a book i forgot, the cheerleaders by kara thomas was a book i read the summer before my freshman year of high school, and it's the book that made me realize i thoroughly enjoy murder mysteries set in high school.

anyway, sorry this got so long. thank u for the q; made me really happy to answer it!

[ghosthalfa]

「 GET TO KNOW YOUR RP PARTNER! 」

( repost, please don’t reblog )

「BASICS」

▐ NAME: perseus (percy) ▐ PRONOUNS: any ▐ SEXUALITY: girls! ▐ TAKEN OR SINGLE: single ▐ FIVE FACTS:

i really love animals! in my life i've owned cats, dogs, turtles, lizards (bearded dragons and skinks), snakes, hedgehogs, hamsters, gerbils, guinea pigs, fish, frogs, snails, tarantulas, ducks, chickens, lovebirds, and parakeets. currently i own several dogs, two cats, a turtle, three ball pythons, a boa constrictor, and a brazilian rainbow boa. ask me about them if you want to see 8 billion pictures.

throughout my childhood and adult life i've lived in five different states, all up and down the east coast! despite this though i have never visited a state outside of the east united states.

archery is a big hobby of mine, even if i don't have nearly as much time to do it right now. i started out using a child's fiberglass compound when i was a kid, but grew out of it within a couple years and now use a wooden recurve bow. it's for this reason that actors holding bows incorrectly in movies makes me go on unhinged rants, sorry anyone who's friends with me.

i'm a big dnd player! i started out playing with friends i met in the rp scene (shoutout to mod mimosa you a real one) and now have a dedicated in-person group with my friends who play weekly or bi-weekly. and despite always saying dnd we actually play mostly pathfinder, mostly 1st edition but we've been dipping our toes into 2e recently. pls ask me about my characters i would die for them.

i'm like. a huge nerd, traditionally speaking. i am a fountain of useful or useless information about comic books and stars wars. i've been following both marvel and dc comics since i was in middle school, and in high school i added star wars to my list of nerd obsessions. the batfam and young avengers are beloved to me, and my favorite star wars characters are ezra bridger, ahsoka tano, and cal kestis!

「EXPERIENCE」

▐ HOW LONG (YEARS/MONTHS): 13-ish years? give or take? maybe a little longer even, i'm not 100% sure ▐ PLATFORMS USED: mostly tumblr, but i started out forum rp'ing on a super old website. i've dabbled a little in discord rp'ing but it didn't really stick ▐ BEST EXPERIENCE: oh geeze uhhh. it's really hard to pick when you've been at it so long. tbh tho if anyone was in aod at the time and remembers, the gnome wars really stuck in my head. i don't think i'd ever had so much fun roleplaying before, it gave me such great and super fond memories

「MUSE PREFERENCES」

▐ MALE/FEMALE/OTHER: i tend to have mostly male muses, but when i do muse a female character i cherish her a lot ▐ FAVORITE FACECLAIM: i've never really needed one before. if i'm doing a mun post i just kind of scroll through my icons and pick a sacrifice ▐ FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT: i'm not one for smut at all, but i do very much enjoy angst. fluff is also good but i'm a sucker for angst in general

▐ PLOTS OR MEMES: plots! memes are nice but they can burn me out if i do too many of them. that's why i tend to only participate in meme day once every couple of weeks or so ▐ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: long replies bc i'm apparently not capable of controlling myself or my writing. i like short replies too but it seems no matter what i do they turn into long replies eventually ▐ BEST TIME TO WRITE: at night in my room, with a show (a lot of times from the muse i'm writing for) playing in the bg for white noise ▐ ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSES: sometimes yes sometimes no. i definitely feel like i have a type, but also a lot of times i wildly veer off from it so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it really depends

[cauldronoflove]

JJ, my favorite nonfiction reader, I seek advice! I've been trying to branch out in my nonfiction reading journey which to this point has been celebrity memoirs and true crime primarily, and I've been stuck on my current read for MONTHS. I just don't know how to tell when I should keep pushing through in order to learn something and when I should throw in the towel because it's actually just a bad book and not me giving in to the urge to read something I don't have to actually think about

bec i have absolutely no idea how long this has been in my askbox because tumblr never notified me my apologies 😭 feel free to ignore if this isnt needed

i think one of the biggest things when you're trying to get into any new-to-you genre, but especially something like denser nonfic, is picking something youre really really interested in and using that interest to acclimate yourself to the style and expectations of the genre. like there are some key differences in what, for example, a high sci-fi author expects their reader to bring in with them in terms of mentality and knowledge vs what a meticulous biographer expects, but there are still so many areas of overlap too and you have to let the dials adjust as they may

that said like any genre god love 'em sometimes the book is just ass and no amount of acclimation can change that. some key points to look out for in nonfic are a) are you noticing a lot of repetitive information and dont feel like youre learning anything new or the narrative isnt progressing b) do you find yourself thinking 'thats just the authors really bad opinion how did they even get that into this format' a lot or c) does your disinterest/distaste outweigh what you should conceivably be leaving this book with

if you really want to finish the book out of genuine interest or even just spite, try picking up the audiobook if its available bc i do find that helps me if something just isnt clicking and sometimes getting that human intonation helps greatly. if it isnt or you dont do audiobooks, pick a small amount of pages to read every day until you finish it. 5 pages or 10 or whatever (though for the purpose of this exercise i wouldnt go more than 20) and then stick to it. by giving yourself a sure start- and stopping point it alleviates a lot of the dread and also is a nice little accomplishment for the day. and if you end up wanting to read a couple more pages to finish a chapter or just put a bow on the author's current thoughtline, even better. for that reason i find that setting a specific time period like "oh i'll read this for 10 minutes or 20 minutes" or whatever does not work bc i zone out so much all the time when im reading and if i do that in the time frame i generally feel worse at the end bc i didnt "get anything done". if something youre reading in nonfic makes you stop and think and consider what youre feeling or how it fits in with things you feel you already know or has you forming opinions thats good! thats part of the function of nonfic! so if it takes you longer to read a nonfic book than something you dont have to think about that means youre doing it right

and finally if youve been, as you have, slogging through something for months and just cant get there, give yourself permission to put it down for the time being. if you find yourself wanting to get back to it after a while, then it just wasnt the right time which is something i find happens a lot for me with nonfic. if you dont go back to it and the thought of having to makes you want to hit your head against a wall, then that answers that and you can move on to greener pastures

[finnlongman]

I apologise if this was a rhetorical question, but here are a few thoughts from my perspective.

First of all, there is no such thing as universal writing advice. Not everything works for everyone, and even things that work for some authors sometimes don't necessarily work for every book. So if it absolutely doesn't work for you not to edit, that's okay.

This advice is usually aimed at a specific (and very common) type of writer: the people who have never finished anything, because every time they start making progress on a project, they go back to fix something, and then they notice another problem, and then they decide to rework the opening entirely, and three years later they've never made it past the first five chapters and they've definitely never made it to the end.

If that's you, then it might be worth trying the no-editing strategy for a bit, because you have to break out of that loop somehow. While going back and editing works for some people without getting them stuck in a perfectionist loop, for many others it's paralysing, and results in nothing ever being finished. And you do, eventually, need to finish something! After all, a book that's bad but finished is still better than a book that's perfect but only exists inside your head. Because nobody can read the book that's inside your head, and that means it's failing at being a book.

But you asked how to turn off the inner editor. Well, I wouldn't consider correcting a typo as I go to be editing, so don't feel that no editing means no backspacing. But it does mean learning to sit with the imperfect sentences and move on. It means thinking "oh, I could do that better", making a note of it, and then continuing. Sometimes it looks like "[finish scene]". Sometimes it looks like "[NOTE TO SELF: MENTION HIS FATHER EARLIER]", or "[SHOULDN'T HE BE MORE EMOTIONAL ABOUT THIS?]" or "[HOLY INFODUMP BATMAN, CONSIDER SEEDING HER BACKSTORY MORE GRADUALLY NEXT TIME, YOU FOOL]".

(You don't have to insult yourself. In some cases this is counterproductive. But you're allowed to, if you want.)

Often, accepting these imperfections means not rereading what you've already written, lest the urge to fiddle get too strong. To help resist that temptation, at the end of a writing session, leave yourself a few bullet points of what you're planning to write next. That way, you can look at the last couple of sentences and pick up where you left off, without needing to go back over the whole previous scene (at which point the inner editor might get twitchy).

If the imperfect sentences are bothering you while you write, there's a nuclear option, which requires a certain degree of self-trust and patience with typos: turn your font to white for a little while, or zoom out so far that you can't read it, or otherwise prevent your ability to read what you're writing. And then write. If you can't see the sentences, you can't see if they're bad. But they exist. That's progress.

This is a temporary measure. I'm not advocating for doing this forever. Maybe you do this once. Maybe you do it for a week, or a month, or one project, or three. You do it until perfectionism stops holding you back, and then you no longer need to, and you let it go.

I took a no-editing approach for years. Now, I mix it up a bit more. I'll read through the previous day's work and fix sentences and tweak scenes, but I won't make big plot changes, and I will accept that I will never, at any point while writing a first draft, have any sense of whether the pacing is working or not. I will tend to think it's not. I will usually be slightly right, but it's never as bad as I think it is. I leave notes for myself for things to fix later, but I also fix the smaller things.

However, I'm at the point where I can stop and play around and fix the smaller things without losing my overall momentum and confidence because I have written twenty-four complete first drafts and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I can and will get to the end of them. I am no longer stuck in the perfectionist loop of non-completion, and I've learned what I can reliably fix as I go and what I should leave until later to get a better perspective on how well it is or isn't working.

Lock up your inner editor, as advice, is for the people who are struggling to get to the end of things because they're trapped by perfectionism. It may or may not be helpful in breaking out. Like all writing advice, it's a tool, not a rule -- but if you're stuck in the loop, give it a shot.

*through sweat, blood, and tears* YOU WILL NOT EDIT THE FIRST DRAFT AS YOU GO. YOU WILL NOT EDIT THE FIRST DRAFT AS YOU GO. YOU WILL NOT EDIT THE FIRST DRAFT. AS YOU GO.

YOU. WILL. NOT. EDIT. THAT. FIRST. DRAFT.

[cryptidsurveys]

Wednesday, July 10th, 2024.

Have you ever been on a laptop inside a vehicle? I don't think so. I'm very susceptible to motion sickness, so that would not be a good time.

While on the road, do you play any road games? I did when I was younger. We'd play games like slug-bug, the license plate game, I spy, and this random game that me and my sibling made up. You'd basically pronounce words very literally, with long vowel sounds, and the other person would have to guess what they were. A very simple/easy example: Juh-ay-puh-ain = Japan.

Do you have a button up shirt? I have a few.

Has there been a word you thought you were spelling correctly but then you find out that it isn’t? What was the word? I don't think I've had that issue with spelling words, but I have experienced it with pronouncing them. Such is the fate of reading books containing words that people don't use very often in everyday speech. I can't think of a specific one atm, though.

Do you have a garden in your backyard/front yard? We have a neglected, overgrown side garden in the front yard. We also used to have a veggie garden in the back, but I didn't bother with it this year. I've just got too much going on to be able to weed, water, and properly care for it. Maybe next year, if I'm more settled in my routines, have better energy levels, etc.

What color is your water tower in your city/town? I have no idea.

Have you ever picked apples before? No.

Are you scared of semi-trucks? Especially when you’re driving next to one? I wouldn't say I'm scared, but I do try to get ahead of or fall behind them as quickly as I can.

Have you accidentally put lipgloss/lipstick on your teeth before? Yeah.

If you wear chapstick, do you have any special flavors or just the regular kind? It's minty.

Do you think little babies look cute in overalls? Yeah.

Have you ever been to the site www.someecards.com? Wow, that really hits me in the early (or at least earlier) internet nostalgia. Same with all the old memes.

Have you ever tried Crystal Lite? If so, what’s your favorite? Maybe once…? I'm not sure.

Have you ever had a dream that your teeth were falling out? Yeah. I have the "teeth dream" on a fairly regular basis. Maybe once every couple of months or so.

Have you ever went on www.dreammoods.com to interpret your dreams? I don't think I've been to that specific site, but I have looked up certain dream themes before. For instance, I had a weird one recently in which I butchered and ate a snake - or almost ate it, anyway. I got right up to the point where I was about to put it in my mouth, but I couldn't do it. Apparently, according to SunSigns dot com, "Eating a snake in a dream can signify a desire for transformation in your life. You may be feeling stuck in a certain situation or circumstance and are looking for a way out. Eating a snake in a dream can be a sign that you are ready to make a major change in your life and embrace a new outlook." Guess I wasn't ready enough, lmao.

Do you own any pajama bottoms with a design on them? Explain what it is [or you can post a picture up if your heart desires to.] I have some purple plaid flannel ones, but I mostly just wear sweats/track pants.

Do you sometimes wonder how surveys were created in the first place? Was someone just so bored that they decided to ask someone random questions? I don't think I ever gave it much thought…but now I certainly am… Thank you, brave, bored soul.

Do you like eating shrimp? I like popcorn shrimp.

Ever heard of Rochester, NY? Yeah.

Do you have a fence? Yeah. The backyard is fenced in.

Do you have any signs on your bedroom door? I don't.

If you have any pets, do you talk to them in a baby voice? Sometimes. And give them ridiculous nicknames, etc.

Does your head hurt when you cry?: It doesn't tend to hurt when I cry, but often afterward. I made the mistake of crying a little in therapy earlier, just a few tears, and a migraine has been threatening ever since. Like, please no, I just had one yesterday, I don't need this in my life. You see, it's not due to a sense of pride or embarrassment that I try to keep my emotions in check, but because I just don't want to deal with the repercussions of letting them out.

Who was the last person to comfort you?: My therapist.

Are you currently wearing any socks?: I am.

What’s the closest thing to your right hand?: The mouse/keyboard.

When was the last time you made a wish?: I'm not sure.

Have you ever watched a foreign film with English subtitles?: I have.

When was the last time you wore athletic shorts?: I have no idea.

Do you think that in the end, everything will fall into place?: In the end, I'll be dead. So…whatever.

What’s the closest transparent object to you?: My water bottle.

What was the last thing you swallowed?: Coffee.

Do you like mayonnaise?: Yeah.

Anyways… When was the last time you went out in the rain?: I think it was a couple of weeks ago. It was sprinkling on the way to the animal shelter.

Have you ever seen a Tim Burton movie, like Coraline, 9, etc.?: I've seen The Nightmare Before Christmas and Coraline.

Do you keep 3D glasses after you’ve left the movie theatre?: Maybe as a kid. I haven't seen any 3D movies in recent years, but I wouldn't keep the glasses.

When was the last time you heard a British accent in person?: I'm not sure.

Who was the last person to unsurprisingly disappoint you?: People unsurprisingly disappoint me all the time. At this point, I would be surprised to be surprisingly disappointed. Or something like that.

Do you know what FTW stands for?: I do.

When was the last time you went bowling?: Not since I was a teen.

Do you like cats?: Yesss. They're my favorite animal.

Do you use aerosol hairspray? It’s bad for the environment, you know…: No.

What was the last food you choked on?: I didn't completely choke, but I had a doughnut the other day and some of the crumbs made me cough. I had to chew and swallow really fast before I coughed 'em all over the place.

Who was the last person you disappointed?: I have no idea.

Do you really miss someone right now?: No.

Do you think anyone can really reach “Nirvana” at some point?: Idk. Maybe they can.

What’s the capital of the state you reside in?: Denver.

What is the last advice you gave someone?: I'm not sure.

Do you ever dip your fingers in wet candle wax?: I have.

Does it annoy you when people are always smiling and happy all the time?: No.

[hc-axl]

I've laid out the basics of my life's current plot, as an introduction to my journals, or blog, or whatever you want to call it.

It is the last day of Pride Month 2024, and I am eager to create, having turned twenty a month ago, and one course away from finishing community college later this summer, I find myself at an evolving stage in my young life, where I’d soon have to figure out what I wanted to do with it. Before today, I had spent a week at Rehoboth Beach in Delaware, taking in the sun, and praying to the sea. Most importantly, I had spent the week reading Patti Smith’s “Just Kids” while lying in the sand, underneath the sun, listening to the ocean waves closely, all as I admired Patti’s words. Robert Mapplethorpe and Patti Smith’s lives fascinated me, their love for art, for one another, and poetry moved me more than most other books I’ve read, for Patti’s story starts with the summer she was twenty, and her pursuit for freedom and her vow to make something of herself resonated deep within me, impulsing me to come home and write, after months of not having drawn, or painted, or sculpted, or collaged under a professor’s wing, I’d seek refuge from artistic drought in my own words, my own thoughts, typed out for others to read. 

A lot in my life this past week has felt both revitalizing and eye-opening, after maybe getting too used to seeing everything as transitory, fleeting memories dear to me which I hugged and begged to never disappear for my own sanity. When I was away I would text my great-friend Chloe every night and day, she had traveled to Korea the same week I was at Rehoboth, we were thirteen hours apart, during my mornings she’d recap me on the day she had before she fell asleep, and at night I’d tell her about my day as she woke up. Chloe and I are always in sync, somehow always going through similar events in our own lives, yet living far from each other. I don’t know if it’s because we’re both Air Suns with Virgo moons or just coincidently similar.  When she comes back to Maryland in May after being in Toronto for school we pick up right where we had left off when she came back for Christmas, and in December we’d pick up where we left off in August. We have mastered this routine for two years now, always in contact, always honest, and always learning from each other's similar experiences whenever we’d debrief. It was almost as if we’d always be the two sixteen-year-olds who played video games religiously while stuck at home during the pandemic, always apart but never drifting or misunderstood. 

During the middle of my stay in Delaware, my friends, Val and Benji came to visit me for the day. I’ve known Val since we were thirteen and obsessed with K-pop, our friendship has already been cemented by years of knowing each other’s best and worst sides of one another, she’s like a sister to me or someone I would’ve married if I were straight because I knew I needed her as a lifelong companion. I sometimes picture us at eighty, gossiping about people we knew from middle school and high school. “You’re like family” we’d often say to each other.  Benji, like Val, is a graphic artist and designer who was introduced to me by a crazy man last spring, little did I know back then that he’d become one of my best friends and teacher. Benji is almost my complete opposite, in aesthetics, artistic interests, and ideologies, yet we mirrored each other quite well. Almost a year into our friendship, Val and Benji started dating, something I had predicted happening months prior, watching their friendship transform into what they now have has been incredibly dear to me and has taught me so many things about love, I feel lucky to have witnessed such a great love blossom from the very beginning, back when I could tell Benji like Val. I remember thinking how crazy and sweet it was watching my best friends who I spent every day with start falling in love with each other, and now they’re the couple who visits me and my family at the beach, “we’re family” I’d think in my head. I’ll forever hold on tight to the memory of us at the beach, something about it felt like a story you tell your kids, it was also a day I realized I would never be alone no matter how much I told myself I probably would end up alone, if I had them as friends I would never feel alone, even if we were in different parts of the world, the same can be said for Chloe as well.

I often think about how I’d never do everything I wanted to, could I? Could I learn every language, see every country, watch every movie, read every book, love everyone, have ten different careers? Could I also live a slow simple life with a husband and child, in which I’d commit to art and creation? Was it too pessimistic to think all the figs will rot away? Indecision has paralyzed me for so long, but I find comfort in knowing my potential is great, and unlike Sylvia Plath, I knew that every year the fig tree will bloom fresh and soft figs again, ripe for the taking. This fall I’ll be taking a gap semester, for I found myself faced with financial setbacks, but also indecisive and uncommitted to the idea of going to art school in Baltimore. The thought of not going to school from September to December scares me, will I be content just working at my service job? Maybe all this time would give me a chance to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, I picture myself in January of 2025, having already figured everything out, at a good university, being an artist.

 I always crave artistic community, but it is hard to find, I thought I had come close to it at a Fashion Club I was a part of for my two years at community college, but no real community derived from it, besides the five-ish friends who I gained from being there, I thought of everyone else there as an unorganized bunch with good style, people who knew where to shop and how to wear garments but didn’t carry any depth to them, twenty-year-olds with substance addictions, and no real appreciation for the freedom that comes with self-expression, however, they all looked good in pictures and I’d have to be thankful for the fact it was entertaining having them around. Would I need art school to be an artist? At the moment I am content with the artists in my life, Val, Benji, and my friend who I call Panini, whose music means everything to him, and I always find myself in awe of his passion for it. I hope one day we all wake up to our dream lives as artists and never stop creating, for that is my worst fear. 

It took sunburn, saltwater, and Patti Smith to help me realize how much more I could be doing, and how I had to stop pondering, and just act on it. I’m not the type to go to church every Sunday, but in Catholic tradition, dreams are more than mere subconscious thoughts; perhaps they are potentially sacred encounters and sources of divine inspiration. I’ve always thought they play a role in understanding one's purpose, discerning God's will, and finding the courage to follow a path that leads to personal betterment and that of the world. Following one's dreams, in this context, I would hope to maybe align myself with God's greater plan and live a life of meaningful purpose, love, and dedication. This was revealed to me at the beach, as I fixated on the moon’s relationship with the ocean, and how clear it was that their eternal, rhythmic dance had always been a symbol of gentle yet powerful connection to me, something that could make me want to go to church because I’d get to thank God for having placed this creation in front of me to look at whenever I wanted to feel transformed by the gravitational pull of the world around me. Now whenever I take a risk, and work on my art or writing, I’d think of how neither the moon nor God have ever failed me, so why would I live in fear of failing…

[notebookmusical]

Hi! Any tips on how to read more often or actually finishing books? I think I just have a bad habit of starting too many books and then forgetting about them. Like I'll tell myself to start something new so I'll be more likely to remember to read more or something. But if it's a book I like..I tell myself not to finish it too quickly if I like it cuz there are always other books and I like to take my time if I'm enjoying something. So my habit that worked for a while was that I would try to read for an hour one day every week..but then I get stuck deciding what to read cuz I'm in the middle of so many. I prefer to read a couple chapters at one time. I thought the Daisy Jones show would motivate me to finally read it after a few years but it didn't and I was also reading with my sister who doesn't read much. Sometimes I try to read the same authors books at the same time so I can compare them and I think that will motivate me more to finish but I haven't. I have been in the middle of a few Emily Henry and Rachel Lynn Solomon books for about a year lol. I was hoping to try Business or Pleasure soon too. Is it better to just read a book you're enjoying faster than taking your time with it? Do you have a certain schedule or do you just read when you want? How are you able to finish so many books..and even ones that you're not enjoying? Sometimes I can be enjoying a book but still find myself skimming and I don't know why. Sorry for the long ask but any tips would be helpful! I set my goal to read two books every month..one new and one I owned, which seemed okay but I think I haven't even finished one book all year..even though there are so many I want to read! Sometimes I reread favorites too much which distracts me so that doesn't help either.

hello friend! no need to apologize for the long ask — my response is ... very long, and i'm sorry in advance for how long it is! 🤍 i've put it under the cut! x

i wanted to start this off by just saying that reading is a hobby! it's okay to take your time to read books as slowly as you'd like, or to put books down if you're not feeling them 🤍 all of that is a-okay!

i totally feel you with not wanting to get through books you're enjoying as quickly; i think that's a big part of why i reread my favorite books so often. last year, i noticed that i was reading books really quickly and not necessarily savoring them as much as i wanted to, and so i started annotating books more — which might be something you could try! i've also started getting into the habit of copying my favorite quotes into a commonplace journal (i tried doing a reading journal; just was not for me personally), which also forces me to slow down a bit as well. as someone who tends to juggle a couple books at once, i am also terrible at deciding what to read (as you might've noticed from my many tumblr polls about what i should read next). sometimes i just have a friend pick for me, sometimes i'll do a randomizer online, sometimes i'll try reading one book and then realizing that i am not in the mood for it at all, and then switch to a different book. there's been times where i've been like "i just need to finish something soon", or i'll get overwhelmed with bigger books, and i'll try to set a schedule! i don't always follow it and things do shift around based on what i've got going on (or sometimes i end up working late, etc.), but having a benchmark of "hey, i want to read [x] chapters" is helpful for me sometimes! more often than not, i'll end up reading more than the amount of chapters and that takes the pressure off for reading as much the next day. like you, i try to read a little bit each day, and i'll try to target my "sections to read" for something that'll take about half of that time. here's a photo of what my reading schedule looked like last week —

i'm definitely guilty of also starting books and then pushing them aside; like i've been "reading" strange the dreamer since january, but i really only read for chapters then, and then picked it up again last week and read another four chapters, and then haven't touched it since.

i've never been able to read multiple books by an author at the same time, but i do love binging an author's backlist books if i really like them! i read all the wibbroka books very quickly, back to back last summer, for example. i actually try not to read books that are too similar to one another at the same time but try to read books from different genres, so i'll read a fantasy, a nonfiction, a classic, a romance, something lit-fic-y, etc. but very rarely will i read two romances at the same time — i feel like it's a little too easy for me to mix up storylines/characters if i read books that are too similar, and also harder for me to decide which one to pick up that day.

i don't think i can answer your question about if it's better to read a book faster, or to take your time with it! that one is entirely up to you, but know that there is no wrong way to approach it. there are books, like emily henry's book lovers, for example, where i read the first chapter and knew i'd love it forever, and was simply unable to put it down. it's the only book i've ever read on my phone at the gym. i sped through it, just because i needed to know what happened, i could not look away from that story. and then when i've gone back and reread it, i've taken a little more time with it (and have annotated)! there are books that i've loved, like erin morgenstern's the starless sea, where i read it and was like "oh this book is phenomenal. i know i have to sit with it. i can't read it all that quickly; i have to digest it and go back and reread bits of it to totally understand it." so i think it really just depends on the book!

it takes a lot for me to DNF a book, and that's something that i should work on. i usually just push through if i'm not enjoying a book, whether that's due to curiosity, if i'm more than 50% done with it, or just because i sometimes feel obligated (this is usually if it's an ARC/a gifted book). but there's no shame in DNFing a book if you're not enjoying it, because ultimately, reading is a hobby!

i've definitely found myself skimming over sections too — more so, when it's a long book, or a fantasy! i usually take it as a sign; i'm not super interested in what i'm reading anymore, or i'm getting tired, which means i'll often either put the book down for the night, or i'll switch to a different book, or just not read that night and do something else instead.

and i will say that there's nothing wrong with rereading favorites! that's still reading! 🤍 any reading is still reading!

in terms of tips, i normally would say "pick up a bunch of books and juggle them", but you're already doing that! another suggestion, aside from switching genres, could be picking up some graphic novels, poetry and plays! just for a little variety.

i think there's the 21-90 habit rule (might be getting my numbers wrong), where it's like, it takes 21 days to build a habit, and then 90 days for it to be permanent. for me, i've worked it into my routine — i read before bed, if i'm commuting i'm most likely reading, i listen to audiobooks when i walk my dog. i carry a book with me everywhere (or almost everywhere) and i find that it helps. for example, every week i go in for allergy shots, and i spend about 45 minutes at the doctor's office waiting — that's 45 minutes of reading time!

i have different focus modes set up on my phone, and i have the 'reading' one so i don't get most notifications when i read. taking away distractions while i read also helps a lot for me! i also really like doing "reading dates"; whether that means going outside/sitting at a cafe/sitting at a park and reading (either with a friend, with my dog, etc.), or over facetime with a friend! there was a period of time this year where i was really trying to get through a book because i was so unmotivated to, and i'd call up a friend and we'd sit on facetime and read our respective books in silence! i still do it now, but less so because i'm struggling to read, but just because i like sitting on facetime with a friend and doing my own task while they do theirs.

i know you said that you tried reading daisy jones with your sister, and it seems like that one didn't go too well! have you tried buddy reading with someone else, or joining a book club? a little more structure might be helpful! i know there are some book clubs that will let you read at your own pace, whereas others are more structured and will say which chapters you need to have read by what date. having a built in discussion / community might also be helpful too!

this one's more of a "study tip" than a reading tip, but i really like the pomodoro method! it doesn't work for everyone, but it's essentially: work on your task for 25 minutes, take a 5 minute break, repeat. i personally go for longer stints (45 minutes, 5-10 minute breaks), but it's all about what works for you personally!

once again, i'm so so terribly sorry for how long this ask got! i hope even part of that was helpful, and i hope you're having a lovely day!! 🤍 xx

[bloodhoundluke]

motion ⎮ luke hemmings

description: luke is experiencing a tough time mentally; every day feels the same. what is his way out of the darkness?

pairing: she/her x luke hemmings

warnings: anxiety, depression, self-loathing, angst, cursing (let me know if there's anything else).

word count: 600ish.

a/:n: this is a bit short, i guess. it's pretty sad at first, too :( this is an angsty one, so i'd recommend maybe skipping reading this if you aren't in the best mental state. if there's anything you'd like to talk about, i am always here <3 ps. if you can find any mistakes (e.g. grammar), please do let me know!

this is pt. 3 of when facing the things we turn away from series. the parts are not related to each other; rather, i'd call them blurbs.

The pressure to finish the album. The hate. The self-loathing.  It became all too much to Luke; he had let everything bad consume him. He couldn’t even trust what he was seeing, as if his eyes were lying to him. Two months had been the same everyday: wake up, take care of Petunia, studio, come home, walk and feed Petunia, open a beer, sit in the darkness, go to sleep. Was that really what life had to offer? The same shit everyday. Numbness, sometimes pain. Why couldn’t Luke get it right? His life?

As time went on, time became an obscure concept to him. Tomorrow would be like yesterday, and yesterday had been like all the days before. Was there a way out for me, he wondered. The days were filled with regrets,��anxiety and darkness. Sometimes it was blank. He blamed himself for everything wrong he had done in his life; sometimes he couldn’t even care less. What was the point, anyway?

Then it hit him. He needed to take action. If he moped around all day, what would that lead to? Nothing particularly good, as he had witnessed. So, he booked a therapist appointment after contemplating about it for a few weeks. It helped him to see what he could do in his life in order to be happier. So, he took mindful walks everyday in his neighborhood, hung out more with the boys and called home more often. He practiced being more mindful of his thoughts and did mental health exercises.

Luke felt alone, even though he had told his loved ones about his mental state. It felt like no one truly understood him. Or was it just in his head? He wanted to get better and started to cancel on parties and some other social events since his anxiety was at its peak. He felt selfish for that; he had always been to every social gathering he could go to. Luke knew he had been thinking about other people’s opinions for far too long. He wanted to please people, even if it meant his own suffering. But not anymore, Luke decided. 

His focus was on the future instead of the past; there was something he needed to find. Something that would make everything make sense. He knew there were some things he would never know, but still he was searching for some type of miracle. There had to be some sign from the universe, right? Luke needed to know what was his purpose. What he was supposed to put his energy into. A few months went by quickly and Luke was still stuck inside his own head. What was this miracle he was supposed to find?

And there she was standing in a flowy pale yellow maxi dress in the California sun. As Luke laid his eyes on her, he knew she’d be something special in his life. Even if it was just being acquaintances with her, he knew she was the one he wanted to find. Three coffee dates and four dinners later, he knew he had fallen hard for this woman. After one and a half years of dating and five months of living together, he knew she’d be the only one he would want to spend the rest of his life with. Her generous giggle, the habit of leaving doors and cabinets open, her urge to be physically close, the nervousness when meeting new people. He loved all that there was to her: the good, the bad and in-between. 

The couple lounged around in their living room, watching some romantic comedy Luke had picked. After a while of silently watching the movie, he decided to speak.

“I think you are my miracle, petal”, Luke caressed her cheek and looked at her with his eyes full of admiration. 

“I am not the miracle here, remember that. You helped yourself. You are your own miracle”, she smiled gently.

© 2022 bloodhoundluke.