jalapeno--business  asked:

So whenever I read trc, I'm always overwhelmed by this almost pathological desire to experience the same feelings of wonder and beauty and magic that you describe in the series. Yes, I understand that there is no sentient, magical forest to discover, and no sleeping king that I can search for, but I still have this urge to have similar feelings and experiences in my life. So how do you experience a similar kind of magic and wonder that you describe in your books, in everyday life?

Dear jalapeno–business,

Are you listening closely?

As an author, I travel a lot. At one point, I was on the road one day out of every three — planes, hotels, rental cars. There’s a rhythm to it, like running up a very long flight of stairs. You figure out how many stairs you can take in a jump, and how to breathe-in-breathe-out to keep from wasting your lungs, and you learn how to tell when you have to stop to rest your knees or you just won’t make it to the top. 

The airports and the planes and the people can all start to seem the same after awhile, if you’re looking at them wrong. If you let them. Anything in life can sound ordinary if that’s all you’re listening for.

Back in 2014, I was in a Texas airport. The night had that glittering senseless jitter to it that happens when you’re tired but going home, finally going home. I was early for my flight and sitting several gates away from my real gate, listening to music. A young man sat down two seats away. Ordinarily, tired and occupied with the peculiar every-day magic of the music in my headphones, I wouldn’t have noticed him, but a moment later, a phone rang. He asked if it was mine; it wasn’t. Someone had forgotten it on the seat between us. 

We both looked at it.

It rang again for someone who didn’t know to pick up, and then he took it away to one of the United desks for them to give it to someone who would listen. He didn’t return.

Two hours later, I went to my real gate to board. Full flight. Everyone was checking and double-checking their seat assignments as they defended their right to aisles and windows. When my seatmate settled himself next to me, I looked up, and it was the guy from the waiting area. He had a tilt to his chin that telegraphed that he thought he was hot shit and a grin that said he recognized me. 



We laughed ruefully and applied our headphones — we both knew the routine of polite air travel. But the agreeable tingle of the coincidence still ate at me, and I could tell it ate at him, too, because after a few moments, he offered me a truffle from his bag. I told him I couldn’t take it because of my allergies, but the headphones came off. We started to talk.

And he was a big talker. He was cocky. A surgical resident. He told me how he loved the hell out of taking internal organs out of people. He described how he listened to sixty-minute epic soundtracks in his ear buds while he removed appendixes and gallbladders, kidneys and stones. He told me of watching Dateline by himself at the end of seventy and eighty hour work weeks, and he told me about his Hyundai, which I made fun of. Confidentially, he whispered to me about a surgeon he knew who had the goal of removing every gallbladder in Texas. Two hours into the flight, the conversation tilted toward spirituality. He’s hot shit, he confessed, and works hard, but he sometimes wonders if he’s allowed to want to be successful, or if that makes him a bad person. Because he’s working a lot of hours in a week, and he’s tired, but he’s pretty sure that he’s hot shit, but maybe that’s not allowed.

I was watching him fumble his fingers over each other. He was scratching a hole in his own palm.

And all at once there was a phone in my head, and it was ringing just for me. 

“One of your parents has obsessive-compulsive disorder,” I told him. “Maybe both.”

The shimmering grin slipped. “How did you know? How could you know that?” 

I asked him if he was getting treatment for it.

He said, “No, no, I’m over it. How could you know that?”

Because in a foggy way, that phone was still ringing between us, and now, I recognized the number.

I said, “Don’t kill yourself.”

He replied, “No way,” and then he started to cry. 

The shit-eating grin had vanished. He told me how he’d made up his mind that he didn’t want to make it to 35. He’d researched all the ways to make sure he didn’t. Over the next hour, I told him about my OCD, and how I thought his uncertainty over wanting to be successful but also wanting to be humble was a function of his OCD’s spiritual obsession. That he wasn’t over OCD, that you never were, but that his agony didn’t have to be a real thing. He could be both humble and successful. It wasn’t against the rules of goodness to be proud of what you’d done, as long as you were doing things for the right reasons. I told him how once I bought a race car, but I’d given it away to someone who could use the money, because I realized I was only racing to look sexy in a car, and not because it was really making me happy. 

I told him he didn’t have to worry about looking sexy in a Hyundai, though, and he replied that he would look sexy in anything, and then he cried a little more. 

Everyone else in the plane was asleep, but we were wide awake.

When we got off the plane in Virginia, the surgical resident gave me an awkward side-hug, and he wiped his face. Then he dug in his bag for the wrapper from his truffle. As the other travelers shuffled past us sleepily, he pressed it into my hand. He didn’t want to give me his name, he said, but he wanted something for me to remember so that when we ran into each other again in 15 years, I’d know who he was.

After we’d parted ways, I turned my phone off airplane mode, and a text came in that had been sent while I was in the air. It was from the person I’d given the race car to. I hadn’t heard from him in nearly six months. The text said only: thank u maggie i have such a hppy life bc of u


You have to be listening closely. Phones are ringing all over the world, and sometimes they look like magical forests, and sometimes they look like race cars, and sometimes they look like surgical residents.



Books and bullies

Damian didn’t understand why his father didn’t just buy the book
for him. He had recently got interested in a brand new series, and the last book had finally been released. It’s not like they couldn’t afford it, after all they’re one of the richest families in Gotham.

But instead of going out and buying the book his father insisted on going to the library for it. Damian growled to himself as he got in the car.

“Don’t look so glum, master Damian. The Gotham library has many books and you might find a new series to enjoy. Who knows, you might even make friends with a fellow bookworm.”

“Aha! So this was father’s plan all along. He’s trying to get me to socialize, isn’t he?”

Alfred sighed at the young boy’s attitude. “Yes, that was the plan. Master Bruce told me that you have to talk to someone other than the librarian, or else you’re not allowed the new book.”

“WHAT?!?! How is this fair?” Damian complained.

“Life isn’t fair, and we’re here. Try to be civil.” Alfred said as Damian got out of the car. He looked over his shoulder before doing his signature “tt” sound.

It had been an hour since Alfred had dropped Damian off. The boy was wandering the stacks refusing to interact with anyone until he got the book he so desired. He had finally found the area where it was kept and to his dismay, someone had beat him to it.

A girl about his age with h/l h/c hair and e/c eyes was on a step stool trying to reach the book which was on the top shelf. A boy was standing next to the stool attempting to talk to her but the girl ignored him, too intent on her prize.

She finally grasped it and yanked it out of the shelf a little too hard. The stool she was on began to wobble and her hands were everywhere trying to grab onto something. When it finally seemed like balance had been regained, the boy that had been trying to talk to her suddenly shoved it out from beneath her feet.

The girl had no time to react and she was soon on her back, the wind knocked out of her. The boy stood over her and laughed before Damian tapped him on the shoulder.

The boy had hardly glanced over at Damian before a fist made contact with his face. The boy stumbled back, his nose leaking a small trail of blood.

“That is no way to treat a lady. You will apologize to her right now.” Damian said coolly as though he hadn’t just sucker punched someone.

“Jeez dude, chill! I- I’m sorry y/n.” The boy said before running away. Damian turned to the girl and helped her up.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly before getting a good look at the girl. His breath was knocked away from her beauty.

The girl giggled slightly. “Yeah, only thing hurt is my pride. I’m y/n and you are…”

“Damian. I see you’re reading (favorite book). Is it good?”

“Well I just grabbed it off the shelf so… But if it’s anything like the other books in the series, it’ll be amazing.” Y/n said. Damian couldn’t help himself from smiling at her enthusiasm.

“No one in my family has read it so I have no one to talk to about it. Would you like to discuss it with me?” Damian asked. The girl nodded before they got into a passionate conversation about their favorite parts.

“Master Damian, you took longer than I expected. You do realize, you could’ve just said hello to someone and that would have been the end of it.”

“Sorry Pennyworth but I found someone who I can converse with without having the urge to slap them. In fact we traded numbers so we could talk to each other more.”

Alfred couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he realized that the boy with the snotty attitude had finally made a friend. Hopefully a long lasting one.

Do-ing Eren
  • Levi: Tch. Stupid paperwork, if only there was something else I could do.
  • Eren: You can do me!
  • ~•~
  • Levi: I have the urge to do it but there's nothing to clean.
  • Eren: *rips off all his clothes* You can clean me!
  • ~•~
  • Levi: I'm getting kind of old. I should do something childish.
  • Eren: I'm childish! Do me.
  • Levi: Kid WTF is your deal? I'm not sleeping with you.
  • Eren: There are two meanings to "sleeping" you know.
  • Levi: oH fucK.
  • Eren: One means obviously sleeping next to me. Since you said no to that, you do want to have sex with me!
  • Levi: Fuck it, where's the bed?

anonymous asked:

Hey!! Can I have meanspo to prevent binge urges, please?💙


Every time you cram food in that disgusting fat mouth of yours you’re just proving to the world what they already know, that you’re just a fat loser, for those who walks by your side thinks you are disgusting, you know who loves disgusting fatties? NO ONE

anonymous asked:

How does one kinda overcome the fear of being wrong about being otherkin or kintypes? Because for me, I feel as though I'm spiritually otherkin when it comes to my spirit, but because I don't constantly feel "inhuman urges/feelings" and I'm adjusted to having a human body and stuff that I don't know if I'd be invalid... I can feel astral limbs and I can have urges if I pay attention to the astral limbs, but it's the part that I'm adjusted to a human body that for some reason worries me

I’m on mobile, so forgive me if this seems abrupt.

Being wrong is a part of life, and everyone must accept and overcome this natural fear we all hold if they wish to move forward and progress. It’s okay to be concerned about being wrong, but remember this: the only thing lost from being wrong about such, is that you learned something different than what you expected to learn. You grew in a way unexpected, yet that is still growth to admire and behold. You are not lessened by what you are or aren’t, you are all the more for putting forth the effort to explore and understand yourself (and the world around you in terms of what you believe).

I hope that keeping this in mind may help you overcome your fear of being wrong. Because, remember, there is nothing bad with realizing you were wrong. And, more on-point to your specific situation, only you can decide whether or not you fit the definition of “otherkin,” and only you can know your kintypes. If you feel more otherhearted, so be it! If you do not know the species or word for your kintype and realize you have been labeling it something else in a spirit of “close enough”, so be it! If you find out any other manner of things about yourself, so be it! There is nothing wrong with learning and growing. There is nothing wrong with realizing you may not be who, or what, you previously believed yourself to be. If you were right, good, but if you were wrong, also good! It means you’re now on the right path, that you’ve learned something, that you’ve grown. No matter what happens, there is only positive experiences to be had so long as you continue moving forward.

I hope this helped with your anxiety.

-Mod Halcyon

Prove It

(I got this idea while watching an episode of Hannah Montana USJSBDJ)


It’s eerily quiet in our room. Too quiet. I need to get Snow to talk to fill all this silence. The only way to do this is to tease him, so that’s exactly what I do.

“So Snow, why exactly is Agatha still with you?” I chance a glance over toward his side of the room where he’s sitting on his bed, his back against the wall. His head snaps in my direction at the question.

“What?” I know for a fact he heard me the first time so I decide to switch it up this time. “Why is Perfect Agatha still with you?” I know he saw us in the woods at the end of last year so me calling her “perfect” makes him fume.

He squints his eyes a little and starts glaring at me. I smirk because I know it annoys him. He opens his eyes up so they look normal again and scoots toward the edge of his bed. I try not to watch his arm muscles flex as he pushes himself forward but it’s basically impossible.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He smirks right back at me. He smirks.There’s a firework show going on in my chest. I’ve never seen him smirk before. “Actually, no. Please explain it to me.” I say tearing my gaze away from his mouth. (His lips are the perfect shade of pink. (Not that I noticed.))

“Well you see, I’m the Worlds Best Kisser, and nobody’s going to break up with the Worlds Best Kisser.” Well that’s not what I expected him to say. He’s resting his elbows on his knees with his chin in his hands and staring at me. I wish he wouldn’t do that.

I honestly didn’t expect him to say anything except “Fuck off, Baz.” so now I’m at a loss for words. I scoot to the edge of my bed to look him straight in the face. Our knees are almost touching and I can feel the heat of his skin even through both our pants.

“Prove it.” The words fall out of the mouth before I can stop them. I have to resist the urge to clap my hand over my mouth. His eyebrows furrow downward in confusion. “What?” His hands move from his chin to his knees. His mouth is open in what I guess is disbelief and I understand why. Why did I say that?

“Prove your the “Worlds Best Kisser.”“ I put air quotes around the name he gave himself. I smirk just to show I’m not completely off my rocker and wait in anticipation for his reply.

"How do you expect me to do that? Kiss you?” I almost fall off the bed at his words. He looks genuinely curious. I can’t let him see how much shock he just put me in so I nonchalantly shrug my shoulders, “Why not?” I notice my voice sounds deeper than it usually does so I clear my throat to stop it.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. Just stares right into my eyes with what looks like contemplation. Is he actually considering this? He can’t be.

“Okay.” He says and I almost fall off my bed the second time today. I push my eyebrows downward to prevent them from shooting upward in surprise.

I force myself to seem like I don’t care as I place my hands behind my back and lean backward on them. “Okay.” I blow a piece of my hair that’s fallen in front of my eyes away.

“Well you’re going to have to come closer than that.” Faster than I’ve ever moved before, I lean forward so our noses are almost touching. “This close enough?” I breathe because I can’t properly talk. Snow is going to kiss me, I don’t know how I’m even functioning at this point.

“Perfect.” He breathes back and I can feel his breath on my lips. I shudder and only hope he doesn’t notice. I see his hand come up in my peripheral vision and then it’s resting on my cheek. I close my eyes for a couple seconds because this is happening.

When I open them back up he still staring at me. I’m getting impatient. “Well? Prove yourself, oh great one.” He doesn’t reply, just places his other hand on my other cheek.

He brings his face closer to mine and my eyes slowly fall shut. I feel his lips on mine and have to clench my hands into fists so I don’t run them through his hair. He can’t know how much I want this.

The kiss deepens and I feel his tongue sweep across my bottom lip. My heart lurches and I quickly open my mouth to allow his tongue access. He massages my tongue with his. He is good at this.

I need to do something with my hands. I place them on my middle of his back and press him a little closer to me. Our knees are all jumbled together and one of his is inching dangerously close to me.

He hastily pulls away and and my previously warm, well, everything, is cold again. “See?” He says breathlessly. He’s breathing just as hard as me.

I shake my head to get out of the daze he put me in. “Not bad, Snow. But I’m sure that’s not why Agatha is still with you. I bet you had Penny put a spell on her or something.” I’m still trying to catch my breath.

This time he actually says “Fuck off, Baz.”


okay I’m know I’m just starting out but somebody please see this! I need feedback

anonymous asked:

Do you ever get the urge to hold one of your archangels? Just like....pick them up and hold them because you can?

“I don’t have…urges.
But yes, sometimes I feel like doing it.”


Ok so I’m kinda having an internal conflict. I want to stop shaving my legs, in fact in the past I took long periods without shaving so I know what it feels like. I feel comfortable both ways. When I go out wherather or not I have shaved legs doesn’t bother me I feel confident either way. So as a radical feminist you’d think that I’d choose to not shave. But the thing is…. stim. I LOVE smooth surfaces. If something is smooth I MUST feel it it’s soooooo satisfying. I love the feeling of human skin that is smooth and I haven’t found anything that has quite the same texture so I’m still shaving my legs so I can just. Feel them bc it’s stimmy. Do you guys know any smooth and kinda squishy stim toys /items I could get that have a similar texture so I can stop having the urge to shave,??? I know this is totally random and weird

I saw this post and it’s deleted now but I wanted to address it anyhow: 


It amazes me that a PA is more eloquent and intuitive to what the fans want/need than most of the writers and EP. Thank you. Keep your interpersonal skills, The 100 really needs you in PR, because you’ve done more to keep me from rejecting the show than Jason, Kim and many of the other writers these past two days.

This is sweet. Thank you.

In defense of my colleagues, I am the only out LGBT member of The 100 staff. I am talking so much because I feel comfortable doing so. Many of them are trying the best they can to help, to listen, to understand and to still stick by the work that they did as is part of their job. I know it is a lot to ask in all of your grief that you be patient with them. But I would like you all to know how much support, even I got from this staff in the last couple of days. The number of writers and cast members that I received messages from yesterday, deferring to me for help with words, uplifting my voice on social media, and even just checking in or thanking me was overwhelming and appreciated. I want you all to know that that was there. You will never understand television or the politics unless you are a part of it. You will never understand how incredibly difficult it actually is to say things and interact in a way that is not damaging to your career and even to the fans in some cases. But please know that many people, especially even those saying very little, understand and respect your sadness and anger. I have worked with them. I have talked with them. These are people with good hearts, the best intentions, and we’re all hurting together. I had a special platform in these last couple of days. I had a special and unique voice that they can not have. I urge you to resist judgement in as many cases as you can where the staff of this show is concerned.