a look into our secret process

hockeystix  asked:

zimbits. “Less homicidal thoughts about your annoying coworker right now, please. I’m in a meeting over here.” pLEASE

Charlie asked for this about 30 years ago but I’m just getting around to it now. It’s prompt from this list. 


If he thinks I’m going to let a single tart anywhere near his ruinous Trump-sized hands he’s got another thing coming. Actually, no. He can have as many tarts as he wants. Kill ‘em with kindness, and arsenic worked into the whipped cream. I’d have to add more vanilla to balance it out but–

If Jack wasn’t in a sponsorship meeting, he would be inclined to promptly bash his head into the wood of the table. It had been like this for a few weeks ago, a voice filtering in at the most inopportune times, going on diatribes against who he was presuming was the voice’s coworker (”–even the way he counts out change is annoying. The Lord is testing me. We should’ve kept the antique register, it would have hurt more when I ‘accidentally’ shut the drawer on his fingers that he just licked to count out the bills. Yes, I would LOVE my spit covered change. THANK YOU.”)

Unfortunately, Jack thought it was unlikely that NIKE would appreciate their new brand ambassador actively giving himself a concussion, so he shot the representative across the table a smile and nodded to whatever was being said before reverting back inside his head.

As ambitious as your assassination attempt is, if you could keep it to yourself I would appreciate it.

There wasn’t even a moments pause before he got his reply.

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Fic: Here Comes Revenge (Negan & Reader) One Shot.

I might turn this into a series of one shots, I’m not sure yet.


Title: Here Comes Revenge

Pairing: Negan & Reader

Summary: Rosita may have tried to kill Negan, but you were the fool who gave her the bullet.

Tag List: @negans-network, @thecynicalnerd, @deadlywinters, @attentionseekingprincess

Originally posted by scarletswitch

1/1

You had seen Negan beat two of your friends to death, and even then he never showed a hint of true anger. He had laughed, taunted, and threatened, but he was a man in control. But this Negan, whose face was contorted with rage as he roared as loud as thunder? This man was furious and you felt fear like you had never felt it before.

Rosita, slammed onto the ground with a knife pressed to her throat, eyed him defiantly.

You wanted to tell her to look away, to show remorse. Even if she didn’t mean it, at least Negan might show her a small bit of mercy. She remained insolent, uncaring of her fate.

But if there was one thing you had learned about Negan it was that someone was going to pay for her attempt on his life, and it wouldn’t be Rosita.

Rick made Negan angry and Abraham died. Daryl lashed out at Negan and Glenn paid the price. Spencer was lying in a heap at Negan’s feet, and you knew someone else would likely join him.

“This little bad boy made from scratch?” Negan’s bemused voice left you trembling. He was more in control now, more focused, and it was terrifying. “Look at those crimps. This was homemade.”

Your heart began to beat frantically in your chest. Rosita’s rebellious glare never faltered.

“You may be stupid, darlin’, but you showed some real ingenuity here,” it almost sounded like a compliment. Maybe it was, but compliment or not it wasn’t going to save her from Negan’s wrath.

“Arat, move that knife up out on that girl’s face. Lucille’s beautiful, smooth surface is never gonna look the same, so why should yours?” Rosita didn’t flinch. The rest of the Alexandrians gathered sucked in a breath.

“Unless…” Negan said, considering, “Unless you tell me who made this.”

Your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach.

You knew when Rosita came to you, begging for your help crafting that single bullet, that it had been a terrible idea. You let guilt drive you to accept her demands. She made it clear, she wouldn’t survive long after shooting Negan but she didn’t care. She wanted him dead and that was all that mattered. You couldn’t blame her, everyone wanted to see Negan pay.

But now Negan wasn’t dead and you were all fucked.

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anonymous asked:

Hey hey hey~! Can I have the triangle scenario between Byakuran and Tsuna? Thank you very much!

COMPLETE

To be honest, I have no idea what triangle scenario you are talking about. So I just went with a love triangle sceanrio, I hope you don’t mind. Cheers, Admin Enma

Becoming a certified pâtissier has always been your dream job and opening your own bakery was literally just the icing on the cake. All those years of hard work, dedication, and burns had finally paid off. Your mentor, a kind old man who had both inspired and taught you, had passed away months ago. In his last will, he had left you his cafe located in a prime spot in Italy.

You knew the clientele your mentor catered to, dangerous men who lived in the mafia and killed without a care. There were times during your apprenticeship that he had asked you to leave early or stay in the kitchens as he dealt with these men, wanting to keep you away. However, there was a time when you were so engrossed and so proud of the croquembouche you had made, you immediately wanted to display it in the front window.

That was how you met Byakuran Gesso and learned of his affections for the homemade marshmallows the cafe sold. When your mentor had no choice but to introduce you, you were ecstatic to meet him. The fluffy, chewy sugar clouds you made were solely bought by him and you had always wanted to meet the person who made you so much money.

Byakuran promised to stop by more often, wanting to order more and more crazy flavors of marshmallows. Your mentor has no choice but to watch as you played and catered to the mafia don’s whims.

The day you met Don Vongola was at a catering event for his female mist guardian’s wedding. You and your mentor were in charge of the wedding cake, which Tsuna and Chrome had personally come to do the taste testing. Her fiance was unable to come due to his position in an allied family, and you thought Tsuna was the sweetest for volunteering to go with his mist.

Your mentor had assigned you to oversee the cake and worked closely with the Vongolas to ensure Chrome had the cake of her dreams. You often found yourself calling Tsuna to pass on an idea to Chrome in the middle of the night. Tsuna always answered, regardless of the time.

So here you were, two envelopes in your hand. Both had your name written beautifully on each, the handwriting familiar and different from one another. Don Vongola had invited you to come to a small party for his family while Don Gesso had asked you to be his escort for a ball an ally of his was holding. You had taken so long trying to figure out who to go with, that both men had come to your cafe at closing time to hear your answer.

You began to sweat as the two men stared each other down across the table. “More tea?” you asked, holding the tea pot up to pour. You sighed as both men gave you a smile before returning back to staring at each other.

“Little Don Vongola, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same thing as well, Byakuran.”

Oh good, they’re talking, you thought as you poured them their tea. “Listen, I’m flattered that you both invited me but I’m going to be busy both nights.”

Tsuna and Byakuran whipped their head towards you so fast, you feared they would have gotten whiplash. “Both nights?”

“Y-yes? The invitations were for different nights.”

There was a pregnant pause, save for the clinking of tea cups and plates as you sipped from your cup. You saw them look off, a thoughtful look on their faces. There was an unsettling feeling in your stomach as both mafia bosses looked at each other, nodded, and grew satisfied smiles on their faces.

Byakuran was the first to break the silence. “Well, I’m not exactly against sharing. As long as I get equal time, I don’t mind~” he trailed off in a sing-song voice. He closed his eyes, smiling serenely at you as you felt anything but serenity.

“My event is first, so I suppose I get to have our little pâtissier come with me. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything this time around.”

You began to drink more of your tea, wanting to buy time to think as you processed these men’s words. After finally swallowing, and dammit no more tea, you took a deep breath and released it. “Sharing?”

“Yep. Sharing.”Byakuran winked at you, a playful smile on his lips. He dumped numerous sugar cubes into his tea cup, stirring twice before drinking.

Tsuna swirled the tea in his cup, looking at it as if it held the secrets of the universe. “Sharing is caring after all, don’t you agree? But of course, we’ll be the ones sharing you.”

The white haired boss bared his teeth at you, excited at the turn of events. “If you were to be with anyone else, punishment will have to be given.”

“You belong to us now.”

Only once you have understood and embraced your dark side can you fully stand in the light of your being. And what is the dark side but a metaphor for the abyss, the void, the great unknown, the force that plays upon our fears of mortality, and furthermore, how does one even begin to reconcile that which one instinctively does not wish to face? Well, usually the world must thrust it upon us, prying our eyes open to our particular individual brand of previously held blindness through the reality of experience. These moments tend to be rather destructive to our once cherished, perfectly maintained, most safeguarded beliefs about life - this can be an incredibly painful experience. However, if one does not lose oneself in self-pity, these moments can be utilized constructively when seen as points or inner loci within the psyche which - via sadness, depression, or anger - purposefully hurt to make themselves noticed of their unhealed existence; only by mustering up the courage to face our pain and sit with it can we channel, uncover, and integrate the lessons inherently impregnated within the experience as a soul defining force in deepening our awareness of life. One can either absorb theses experiences by reflecting, understanding, and growing from them or one can deny them as the opportunities they are to learn. When one is not whole, the dynamic between ones’ being and the world will naturally conspire to bring upon these rough awakenings through the vessels of drama and calamity. When these experiences happen, they tend to momentarily break down our ego giving us a refractory window in which to either widen our gaze or construct defense mechanisms in an attempt to look away from something that will forever remain unavoidably close. With experience, you will further acquaint yourself with the alchemical process of locating the little white dot of yang within the yin, constructively using pain as a kind of motivational fuel, and transmuting suffering into wisdom. Do not take a passive stance, take creative ownership in your self-destruction, of all that resides within as illusory, delusional, or wishful fantasy. The secret is in exposing our insecurities to the world and going through the painful process of honing these marginalized aspects of our being by steadily owning and integrating them back from the fringes. In time, one will come to an intimate appreciation and acceptance of oneself rendering one immune to the views others castigate or applaud one for; an interpersonal invincibility of sorts forged from having cultivated immaculate - or near immaculate - integrity with oneself. In this way, the combined ideals of vulnerability, transparency, and compassion mixed with a touch of martyrdom give rise to a greater understanding and appreciation of the totality of who we are enabling us to act, when triggered, not from a defensive standpoint of emotional-reactivity, but with the sovereignty we have earned from having demonstrated the necessary courage to have undertaken the experientially-instilled, viscerally-inscribed repertoire of scars and lessons now carved within the annals of our memory. This kind of self-directed growth is akin to exposure therapy; it’s raw, painful, and slightly masochistic - it also works.
—  Syncretic Tendencies
2

I felt his fingertips brush in a casual yet deliberate fashion along my cheek near the jawbone. I glanced up, startled, and our eyes met in that way that eyes will, and we looked at each other for a moment, the boat wobbling around us and the lost oar forgotten. I was dreadfully flustered; embarrassed, I looked away; when suddenly, and to my great surprise,he burst out laughing at my distress.
No?’ he said.
‘No,’ I said, disappointed relieved.

AD is the new NAT

(Hey guys! It @lying-little-legend back with another theory. Upon doing a re-watch of the second season of PLL, I couldn’t help but compile a mass of different thoughts pertaining to the NAT Club into a new theory. I don’t know if anyone within the fan base has made similar allusions to the significance of the mysterious entity of AD or written a theory quite like this before, so I am open to your input! Warning: This theory is incredibly LONG but I definitely think it’s worth the read! …I hope you guys will enjoy it and without further ado, let’s jump right into the theory!)

What does NAT stand for anyway, Need A Therapist?

To provide a bit of a preface, I’d like to discuss the formerly notorious group introduced in Season 2. I’m sure that fans of Pretty Little Liars are familiar with the infamous Latin phrase, Nos AnimadvertoTotus, translated, “We See All”, in English. Abbreviated NAT, this secret club was thought up and founded by Jason Dilaurentis – Alison Dilaurentis’ older half-brother. Alongside the likes of Garrett Reynolds and Ian Thomas, (as well as an alleged mystery-member), Jason ran a covert operation intended to film unsuspecting Rosewood citizens, gathering personal information and untold secrets in the process. They were more or less, outsiders looking in.

…Why is this relevant to A.D.? Well, I’m inclined to believe that it is all the bit relevant in understanding the mythology and origin of our new big bad! Because –A has always been one step ahead of the liars’, one to see all, with his/her eyes on ultimate endgame. Marlene King, executive producer of Pretty Little Liars, has been quoted recently, hinting that the letters A and D account for one of the BIGGEST and most crucial clues in discovering the identity of our endgame menace. Well, I think that’s because A and D stand for something; not initials to a name or signal of the afterlife, but a particularly telling phrase… in Latin!

Absolutum Dominium, translated in English as “Absolute Domination”, could very well be what the letters A and D stand for. It is my belief that A.D. has taken a page out of the NAT  Club manual, adapting the use of a forgotten language to conceal his/her identity – all while making clear that THEY are the ones in complete control. Similarly to how the uber in Uber A describes a supreme presence, the phrase absolutum dominium is directly linked to a presence of extreme ownership or power. So whether the two entities are separate or working in either alliance or rivalry, Uber A and A.D. have their hearts set on total control over the –A game!

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Imagine Jared Leto is Your Best Friend’s Dad: Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Night & Day

I woke up in Mr. Leto’s arms. Faint rays of sunshine from the early morning peeked through the window, forcing me to open my eyes. I searched the room, blinking myself into he reality of awareness.

The navy walls of his room were the essence of lush against the finest mahogany dressers and night stands to match. I turned to the nightstand on my side of the bed. A carved wooden lamp sat in elegance. There were carvings and designs that would take hours to truly appreciate in its entirety. My eyes followed the corner of his room that led to his dressing area.

There hung all of his black suits, an array of dress shirts, and ties - most likely for all those fancy house showings Allegra’s told me about. His shoes were nicely placed. Mr. Leto was a very fancy man. I envisioned him in one of his suits and chills spread all over me.

Everything in his room was neat down to the pictures jutting out from the mantles in his room.

Various pictures of Allegra from various stages of her life stared back at me from across the room. I turned my head to the other side of his room; she was the last thing I wanted on my mind. Next to this photo array, was Mr. Letos perfect bathroom and of course, the full length mirror that I know too well. My eyes brought me back to Mr. Leto next to me.

His eyes were still closed, lost in the realm of sleep. He looked peaceful, almost childlike. It’s so hard to believe he’s 45. Wait, so that means I slept with a…I shook myself out of my thoughts. Reality tried to seep into my mind to make me realize the crazy act I committed last night, but I pushed it away to the back of my mind. It’s not taking away my happiness. It’s like Mr. Leto said last night, ‘their just numbers… and they can be erased…’ I laid down on the bed, staring at the ceiling as I mused over our conversation last night.  

I pushed myself up, getting my bearings together. Soreness in my lower abdomen stopped me, I froze as I tried to maneuver in the bed without feeling it, but I couldn’t. It was a throbbing sensation that crawled up my lower back. No matter how I moved I still felt it. I huffed out I tried to lie back down and try this again, but my stirring woke him. His fingers grazed my arm, his hand as warm as the sheets that engulfed us. 

“What time is it?” he asked. His low and raspy voice caressed my ears. It was the sexiest sound I ever heard. Even waking up in the morning, he was flawless.

He looked back at the alarm on his table. “It’s 8:35, you better head back downstairs, sweetheart. The girls will be up soon.” He stroked my cheek before getting up to stretch. Every muscled in his carved back riveted, he was poetry in motion. I took this moment to take in his back as he stood.

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“I think hell is something you carry with you. Not somewhere you go.”
Neil Gaiman

“Your only obligation in any lifetime is to be true to yourself.”
Richard Bach

“Resolve to be tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant with the weak and wrong. Sometime in your life you will have been all of these.”
Gautama Buddha

“By three methods we may learn wisdom - first, by reflection, which is noblest; second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest.”
Confucius

“10 principles to Zen:
1. Let go of comparing.
2. Let go of competing.
3. Let go of judgements.
4. Let go of anger.
5. Let go of regrets.
6. Let go of worrying.
7. Let go of blame.
8. Let go of guilt.
9. Let go of fear.
10. Have a proper belly laugh at least once a day - especially if it’s about your inability ot let go of any or all of the above.”
Zen teachings

“The wise man lets go of all results, whether good or bad, and is focused on the action alone.”
from the Bhagavad Gita

“Whatever passes through your mind, don’t focus on it and don’t try to suppress it. Just observe it as it comes and goes.”
Mingyur Rinpoche

“Muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone.”
Alan Watts

“In you calm is your strength.”
German proverb

“The secret of human freedom is to act well, without attachment to the results.”
From the Bhagavad Gita

“There is no path to happiness: happiness is the Path.”
Gautama Buddha

“Remember, when you forgive, you heal. And when you let go, you grow.”
Anonymous

“The world of peace and joy is at our fingertips. We only need to touch it.”
Thich Nhat Hanh

“If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.”
Anonymous

“Hell has three gates: Lust, Anger and Greed.”
from the Bhagavad Gita

“Meditation is really a process of nonjudgmental awareness.”
Mingyur Rinpoche 

“I’m working on myself, for myself, by myself.”
Anonymous

“Each morning we are born again. What we do today is what matters most.”
Buddha

“Mistakes have the power to turn you into something stronger than you were before if you’re willing to learn from them and push ahead.”
Anonymous

“If ‘Christ’ were to return tomorrow in some externalized form, what could he or she possibly say to other than this: 'I am the Truth. I am divine presence. I am eternal life. I am within you. I am here. I am Now.”
Eckhart Tolle

“I have the impression that many of us are afraid of silence. We’re always taking in something - text, music, radio, television, or thoughts - to occupy the space. If quiet and space are so important for our happiness, why don’t we make more room for them in our lives?”
Thich Nhat Hanh

“you may not be able to control every situation and its outcome, but you can control your attitude and how you deal with it.”
Anonymous

“Believe nothing, no matter where you read it or who has said it, not even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.”
Buddha

“Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Always work with it, not against it.”
Eckhart Tolle

“An awake hear is like a sky that pours light.”
Hafiz

“The present moment is the only moment available to us and it is the door to all moments.”
Thich Nhat Hanh

“Buddha was asked, 'What have you gained from meditation?’ He replied, 'Nothing! However, let me tell you what I have lost: anger, anxiety, depression, insecurity, fear of old age and death.’”
Buddha

“Worry pretends to be necessary, but serves no useful purpose”.
Eckhart Tolle

10

“Because of our adult empathy skills, we can relate to how this feels and think that it looks very cruel. What we have to understand is that girls are making sense of relationships by playing with them, by pushing the boundries, by testing the limits, by getting to understand it. And this is a developmental process.”

The Secret Life of 4 Year Olds

On Hufflepuff Secondaries

Hufflepuff Secondaries invest themselves into their world with service and support. When things turn out well for a Puff it often comes as a result of those old investments culminating and giving back. Old debts might raise their head in a time of need. Communities the Puff has supported or built might marshal to their aid without even being asked. Their reputation might precede them, allowing them trust or the allowances that they need.

Often overlooked, Hufflepuff Secondaries are handed secrets, access, or tasks of monumental importance because they have developed a reputation that they can be trusted with them. This reputation has been earned through a slow and steady process of hard work and actually being that reliable that the Puff will have built up over years. 

This is what makes a Hufflepuff: they show up. They do the work, often for no obvious gain except for the satisfaction of a job well done. This is the source of their power, and it is slowly gathered, not obvious to look at, and rarely spent. Where Gryffindors charge and Slytherins transform, the Hufflepuff seems inconsequential and harmless until the moment when they rise up and call on all their debts, secrets, and trust.

For a broader overview of our system, which we suggest you read first, please go here!

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Imagine: Stiles Winchester.

Decided to write some imagines cause why not.?


Imagine #1

Stiles Stilinski: And you guys aren’t even supposed to be here.

*Stiles looks over his shoulder and searching for any sight if any other soul other than his brothers.*

Sam Winchester: Hey Stiles. It’s been a while. Isn’t it.?

*Sam looks tired and bruised up so Stiles ushers them to the bathroom to get them cleaned up.*

Dean Winchester: How many girls did you bang while we were gone.?

Sam Winchester: Dean. Cut the guy a slack. Not everybody has to be a jerk like you.

Dean Winchester: You’re the true bitch, Sam. I bet my youngest brother has got more game than you do. 

*Dean winks at Stiles. Stiles shrugs with his hand rubbing his neck nervously.*

Sam Winchester: Wait. Don’t tell me you’re gay as well. Am I the only straight brother.? Come on!

Dean Winchester: What do you mean that “you’re gay as well.?” Sammy. Are you insisting that I am gay.?

Stiles Winchester: I’ve heard stories about this guy called Cas. I’m sorry. Angel. 

*Stiles winks at Dean while Dean gives a glare to both his younger siblings.*

Dean Winchester: I am not gay. Alright.? You just want to steal my game. Pfft. Try harder, Sammy.

Sam Winchester: ITS SAM. Dean, I am not the only person who thinks you’re gay for Cas. I mean you should see the way you look at him. All puppy love.

Stiles Winchester:It would be nice if you guys could keep your voices down.

Dean Winchester: SAMMY. SAMMY. SAMMY. BITCH. BITCH. BITCH.

Sam Winchester: DEAN LOVES CAS. DEAN LOVES CAS. YOU’RE SUCH A JERK.

*The door flies open and a tall handsome guy stands outside gloriously with no shirt on. Dean and Sam have their jaws fallen and Stiles sighs heavily.* 

Stiles Winchester: Thanks guys. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready to introduce you guys to anyone. I mean. LOOK AT THE BOTH OF YOU. MY FAMILY IS SO WEIRD.

Derek Hale: Stiles? What are these two guys doing in your BATHROOM? ITS 3 AM AND DON’T TELL ME THEY KEEP HERE FOR SOMETHING STUPID. 

*Stiles sighs. Dean and Sam are still surprised from what just happened.*

Stiles Winchester: Dean and Sam meet my boyfriend. Derek. Derek meet my real brothers. Dean and Sam Winchester. 

Dean Winchester: Stiles, bro. You’ve got game. 

Sam Winchester: I know it’s a lot to process. That was one of the reasons why we kept this a secret. Our dad wanted to save the youngest one so he gave Stiles to the Sheriff. 

*Dean tightens his jaw and watches Derek look at Stiles.*

Dean Winchester: We’ve got work to finish and Stiles… seems like you have something to finish as well.

*Dean winks at Stiles who just raises his eyebrow. Dean puts his hand around Stiles and Sam smiles warmly.*

Dean Winchester: Derek, We’ve heard a lot about you. He pretended you were a girl for so long. Now we know so if you have any intentions of breaking my brother’s heart. I will kill you.

Derek Hale: I will see you try.

Stiles Winchester: Don’t challenge them. They hunt things for a living. That’s the family buisness.

*Sam and Dean hug their younger brother and leave the two love birds alone.*

Derek Hale: You have a lot to explain.

Stiles Winchester: Can’t we talk after the sex.?

*Derek glares at Stiles. Stiles shrugs.*

Stiles Winchester: Well, shit.

Masterpost: Eye Contact

Perhaps the most immediately recognizable trait that most autistic people have is difficulty with eye contact. It’s one of the first signs doctors use to look for autism in young children, before language skills would be expected to develop, and it lasts throughout our lives.

Like all of these traits, it’s important to understand this issue from the point of view of your autistic character. (And also like every trait, it’s important to remember that everyone is different, and there are autistic people out there who naturally make eye contact in the typical way and for whom the info in this post does not apply.)

Many autistic people have difficulty explaining why they have a problem with eye contact. First and foremost, it does not come naturally. There is no instinct to look someone in the eye while engaging them in conversation.

Mod Cat says:
“I don’t actually know how to make eye contact. I can’t look at both eyes at the same time. Which eye am I supposed to look at? How do I choose? Do I change periodically? The funny thing is, I didn’t even notice this difficulty before I was about 17, which says a lot about how often I do make eye contact.”

There are autistic adults who seem to make eye contact normally (or almost normally), but this is something learned and trained through repetition. Also, for many of us, most of the time it’s faked.
Faked? Fake eye contact? Yes, you read that correctly. Making real eye contact is actually not nearly as necessary as you might think. There is an area around your eyes we can use as a fakeout zone. If someone is looking within this area, it will look to you like they’re looking you in the eye.

Mod Aira says:
“I had exactly the same issue as Cat regarding eye contact. People were always telling me to ‘look them in the eye’ while I was talking to them, but that was an illogical statement. Which eye? I can’t look in both! No one ever explained it, and I couldn’t figure out how to ask. Whenever I tried, I was accused of being sarcastic and rude, which confused me a great deal. Finally, when I was in my twenties, one person recognized that I was autistic and took the time to explain to me how typical eye contact works. She told me you pick one eye and look at that, then switch now and then. When I found that this made me incredibly uncomfortable and was even painful, she instead taught me how to fake it.”

Try it sometime. Sit with a friend (as many of us have done during our lives) and test out different areas. Have the friend raise their hand when they think you’re looking them in the eye. You might be surprised just how far away your eyeline can be before it becomes noticeable.

This is how Mod Aira personally manages eye contact. “As an accommodation to those around me who are not autistic, I do my best to give the illusion of eye contact whenever possible. I know that a lack of eye contact is uncomfortable for them.” This is something else to note for your characters: autistic people generally spend a lot of time thinking about how they affect those around them, out of necessity as well as empathy.
So there you have the how of eye contact - what about the why? What is it that makes eye contact so difficult for autistic people, to the point where we have to fake it? There are a few reasons and, as with everything else, each person has a different combination of these.

It’s scary. When we look in someone’s eyes, we are overwhelmed. It can feel like their eyes are about to suck you in. It can also feel like they are staring directly into your soul. Since so many of us are incredibly sensitive and hyper-empathetic, we feel an intense discomfort from knowing that someone is looking directly into our eyes. We can be afraid of what they see there. We can get an overwhelming feeling that they will find something wrong, some mistake, some secret. It feels like a massive invasion of privacy, like they’re staring at you naked.

It’s painful. As a part of physical hypersensitivity, there is an incredible amount of information to be found in someone’s eyes. All those little details can hurt to look at, as our brains struggle to keep up with the constant flow of tiny changes. The pain can be physical, like a piercing feeling behind the eyes, a headache, or a feeling like there’s electricity zapping you from inside your head. It’s awful.

It’s distracting. Processing information can be difficult and take a lot of time, and it takes energy to process visual or auditory information. Since conversations are difficult for us in many ways, we really need to focus all our energy on listening to and understanding what the other person is saying. If we’re focusing on remembering to make eye contact (which, remember, doesn’t come naturally), it means we’re paying less attention to what the person is actually saying. Processing both the visual and auditory information takes so long that we can’t keep up with the conversation. Very often, we have to choose between listening and appearing to be listening. Interestingly, some of us find that it’s more effective socially to focus on eye contact while pretending to listen.

Mod Aira says:
“I have to choose between listening and appearing to be listening. I would prefer to actually listen, but processing speech is incredibly difficult for me. To really listen and understand, I have to either close my eyes and focus all my energy on listening, or look at your mouth and watch your lips move, which helps me understand the words you’re saying. I’m a primarily visual thinker, so looking at someone’s lips really helps a lot. But I’ve found that allistic people don’t like this. Even if I assure them that I’m paying attention, they think I’m being rude or not listening. Often they will simply stop talking, convinced I’m not listening anyway. On the other hand, if I focus on eye contact, I can only really process the tone of what you’re saying, and some of the words. But when I do this, look between someone’s eyes and nod when they do, laugh when they do, respond to their tone as well as I can, I find that people accept this positively. Even if I don’t remember anything they said, they still think I was paying attention. It’s very frustrating.”

An autistic person might try to explain this to close friends and family in the hopes that they can ignore eye contact without accusations of “not paying attention.” Sometimes this works, and when it does, it’s a massive relief. To be able to carry on a conversation without worrying about eye contact at all lifts a huge burden. Sometimes, however, it doesn’t work. Many people demand that the autistic person “put in the effort” to appear normal and accommodate those around them, or accuse them of using their autism as an “excuse” to be “lazy” and “rude”. There will be more on reactions like this in another post.

On the other hand, not everyone has the luxury of even trying to explain themselves in this way. They might not know they are autistic (in which case they’re probably constantly confused by social interactions and why people seem to get upset for no reason). They might know they’re autistic but not have an official diagnosis, and be afraid of being told they’re a hypochondriac, lying, or making it up for attention (something that happens a lot). They might simply be afraid of how people will treat them if they find out they’re autistic, and often, there is good reason to fear. In circumstances like these, the person is probably trying their best to succeed at social interactions, but frequently getting bad reactions from people who think they’re rude, selfish, aloof, not paying attention, etc.

When you write your autistic character(s), you have the freedom to mix and match from this list. Maybe they are afraid of eye contact but don’t know why. Or maybe it hurts, and they know exactly why. Or maybe they have no trouble with eye contact. Maybe they fake it, maybe they endure and do it for real, or maybe they rebel against society’s expectations and don’t bother at all. You have a lot of freedom here.
Happy writing!

Something New

This is my entry for @supernatural-x-reader-oneshots‘ Zodiac Challenge! I’m a weird one when it comes to the zodiac. My birthday is October 23, which is either the ending day of the Libra cycle or the beginning of Scorpio, depending on what you’re looking at. So, being on the cusp as I am, I *believe* I show traits of both of those signs. 

PROMPTS: Libra- “Have sex, then fall in love” and Scorpio- “Single parents who meet at Parent-Teacher night”
WORD COUNT: 4072
WARNINGS: Smut, insecurity, fluff

Originally posted by theskyonbluehour

Your little girl sat at the kitchen counter, pouting into her bowl of macaroni and cheese. She’d demanded the Star Wars shaped kind, despite never seeing a single one of the movies. However, you’d learned in the past five years to pick your battles, and if Chloe wanted Star Wars mac and cheese, well, she got it. You bent over and kissed her chubby cheek and she sighed.

“Hey, you.”

Big blue eyes turned to look at you, and you tugged on a strand of wet blonde hair.

“You love when Aunt Charlie comes over.”

Chloe gave a long-suffering sigh, looking up at you.

“But I like it when you tuck me in. And when I get scared, I like to come to your room. Aunt Charlie stays on the couch.”
“Are you afraid of the couch?”
“No, Mommy.”

Chloe rolled her eyes and you laughed.

“Listen up, squirt. Aunt Charlie stays on the couch because she plays that silly game of hers until she falls asleep. She could stay in a bed like a normal person, but she’s weird.”

Chloe giggled, and you reached over to tuck a piece of wet hair behind her ear.

Keep reading

Hello everyone! I hope your day, night–whatever ou may be in the world is going well for you!

With a new season at Mile High City, comes great change. There has been no doubt about it that we have been going through what you would call a sophomore slump as we try to enter in to our second year of being around in the tags and being around for members to walk in and play out a portion of their characters lives here. It has been no secret that the past few weeks have been rough on us with a handful of members leaving within this past weekend due to some things that are out of our control and even some things that we needed to put a stop to. It has been no secret that Mile High City isn’t what it used to be if we look on it a few months ago and while I understand that things change and people grow, it doesn’t make things easier to process.

Tonight, it is with great sadness that I announce my two co-admins leaving this month. Admin Quinn and Admin Rei will both being leaving soon as they had been so kind of offer a helping hand with the main and running some things as I’m taking a trip to Disney on Sunday for a pre-planned vacation. While it may seem like their leaving and everyone else’s leaving all comes at a worse time, please understand that stepping down from their position was something they thought long and hard about and with the stress we all have been under from our everyday lives to the problems we have been facing here, a break was needed and nothing but the best is wished for them. They have been here from the start of this roleplay and stepped up to help me when I needed it the most and I could never thank them enough for everything they did for me and for you guys as well.

Now, I know you all may be wondering on the future of this place because currently I’m questioning it as well because we’re all at a rock and a hard place. The time of the year is rough for a lot of people as college is wrapping up for the spring semester, vacations are being taken, everyone’s longing for summer and no one seems to have the time and effort any more. Please know that I would never do anything drastic with this place without any input from our members and i promise you that you will not wake up tomorrow or a week from now and see that this place is closed down and my hands are washed from it. Mile High City is like a child to me, I’ve opened it a year and a half ago and I am willing to try to get us back to where we belong or at least bring back this excitement we all once had before the draining ooc drama and anon hate started rolling in and effecting each and every once of us.

Since I am leaving on Sunday, April 9th for Disney and will not be back until April 15th, I’m not making any changes or rash decisions regarding this place. I will however throw out a survey Friday, April 7th for feedback with a few things because I do what to hear from you and I want to know your thoughts on a few things since I am at a cross roads with myself on a few ideas. I understand that my ideas may not please everyone but I want to bring life back into this roleplay or even within ourselves and our characters stories one way or another– even if that means a possible shut down of MHC to re open something for everyone, a new admin team to get us to our full potential, new ideas and so much more. So please, don’t freak out about any of this. Please do not feel as if the beginning of an end is coming because I assure you that it’s not and no matter what you’ll always have a home. We’re going through a rough patch–we’re growing up, we’re learning a few things along the way and in the end we will rise and be great.

I love you all dearly. Thank you for everything you’ve done for this place so far, thank you for sticking around and seeing the highs and lows of this place and because of you, you are the reason I’m going to fight through all of this and come out with a solution to help us. Because of you guys, we’ll get through it together and will make something great.

-Admin Courtney

Regret 2

Characters:  Dean x Reader, Sam, Bobby

Summary:  Dean chose Lisa over reader when Sam went into the pit.  What happens when they reunite?  Part 1 here

Word Count:  2210

Warning:  Language…smut….

Beta’d by the awesome and talented @torn-and-frayed

Tags are at the bottom.  As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Regret 2

She moves above him, her breasts high and round, her nipples pert. He’s inside her, so warm and tight. She moans and he pushes his hips up, pressing into her. Her flesh is soft where he grips her hips, rolling her back and forth along his length.

Dean wakes from his dream, hard as a rock, his stiff erection rubbing painfully against his pajamas. It takes a moment to realize he was dreaming and focus on the room, gather his bearings. He rolls over with a sigh and remembers it’s not her in bed with him. It’s Lisa.

——–

Dean’s POV

Everything has gone to hell in a handbasket. Lisa and Ben are out of the picture. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for what I put them through. Sam’s got his soul back, but I’m terrified that wall is going to break down and Sam is going to fall apart. It feels like everything is being held together with duct tape and it’s all about to come apart.

I haven’t seen (Y/N) since that night back in Cicero. Bobby talks to her often enough. I resist the urge to ask how she’s doing. I don’t have that right. I blew that chance.

Pulling up into the salvage yard, I see a car I don’t recognize. Making my way up the creaky steps, I open the door and nod at Bobby. He’s sitting at his desk trying to decipher god knows what. Soft voices carry out from the kitchen. Turning to my left, I see her. She’s sitting at the table talking with Sam, his large hand in her small one. My heart skips a beat when I see her smile gently at him. That smile, it always did things to me. Things I never expected it to. Why did I never tell her? Oh yeah, ‘cause it scared the shit out of me.

They stand together and hug one another. Sam makes his way to the library while (Y/N) beats a hasty retreat out the back door. I hear the door slam as she exits.

“Hey,” Sam says, hands shoved in his pockets, leaning against the door jamb.

“Hey,” I reply, heading past him to put the groceries on the counter. “How is she?”

“She’s good. Good to see her. You should go talk to her.”

Sam doesn’t know about that night. The night I went to her, drunk off my ass and made a fool of myself. I run my hand over my face. “Yeah.  I should.”

I make my way out the back door. She’s seated on the step and looks up when the hinges squeal in protest. I make a mental note to oil them later.  Leaning against the post, Iss see that she’s been crying, the tracks down her cheeks giving away her secret.

“You okay?”

Keep reading

“The rings surrounding Saturn are actually comprised of millions of rocks and boulders, held perfectly in check by gravity, rotating the giant planet in unison. And when I’m bored and a little lonely, I imagine we get ourselves out there somehow, and sit on one of the larger rocks. from where we are, earth is a tiny, luminescent blue sphere, totally calm. And initially we talk, sitting on this floating boulder, we can’t stop talking. And then we get tired, and the rhythmical circulation lulls us into a nap, my body and yours a tangle of arms and heartbeats, on a rock rotating around Saturn. We wake up just in time to see earth slide slowly back into view, I start to cry because it’s like seeing an old friend. we know back there, our friends are drinking and working and vomiting into gutters, and you crumble a bit of rock off the side and carve it into lines and we try to snort it but it’s like inhaling flour and wheezing and laughing, we nearly slip off. We jump from rock to rock, a bizarre game of tag in the middle of space, and then puffing, we find a bigger rock, the biggest one we can see. It’s the size of a double bed, and we lie on our backs and stare at the stars and it feels just like looking at the sky back at home. But we can’t go back, we know we can’t. So you tell me stories, our planet sliding in and out of view, about your mother, and politicians, and how you became so brutally honest. I tell you about every country I’ve lived in, and the flowers my brothers friend gave me in secret, and the way rhododendrons are poisonous. We pinpoint where our houses would be, and you use a hand mirror to send morse code to earth. You don’t tell me what the message says, or I don’t ask. I think we just sit there, processing big, grandiose epiphanies, and tiny hurtful ones. It’s not always profound, but it’s not bullshit either. I don’t know how it ends, if we ever go home. But sitting there, I’m so happy.”

 I started a journal a couple weeks ago and I don’t have a lot of experience writing but it’s cathartic and i wrote this one for a friend.

Imagine trying to make George jealous. You’ve liked him for ages, and have tried dropping subtle hints, but he’s as oblivious to them as Ringo is to playing guitar. Just when you think you might be getting somewhere, George goes out and gets himself a girlfriend; a lovely girl really, but it nevertheless breaks your heart. Angry and tired of chasing, you turn to the one person you know can get you somewhere: Paul.
“How long ‘ave you two been a thing, then?” George asks with his hands on his hips. His lips are pursed in a thin line and his eyes hold an unreadable expression. You and Paul had been dating for a while, being sure not to hold back on the flirting and public displays of affection in front of George.
“A few weeks,” Paul says absentmindedly, sliding you into his lap and squeezing your waist. George visibly stiffens, his hands balling into tight fist. “A month, maybe. Just thought we might give it a try. Why not, right? I mean, Y/N’s smart, funny, drop dead /gorgeous/, sweet-”
“Stop it, Paul!” you giggle, trying your best to ignore the obvious scowl on your friend’s face. You wrap your arms around Paul’s neck and peck him lightly on the lips, smiling slightly when he hugs you tighter and kisses you again. George pinches the bridge of his nose, suddenly looking very uncomfortable and maybe a little… jealous?
“What’s that look for, Geo? Ye mad because ye didn’t get ta nab Y/N while ye had the chance? I will say I feel sorry for ye,” Paul tsks, and you swear you can see a flash of anger in the guitarist’s eyes.
“I-I… I…” George stutters, face suddenly red and eyes sad. “Y/N? Could we maybe talk sometime? Maybe over coffee?”
“Oh, I dunno, Georgie- wouldn’t Helen be opposed ta somethin’ like that?” Paul chides with a wide grin, and George doesn’t even look at him, his dark eyes too busy boring into yours.
“H-Helen who?” George mumbles incoherently before shaking his head. “Oh, right. /Helen/. I’ll um, I’m sure she’d be fine with it. Our secret, alright?” You narrow your eyes, not quite sure how to process George’s strange new behavior, Paul grabs your hand then, and you don’t miss the obvious grimace that twists George’s angular features.
“Uhm, coffee sounds great, actually,” you decide, seeing the man nearly choke on his breath. “I’ll get my coat.”
“Shall I come?” Paul calls as you get up from his lap, feigning innocence as George crosses his arms.
“No,” he replies simply, lifting his nose. “Y/N, I’ll be waiting in tha car, alright?” He shouts, voice lighter and more inviting than the one that had just spoken to Paul a moment ago. Just when he closes the door behind him, you nearly leap back into the living room, hugging Paul tightly.
“Oh my god, Paul! Did you see his face? He’s so jealous, he hardly remembers his girlfriend’s name!” you cry, feeling butterflies in your stomach as Paul giggles with you.
“Aye, Y/N, I’ll give 'im a week before he’s beggin’ for ye. I know he’s fancied you, but the poor bastard’s just a bit of a coward and needs a push. Mainly jealousy does the trick,” Paul muses, patting the top of your head.
“Thank you so much, Paulie; this means so much to me,” you breathe sincerely, kissing the bassist’s forehead. He smiles widely, flashing you a wink before gesturing to the door.
“It’s what friends’re for, love. Now go get 'im.”

anonymous asked:

Ranking of who would like stockings most to least??

Most to Least likely of who likes Stockings:

S.Coups- Tbh I think Cheol would fucking love stockings like good lord kill the poor man would you? He’d be all over you in seconds, slowly peeling them off, his eyes on fire, just thinking about ravishing you while you look all cute and sexy for him. In my mind, Cheol lives for the sexy cute combo.

DK- Seokmin is another die hard fan of the Sexy-Cute Combo I think. That alluring adorableness would have him a mess in minutes. He’d just love the way the look on you. He’s a fan of delicacy and the silky stockings adorning your legs, no matter the color, would be a picture of perfection to him.

Hoshi- Soongyoung is literally a whore. If you look cute, sexy, put literally any effort in or none at all he’s gonna be all over you I mean have you seen the boy he’s a fucking puppy human with the sex drive of a teenage boy what do you expect here. 

Jeonghan- Han would find something particularly appealing about stockings. That would just add that extra little lair of sophistication and sex appeal to him. He’d enjoy the process of removing them and the general look immensely. 

Dino- Our notorious, secret sex demon back at it again. He’d just be all over this. He’d go 250% dom over stockings. Just A+ for him. Like, wait a sec while I push you down and literally make you scream my name until dawn because hot fucking damn baby. 

Jun- Junhui is a whore I have nothing else to say.

Joshua- Sweet, innocent, and sexy all wrapped into one? Sign this angel up he’s all for that. Who wouldn’t be? He’d love it when you look sweet and innocent tbh.

Wonwoo- I don’t think Wonwoo would have particularly strong feelings about stockings, but he’d definitely find them sexy, that’s for sure. He’d just think the are sweet treat that he definitely appreciates. 

Seungkwan- Kwan is pretty sub to me so I don’t see him to be the one to get riled up about you looking cute or innocent or sweet so much. Of course he’d think you look undoubtedly sexy in them, it just wouldn’t get him worked up as much as, say, Seungchol. A pair of black gartered stockings while you are pushing him down? Now that’s a different story. 

Mingyu- Oh, he’d find them sexy for sure, but I can guarantee he’d care a lot more about getting you out of any of the articles of clothing you were wearing. He’d be too excited about the main course to properly pay attention to the appetizer. 

Vernon- He’d find them sexy, for sure, but nothing to be overly excited about. Kind of just another fun aspect of lingerie that he doesn’t pay much attention to because he’d rather have you out of them than fuss about what kind you are wearing. 

Woozi- I just don’t see Jihoon caring much for the little details like that, or even really noticing them. He would, especially if it was a special occasion, he’d appreciate it immensely, I just don’t think it’d be on the forefront of his mind. He’d care much more about interacting with you than the lacy stockings you had on, even though they are very sexy. 

The8- I just don’t think Ming cares what you are wearing tbh and care way more about you. He couldn’t care less if you were wearing a potato sack. This kid sees heart before he sees appearance any day and he’d care much more about making your experience special and intimate.

Hope you liked it cutie pie!

-Thursday 

Types of Shadow Work: Part 4/6

Dream Work

Dream work is another relevant practice. Dreams reveal a great many “secrets” about ourselves and our thought processes. Even the most mundane dreams can possess enlightening revelations. By keeping a dream journal and working on interpreting them you may come to find some useful tidbits of information buried in your psyche. 

This exercise may prove fairly difficult, especially if you have trouble remembering your dreams. If that is the case, first look into and practice ways in which to increase dream recall. Dream work can also become very intense for some; nightmares may be prevalent or implications and fragments of painful repressed memories may be unveiled.

To induce dreams specifically targeted to aid shadow work, try creating a bedtime ritual of sorts. Experiment with different herbs to combine and use for tea, light a candle programmed with your intention, evoke related spirit guides, reflect, meditate, etc. For best results, make it a highly customized ritual to be performed only when you deliberately want to induce these types of dreams, which often times may be intense and even exhausting– not something you generally want to experience every night or anytime you perform a bedtime ritual. 

Intro

Part 1: Journaling

Part 2: Introspection

Part 3: Emotional Awareness

Part 4: Dream Work

Part 5: Memory Regression

Part 6: Meditation & Altered States

Pumpkins

I don’t know what this is tbh.  I’m sorry, I was writing out a few Halloween fics and this kind of just bubbled up.  I hope you enjoy it anyway.

“Levi?”

A long suffering sigh came from the man beside him. “Yes, Eren?”

“Is that normal?”

Eren kept his eyes out in front of him, but he could still feel the withering glare that Levi sent his way and the scathing tone he used seemed to scratch at his ears, “Oh of course, Eren.  Pumpkins always grow to be the size of fucking minivans.”

“It’s not that big.”

“But it is.”

“Nah.”

“You really need to get those eyes checked out, kid.”

Eren raised his hand to his head and threaded his fingers through his hair, “Fuck off.  Regardless… how did this pumpkin get in our front yard?”

“Well,” Levi began, cocking his hip to the side and placing his hand on it, “apparently they’re having a contest on who can grow the largest pumpkin in the next town over.”

“How did you know that?” 

“It’s a secret.” 

Eren gave him an unamused look, “Okay cool.   Why is it in our yard though?”

“My guess is some poor unsuspecting bastard was unaware that it dropped out of the back of his truck and is probably frantically searching for it right now.”

“There is a man… somewhere around town… probably crying and searching for a giant pumpkin. Okay.  Processing.”

“Take your time, I know that head takes a few moments to start up every day.”

“Getting really sick of your shit, Levi.”

Obviously not threatened, Levi made a noise of recognition, signaling that he had heard Eren but he wasn’t about to answer him.  

Cocking his head to the side, he began again, “What the hell are we gonna do?  We can’t just leave it here to rot.  Should we call the contest or…?”

“There’s a good idea, I knew you’d get there eventually.  Hold on, I’ll Google the number.”

After calling the competition and waiting thirty minutes, an elderly gentleman and at least twenty of what looked to be farm hands hoisted the pumpkin up onto a trailer.  The older man apologized profusely and continuously offered a reward to which they declined.

As they drove away Levi commented, “Well that was fucking interesting.”

“Yeah, what a way for our day to go.”

Levi turned to Eren who held two tickets to what was probably a small town weird festival in his hands and cocked his head to the side, “You know, maybe we should go. Drop by and say hi.  I wanna know if that behemoth of a motherfucker won.”

Eren nodded, “He did say something about a pie eating contest.”

Rolling his eyes, Levi slung his arm around Eren’s shoulders and pressed their foreheads together, “It’s a date.”

“Call it whatever you want, I’m entering that pie eating contest.”