also i just realized that you know my last name now

amoralamusement  asked:

Hello, I always enjoy the work on this Tumblr. It's informative, interesting, and satisfying. Anyway, being an Ne dom like yourself, do you have any tips to not be overwhelmed by Ne a.k.a. How to Train Your Ne? I admit there are times when the ideas are buzzing and I yearn for stimulation then I become drained to the point of being physically tired.

Good timing, since I was just reading about Si-grips last night and realizing I basically live in one six months out of the year. :P

I’m not sure exactly what you mean, so I’ll cover all the bases I can think of.

There’s pretty much four stages in my life:

Ne-dom Extraordinaire: this is when you are the unbeatable monarch in your field, when you are on such a roll that not only do you finish your project ahead of the damn deadline, you went ahead and did sixteen other magnificent things that day too, just because your brain was on such a rush of SO MANY IDEAS. For example: you felt good about finishing your essay, so you wrote six movie reviews, four e-mails, 26 blog posts, and worked on your book to boot. And then you went to bed with a smile on your face because damn, I’m so fine.

Ne-dom Uninspired: this is when you feel “meh.” Not awesomesauce, not the lowest of the low, just plain MEH. Meh for a Ne-dom equals: semi-bored, semi-uninspired, semi-annoyed about it. Now, a sane person on this day goes and watches 24 episodes of ALIAS in a row to chill. Me, I FORCE myself to be ‘creative.’ And because I’m generally good at what I do, it comes out fine. Not knock your socks off stupendous, not awful, not even average, just fine. But it feels like dragging my brain through a cheese grater and I go to bed mad that my Ne-brain was lazy as hell today. Like, it’s supposed to be AMAZING all the time!!! What’s up with this?!

Ne-dom Bored-as-Hell: generally, this happens when your life is stagnant, or you are stuck on the same god-awful project for weeks, or your friends have not spoken to you in days, and you are so bored you can hardly stand it, but NOTHING appeals to you. You crave something, but don’t know what it is. You drag yourself through the work / school day like a fish on dry land, you scope the depths of depression, you maybe force yourself to do stuff, but it’s a clear indication that your Ne is STARVING TO DEATH. You must feed it. How? That’s up to you. Get in the car and drive. Go hang out with someone. Start learning something new. Read a book that you know you’ll hate, and blow your own mind by loving it. Try something totally, radically different.

Don’t be like me, and dye your hair purple and cut into a punk rock style. Although, God knows I looked adorable.

Ne-dom Work-a-Holic: also known as tunnel vision, also known as inferior Si grip, also known as the perfect way to make yourself exhausted at the end of the day. Picture a nice normal Ne being a freight train barreling through a tunnel at 976 miles per hour. Now picture a peasant maiden (or peasant lad, if that’s you’re thing) running out onto the tracks, and holding it in place for about 15 hours. It grinds to a halt, its wheels start to smoke, and the peasant maiden/lad is inching forward at, oh, about 6 miles per hour. Fast by her standards, slow by yours. Now imagine that’s what happens to your Ne, when you develop tunnel vision. All that power, going nowhere fast. Imagine the tremendous energy that just ground to a halt. The creeping subconscious despair of the engineer. You are both the peasant maiden/lad and the freight train. See the problem? You are ripping yourself apart. How’s that peasant maiden/lad going to feel at the end of the day?

Yup. Exhausted.

Now, what if that peasant maiden does this day after day for about a week?

Exhausted. Mental exhaustion, from holding back the train, forcing Ne to stay on one topic, or focus on “boring” things for days on end. Where’s the fun? Where’s the zany? Where’s the sarcasm and jokes and random connections? Hello, inferior Si. Obsessive compulsive, aren’t you? Fixated. BAD.

How to Train Your Ne:

1) Give yourself permission to stick to one idea for awhile.

I get it. You will have thousands of great ideas in a single lifetime, or maybe even a week. If you follow all of them right now, you will never finish anything. Do what I do: think about them, ponder them, don’t let them get too developed, and write down the ones you want to hold onto, put them in a jar, and… walk away with the biggest, shiniest, most exciting idea you just had. The others will keep. Let them stew in their juices. Focus on THIS IDEA.

2) Reward yourself for finishing things.

If you want to accomplish something, give your Ne what it wants – a challenge, and a reward. I used to motivate myself through “boring” tasks by setting time deadlines and writing like a bat out of hell, or dividing the task up into separate shorter parts that I can cross off after I do them. That shows me I am making progress. Right now, I’m sitting next to a half-crossed-off list of chapters in my book, which I am proof-reading / editing. Each time a pink line goes through someone’s name, I know I’m THIS MUCH CLOSER to finishing. THIS MUCH CLOSER to starting a NEW project. THIS MUCH CLOSER TO THAT PIECE OF CHOCOLATE I PROMISED MYSELF.

Ahem.

3) Accept that you cannot be at 110% all the time.

This may be hard for you to hear, but you’re a normal human being. You need sleep. You need rest. You need food. You need days off, and dates, and to go places, and be with people, and do things other than your job or your school or writing or whatever it is that occupies 90% of your time. Those normal things that a sensor can do without much fuss, wear you out. Tedious details wear you out. Planning wears you out. Keeping track of things wears you out. The temptation when this happens is to under-estimate what you, as a low Si, needs – which is a break. You tend to way overestimate what you can do in a single week, and sometimes you get way too much on your plate… so, if you know about things in advance that are going to “drain” your Ne, because it requires other, lower functions to be heavily used in your stack, plan to limit your interaction with those functions in excess of your responsibilities.

In other words, if you (me) have to do a bunch of tedious line-editing at work, it is not a good idea for me to come home and do… a bunch of tedious line-editing on my novel at the same time. That’s all Te/Si stuff.

Ne-stuff is… new ideas, new people, new philosophies, reading things that excite your mind and imagination and help you see things in a different way, or watching something new, or going somewhere where you can just be yourself. Your Ne cannot run on full power all the time, especially when you’re trying to hold back the freight train – so give yourself permission to take time off.

4) Pace yourself.

This piggybacks on the above, but as a Ne-dom, you way over-estimate how much you can do physically. Things like going places, driving for hours, being in crowds, walking long distances, etc., are tiring to someone with minimal sensing. Ne-doms need down time, to process their experiences. You are an introverted extrovert. Remember that, and give yourself down time. Try not to be out and about 24/7. But don’t stay home all the time either. That’s a cesspool of Ne-draining boredom waiting to happen.

5) Either do it right now or write it down.

My usual pattern is: get a good thought about 10pm. Then springboard into another idea. Then zip over that way for more ideas. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, telling myself to go to sleep, while thinking about everything I should talk about, investigate, or do in the morning. By morning, of course, either the ideas are all gone or I have lost any motivation to do them. Some of my best work is from dropping everything and doing it RIGHT NOW. Strike while the iron is hot, my dander is up, whatever. Some of my best short stories or articles came from getting up at 5am and pounding the keyboard. So, do it NOW… or write it down. If you write it down, you won’t have to try and remember it (also a chore for Ne).

The best things you can do for your Ne are the following:

  • Accept that this is who I am, and it’s okay.
  • Realize that mundane or tedious tasks drain your Ne
  • Let your mind wander
  • Give yourself permission to fantasize
  • Reward periods of the mundane with fun activities
  • Never let a week go by without planning something ‘fun’
  • Stimulate yourself with constant NEW things (books, movies, music)
  • Read a wide variety of things on a continual basis
  • Give yourself challenges and deadlines to beat
  • Make sure they are SHORT-TERM (you cannot stay too long)
  • Always have something in the immediate future to look forward to

Hope that helps.

(This week on tumblr has been DULL. Is it just me or is it dead?! Thank God for a new Doctor Who tomorrow! I need me some NEW Capaldi + Bill Potts. I totally want to be her best friend and hang out in space and eat blue cubes together.)

- ENFP Mod

Harass my daughter on Minecraft? You can't hide from me.

So, my daughter, who was about 8 at the time, was REALLY into Minecraft (as most kids are these days). Also desperately wanting to join the Youtube/Let’s Play culture, I had installed some screen recording software that would let her make videos of the games she was playing so she could later upload them to Youtube.

Anyways, one day I’m minding my own business when I hear her quietly sniffling over on the computer. I asked her what was wrong, but she didn’t want to tell me so I let it go, but decided to keep on eye on her. A few minutes later I discovered what was happening; someone was harassing not only her, but also all the other kids playing on whatever server she was on. This kid (we’ll call him Little Sh*thead, or LS) was saying sh*t about how he was going to rape my 8 year old daughter (she told him how old she was hoping he would stop), how he was going to hack into her IP and steal all her info, swearing profusely (remember, this is a game for kids), etc etc. By this time I had gotten my fiance involved, and she was also obviously quite upset at what a little sh*t this kid was being. We realized that our daughter had been recording the entire incident, and a plan began to form.

I started by googling LS’s username. There were several hits immediately, the most interesting of which involved a page where he was publicly applying to be a mod for a server on Minecraft. I was able to learn a lot about this little POS: he claimed to be 15, likes hockey, used to live in Toronto but now lives in Florida. But the bombshell was easily his skype contact info; it was literally firstname.lastname. I know your name now, you little sh*t.

So I head over to Facebook and search for the name. Nothing. Hmmmm. On a hunch I searched for just the last name, while narrowing my results to only the state of Florida. Several dozen hits. Hmmm. So I have to start combing through each one, until I find what I was looking for: a middle aged man with the same last name, whose profile indicates he was born in Toronto and now lives in Florida. I FOUND YOUR DAD, YOU LITTLE SH*T.

So I sent him a message on Facebook, asking if he had a son named firstname who goes by his username on Minecraft. Dad confirmed I had the right guy. So my wife begins telling the dad everything that LS was saying to my daughter, and we sent him the recorded video as proof. Radio silence for a few days.

Then we got the message back: LS had his computer taken away from him for the entire summer, and had also been lying about his age (he was only 11, I think). His parents were f*cking livid with him, and he surely hated the next few months of his life.

No one f*cks with my daughter.

100 Prompts That Will Make You Cry: Part 1

Unfortunately, my amigos, we managed to come up with 100 prompts. Here’s part 1:

  1. You’re a ghost haunting your own funeral. You see that nobody showed up.
  2. What are these strangers doing in your house? You’re confused and angry, it’s been a week and it seems like they’re not leaving, they’re not even paying attention to you. You’re the ghost haunting your house without knowing it.
  3. A single man and dog run the Iditarod only to show up with the medicine for his daughter too late. This is his story.
  4. You fight for a noble cause. You complete all the necessary steps. You reach the top of the world doing good deeds to improve peoples lives. It’s your first day of retirement and you watch your hard work comes undone before your eyes.
  5. “You can’t understand how it is to feel this worthless. I just want it all to go away! I want it all to STOP!”
  6. Despite everything they did, everything they went through. It was made clear that their attempts were pointless, as they were too late to save them.
  7. The only thing left for you to do was to leave forever
  8. You didn’t visit your parent figure in hospital the day before they passed away because you wanted to finish your homework. Less than 24 hours later, you get a message from your sibling. “They passed away this morning.”
  9. No matter how hard you try, they just laugh at you. You are a joke, a game, you don’t matter. You’ve had enough.
  10. “Robert, you can’t just leave! There are fifty kids waiting for you! You promised you’d get us out alive. You told them so!” “No, darling, I promised I’d get us out alive. Us, being me and my 500 grand. Thanks for your help, by the way. Sorry about the boiled alive thing. Chao!”
  11. Why did you leave me? It’s been 15 years. Why did you leave? I can’t just accept the fact that you showed up on my doorstep expecting an apology. I have a family now. And I can’t let you pull me into your problems.
  12. Your school, company, or organisation has required you to go to therapy for a potentially traumatic incident. This is the session when you decide to tell the story of becoming estranged from your last living relative.
  13. You can only watch the live news helplessly as, thousands of miles away, an tsunami happens in the country your best friend happens to be visiting
  14. “My head is full of you but my arms are empty.”
  15. Best Friends Forever", we used to say. But now we aren’t even talking anymore. When I see them anywhere, another person is by their side, a new best friend. And I, I am all alone.
  16. Person A shares something that no one knew about them and it is very personal and then they get outcasted by their family and person B is the only one to support them as they cry.
  17. The fire was pretty, swirling in shades of blue and green and purple, if you could ignore the fact it was destroying the planet.
  18. A crying child in the hospital bed looks to you for answers. She wants to know where her mommy is. You have no answer.
  19. “I cannot take it anymore, Sam. You don’t tell me anything, you’ve been disappearing for hours, you have phone calls you don’t want me to hear, and now you forgot our anniversary. I’m done being patient. I have packed my things, you can keep the car and the house. Goodbye.” A small box fell out of his fingers, and a ring with a diamond shining merrily on the band rolled away, as the phone stopped playing out the voicemail.
  20. You unlock your phone, and, ignoring the shaking of your hand, answer the call. “Hey” you say, not even trying to compress the wound, too far gone as you already are, “no, i’m fine. I’ll be with you in a minute or two…”
  21. I knew it would be there, I saved for this special occasion. It was my deserved reward after a shitty day and it was gone. The cupcake was gone.
  22. it was finally summer, his favorite season. He sat up in his bed and told you all about what he did last year. He rode his bike everywhere, he played so many games with his friends, he swam in the town park pool… you were the doctor, and you had come in to bring his parents out of the room to talk to them about how the cancer had spread unexpectedly.
  23. You’ve just had an unpleasant lunch with your family and one of your siblings has just told you that you’ve been horrible the entire meal. What now?
  24. Your mom starts crying
  25. you walk down the street and you see a familiar face. Your heart starts beating faster and you speed up, because Gosh, you haven’t seen them in the longest time, but then as you are about to reach them and scream their name, you suddenly stop because remember that it can’t be them because you’re now on the other side of the world, and you left the person you love far away….
  26. It’s your grandfather’ funeral. The place is packed, he was loved by so many. Then, a small child puts a cup of coffee by his ashes.. (“Have this grandpa, it’s time to wake up”)
  27. The person you love has to be killed in order to save other people. Their death guarantees the others’ safety and it is the right thing to do, and they want to do it, but you have to kill them. So you do.
  28. you have the power to bring back the dead. You quickly realize that this comes with draw-backs since certain parts of them stay dead. someone close to you had an accident and this is the most difficult decision of your life.
  29. the smallest coffins are the heaviest.
  30. Her answer is to gently cup your face with trembling hands. Her smile is gentle and so, so sad. Her breathy whisper reaches your ears, “because love is watching someone die,” and shatters your world.
  31. It had always been her. From the first day you saw her, you knew that she was the one, the one you wanted to spend your entire life with. Day by day, that future became a little more solid, a little more opaque. Until you watched it shrivel, collapse and die when strangers pulled a frail, familiar body out of the wreck.
  32. you wake up to silence, except for the sound of quiet sobbing and a set of packed suitcases in the hall.
  33. “I’m going to… take a nap… just for a minute. I’ll be… right back.” He lies down just where he sat. “Could you… hold my hand?”, he asks of her. She moves carefully around the table, as not to disrupt the game that they will certainly continue. He rests his head on her knees. “Are you there?”, he asks. “Yes, I’m here.” He holds her hand tighter. “Are you there?”, he asks, slowly his voice getting quieter and weaker….
  34. You and your family were in a car crash. You think you’ve survived but in the hospital you found you’ve died and you watch your parents, your SO, your children and your friends mourn. You don’t leave earth. You remain there watching over your loved ones, but when they die, they don’t join you. You are by yourself forever.
  35. Driving home, you hit something. Getting out, you realize it’s your pet who went missing a few months ago
  36. Using the word ‘almost’ is the most melancholic way to describe an upsetting moment. She almost got there in time. He almost caught her. She almost told her. They almost made it.
  37. You realise animals no longer acknowledge your existence. They can’t seem to see or hear you. Your best friend is your dog.
  38. “I’ll never be perfect in my parents’ eyes no matter what I do.”
  39. When you were 7, you were kidnapped when for 15 years. At the age of 22, you are finally rescued. Write about your time held in captivity and what it was like when you were saved.
  40. Time and time again, the prompt guy refuses my Danny DeVito suggestions
  41. “You’re the worst teacher I ever had, but I don’t want you to leave, because you were also the best, in a way.”
  42. after always feeling like you were never wanted around, someone decided to tell you how you felt is exactly right. and now you have a fire in your heart you’ve decided to do something about it.
  43. He was supposed to protect me. Instead he became the one I needed protection from.
  44. “We’ll be finally be able to be together. Just one more year. Then we can finally be happy.” That was the last thing you said to your lover before going back off to war. Now you find yourself in an empty house, holding one last letter addressed to you and the memories of a lifetime of unfulfilled promises.
  45. I’m not sure which was worse: keeping it a secret for so many years, or the look on my mom’s face when I told her.
  46. you moved in a new town a few months ago. One of your friend tells you that he heard your best friend say “There’s no point staying in touch, we won’t see each other ever again.”
  47. “I’m sorry sir, but we’re all out of chicken nuggets.”
  48. You are a stray dog. Your master lost you 3 years ago. You go on an epic and heart-filled journey to find your master, not knowing that they are already dead.
  49. It was the first time your parents said the word proud in relation to you, but you could just feel that was nothing more than a backhanded compliment. It only made you feel terrible.
  50. After five years, they were finally back together. But time had torn them apart and as much as they tried, they were unable to love each other again.
  51. The dark and dreary realisation finally hit you: You’re the one in the coffin. This is your funeral. All these people are upset and crying over you.
  52. The war had been ravaging the country for years. You fought for your country, you shed your blood, you did your part. And yet a mistake is going to be your undoing. Write your last letter before your execution to a daughter you will never come back to.
  53. Your siblings played a game with you, it was called “Who can ignore you the most”. But it’s okay, you knew they love you, because there was still food on the table, and bedtime was still shared in the same room. It’s been years, you’re in the worst time of your life now, and you feel the need to reach out for help. You hope the game is over by now.
  54. You’ve been messaging someone online for years now, chatting with them about this and that every so often. They stopped logging on a month ago. You have no way of knowing if they’re okay, and can only watch and wait for a reply.
  55. You read a late familiar’s diary from decades ago. You knew nothing about them before this moment.Their insight in life is what you need to solve your problems, and your insight could have helped save their life.
  56. “I am so tired.” She whispered to him, inches away from jumping of that bridge.
  57. Every time your father leaves for work, you wonder if he’s going to die. You make sure to say “i love you” every day before he goes, but one day you forget…
  58. you’re the last member of your species, your culture, your language. Scientists are around you, waiting for every bit that you can share, for them to document. They don’t care about you. Although you’re surrounded by people, you’re alone.
  59. your idol, a vegetarian, was forcefully fed a hotdog
  60. Write about the small and big sacrifices mothers make for their children.
  61. You are trapped in a “coma” can hear everything around you, including friends and family coming to say goodbye before your life-support is taken away due to lack of insurance. They can’t prove you aren’t brain dead. You can’t say goodbye back.
  62. “The monsters won’t come and hurt me will they daddy?” “As long as I’m around,” he said, giving you a goodnight kiss. “No one will ever hurt you.” “You’ll come home right? Promise?” “I Promise.” But he failed to keep his promise. He never came home and the monsters got you after all.
  63. Tell the story of someone who goes about daily life, well, tries to anyway. It’s hard for them because they had severe depression. Tell of their struggles and trials. But also tell of their successes.
  64. For Sale: Baby Shoes. Never worn.
  65. you’re the last person in the world and you just lost hope for finding anyone else
  66. You went on a great quest with your friends. You slayed monsters together, fended off enemies, and overcame all challenges that came your way. However, your friends perished at the final boss. You’ve just defeated him, and the reality is sinking in.
  67. You are the new Death. The torch has been passed down to you for reasons you don’t know. It is now your job to take the lives of those whose time is up, old or young. Are you prepared to do it? And why were you chosen?
  68. You have become immortal through a game that destroyed your universe. You and and your friends recreated the universe. You remember, they do not. The big bad from the game haunts your dreams.
  69. You wake up and smell something burning. You think someone is making breakfast. You get up to see your house is on fire and you’re the only survivor.
  70. As the crowd around you cheers for your brother’s assassin, you hold him in your arms as you watch his life fade. He was the most hated man in the world, a brutal dictator, a tyrant worse than your father ever was. He was the very kind of man who you hated yourself. Yet you’re crying, looking down upon his smiling face as he watches the crowd and his killer in his final moments, because in the end this was what he promised you. He promised to make a world where no one would have to fight anymore, where there can be peace. And now that the most hated man is dead, there can be.
  71. After a long fulfilling life, you find yourself in the past, at the lowest point of your life. Your family is gone, your friends don’t know who you are, and you’re left with nothing. What do you do?
  72. there’s no pizza in the fridge
  73. You love children and plan to have some one day, until you find out at a doctors appointment that you are infertile…
  74. It’s the effort that counts but it’s the result that’s remembered. Write a story about someone who spent years devoted to their passion but their efforts remain unrecognised, unappreciated because they were ultimately unsuccessful, even after death.
  75. “…you never really loved me, did you.” and the silence said it all
  76. you are a dog going into the vet. You have no idea why your owner is crying. You have no idea that it’s your last visit.
  77. Your parents just told you that they’re getting a divorce.
  78. Your best friend/SO has wronged the gods and has 24 hours to live. You can trade your life for theirs by putting your essence by the mercy of the gods. What do you do?
  79. he spat angrily as he raised what remained of his son “I NEVER LOVED YOU”
  80. write a story where you build up to one character’s death. In the end, that character survives, but another character dies instead.
  81. You are a time traveler, but you never knew it. The only time you successfully did it was when you were a baby, and you’ve grown up a long time away from your original life. One day, you find a shrine… Dedicated to you, by your original family.
  82. You sat across from them at the table, and realized that you had both run out of things to say to each other.
  83. Write a story about an adventurous character who somehow survives all the trouble they get into. These are the memories of an old person, as they remember what they did, with a week of less left before their last breath.
  84. Everyone else had moved on further. You have missed your opportunity to move along with them, and you are the only one left behind in the gray lands. All because of your most annoying habit
  85. “But I rescued you from-” “You killed the dragon! You killed my best friend!”
  86. When you were little, you lost your parents in a house fire. Now, you’ve found out that you have the power to control fire, and are starting to suspect that the fire that killed your parents wasn’t a cooking accident after all..
  87. You spent the past 10 minutes walking back and forth from the lobby to the dance floor in search of them, worrying your ass off. They finally decide to come out and they curse at you for ruining their night.
  88. It was horrible, a pain unbearable to you, the feeling of your soulmate breaking down. The person you once loved, now shattered and scarred from trauma. The worst of part of it, you were helpless. All you could do was sit and watch, but you’d get your revenge. On Death himself.
  89. Your maths teacher gives you a school detention despite the fact that you are 110% innocent of everything you’ve been accused of.   You are forced to stare at a wall for half an hour in silence to think about ‘what you’ve done.’  What happens now?
  90. You confess to your parents about your depression and suicidal thoughts, but they just shrug it off as you being over dramatic. Months later and the sight of your parents still hurts you deep inside, because they never understood you.
  91. You’re in love with your coworker, who’s married and has two kids. He’s quitting job today. He tells you that he loves you.
  92. You’re in a room full of onions.
  93. You’re just about to start your period and you’ve been craving Chinese food all week. You finally get said Chinese food, get home, pull it out of the bag and drop it. You start scream-crying, and your family runs into the room to check on you. What happens next?
  94. Your daughter has been bullied ever since she’s started school due to the fact that you aren’t the richest of families in a pretty nice neighborhood. When she begs you to buy her a doll everybody likes, you know you won’t be able to afford it.
  95. You hide in your room and clutch a pillow, listening to the abusive language your family members through at each other. You hear your youngest sibling being physically abused again, and his screams echo throughout the house.
  96. “We found cancerous tissue. I’m sorry.” “What a way to start my first day of college.” (comment: this actually happened to me, I was diagnosed with cancer my first day of college)
  97. An old man is on his death bed, riddled with dementia.  Volunteering for the elderly with no family left, you visit, but he mistakes you for son or daughter.
  98. I looked in the mirror and realized who was staring back. It was someone I wasn’t content with.
  99. Write a story through the perspective of an abused cat on their 9th life.
  100. Tell a story about a person who never appears in photographs because they were always behind the camera, looking wistfully at everyone’s smiling faces. It is only after they’re long gone that someone finally notices. Old memories are brought up.

I never pranked my parents again after the incident.

by reddit user Eigengraulogy

I was 11 years old when it happened.

As a kid, I knew that something wasn’t quite right with the events that unfolded at the time. Even though it was never brought up again under any circumstances by either one of my parents, it’s something that always stuck with me. I can’t say it’s a memory that I tried to suppress seeing as it was always there at the back of my mind, bothering me like an itch that wouldn’t go away unless properly scratched.

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10

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, celebrated my way aka EVERYONE LOVES YUURI KISSES <3 <3 <3

Super self indulgent but man this made me happy to draw, I hope it makes some of you happy today too ^ ^

Thank you everyone who played my Valentine’s Day Game! The event is now closed, thanks for participating!! <3

ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHRIS, SORRY I DIDN’T MAKE A SEPARATE POST BUT YOU’RE INCLUDED IN THIS BB <3

Explanations/headcanons beneath cut!

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION. More detailed rules available on my Rules & FAQ Post.

The artist also appreciates if ship bashing can be kept out of the comments/tags. Don’t like, just skip <3 Thank you.

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Sangwoo’s Feelings for Yoonbum

This is an analysis of Sangwoo’s feelings and thoughts throughout the chapters and how he developed feelings for Bum. This is basically Sangwoo’s POV of the story. It might answer some of the questions I’ve been seeing around about ‘Why did Sangwoo do this or that?’ and etc.

0. Emptiness

I think it’s very obvious that Sangwoo used to be really really lonely before Bum showed up. As a child he was abused and I think he was very attached to his mother so he lost the only person in his life that he truly loved. Imagine how frustrating it is to always pretend to be someone else. Be happy, smile, laugh, joke and hang out with people you don’t even like. You think they’re flawed, shallow, stupid, ungrateful and have ugly personalities (Sangwoo’s words) but this is the only way he can be with people. He has to wear a mask 24/7 that hides his true personality and I don’t care if he’s horrible, he’s still human. He doesn’t whine about it but he’s been subconsciously suffering. He has so many ‘friends’ and yet he’s completely lonely because nobody accepts him for what he really is. He literally does not have anyone.

Now before you blame his behavior and tendencies, I want to point out that I think Sangwoo has Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD), shows signs of BPD and also he’s a victim of abuse so with those in mind, let’s start:


1. ‘A perverted stalker?’

A guy broke into Sangwoo’s house and when he got caught, he confessed to him, telling him that he’s been in love with him. Sangwoo smiles because ‘people are full of shit’ and say anything to save themselves. Let’s trust his words here and say he didn’t kill Bum because he hadn’t kill a man in 3 years but I also think at that moment he feels like he should keep Bum around. Maybe out of curiosity? He’s not sure why yet. He just knows Bum is a different case. To do that, he breaks Bum’s legs to make sure he won’t leave.


2. ‘Can I be attracted to a man?’

He doesn’t know what to do with this guy. Bum is not loud or annoying, he doesn’t disobey him and is powerless. Sangwoo started to rationalize things for himself and figure out if he can be attracted to Bum, a man, in any way, basically he started exploring,

But still, he doesn’t trust this ‘perverted stalker’ so he is thinking, ‘I’ll provoke him and I’ll have a reason to end his life.’ BUT to his surprise, his plan backfires. Bum likes the abuse (or at least pretends to). Despite mocking Yoonbum, Sangwoo is surprised! He loves what he’s seeing. I believe he never got a reaction like that from anyone before when abusing them. And so he takes another step forward and kisses him, still experimenting.

He likes the kiss. He decides to keep Bum for now. He keeps him in the basement for a week. He hurts Bum by cutting him (punishing him) but still Yoonbum doesn’t push him away. Sangwoo realizes Yoonbum really is not a threat and is powerless which is why he took him upstairs and when Yoonbum begged him not to take him to the basement again, despite rejecting him, he considered it.


3. ‘You will hate me!’ First Test

Sangwoo believed Yoonbum will eventually want to leave him. Because I think he is aware of his own wrong actions to some point at least. Why would anyone want to stay with him after everything that happened, right? But the big improvement was that he wasn’t planning to kill him anymore. Why? I believe this is where the feelings started to develop. When he sees his mother (the only person he loved), in Yoonbum. Although he can separate these two people very well in reality.

Yoonbum said ‘I love you!’ AGAIN even after everything and Sangwoo is once again surprised! He slowly starts to trust this person’s feelings. He even gives him a knife but… not because he trusts Bum. That’s a test. I’m not sure if this translation is right but I believe that’s what he means by ‘I have something I want to confirm too’. He’s testing Yoonbum’s loyalty. He wants to know if Bum really means it when he says he loves him.

After that the real abuse starts and I believe he’s copying his father’s behavior while Yoonbum is ‘the mom’. He makes him do house chores, beats him up, etc… Meanwhile he enjoys abusing him and is waiting for an excuse to hurt him badly because he’s not emotionally attached to him yet. He doesn’t care. But Yoonbum is always obedient and finally… Sangwoo lets Yoonbum sit at the table with him because he wonders why Yoonbum is so nice to him, always smiling and listening to him and even made him a really nice dinner. He suspects him and it happens to be the same night Yoonbum uses the rat poison. For whatever reason, the poison doesn’t work on Sangwoo and Yoonbum passes the first test!


4. ‘He really loves me?’

When Yoonbum got sick, is where we can see Sangwoo’s emotions to some point. Sangwoo picked him up and took him to the basement but he looked at Bum and actually felt sorry for him (or maybe he just couldn’t see him as a threat. Either way) He went back up and laid him down on his own mattress. He took care of him and told him to rest. You can see him sitting beside him and staring at him in silence and I love this panel so much because you can see Sangwoo caring. can’t help but feel like he’s worrying for his sick bunny xD His emotions aren’t strong but he doesn’t want to lose Bum.

I think the question Yoonbum asked (whether he really meant it or not) made Sangwoo happy a bit. Chapter 5 is where he finally feels attached to Yoonbum and shows him affection. They started exchanging stories. Sangwoo was actually interested to know about his story, although he was a bit disappointed, saying that it’s ‘boring’ and that he hates weak people like Yoonbum who self pity. “Stop going on about how lonely you are. I hate that shit.” Why? Because Sangwoo is not the type that stay sad and depressed over their misfortunes. He’s the type that wants to get stronger to beat whatever and whoever is in his way. But in a way he thinks Yoonbum is like him. He started comparing himself with Yoonbum which is a big improvement. He told him how Yoonbum made things easier for him. “Why? How? I looked for a reason. And then I saw you.” He told Bum he was glad they were together and Yoonbum’s love made him feel stronger which I believe means Yoonbum’s love and obedience gives him confidence. And by kissing Bum’s wrist he implied that the love can be mutual.
Although he still doesn’t fully trust him (which is probably why he also refused the bj) but he was letting himself believe that Bum’s love for him was real. He’s happy to see someone is still in love with him even after everything that happened and after he saw Sangwoo’s true personality. He has someone now that knows his darkest secrets and still wants him for what he really is.


5. ‘Almost there…’ Second Test

Everything seems to be going well after that. Sangwoo was kind and affectionate towards Yoonbum. He took care of him and joked around. Although I’d like to think he was being too nice on purpose and not really himself and that’s because the second test was coming. He wanted Bum to feel he’d lowered his guards. He reminded Bum not to cross the line then left the house and Bum fails the second test.


6. ‘Don’t be pathetic.’ First Lesson

Even though he was hoping Yoonbum won’t come out, he expected it (considering he had the basement ready for him). He does not trust Bum at all and I think he was trying to kill Bum until he saw him calling his name even in his last moments so that changed his mind. It’s as if you want to let go of someone you like but they keep coming back to you so you can’t make the right decision. He wants Yoonbum. He wants someone to love him and he knows he probably won’t ever find anyone like that again. He was disappointed in Yoonbum SO he decided to make him better! Stronger! Like himself. So after punishing him, first he decided to show him how pathetic he is. He found a guy for Bum to kill (’for practice’), meanwhile insulting both of them to show Bum how 'bad’ it is to be weak.

Sangwoo still cares about him and makes sure Yoonbum knows that. The sick little mind games he played, were only because he enjoys seeing Bum relying on him and trusting him blindly. As I said before, it gives him confidence and makes him feel stronger.

This first murder happened. It was supposedly to make Bum stronger, show him how it feels to kill and… the most important part, help Yoonbum understand Sangwoo and be closer to him (spiritually!?) so they can be together.


7. ‘He left me too! I won’t forgive him!’ The Breakdown

Fear of abandonment. I already wrote a long post and talked about Sangwoo’s fear of abandonment here. The panic that happens after he thinks he’s been abandoned and the roller coaster of emotions. Rage, Fear, Worry, Sadness. He feels betrayed. He goes mad … and I have one thing to add to it all. I think that might’ve been how he felt when his mother ‘left him’ AKA died considering the flashbacks. (I’m not sure if this person is his mother though. She might have been a replacement?) I don’t know if Sangwoo killed her or something else happened but we can be sure that he loves and wants Yoonbum equally.

When he finds Yoonbum… he realizes how valuable he is to him and so he finally decides, “Let’s stay together… forever…”


8. ‘See how disgusting people are’

I’m going to skip a bit to where Sangwoo introduces Yoonbum to his ‘friends’. I think this is all to let Yoonbum get bullied, emotionally hurt, to build up some anger in him and provoke him. To remind him this is how people will treat you if you let them. Sangwoo already knows Yoonbum has been bullied and hurt a lot in his life because in a way he can relate to him. They are the same people. They were both hurt and abused and they have the right to punish these disgusting people. And this is all for Yoonbum and for the both of them. Sangwoo is pulling him up to his level or at least close so that they can be together. Jieun was a gift to Yoonbum and Sangwoo was happy to see Yoonbum accepted that gift.



I tried to keep this as short as possible. I think I understand Sangwoo well and I believe this is also the reason why he kills… but still these are only my thoughts and how I see everything. So they might not be 100% true. Koogi might have more surprises for her readers. But still, I love this character a lot and I can’t wait to see and know more about him and his past. Also I kind of fast forwarded the last chapter because there are so many posts about it already.

Marco is a Trans Girl - The Megapost 2.0

So you’ve likely seen my big post on the theory that Marco Diaz from Star vs The Forces of Evil is a Trans Girl. It was made back in July of 2016 when Season 2 was just starting, and since then a lot of things have changed and we now know a lot more about what’s going on behind the scenes.

This post is meant to be an updated explanation of Trans Girl Marco theory, but now more in line with how things are actually happening. The gist of it being that Marco Diaz is coded as a closeted transgender girl.  Expect less theorizing and more meta talk. I’ll be going over all the clues that indicate Marco is trans, as well as how the starcrew came to the desicion as Marco developed as a character.

I can’t give enough thanks to the members of the crew such as @arythusa and @hug-bees​, whom have both done as much as they possibly can to communicate with the show’s growing LGBT fanbase, and given us so much insight into what’s going on

Full post below the cut.

Keep reading

A Personal Connection

Author: @sebastianstandoffish

Pairing: Reader (She/Her) x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Bucky may or may not have a crush on Steve’s PA.

Word Count: 5,551

Category: Fluff/Very light smut

Warnings: Cursing (per usual), some smutty stuff but not all that explicit, etc.

A/N: A whole month! Time really flies. This was going to include more explicit smut scenes in it, but, after some deliberation, I’ve decided to put that into a separate work. It’ll be a continuation of this with actual smut in it. Hopefully the separation doesn’t disrupt too much and also allows readers that a) don’t enjoy reading explicit smut and b) don’t connect with an explicitly biologically female reader can still enjoy the story. Thank you for reading and understanding!


She had started out as a way to appease Tony, who had insisted that Steve needed a personal assistant. Stark blathered on and on about how much his life had changed after getting a PA and how maybe a little help with coordinating and the day to day tasks would “remove the stick from that star-spangled ass.”  

So, Steve had caved and asked Pepper to set up a couple of interviews with people interested in the job. After a parade of ecstatic fans and sexual propositions, he was just about ready to give up.

Instead, at the end of a very long day of being ogled and fawned over, (Y/N) had appeared with a rose-scented resume and two popsicles she’d bought from the street-vendor outside the Tower. Her smile was sweet and her eyes kind, a little wide at the opulence of the Stark equipment, but not predatory like the previous applicants.

Keep reading

House Rules (M)

Originally posted by nnochu

Summary: Frustration over recent political changes sets you off, and your loving husband helps you see the error of your ways.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 7,492

Warning: Dom!Yoongi, husband/wife relationship, teasing, punishment, edging, ass play, dirty talk, political themes

A/N: I could probably add more warnings. Rest assured, this is not vanilla. Enjoy!

Keep reading

Every year the Russian Team does a bar crawl. It’s a tradition now. They all have T-shirts that have Yakov’s face on the front (Above the word Фелстман bolded and underlined) and, on the back, a skater’s name in large bolded font below an alphabetized list of every skater Yakov’s ever had in much smaller text. They get new T-shirts every time someone new is added to the roster, so usually every year or two.

They change the T-shirts to include Yuuri, and also to change Viktor’s name to his married name. Yuuri has no idea that this is even a thing until he walks into the rink one morning to see Yuri skating around with a pile of bright purple T-shirts in his arms.

“Yo, Katsudon,” Yuri mutters when he gets to him, flipping through shirts distractedly. He’s almost a normal person this early in the morning, before the vitriol has settled into his bones for the day. “So your stupid husband didn’t tell us what size you are, but you wear his clothes all the time anyway and since you have the same last name it was just less complicated to order two of the same size. Here.” He drops them so quickly that Yuuri almost overbalances to catch them. He’s halfway across the rink by the time Yuuri straightens back up, making his way towards one of the Juniors who Yuuri thinks might be named Katya. 

“Ooh, the shirts came in,” Viktor says happily when he catches up. He takes one and holds it up to the light. The picture of Yakov on the front is…not exactly flattering. “Wow! They look even better than last year! Purple is a much better color than green.”

“What am I looking at?” Yuuri demands, staring dumbfounded at his own T-shirt.

“Yakov, of course,” Viktor says happily. He flips the shirt around. Yuuri startles at the giant, bold Кацуки-Никифоров on the back. Viktor scans the smaller text (Which is, weirdly enough, in the shape of a skating boot) and says, “Ah, here you are.” Yuuri leans over.

“Yeah, that’s…definitely my name,” Yuuri says, brows furrowing. Юрий Кацуки-Никифоров. It is, of course, right next to Виктор Кацуки-Никифоров. He’s familiar enough with the other skaters’ names to realize that the small text is Yakov’s roster. “Um, why though?” 

“I’m not sure!” Viktor says happily. “I came here after it started! I’ll go put these in our lockers. Start warming up please, Kitten!”

Viktor skates away. Yakov’s face seems to wink at him, over and over again, from where Viktor is clutching the shirts by his hip.

“After WHAT started?” Yuuri demands to the room at large. Nobody answers him.

Viktor eventually does explain what they are for, the afternoon before the bar crawl itself. He also shows Yuuri the dozen past bar crawl shirts he owns. The passage of time is indicated by the growing shirt sizes and Yakov’s hairline. Yakov had almost a full head of hair when Viktor first joined the roster.

“Does Yakov know about this?” Yuuri mutters, staring at the shirts in awe. 

“Oh, I’m sure he does,” Viktor says. “Lilia makes the shirt orders for us. It’s the only reason she’s not on the shirt too, honestly.”

Every single day, Yuuri is more and more amazed that Yakov Feltsman has not taken to the Siberian wilderness to live in seclusion and blessed silence. 

Don't take my waffles.

I will keep this brief to avoid boring you, and also because whenever this site reloads, which has happened several times now, I have to type this story all over again.

Back in high school, I HAD to leave for school really early in order to avoid being late. I may seem obsessive to you, but believe me, you would be too if you were in my situation. I had physics as the first class of the day, and the professor was REALLY strict. How strict, you might ask? Very strict.

Because of this, I had to make my breakfasts the day before I would eat them so that I could arrive at school on time. One of the things I preferred to make was waffles.

In the first half of the semester, my best friend’s cousin, who we shall call Phil, moved in with me. At first, I thought he was a great guy. We shared a lot of interests, like gaming and sports.

Two months later, everything changed. I woke up one morning, smiling at the thought of waffles with maple syrup, and hummed a tune as I completed my morning routine (the part before breakfast). I twirled downstairs and opened the fridge and gracefully lifted the container of waffles off the refrigerator racks only to find it…empty. My heart sank as I realized I would not have time to make anything else.

I grabbed a few granola bars (which I fortunately had bought the day before) and thought about the disappearance of my waffles. Sure, this may seem tiny and unimportant, but I needed my waffles in the mornings. They were my breakfast, and gave me the energy I needed to start the day. Sure, I had other foods, but granola bars and crackers just weren’t enough.

Just then, Phil walked in. “Do you know what could have happened to my waffles?” I asked him, holding up the empty container.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, “I ate those because I ran out of cereal and had nothing else to eat.”

“Nothing else?” I said, raising my voice, “Nothing else? Did it occur to you that we had, let’s see, granola bars? And that the waffles were MY breakfast that I make EVERY DAY?

“Sorry.” He said. “At least they were delicious.” I finished my granola bars and stomped off, deciding to let it slide because this had never happened before.

Until it happened the next day. And the next. When I confronted Phil about this, as he obviously had bought cereal at the store, he apologized, saying that the waffles were just really delicious and he couldn’t resist them. This happened for weeks, and no matter how hard I tried, he wouldn’t stop. He would wake up earlier than I did if I was planning to do the same to him. Even if I hid my waffles, he would find them.

Then one day, I decided I had had enough. When I baked my waffles, I added…vinegar. And hot sauce. Lots of vinegar and hot sauce. I woke up to Phil’s angry shouts. He ran into my room, shouting, “What the did you put in those ing waffles?”

I tried not to smirk as I calmly replied, “Oh, just some stuff that I like.”

“Why the would you put that in there?” He screamed.

I couldn’t hide my smile as I said, “Because last time I checked, I was making these waffles for my breakfast, not yours, and I can put whatever I want in my breakfast. Let this be a lesson to you, Phil (This isn’t his real name, as you already know, so I didn’t call him Phil). My waffles, my rules. Don’t mess with me or my waffles ever. Again. Because you won’t like me when I don’t have my waffles, as you found out today.”

He never stole my waffles again.

YOI Fan Rec Friday

(21/4/17)

Thank you all for your requests this week! I’m really sorry this is up so late, my wifi shut off and I had some personal things that were happening!

Rec’d by anonymous:
Yu-topia Gentleman’s Club by Aradellia (CurtusPatronus), Teen, 45k (WIP)
Victor hadn’t exactly wanted the end of his long training day to finish at the bottom of a glass alongside his friend Chris, however he hadn’t expected Chris to drag him to a strip club, of all places. Of course, he also hadn’t expected to be introduced to one of the most alluring and blinding dancers he had ever seen in his life.

Rec’d by anonymous:
Comfort Food by youaremarvelous, Mature, 20k (WIP)
Viktor is a wildly popular male model who is in crisis over aging out of the industry. He runs into Yuuri, an international university student struggling to make friends in the big city, and decides to make him his pet project. Unfortunately, matchmaking isn’t as easy as he thought it would be—especially when he starts developing complicated feelings for his client.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @wombatcuddles :
Forgetting by pushpullds, Mature, 1.7k
Oh, he thinks, surprised. I’m married.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
come get you some of that bounce baby by crossroadswrite, Teen, 3.8k
in which they’re happily married, coaching Russia’s and Japan’s next great skaters, and Victor Nikiforov remains the clingiest, thirstiest man on the face of this planet.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous and anonymous:
Katsuki Yuuri: Ascended Fanboy by Defiant-Dreams (baterina_1234), Teen, 8.9k
“And wow, that was a beautiful Viktor—I mean, a beautiful Quad Flip by Viktor.” Yuuri visibly winces and he momentarily covers his face. Morooka glances at him in concern but Yuuri shrugs it off quickly and shakes his head as he continues, “Really, others try to do it, but no one does a Quad Flip quite as well or quite as clean as Viktor—if they even manage to land it.” 

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Sing for me by siberianchan, Teen, 45k (WIP)
It is 1848, it is Opera and Yuuri Katsuki has just arrived from his former home Milan in Dresden to work as a chorus singer at the Semperoper. Starting over in a new country, surrounded by strangers is taxing, especially when the lead tenor is acting so contractionary towards you and when your own anxiety constantly has you on your toes.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Correspondence by Watermelonsmellinfellon, Mature, 36k (WIP)
Victor Nikiforov agreeing to partner with Penned Pals for a season, had to be the best decision of his and Katsuki Yuuri’s lives. It brought them together after all.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
The Prince and the Pharmacist by Victuuri gives me feelings (Help_Im_Shipper_Trash), Teen, 1.3k (WIP)
When ordinary pharmacist Yuuri Katsuki is ordered by crowned Prince Cristophe Giacometti to be his escort, Yuuri panics and decides his only hope is to flee the country. On the run, he stumbles across a kind, silver haired stranger. Victor Nikiforov is instantly fascinated with the young pharmacist, and wants nothing more than to help. His two attendants, Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin, are less than thrilled.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
in a snap of your fingers by silencedmockingjay, Gen, 3.8k
“I’m mad, okay?!” A flash of anger lights up Viktor’s face, eyes narrowed, eyebrows in a v-shape, mouth turned downwards. And then his hand comes up and slaps Yuuri’s hand away.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @bluelup28 :
The Skater and The Beast by Charlie_R_Everitt, Gen, 17k (WIP)
Yuuri was cursed years ago to a grisly form and has hidden himself a way from the world. Yet, every year for the past couple of years, something has caught his eye. A beautiful young skater, skating on a near by lake by the village near his castle… “Yuuri, you should have faith!” “Pitchit, who could ever learn to love a beast?” AU with elements from Beauty and the Beast.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
All Eyes on Me by Kizuna_Auri, Explicit, 45k (WIP) (Omegaverse)
Yuuri, under the username of Eros, is a size queen omega who most certainly does not have an obsession with fellow camboy and legendary silver-haired alpha Aria. Just like Phichit is not the most meddlesome roommate known to man.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
One of those nights by justmeandmysillystuff, Mature, 102k (WIP)
One of those nights, Yuuri meets him by accident. One of those weeks, he gets into his life. One of those months, he realizes he may be falling in love. One of those years, becomes the best of his life.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
My Hero, Yuuri by Abarero, Teen, 57k (WIP)
At the age of 23, Yuuri Katsuki is certain he’s just a dime-a-dozen hero that will never make a difference. Little does he know that the moment his path crosses with legendary hero, Victor Nikiforov, both of their lives will begin to change for the better.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
This Night is Flawless by flowercrownyuri (elevensong), Teen, 5k
Prince Yuuri can’t see anything without his glasses. It normally isn’t an issue, but when Yuuri goes to the royal ball without them he can’t see the man who captures his attention that night and can only remember him by his voice. Determined to find the ‘mystery man’, Yuuri goes through the entire town in hopes of finding the one who won his affections. But what happens when said mystery man turns out to be a beautiful guy named Victor, and why is he acting like they met before last night?

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Lost souls by EurusLex, Explicit, 5.7k (WIP)
What the fuck was happening? His brain did not want to wrap around whatever was going on—maybe it was because had just woken up from a deep sleep or maybe it was the sheer terror pumping through his body—but no matter what it was, he really wanted to calm down so he could hear himself think.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @fullmetalkarneval13 :
Stay Close to Me: A Highschool Love Story. by FullmetalKarneval13, Mature, 19k (WIP)
Viktor was Yuuri’s light, his safe place when he didn’t have one. But in middle school when Viktor had to move away. Yuuri drowned in the abyss of bullies and anxiety. Now years later Yuuri is a senior in highschool. He sees something that crushes and opens his heart at the same time.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Amnesia by cerisebio, Gen, 19k
Victor wakes up in a hospital room. At his bedside is a Japanese skater he came across at the Sochi Grand Prix Final.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Lessons in Love by fangirlandiknowit, Mature, 38k (WIP)
All Viktor wants is for his son to be happy - and if that means spending countless hours at the ice rink, a million more in the ballet studio, and devotedly cheering for Katsuki Yuuri at every competition he enters, then that is precisely what he’ll do. He just didn’t expect to become a fan, too.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @osnapitzhanaa :
never tasted rubies by ebenroot, Teen, 16k
in which Yuuri is an unwilling radio host and Victor won’t stop calling in to chat with him

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
I’ll be your Tramp if you be my Lady by DairyFarmer, Teen, 5.1k
“You are so sad.” Yuri grumbled as Viktor sighed longingly in the direction of Makkachin and Duchess’s groomer, who also happened to be an angel named Yuuri Katsuki. In which Yuuri is a pet groomer and Viktor falls in love.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Sweetsilversub by phlintandsteel, Explicit, 71k
When Katsuki Yuuri thinks about his life, he feels like maybe it should have the subtitle 'A Study In Contradictions’ after it. As he grows and learns more about himself though, he decides he’s willing to acknowledge that being a 'Work In Progress’ is ok too. Even if he struggles with uniting the 'online’ and 'in real life’ portions of himself, at least he’s got friends in both places who are willing to stick by him while he works shit out. And maybe more than friends, if the look in Victor’s eyes is anything to go by… How did this become his life!!?!?

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous and @saecookie :
A Lesson in Wanting by awesometinyhumanbeing, Not Rated, 12k
Victor ties himself into a knot known as Katsuki Yuuri—in more ways than one—and they navigate their way to each other in a series of fits and starts, miscommunication, and Herculean pining.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @flyingsuits-blog-blog:
Take Hold by LavenderProse, Mature, 20k
“I believe…” Yuuri says, pensive. “I believe that when you’re connected to another person so closely that you share a soul, it’s stupid to think that you wouldn’t feel it. How can you not recognize part of yourself when they’re standing right in front of you?”
“That's…I…yes.” Viktor tries to untie his tongue, mouth suddenly arid. “You—I think you would know, yes.”
Yuuri skates onto the ice and Viktor’s soul screams after him, Do you know? Can you see me? I’m here, I’m here.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @snapdragon-princess :
Like a Fairytale by lucycamui, Teen, 73k
In which Prince Victor gets swept off his feet at a royal banquet and will go to any length to find his 'Cinderella’ Yuuri.
(And Phichit is the fairy godmother who has no idea what he’s doing).

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @deadlychildartemis :
A Heart of Blades||Cannot Break by Adel Mortescryche (Mortescryche), Teen, 16k (WIP)
Or the one in which Yuuri decides to try gaming on a whim when he’s thirteen, manages to get his hands on SAO, and has to live with its impact and fallout for the rest of his life.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Thirteen by galaxystoryteller, Teen, 7k (WIP) **Major character death, TW: Suicide
Photos from the Banquet are released, and Yuuri never recovers.
Viktor doesn’t either. 


Thank you for all your recs! ₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎

The amazing “YOI Fan Rec Friday” banner was created by @omgkatsudonplease ! I love them a lot, check out their blog!

Maggie Stiefvater talks 'All the Crooked Saints,' and here's a first look at the cover

Maggie Stiefvater may have concluded the Raven Cycle just last year, but the author already has a new stand-alone YA novel hitting shelves later this year.

The book, titled All the Crooked Saints, takes place in the 1960s in Bicho Raro, Colorado and follows the lives of three members of the Soria family-each of whom is searching for their own miracle. There’s Beatriz, who appears to lack feelings but wants to study her mind; Daniel, the “Saint” of Bicho Raro, a miracle worker for everyone but himself; and Joaquin (a.k.a. Diablo Diablo), who runs a pirate radio station at night.

Adding to the mystery (and magic) of the book is the book’s intriguing cover-which EW is pleased to reveal exclusively below.

“There are owls in the book because owls are a very scientific creature that gets credited with a lot of magical superstitions,” Stiefvater tells EW. “There are roses in the book because roses are a very magical flower that take a lot of science to truly understand. Put that together and well - as the kids say, that’s it. That’s the book.”

With Stiefvater’s latest novel set to hit stores on Oct. 10, EW caught up with the bestselling author to find out more about what’s in store for readers, her process, and of course, her upcoming Ronan Lynch trilogy.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: All three of your characters are looking for a miracle. What do miracles, or the idea of miracles mean to them?
MAGGIE STIEFVATER: Miracles! Miracles! Miracles! This book is full of them. I was taught by nuns for the first dozen years of my life, and so I was raised with a pantheon of peculiar saints: decapitated saints who carried their own severed head through the streets of cities, saints who exorcised demons from the bottoms of milk pails, saints who flew unexpectedly.

The Soria family are saints as well, and the miracle they perform for pilgrims to Bicho Raro is as strange as most miracles are: They can make the darkness inside you visible. Once the pilgrims see their inner darkness face to face, it’s up to them to perform another miracle on themselves: banishing the darkness for good. It can be a tricky business to vanquish your inner demons, even once you know what they are, but the Sorias are forbidden to help with this part. They’ve all been told that if a Soria interferes with the second miracle, it will bring out their own darkness, and a saint’s darkness, so the story goes, is a most potent and dangerous thing.

The three cousins in the story all have their own relationship with the family miracles: Daniel, the current acting Saint of Bicho Raro, wants to help the pilgrims overcome their darkness through holiness and empathy. Beatriz, on the other hand, would prefer if the Sorias approached the miracle from a more logical and scientific place. And Joaquin is less interested in miracles and more interested in broadcasting rock & roll from a pirate radio station in the back of a battered box truck.

How did you come up with the name “Bicho Raro”?
I’d just finished writing the rather heavy final installment of the Raven Cycle, and I thought it would be nice to switch things up with something playful and - dare I say it? “Feel good”? Does that sound like a Stiefvater novel to you?

So I tried to be as playful in my language as I could. I figured if my words were frolicking, readers might too. “Bicho raro” (“rare bug”) is just a little way to speak fondly about odd people, like “strange bird” or “odd duck.” It’s less about the Soria family themselves and more about the varied pilgrims who come to Bicho Raro.

What inspired the novel’s setting?
Three years ago, I convinced Scholastic that instead of flying to all of my tour events for Sinner, the companion book to the Shiver trilogy, I would instead drive my 1973 Camaro to them. Seven thousand miles, coast to coast, just an American girl in a muscle car, seeing the breadbasket of our fine country while hawking a novel about burned-out werewolves - nothing could go wrong.

Spoiler: Everything went wrong. I spent my time evenly divided between meeting readers and repairing the Camaro by the side of the road.

At one point, the brakes went out (for the second time), and I coasted into an auto repair shop in Del Norte, Colorado. The sun was white, the air was dust, and the mountains were sharp as hell all around. While I waited for the mechanic to take a look at my brake lines, the receptionist told me tall tales and ghost stories about straight-arrow desert roads and demons dancing in the dust and strangers appearing in the night.

I thought to myself: This is where my next novel takes place.

What made you decide to set All the Crooked Saints in the 60s? Is there something in the history of Colorado at that time that speaks to you?
Music! Music! Music! When I was growing up in the 80s, my father always had the radio set to the Golden Oldies - I didn’t realize, in fact, that it wasn’t contemporary music. I thought Del Shannon and Patsy Cline and the Byrds were everyone’s current groove. Even after I discovered differently, it didn’t matter; that music had become the sound of my childhood. There’s something about 60s music and the 60s in general that I think pairs perfectly with a novel about the teen experience - 60s America was going through an adolescence in a lot of ways, and it was a time of mystical joy, innocence lost, increasingly uncomfortable self-awareness of the limitations of tradition, and colorful agitation for change, all of it emotional and urgent. If that’s not a description of being a teen, I don’t know what is.

I’ve been dying to write a novel steeped with the music of that time for about five years now, and for this one, it made sense. I had an incredibly grand and self-indulgent time listening to the music Joaquin and Beatriz spin in their covert broadcasts.

Your work has always been infused with aspects of magical realism. What would you say are some of your influences?
Magic! Magic! Magic! For this book in particular, Isabel Allende, Gabriel Garca Mrquez, Erick Setiawan, Ali Shaw, and maybe even John Irving - I have read a lot of wonderful magic realism and wry, intimate family stories over the last decade, and Saints is my affectionate nod to them. It was also informed by movies, though - I really wanted to capture the mood of films like Big Fish, Chocolat, and Amlie. That whimsy and magic and nostalgia. These are strange, hard times that we’re living in, and I wanted to write about magic - I always do - but I also felt like I wanted to leave readers with something that made them happy, hopeful, and excited about all the odd miracles that exist in the world and in themselves.

Of course, I have to ask one question about the upcoming Ronan trilogy. Is there anything you could tease about it?
Insert, Stiefvater said, an enigmatic smile here.

All the Crooked Saints will be available for purchase on Oct. 10.

This article was originally published on ew.com

In Regards to Hate: On Victuuri

I don’t know what suddenly happened again but there’s a shitton of hate for Victuuri/Viktuuri(/etc) in the tags lately. People are welcome to feel however they want for a particular ship, but I just wanted to give my two cents by tackling the common complaints I’ve seen. I’ll start from the beginning so I’ll be addressing basically all the arguments against this ship I’ve seen so far. I’ve tried to maintain some sort of order for these, but honestly I just winged it at some point.  A lot of these arguments are also heavily character-based, so keep in mind that I’ll be deconstructing several scenes as well as character motivations as I go.  (As a note, this assumes you’ve seen the whole show. Also, I’m only using canon evidence from the show itself.)

This is like an informal follow-up to my super old post but also not really.

No I’m not avoiding work why would you say that.

WARNING: This is a massive post/wall of text. Grab popcorn.

Keep reading

Things Happen

Summary: You wake up next to a man you don’t know, in a place you have never been in, not remembering what has happened the night before. What ensues after is hard to believe.

Word Count: 2,256

Warnings: Mentions of drinking and vomit.

A/N: Thank you to @whothehellisbella for her help, you are amazing, Bella! <3 I hope you all enjoy this one :D 

Originally posted by bucky-papichulo


The buzzing in your head was constant and obnoxious. You knew you had been stupid enough last night to drink yourself to stupor. Groaning, you reached for your pillow and instead your fingers threaded through long hair. Some part of you knew that you shouldn’t, but you still gripped tightly and pulled.

A loud yelp pierced through the air before a masculine voice began to curse. There was a sharp sting to the back of your hand and you hissed, pulling it back and cradling it to your chest.

Your eyes fluttering opened, you gave it a few seconds to fully focus on the person before you and you realized that you did not know him.

“Who are you?” you blurted out.

Keep reading

In Motion (M)

Character: Jeon Jungkook x oc/reader (with POV switches)

Genre/words: Smut / 6,721 words

Summary: The rule is simple - you can look but you can’t touch. You’ve been attending the event for a few times but it was only when a certain boy arrives at one occasion did you feel the fire of lust burning inside

Warning: exhibitionism, public display of masturbations, graphic smut scenes, mutual masturbations, mentions/use of sex toys

Warning 2.0: this is only the beginning

(Cr.)


Keep reading

mark my words (m)

pairing: reader x sugar daddy!kim namjoon

genre/components: smut, crack, fluff // kim namjoon had money and a taste for sweet little things with the sharpest tongues 

count: 15,548 words

also extended, rewritten, crossposted to ao3 as minjoon

a/n: for anon who requested it months ago im so sorry this took so long but i hope it was worth :^) 

The blinking line on his blank document was laughing at him. He swore it was laughing at him and has been laughing at him for the past half an hour since he sat down and fired up the program. One word, backspace. Three words, backspace. One fucking sentence, he fucking backspaced. He let out a growl of frustration as he pushed back from his desk, rubbing his eyes as if the pain would clear up any part of his brain – preferably the one that didn’t make him sound like a five year old storybook. He might as well have typed “The wife is a sadist who accidentally killed her husband mid-fuck.”

Grabbing his robe, he quickly tugged it on and padded over to the kitchen to pour himself a blistering hot cup of coffee. His answering machine had picked up seven missed calls, probably from his editor cursing him out for missing his calls.

He couldn’t be bothered to listen to any of them or even handle his editor’s desire to tear him a new one when he was so tempted to do it himself. His last book had been published a few months ago. Usually, by the time one was stocked up on the shelves, he’d be working on the next as he cashed in whatever the latest one was making. However, with the last few miserable months, everything he printed looked like a shit stain on a piece of paper. Even his editor, who was down to his last string of patience, thought so.

Things used to come naturally to Namjoon. All the sophisticated whatnot, all the carefully intricate plots that wove themselves onto the blank pages in fabricated fiction. He didn’t know what happened to him. He’s never had a muse except for his own messed-up life so it wasn’t possible that (as what his readers and critics believed at least) his inspiration had evaporated into thin air.

Namjoon perhaps knew what had been happening, what he saw from three books away. But he wasn’t about to fucking admit it because that shit didn’t happen to the genius, versatile writer, Kim Namjoon. Whatever he wrote turned into gold, selling nearly as many copies as the holy Bible. If his jittery nerves wasn’t enough evidence of his problem, then the coffee cup shaking in his earthquake of a hand was. As the realization sank in, he was finally hit with the cold hard truth.

Kim Namjoon had hit writer’s block.

Keep reading

Romance, Representation And You

So the last post I reblogged got some interesting comments I want to touch on, namely people stating that they don’t dislike Romance because it’s fluffy and feel good, but because it is often sexist, misogynistic, ableist, heteronormative and woefully lacking in diversity, which yes, absolutely, yes. Those are entirely valid criticisms of the genre—indeed I find them to be valid of any genre, whether it’s sci-fi, fantasy, young adult or otherwise. There is a shocking lack of diversity in our fiction and media—and not because people don’t want it or aren’t trying to make it, but because publishing houses and media can’t see the co-relation between what their marketing teams are telling them, and the actual reality that of course straight white stories are selling the best, of course it is, because you won’t sell anything else, that’s why there’s no sales numbers for anything else.

I worked in a romance publishing house for a good few years, I also worked for their erotica team, and do you know, not once did I ever come across a manuscript with a disabled person? Not a single one. There was also never a manuscript that featured a character with mental illness who wasn’t the villain, or whose issues couldn’t be Fixed With Love™(*vomit*). 

The few times a story featured non white characters, it was usually “The Best Friend Who Gives Sassy Real Advice”, or so horrifically racist that our modus operandi was to nuke it from the office servers rather than try and deal with it because how do you politely tell an author, hey, you’re a fetishistic piece of shit please find God and change the entirety of your story so we can print it, (Answer: you don’t there is no polite way to tell someone they are a  fetishistic piece of shit and you never want their work to darken your inbox ever again.) when you can instead say “Sorry, not what we’re looking for a the moment” and retreat to the relative safety of the slushpile where maybe, just maybe, a hidden gem awaits excavation.

And our publishing house prided itself on diversity because we had an LGBT section, and oh boy let me tell you I was so excited when I got moved over onto that side…only to realize, there’s no w/w fiction because “it doesn’t sell well” and 90% of the m/m fiction is being written by women for women and they fired the one gay author cause his work wasn’t “what was selling” and every bisexual character I ever encountered was either Actually Gay/Actually Straight, or surprise! The Evil Greedy Homewrecker who needs to pick a side, booo hiiiiss, grab your pitchforks and burn the witch.

And I remember, I remember looking to my senior editor who was also my friend at the time, a poly bisexual, mentally ill woman and saying “what the fuck Rebecca” (yes, her name was actually Becky) and she looked at me over our skype call and said “You want to keep your job? Deal with it.”

Because you see, Marketing reigns supreme, and Marketing doesn’t give a shit about people like you and me. It doesn’t care if the neurodivergent person wants to see people like them in fiction, it doesn’t care that people of color want to be more than just the friend/villain, they don’t care that there is more to LGBTQIA+ than the L and specifically the G, it doesn’t care if disabled people want to be represented as more than someone ele’s story arc prop. They don’t care they, don’t care, and do you know why so many publishing houses look down on indie publishing and self published authors and try to call them hacks? Because we don’t give a fuck that they don’t care and we’re doing what we want anyway.

Oh sure you get the usual “but the work is so unpolished, no one has vetted it, it’s just bad, this is why we need publishers to stop the crap from rising to the top”—and yet Fifty Shades of Grey still gets a multi-billion dollar production budget and to the top of the best seller list—do you see, where I am going with this? They’re not interested in selling the best they are just interested in selling, and we are living in a society that has a system designed specifically to a quite literally straight and narrow demographic. So of course XYZ stories sell well, of course they do, because that is where the vast majority of marketing goes, to make sure you buy into it. And Romance…Romance is a lucrative industry to be in if you can get the weight of that campaign behind you…but if you can’t? Well, not only do you have to compete with lack of funding and resources, but also the pervasive lie that because you’re not affiliated directly with X Publishing House or Y Agency, you are not good enough, and no one will want to read your story.

And that’s a bunch of baloney. It’s so much baloney you can slap it between two slices of bread and cover it in mustard because the whole thing is a ham.

Do you know what I would have loved growing up? (And still would) Stories about girls who liked people regardless of gender—and who wasn’t conflicted over it because people are people and gender is fluid and irrelevant to love. Stories about people with mental health issues, where the person is still loved and shown as functional, with their mental health issues, not despite. Stories about disabled and ill people who have fulfilling lives whose arc doesn’t revolve around being brave for simply existing or how much of a saint their families/loved ones are for putting up with them. And do you know what I get instead, even now as an adult who has worked in the industry that sells these stories? I get things like Fifty Shades of Domestic Abuse, and train wrecks like You Before Me where the death of the disabled person is seen as a romantic gesture of selflessness that sets the love interest free to fully live her life. HOW FUCKING FUCKED UP IS THAT. Oh you can argue with me all you want that wasn’t  Moyes intent when she was writing it, but it damn well was the end result.

Yes, Romance is lacking, and yes it needs revamped, it needs more cultural diversity, it needs more inclusion, it needs so many things—but it also needs for people to not want to not write for it because it’s “fluffy” and cheap, like somehow they are selling their souls away. 

I’ve got friends who have written amazing, diverse stories told from their point of view…but they won’t ever get them published because as soon as you mention self publishing or the Romance industry they turn their noses up. And they’re shooting themselves in the foot in doing so, because there ain’t no way a story about XYZ is going to make it in a sci-fi house, no matter who much tech you add in. On the flipside of that, I’ve also got a friend who has written about her experiences as a Black queer disabled woman and it’s filled with relationships and great life stuff and so funny…but she can’t get it published anywhere because she’s been explicitly made to feel like she doesn’t belong in the genre because her stories are too complex, they’re too different they’re too comedic…too…too…too (the list goes on). And that’s awful because Romance is a genre that is primarily about people and if you as a Romance house are telling me you can’t sell a story about people, boy are we well and truly fucked.

The biggest criticism of the Romance genre shouldn’t be that it’s too damn happy and therefore unrealistic and nothing but fluff. What’s unrealistic is the complete lack of diversity and inclusion in the genre that makes it so alienating that a huge part of our society immediately feels like they don’t belong. 

And that’s a bigger problem than fluff.

So great, yes fine, Romance isn’t for you, you can tell me all the time that you don’t like Romance and I will cheerfully talk to you about literally anything else. But don’t ever tell me you don’t like Romance because it’s simple and fluffy when there’s a whole wealth of actual problematic shit to dislike it for.

And to you, yes you, I’m talking to you. You with the idea in the back of your head and the worry that you’ll never be a Serious Author because all you want to write about is romance and people and angst and fluff and also thinking no one wants to read stories about people like you: take that idea and run with with it, learn from your experiences and keep doing it some more and maybe one day we’ll have the publishing industry we deserve that will acknowledge you. But until then: Rebel and Do It Anyway.

Black Girl, NYC

Greetings people. I identify as a Black female who was born and raised in NYC. I am slowly progressing through my study of education and history in college. Other then that, I spend (probably) an unhealthy amount of time reading and writing sci fi and fantasy. But by high school, I got sick and tired of the same story featuring blonds and brunettes saving the day with their straight, lean male heroes so I turned to my librarian seeking something new. She pointed to Octavia Butler and the rest was history. I’ve been seeking diversity in media ever since.

Family life and Culture

I grew as the middle child of six siblings with my single mother and grandparents. Yes, my working-class household fits the stereotype. We even have an absent father *sighs* But, hey shit happens. And with the biological father turns out not to be the best father figure, shit had to go right out the door. Yup. But make no mistake that this is a norm. Most households on my block do have both parents involved in their children’s lives. Our circumstances called for us to have one. That’s all.

The house was full, loud and rambunctious. We made up a good portion of the children on the block (unsurprising) and basically ran it. There’s a whole novel that could be fleshed out of my childhood if I wanted to. Our neighborhood is very tight knit. Next door neighbors were treated like Aunts and Uncles. When summer came around, we were sometimes divided into groups as the parents who were off from work overlooked us while braiding our heads. Blackouts became an all night bbq and sleepover on each other’s porches. Crooklyn by Spike Lee was a good representation of what it was like in fact. Somewhat. Minus the brownstones, plus a couple more fights (lol).

My grandma was a nurse who’s pretty big on us knowing our family history. She made sure to talk a lot about our Gullah Geechee roots. We also had some Dominican culture influence since her closest friend and our Madrina was, well, Dominican. But she is fairly strict on gender norms and how my sisters and I should act especially with brothers. She antagonized me the most growing up because I continued to ignore this. We don’t get along but i can’t say i don’t get why she’s the way she is. She has a pretty dark past. My mother, a latchkey kid of the finest stock, is more laid back and gives all of us free range to make our own mistakes. Most times. Other times, she’d rather lecture us. Depends on our crime.

I don’t know what my grandpa used to do. He retired waaaaay before my grandmother. I also don’t know much about his culture. He’s 1st gen Jamaican who fully assimilated into American culture. Well, beside his food choices. Now, he gambles and goes to church. When I was younger, he used to teach us how to gamble too. And how to cheat and not get caught. We got a lot of free fast food while he taught us. He has gotten more frugal the older he got. And more isolated.

Dating and Relationships.

I don’t date. I have no interest. Well, no, that’s not exactly true. I’ve considered it but I rather have not seek out anything outside of platonic right now. I have a tight knit circle of friends and several other groups of friends I associate with depending on the activity. I’m realizing it seems like I’m using the term “friends” loosely but I swear I’m not. I’m a virgin and I feel nothing about being one until someone goes “*gasp* You’re a virgin really?” and then I end up on high defense saying “So?” Believe or not, that messed with me a lot.

My love life and lack of interest in having one has always been a struggle. In middle school, the group of friends I hung with were becoming more infatuated with love and sex. Yes, middle school, fifth through eighth grade, ages nine to thirteen. But, when they would talked about who’s hot or not, they would look at me funny when I didn’t join in the discussion. Instead of explaining myself, I simply copied other’s reactions and gushed along with them. This instinct followed me through High school til stopped out of annoyance. I became a listener and adviser in their relationships because I really do love stories in many shapes and forms. And I would never turn down hearing a story.

Language

My primary language is English and AAVE. I’ve been living in a neighborhood filled with Blacks and Latinx. Most of my friends are Black and Lantinx. I didn’t meet a white person my age until college. Okay that’s a partial lie. I’ve been in a summer camp that was made up of predominantly white children. But as the only black kid in my age range, I was sorta uncomfortable. I never made lasting friends there. After High School, I spent a year abroad in Tena, Ecuador where I learned Spanish and Kichwa. I still suck at both languages.

Clothing

Lots of my clothes when I was younger were borrowed or hand-me-downs. Half of them still are. It’s like thrift shopping without the hiked prices thanks to its popularity by rich white people (Thanks rich white people!) All my siblings’ taste varies. In my case, I’m fond of combining loose and tight clothing (tight jeans and a loose sweater/ baggy jeans and a tight top). No makeup. Silver accessories.

I used to have a short bob cut permed. I hated it. But I rather a perm then getting my hair straightened with a hot comb because the back of my neck and big ears would always get burned. It wasn’t until I made a friend with a natural afro that I realized my natural hair was even an option.

Academics

Lol I was a nerd with bad grades.

Religion

My family practices Santeria, which has historical roots in both Catholicism and Yoruba thanks to slavery (Yay slavery!). However, because the religion is not fully accepted or well-known, I tend to say I’m simply Catholic if asked. Apparently, a Black Catholic is hard to believe. It is assumed all Black folks are Baptists or some branch of Christianity. I have no idea where that stereotype came from. But I can give some guess. (*cough cough* Tyler Perry….).  

As I stated before, I love scifi and fantasy. I especially love urban fantasy involving witches. I blame this love on Practical Magic and Eve’s Bayou, my childhood faves. It’s because of this love that I wish to see more stories with witches of color. And no, I don’t mean that one evil/mysterious southern/Caribbean Voodoo/Hoodoo witch hollywood loves to portray so much. That always plays into the “Black is evil” trope. Give me some damn variety!

I would squeal so hard if the mythology involved in a story isn’t even Eurocentric. I’m not joking. This is serious. When my religion was simply hinted at in the Raven Boys series (It was also a great way of making even more obvious that the character was definitely not white.) and Kenya Wright’s Habitat series, I squealed. All the authors did was write the names of some of the Orishas and I couldn’t help but put my phone down for a moment and inwardly scream with glee. That being said, if a writer does decide to use afrocentric or any religion involving “witchcraft” as a basis, I would personally ask that they make sure is is not a closed religion.

Santeria is, in fact, a closed religion. And while I don’t mind mentions of it in fantasy and even a main character stating they practice it, do not go any further than that. Don’t even research the practices within the religion other than what is public knowledge (And if you don’t have any public knowledge, just ask) Respect that there’s a limit. Anything further spelunking  is consider rude, disgusting, disrespectful and dangerous. There’s things that I don’t even know because I haven’t been properly initiated. And the internet has a lot of these practices exposed when it shouldn’t be so please don’t look into it. Please.

Food

Most of the cooking in the house has been done by my grandmother. Because of her various relationships, our food has always been a mixture of Black American, Gullah, Lantinx and Caribbean influences. It is so good. So, so good!

The only thing I don’t eat of hers is her seafood gumbo because I don’t like shellfish. One of my sisters said I should have my “black card” taken for my distaste. I said she could take it if she can name more black movies than me. She still can’t take it. My other sister wishes we could switch places because she loves crab but is allergic. The crazy girl actually sends her husband to buy some benadryl so she can eat some if we ever have some on the table. Smh. Siblings.  

Holidays

My family on both sides are quite fond of reunions. On my grandpa’s side, the family uses Fourth of July and Christmas to get together. On my grandma’s side, they tend to host annual summer reunion and send out RSVP invitations complete with schedules of the whole two to three day event. I didn’t mention this under my family life, but both sides of my family are boujee to different degrees. Lots of black sorors and frats members on both sides. I can’t believe that slipped my mind typing.

I’m a little iffy with Christmas. It’s more of a holiday for the older generation and our niece and nephews. The younger generation, however, don’t particularly care for the holiday. For some of us, it’s because it’s not really Jesus’s Birthday and Santa was whitewashed. For others, it’s because we don’t care to feed into the corporate holiday. For most of us, it’s a combination of the two. But we do love getting together when we can. My older sister and I have conspired to celebrate kwanzaa instead for the past two years. So far, it hasn’t grasped the interest of anyone else in the family.

Struggles

  • Being nerds from a young age, my siblings and I have been called “Oreos” or“Not really black” by kids in school on more than one occasion. We shut them down by fighting. Probably not the best strategy but it was best one I could think of in middle school and below. Made it easier to go back to reading my manga.

  • I got compared to my sisters a lot. It was the absolutely most annoying thing ever. And a major source of my insecurities growing older.

  • Need I address colorism? My highschool was filled with it. #TeamLight v #TeamDark. I was on neither team, because in the region I live, skin color was a pretty long spectrum. I fell in the between. Who came up with this?

  • I’ll admit it. I hate my own tears. They make me feel weak. Which isn’t true…I know. But, it is a mentality I always had. I have depression and PTSD. This isn’t really a secret. I tell people if I’m asked. But have you ever had someone look at you and say, “Really? You don’t seem like the type.” ……

  • I am a black female. I’ve been labelled “Strong” and “Independent” the older I got. By my mother. By my siblings. By my peers. And I get those labels. Even from friends. I loved those labels. I call myself by those labels. I mean, who doesn’t want to be seen as strong and independent? Those are positive affirmations, right? I think they would be. If that wasn’t all the positive labels we could get. Somehow, society has decided we are beings that are incapable of being multifaceted. I was indirectly taught to hate my own tears because black girls don’t cry. You can’t cry and be strong. What a terrible mantra fed to black girl at a young age. So, instead you tell everyone “It’s fine.”

I told my therapist it was fine. Until she told me straight up it was not fine. And it was okay to cry. I don’t like to cry. But I still (involuntarily) did it.

Things I’d like to see less of/Things I’d like to see more of:

  • I’m sick and tired of seeing black and latinx folks being portrayed as only fantasy gangs members. We are not only gang members. That’s a terrible popular myth the media put out there and I hate it even more so when it’s portrayed in SFF genre..

  • I’m tired of having one black person in a novel being described as having skin the color of “midnight.” And he’s (it’s always a he) not even that important to the story

  • I hate how every time someone decides to add a person of color, they have to be ambiguous brown. I’m not saying ambiguously brown don’t exist and don’t need representation but is it really that had for a dark brown skin person to play a major role in a story that’s not about slavery? Speaking of which….

  • Why we always gotta be slaves? Or better yet….

  • Why don’t we exist at all in High fantasy stories? Urban fantasy? Brooklyn wasn’t always the gentrified white town it is now. Still isn’t. How are you erasing people of color from NYC??? We make up way too much of the population to be completely erased

  • Stop racial coding other creatures to surround your white human characters. Especially as the bad guys. That’s just shitty writing. Step up your game!

  • I love Black love

  • I love Gay love. I wish more would follow moonlight’s example and show poc are gay too and gay doesn’t always equal to stereotypical femininity.

  • I love interracial love HOWEVER, can we pair people of color with other people of color as well? I’m starting to hate seeing it always a white person paired with a Poc. Variety damnit!

  • Friendships between boys and girls that don’t transform into love.

  • Friendships between girls that didn’t start out as a rivalry.

  • Different body types besides the skinny and tall. Make a main character that’s fat for once. It’s not a problem.

  • Magical characters of color that aren’t “Noble Savages” or “Wise Monks” that used their magic for personal gain for once instead of waiting for the white hero to come.

  • Nerdy black characters who aren’t 100% competent and cries. One that isn’t in a five token band that always gonna be compare to the white main character. Make the nerd the main character!

That’s all I can think of at the top of my head. But my list really does go on.