i guess it would make me feel better in the long run

I’ve wanted to talk for So Long about the portrayal of anxiety in YOI but I’ve been having so much trouble putting together what I want to say in the most effective manner. I kept trying to come at this in a more analytical fashion, but considering that this is such a personally important topic to me, I’m going to try a more emotional approach. Something I don’t normally do.

So really, to start off, I wanna say that I’m so damn thankful for the way Yuuri is written. Really, seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever had the ability to relate more to character; Yuuri is close to a mirror of my own experiences with anxiety and it’s so fantastic to have a model of development and growth for me and people like me. I found the portrayal to be frighteningly accurate, from types of thoughts, behaviors, mannerisms… I think the episode that stood out to me the most in terms of Yuuri’s anxiety was ep7, aka Yuuri’s on-screen panic attack episode. 

The first thing I noticed was this: 

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found myself in that exact position. I bounce my legs when I panic, just like Yuuri is doing here. Head in his hands, breathing heavily, bouncing and jostling limbs. This isn’t the Mary-Sue cutesy portrayal of anxiety–this is a real anxiety disorder. It’s not pretty. It’s not easy. It can’t be fixed with a single word or a touch or a person. Quite frankly, it’s ugly and you lose control of your body. 

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DOCTOR DREAMY | PT.1

pt1 | pt2 | (ongoing)

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, eventual smut + expecting parents au

word count: 4,724

request: sperm donor ex-boyfriend jimin 

description: Okay, maybe in hindsight asking your ex-boyfriend, who you never really got over, to be your sperm-donor wasn’t the brightest of ideas.

cr.


“I want to have your baby,” is a particular string of words that is only considered acceptable in a certain number of situations.

Maybe between two lovers getting lost in the moment of their heightened feelings, and somehow the words just slip — that’s probably the most common occurrence of the phrase. Or maybe it’s a night out, alcohol in your system, and the words just sort of spill past your lips to the most ridiculously attractive stranger you’ve ever seen before you can even think to stop them. Even that, can still be considered at least borderline passable usage of the phrase. Hell, even the instance of a teenage girl proclaiming her love for her favorite celebrity with the heavy proclamation is still considered normal for the most part.

These, along with a few far-fetched others, were the only situations you could think of that allowed for the usage of those six words to be passable, yet, here you were, uttering that exact phrase, when you were in absolutely none of them. You weren’t getting caught up in the moment with lust-glazed eyes, you weren’t drunk and spewing nonsense at a bar to some guy, and you most certainly weren’t some star struck teenage girl staring up at her celebrity crush’s poster.

No, you were none of those things.

Instead, you were sitting across from your ex-boyfriend telling him that you wanted to have his baby… Yeah, totally passable usage of the phrase, right?

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Aries: Told You So

I know you like
When I admit that I was wrong and you were right
At least I try
To keep my cool when I’m thrown into a fire
And they go

I hate to say I told you so
But they love to say they told me so
I hate to say I told you so
They love to say they told me

Taurus: Hard Times

All that I want
Is to wake up fine
Tell me that I’m alright
That I ain’t gonna die
All that I want
Is a hole in the ground
You can tell me when it’s alright
For me to come out

Hard times
Gonna make you wonder why you even try
Hard times
Gonna take you down and laugh when you cry
These lives
And I still don’t know how I even survive
Hard times

Gemini: 26

Hold onto hope if you got it
Don’t let it go for nobody
They say that dreaming is free
I wouldn’t care what it cost me

Reality will break your heart
Survival will not be the hardest part
It’s keeping all your hopes alive
All the rest of you has died
So let it break your heart

Cancer: Pool

I’m underwater
With no air in my lungs
My eyes are open
I’m done giving up
You are the wave
I could never tame
If I survive
I’ll dive back in

As if the first blood didn’t thrill enough
I went further out to see what else was left of us
Never found the deep end of our little ocean
Drain the fantasy of you
Headfirst into shallow pools

Leo: Idle Worship

Oh, it’s such a long and awful lonely fall
Down from this pedestal that you keep putting me on
What if I fall on my face?
What if I make a mistake?
If it’s okay a little grace would be appreciated
Remember how we used to like ourselves?
What little light that’s left, we need to keep it sacred
I know that you’re afraid to let all the dark escape ya
But we could let the light illuminate these hopeless places

Just let me let you down

Hey, baby I’m not your superhuman
And if that’s what you want
I hate to let you down
I got your hopes up
Now I got you hoping
But I’m gonna be the one that let you down

Virgo: Forgiveness

Don’t you go and get it twisted
Forgiving is not forgetting
Don’t you go and get it twisted
Forgiving is not forgetting
No, it’s not forgetting
No, I’ll never forget it, no

And you, you want forgiveness
(I can barely hang on to myself)
But I, I can’t give you that
(I can’t give you, I can’t give you that)
And you, you want forgiveness
(I’m afraid that I’ll have nothing left)
But I, I just can’t do it yet
(I can’t do, I just can’t do it yet)

Libra: Fake Happy

And if I go out tonight, dress up my fears
You think I’ll look alright with these mascara tears?
See I’m gonna draw my lipstick wider than my mouth
And if the lights are low they’ll never see me frown

If I smile with my teeth
Bet you believe me
If I smile with my teeth
I think I believe me

Oh please don’t ask me how I’ve been
Don’t make me play pretend
Oh no, oh oh what’s the use?
Oh please, I bet everybody here is fake happy too

Scorpio: Grudges

Time is a bastard I won’t break my neck to get around it
But aren’t we so brave to give up a fight
And let the years go by without us
‘Cause now I feel you by my side
And I don’t even care if it’s been a while
I can feel that we’ve changed and we’re better this way

Stop asking why
Why we had to waste so much time
Well, we just pick up, pick up and start again
'Cause we can’t keep holding on to grudges

Sagittarius: No Friend

Another thorny field to scatter fruitless seed,
Another song that runs too long god knows no one needs
More misguided ghosts, more transparent hands
To drop a nickel in our basket and we’ll do our riot!

Dance beneath another burning sky,
Behind our painted lips
In scores of catatonic smile-covered ankle-bitten ships
So throw your pedestal of stone in the forgetful sea
As protection from the paper-thin perfection
You project on me

Capricorn: Tell Me How

Think I’m tired of getting over it
Just starting something new again
I’m getting sick of the beginnings
And always coming to your defences
I guess it’s good to get it off my chest
I guess I can’t believe I haven’t yet
You know I got my own convictions
And they’re stronger than any addiction
But no one’s winning
[…]
You keep me up with your silence
Take me down with your quiet
Of all the weapons you fight with
Your silence is the most violent

Aquarius: Caught in the Middle

I can’t think of getting old
It only makes me want to die
And I can’t think of who I was
'Cause it just makes me want to cry, cry, cry
Can’t look back, can’t look too far ahead
I got the point, I got the message
[…]
I was dreaming life away
All the while just going blind
Can’t see the forest for the trees
Behind the lids of my own eyes
Nostalgia’s cool, but it won’t help me now
A dream is good, if you don’t wear it out
[…]
No, I don’t need no help
I can sabotage me by myself

Pisces: Rose-Colored Boy

Just let me cry a little bit longer
I ain’t gon’ smile if I don’t want to
Hey, man, we all can’t be like you
I wish we were all rose-colored too
My rose-colored boy

Leave me here a little bit longer
I think I wanna stay in the car
I don’t want anybody seeing me cry now
You say “We gotta look on the bright side”
I say “Well maybe if you wanna go blind”
You say my eyes are getting too dark now
But boy, you ain’t ever seen my mind

Nine Months - Harry Styles Imagine

No piece of mine has never had as much interest surrounding it as this one has, so thank you for expressing your excitement to me. I hope you’ll find it was worth the wait. (Protip: if you’re reading on mobile, ditch the app and read on Safari or Chrome instead, as the app is prone to close on longer pieces of text).

This one is dedicated to @permanentcross, simply because she’s the best. E has listened to me ramble on and on about this story for longer than anyone should have to. She’s the inspiration behind many things beneath the cut, all of which I will leave up to your own interpretation. 

Without further adieu, I present you with Nine Months…

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in which jack and shitty accidentally date

based on a dream I had, I present: a short semi-fic about Jack and Shitty and their day-long, beautiful relationship.

Basically, this is what happens:

At a kegster during their freshmen year, in which Shitty is running around being the life of the party even though he’s a freshman, Jack is also in attendance– talking to Berger and Marsh in the kitchen. Jack is there, partly to keep an eye on Shitty, partly because he is surprised by how much he does like some of the guys on his team, mostly because they had won today and Jack is in quite a good mood. Not a good enough mood that he is going to risk going into the living room where music is blasting, but in a good enough mood that he is holding a solo cup of beer and chilling in the kitchen, chatting with Berger and Marsh. He is at ease as Jack ever is– laughing good naturedly as they tease both him and each other and of course, this is when the trouble starts.

The trouble is this: Marsh is drunk and excited that Jack has actually shown up to a Haus kegster and since Jack seems to be in a good mood, Marsh decides to take a risk and ask Jack a Question. More specifically, Marsh rams an friendly elbow into Jack’s ribs and goes:

“Yo, Zimmermann, you like anyone on campus yet?”

A few months prior, that question would have made Jack freeze up. But now, Jack smiles easily (because honestly, it is a rather respectful question– “like” instead of “fuck”; “anyone” instead of assuming “girl”) and he certainly doesn’t want to get into his romantic history or lack of crushes so he smiles, shrugs, and says

“Nah, love’s shitty,” It’s still friendly and he smiles and asks Berg about his crush that the whole team knows about and that should be that.

The problem, however, is that what Alex Berger and Carter Marsh heard was not “Nah, love’s shitty,” but “I’m in love with Shitty.”

Which, of course, is a much bigger deal. 

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squint at where you’re from

oops sometimes you gotta

spoilers for 413, bellamy/clarke, 1600 words, gen. AO3!


Even though it’s not really the same as coming down in the first time, Bellamy still has this strange sense of deja vu as he looks at the door. The ship is smaller, he has fewer people with him, he feels both more and less sure of what he’ll find. They tried to hit the only spot of green they could see, but the controls are a mess, so he’s not sure they got to it. The whole fucking ship is a mess, built out of whatever scrap they could salvage. Even with six years to perfect it, the thing is still held together with spit and prayer, according to Raven.

But it got them to the ground. They’re back.

“Just open the fucking door!” says Raven, and Bellamy lets out a long breath and finally hits the release.

He knows what he’s hoping for: clean air, plants, blue sky. And he gets all of those.

He just also gets a girl, maybe ten or eleven, with brown hair in braids, pointing a gun at him. Which is honestly fairly encouraging; someone survived, and they have firearms. So she probably came out of the bunker.

He puts his hands up on reflex.

“Hey, uh–we come in peace,” he tries, and then says it again in Trig, for good measure. He doesn’t recognize her, but that doesn’t mean anything. She could be from another clan; there are plenty of them he doesn’t know. Or–his heart trips on the thought–she could be a nightblood. She could have survived because of that, and if she survived–

The girl pulls her gun back and looks at him critically. “Are you Bellamy Blake?”

He blinks a few times. “Um, yeah. I’m Bellamy Blake.”

“Really?”

She sounds skeptical, which doesn’t make any fucking sense. She’s the one who brought it up. There’s no reason for her not to believe him.

“Yeah, really. Did you come out of the bunker? Is my sister with you? Octavia?”

You’re Bellamy?” she says, like she didn’t hear him. She’s making a face like something smells odd. “I thought you’d be taller.”

Taller?” he asks.

Raven pokes her head out. “It’s been five minutes and you’re already being held at gunpoint? You sure have a way with people, Bellamy.”

“Look, we don’t want to hurt you,” he tells the girl. “Just–”

“I know,” she says. “You just want to see Clarke.”

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Jack Zimmermann was accustomed to dealing with difficult situations; he was captain of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team after all, but this? This was never in the job description.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Bitty whispered into the side of Jack’s neck, breath hot and sweet against his skin. The kegster ended a while ago but Bitty was still feeling the effects. When he fell off the coffee table attempting to dance to All the Single Ladies, Jack swept in ready to piggyback him to bed.

“Alright,” Jack said, mouthing I got this in Lardo’s direction before heading to the stairs.

“I don’t wanna be a single lady anymore,” His voice faltered and Jack became acutely aware of Bitty’s thighs around his hips. “I want a person. Everybody else has got a person.”

“With moves like that I don’t think you’ll have to wait long,” Jack said, supressing a chuckle.

“Mmhmm,” Bitty mumbled, fighting a losing war against sleep. Jack pushed open the door to Bitty’s room with his foot and ducked inside.

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I’m tired of being sad and having no clue as to why I am this way, so I’ll write about the happy bits of me and why I smile. I dance when I’m alone, when the music gets just right and I’m sure that no one is watching, it’s okay to feel lonely, I used to not like the idea of it, but once you’re comfortable in your own skin even depression starts to feel like a breeze. I’m reading a book that says we are the beliefs and thoughts that we think and believe in. So if I say that I’m happy a thousand times, one of those will come back as true. So if I say I’ll find the love of my life some day, some day she’ll appear in front of me while I’m writing another poem. It’s good to have goals, the only goal I’ve ever had up until recently was to keep myself happy with someone else, that’s not a goal, but an illusion. You can’t live your life for someone else, it’s called your life for a reason. Happiness must happen when I say so, so I’m saying so. We bring into this world the kind of kindness that we’ve been dealt, so when I fake a smile, my mother is omnipresent. Although it’s not real, fake it until you make it, right? The book also says, spend more time doing things that make you lose track of time, so I decided to write again and more often than not, to not compare myself to others because once you start doing that, there’s no going back. I don’t write like someone else, I write like myself. I don’t think like anyone that I know, there’s just you and the beautifully twisted world, we’re all trying to find redemption inside of coral skies and trustworthy friends. I would break my own hand to contain my anger, it is contained. Happiness is what we make it, so if I say that it exists, then it will be so. Listening to your guidance, that makes me happy. You know who you are. Breathless to the words, you paint the sunrise with your pinky and promise that as long as I’m here today, tomorrow will not be filled with sorrow. I keep writing letters to the future person that I will be, I wonder if I’ll change. I probably will, we all do in one way or another. I’m the kind of person that snaps a picture of the sky while I’m driving, I’m reckless, but we’re still alive. Life’s too short and I need to be more careful, I’m certain that death has given up a few passes for me. Do you ever feel like you’re running out of time? Like there’s something trying to make a statement, a lost word that even google couldn’t even get its hands on. Do you ever feel like no one’s really listening? We’re all selfish in the end, but the ones that truly listen– they are the ones that I live for. I maintain online friendships better than I do with my siblings, I guess our thinking is just on different frequencies. On the topic of frequencies– the you that you would like to be is out there, you just need to listen. Hear the right words said by the right person and you’ll be in the right spot to be the you that you’d want to be in this life. Do you ever feel like you’re not good enough? Remember that thing I said about thoughts? Sometimes we just need to let go a little bit, embrace the art of it. To be left to the wind, the unknown will bring us to more adventures and you may not be loved by many, but there’s a chance that you will be– why not take it? I would like to break out of this, I want to smile more and to laugh a little louder, I just want to make myself proud of who I will be versus who I used to be. And you can’t turn back the hands of time, you cannot change your mistakes– they are permanent, but you are not. There is a fire inside of your chest and if you keep suffocating yourself with an indescribable pain then you’ll only suffer in a incomprehensible way. I just want to fill this world with more love and less pain, I see a butterfly and I’m easily distracted– how beauty will fly past you if you’re not even paying attention because you’re so damn sad all of the time. So I drop all signs of negativity and lean towards the positive, I am the only vibe that’ll alter my moods, so I must feel more wealthy than a million silver spoons even if I don’t have any, so I must create the art that likes to spill from my fingertips, we live such short lives– why not be the best version of yourself? Who will you be if tomorrow was your last day on this planet? Will you cry because it’s over? Or will you search the ends of the earth until you’ve found the fountain of youth? I’ve got a secret to share with you. You can be a 100 years old and still have the sweetest smile, you can be in your 20s and have a soul heavy enough to sink the titanic, life is strange, life is strange. We live our youth to buy pretty things, but live our oak days trying to make up more time– it waits for no one, the wrong turn will break you, a simple kiss will turn your thoughts into poetry and a life of self-hate is a road that needs constant validation– why not be your own way out? Be your own lover, be your own brand of music, be your own kind of poem, be your own story of kindness, and if you’re not perfect just look around– nobody is. I’m tired of dreaming, I want to build it instead. You can’t be who you want to be if you’re still having the same thoughts from last year– you can’t change or heal in the right way if you’re not willing to break a few pieces of your heart because the clutter inside of our minds often match the attitude that we give off. So like a quote, so like a poem, so like a bedtime story. If I repeat it enough times, I’ll be happy. I just want to be happy. I just want to let go of the bad feelings. I just want to love myself enough to see a brighter day. You can’t change the world if you can’t even change yourself, right? If I repeat it enough times, then it must be real. I will be happy. Sadness is a crucial emotion because without it, being delighted and euphoric wouldn’t be so dense, but that’s the beauty of the intensity to which we should love ourselves. I want to be so fucking glad to wake up today that it’ll just drown my depression into the white noise. I want to glow in the dark and live like the jellyfishes, give my poetry the immortality to always bring a smile onto the faces of those that love who I am even if I’m a bit flawed because at the end of the day– you’re the only one sleeping on your bed, you’re the only one who’s going to determine if you’ve got enough room to breathe, you’re the only one to have the last say if you’re art or not.
—  I wanted to write something happy for you–
yes, you. The person that’s reading this.

When we say “executive dysfunction”, I think it’s important to acknowledge to ourselves (and make clear to those who don’t struggle with it) that we’re talking about a basket of different struggles that we’re labeling with one name for convenience. One person’s executive dysfunction may not look like another person’s, even though the outcome (not being able to complete a task) may look similar from the outside.

Some people with executive dysfunction struggle to break down tasks into their component steps. Others struggle to connect cause and effect (’if I do this, this other thing will likely happen’), which makes daily life a confusing and sometimes terrifying black box. Still others can break down steps and parse out cause and effect, but they can’t start the first task (hello anxiety my old friend), or they get partway through and get distracted by a tangent or forget what the next step was because there were more than three (ah add i never miss you because you never leave), or they run out of energy before they can finish (tons of situations can cause this, both physical and mental). Sometimes people have a poor sense of how long it will take to do tasks, never seeming to budget enough because they don’t track time internally well. Others can only complete a task when they have sufficient adrenaline to spike their brain into focus, which usually means working in panic mode, which associates those tasks with Bad Feelings and further reinforces any anxiety the person may have.

And this isn’t just a few people. This is large-scale, across many groups struggling with different issues, from heavy metal poisoning to autism to add to chronic illness to anxiety to schizophrenia to mood disorders to traumatic brain injury, and more.

What we need, as a society, is to build better structures for supporting those with executive dysfunction, structures that acknowledge the multiple different types and causes. Because we cannot keep throwing the baby out with the bathwater here. We throw away incredible human potential that could help all of us because our society is set up to require a single skill which a large percentage of our teen and adult society doesn’t have and can’t easily develop (or they would have, trust me), or previously had by has temporarily lost due to injury or illness.

Instead of treating executive function as something that some people have developed and others haven’t, like artistic skills or a talent in maths or the ability to visualize systems or managing people, we treat it as a default that some people haven’t mastered because they’re [insert wrongheaded judgment here].

What if we treated the visual arts that way? If you can’t draw skillfully, you must be deficient in some way. How can you not draw? Anyone can draw. You start as a young child with crayons, what do you mean you can’t do this basic task?

Never mind that it’s a really complex skill by the time you’re expected to do the adult version, rather than the crayon version. Never mind that not everyone has been able to devote energy to developing that skill, and never mind that not everyone can visualize what they want to produce or has the hand-eye coordination necessary to accomplish it.

Now, I have friends who say that anyone can draw, and maybe they’re right on some level. But it’s hard to deny that it helps that drawing is optional. That you can opt out and no one thinks any less of you as a person. Executive function is treated as non-optional, and to some extent, since it’s involved in feeding and clothing and cleaning and educating oneself, it’s not entirely optional. But we make all of those tasks much harder by assuming by default that everyone can do them to an equal degree, and that no one needs or should need help.

If we built a society where it was expected that I might need timed reminders to eat, I would probably remember to do it more often. I certainly did as a child, when the adults around me were responsible for that task. Now that I’m an adult, the assumption is that I somehow magically developed a better internal barometer for hunger. Many people do. But I and many others did not. Recognizing that there are many of us who need help and treating that need as normal would go a long way toward building support into the basic fabric of our society.

But then, I guess that’s been the cry of disability advocates for decades; just assume this is a thing people need help with and build the entire structure with that assumption in mind.

Watch Me Babygirl [pt.3]

[pt.1] [previous part] [next part] [pt.5] [pt.6] [pt.7] [pt.8] [pt.9] [pt.10]

Summary: Jungkook is your brother’s annoying best friend. You can’t stand him but he just can’t resist teasing you. How far will he actually go?

Warnings: slight language


“Thanks for the ride Tae,” you said, giving his arm a squeeze before sliding out of the car.

You walked up your drive and unlocked the door, giving Taehyung a wave before you slipped inside. He always waited until you were in the house to drive away which never failed to make you smile. He was sweet, you had to admit.

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skam fic rec masterpost

so i love reading fic, its like my favorite pass time and that’s all i’ve been doing for the past three months so here’s a huge fic rec list of some fics that i have read and am currently reading and im in love with

big thanks to fic writers! yall are amazing and so important to the fandom <3

a lot of these authors are also on tumblr im sure but i don’t have all the urls so i’m gonna put the ao3 usernames for now. please if you’re on tumblr and would like your url to be in this instead of your ao3 username, just holla at me and ill change it! <3

(ps i’m so sorry i had to shorten up the summaries on some of them so it wouldnt be too long!!)

(pps i update this very frequently as i read so feel free to come back from time to time to look for any new fics!)

make sure you read the trigger warnings for some fics as they can get angsty

okay here we go :) happy reading <3

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Better With Age

Summary: Sam freaks out a little about growing older. You comfort him.

Word Count: 1900ish

Warning: standard smut, a little dirty talk

A/N: Hope y’all enjoy this one! XOXO


It’s the little things.

Sam starts an intense multivitamin regimen in the mornings. He cuts back on the beer. He tries his best to start sleeping five or six hours instead of the usual four.

You get it. You aren’t twenty-one years old anymore either. Sore muscles take a couple of days longer to heal, too many beers at dinner makes you feel awful the next day, and you just simply don’t have the stamina you used to.

Sam is just trying to ward off middle-age as long as he can, despite the fact that he’s not even there yet.

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How to Successfully Adopt a Lifestyle Change

Not a diet. Diet implies temporary, and what we need to do is form a set of new, sustainable habits for the rest of our life.

A lot of you probably have a daydream of taking a black, billowy trash bag and planning a SWAT-style assault on your fridge and cupboards and then setting fire to the dumpster you hurl it into. Naturally, you’ll dash over to the grocery store and purchase a ton of strange-looking foods you don’t regularly eat, or never eat! Then you’ll slap on a pair of shiny new shoes and go run a 5K. This works for–some people. Honestly, few people.

The reality for many people; however, is they get off their foray after a few weeks. Why is that?

Think about it. How long did it take you to really get into the groove of your current habits? Months? Years? If you’re trying to simultaneously kiss soda and chip’s ass good-bye, change every bite of food you eat, and start a fitness routine. Guess what? Stress, stress, stress! Your stomach was used to those portion sizes (whether too large or too small) and some of your favorite snacks, your brain is literally addicted to it. A lot of people will reach nuclear meltdown levels trying to transition to a healthy lifestyle this way.

Just like it took you time to form your current habits, it’s going to take some time to form your new habits. I truly do empathize with the feelings of wanting everything to be different right now, but realistically we can only handle a certain amount of stressors and change at one time.

Start With Nutrition Habits: While I really would recommend finding a few cheeky ways to get more active, you’ve probably heard some variant of “can’t outrun your fork,” or “it’s 80% nutrition.” Well, it really is true. Being more active is absolutely crucial to improving overall health in the “endgame,”  but we’re still playing the “tutorial” and the dietary aspects of our lifestyle change are the bulk of the impact. It goes beyond that, though. I’ve written more about it here, but being a beginner can be genuinely hard at times!  It takes a lot of time and effort to get oneself to a point where they can physically and mentally handle what entails “regular, moderate exercise.” One part of making that transition easier will be better nutrition and hydration.

Start With an Easy Target: I always tell people if they drink a lot of soda, juice, or sweetened tea/coffee to start here. Sugar provides us pretty much no nutrition and removing the pulp from fruit makes juice not that great for us, either. Drinking more water is not negotiable and replacing these beverages with water will do a surprising amount of good for how you feel–all by itself. I recognize how hard this one can be to kick, but sweetened beverages really do load many people’s lifestyles with a lot of bad juju.

If you don’t have a beverage problem, maybe you do have a condiment/dressing problem and can reduce the quantities and find alternatives. Maybe you party-hardy a little too much and need to cut down on alcohol. While I said “easy target,” no one said it would be that easy, but you probably have an idea where most of these so called “empty” nutrients are coming from.

Transition Bad Habits a Few at a Time: The opening of this probably already made it clear, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. You probably have an idea of what some of your most problematic habits are, so choose one; maybe two, and see how you adjust over a week or two before considering the next step.

Small Swaps: Start switching out various items in your pantries, fridges, and lunchboxes with simple alternatives. Change white breads, rices, and pastas to brown. Take the bag of chips from your lunch and turn it into a few servings of seasonal fruit and vegetables. Pick out a leaner cut of meat and use a little less dairy, if you eat them. Little changes can have massive results.

Learn Moderation: Remember that whole sustainable part at the very beginning? Our lifestyles do need to reflect our real lives. Well, my real life has a love of chocolates, pastries, and candies. So, it’s not realistic for me to say “no chocolate, pastries, or candies.” Food molarity can be a pretty toxic outlook on eating and life in general. Instead of labeling foods as “bad,” just learn and respect the limits. There are times where you have to say, “enough, is enough,” but living in a constant state of “no” is not realistic or mentally healthy for most people. It’s OK to love indulgent food. Think about how long your life is going to be. So, now think about how dinky an occasional treat will be in retrospect.

Depending on Your Struggles, Consider Therapy: As we know, many aspects of unhealthy eating habits are actually unhealthy mental habits. Depending on the severity and exact nature of those problems, never be embarrassed to seek professional help. I struggled with stress eating and even binge eating for most of my adolescence, and finally getting help for my anxiety disorder played a pretty crucial role in improving both my physical and mental health. If it’s not a possibility at this time, consider journaling.

Walk Before Your Run: Literally and figuratively. I’m going to recommend this previous post I recently wrote again, but when you’ve gotten a few habits cracked and feel like you’re ready to start amping up your activity, start with low impact and low equipment exercises. If it has been years, or if you’ve never exercised, it takes some easing into it. I recommend walking to all beginners because we already know how to do it, have what we need to do it, and probably won’t hurt ourselves.

So, there you have it. Tackle small challenges and get your body acclimated to them before you consider some of the overarching and holistic goals you have for your lifestyle. That said, we’re all different. If you still want to try and do that 180-flip, I can’t stop you and some people are successful that way. No two people or personality types have the exact same problems or strategy for overcoming them. However, if you’ve gotten frustrated and thrown in the towel a time or two, consider the scope of change and how to realistically implement it over a period of time.  We didn’t form our old habits overnight.

Sunday Morning

Summary: A young man and a young woman run into one another on a Sunday morning at a coffee shop, both of them heartbroken, and rediscover what it means to love and be loved. Bucky x Reader 

 Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this one for a bit. It’s basically the feel-good romance no one ever expected me to write (me included) 

 Words: ~2900

Originally posted by writingandcoffeehouse

Bucky used to love Sunday mornings. They were meant for sleeping in, for curling against the soft, tender body that slept next to him.

They’d had five years of Sunday mornings, of her soft sighs in his ear as she stirred from her sleep, bright green eyes blinking sleepily up at him as he kissed her plush, pink lips. Five years of Sunday mornings, of making coffee in a pair of boxers; of her arms wrapping around him from behind, a soft cheek against his bare back. Five years of Sunday mornings, of sitting at the breakfast bar in their pajamas, her thumb wiping jelly off the corners of his mouth.

Five years of Sunday mornings, wasted.

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❝ Just tell me the truth. ❞

Plot: You and your boyfriend Yoongi fought due to his stress and misunderstanding but at the end he fixs everything.

Pairing: YoongixReader

Words count: 3k+

Genre: Angst/ Fluff 

For anon, I hope you like it! - M. 

Gif isn’t mine, credits to the owner!

You were just passing by the studio to leave him something to eat. You knew too well Yoongi and you were sure he had already skipped lunch, too concentrated on the music to notice the rest.  

You had the best intentions and you still couldn’t figure out how it was possible to begin to scream in the soundproof walls of his studio.  

“Can you let me talk?” You murmured with a softer voice, hoping that lowered your voice would help him to lower his, too; “Yoongi, please.. I can’t even understand why we’re arguing! ”  

He snorted and turned back to the computer, pretending that you were not there; “Because as always you meddle in businesses that are not yours, Y/N.”  

“That is?”  

“I told you not to tell Namjoon I have problems with this track, but accidentally he said that I don’t have to worry. You were the only one who knew. ”  

You remained silent for a fraction of a second, remembering the fact that you didn’t see and text Namjoon for almost four days and he interpreted your silence as an admission of guilt.  

You opened your mouth to be able to say something when he turned and his face was so transformed by frustration and anger that it didn’t even seem to have before Yoongi.  

He got up and you just flinched away, feeling a thrill of fear running along your back but he didn’t approach you. He ignored you, as he had done a few seconds before and came up to the door, opening it and keeping it open.  

“Go away.”  

His jaw was contracted while you watched him completely shocked by his attitude, without finding the strength to move one step. You noticed how his hands trembled, how he clung to the door, and even though he was treating you unjustly, you felt sorry to see him in those conditions.  

“Yoo–”  

“I said go away, Y/N,” He hissed bitterly, finally lifting his gaze and laying it on you. The thrill of you felt before was nothing compared to what crossed through your body, taking for a few moments your breath. “I don’t need you, I don’t need your attention. You have to stop, okay? I can handle everything alone because then the result of your attentions are just trouble. ” His tone became more and more aloof and cold to every word he uttered, while what he said slipped on you and almost put the roots within you.  

You never thought he had so little need of you or considered you a kind of trouble, but it wasn’t hard to believe.  

You had always had problems in dealing with people and in time you came to the conclusion that the main problem was you.  

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Dean Thinks You’re Hot

Title: Dean Thinks You’re Hot

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 2,122

Anon Request: you think you could write one where the reader feels insecure about her stretch marks/size and Jensen is her best friend and tries to help her feel better?

Warnings: Negative Thoughts, Low Self-Esteem, Fluff, Implied Smut

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated, friends! xoxox

x

Your name: submit What is this?


    Pacing back and forth around your trailer almost drove you dizzy. Back and forth. Back and forth; as if that was going to simultaneously solve all of your problems. It wasn’t. Not even close.

    You had just gotten the memo that your intimate scene with Jensen was moved to today, not that you weren’t sweating buckets the second you got the script, but the fact that the scene was moved to today instead of five days from now had you ripping your hair from your head. You were going to be very exposed to him, and no matter how long the two of you had been friends, this was something you weren’t comfortable with on so many levels.

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Nobody deserves to be forgotten- Tree bros/ Connor X evan

Tagging: @sticki-notes


Somehow, despite all odds, Connor had survived. His dad was furious with him, yelling about how he threw away everything he was given, Zoe was completely silent, fury in her eyes, and his mother was … heartbroken. They sent him to rehab, and Connor knew that deep down they all wished he hadn’t woken up.

He sighed, twitching slightly as he tried to get used to being without drugs, they had given him nicotine patches to help ease him into it but it barely helped. They had also put him on mood stabilizers, to help him out with his anger issues and depression. Getting him to take them was a fight every morning.

It had been a week and nobody came to visit him, and frankly it was exactly what Connor expected. It wasn’t like anybody noticed him.  It wasn’t like anyone gave a damn.  He looked up at the sound of footsteps, sneering at the nurse.

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for @portentous-offerings who is my sick buddy today. Feel better my friend ^_^ 

“She’s never going to love me.”

It was so quiet she almost missed it.

“What did you say Kitty?” she asked, her face still pressed into his back from where they were cuddling in her bed.

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything,” he said, rolling over and giving her a cheeky smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Are… are you talking about Ladybug?” she asked softly, feeling the knot of guilt that had steadily been building over the last few months of this strange friendship they had fallen into.

He didn’t bring up her alter ego very often. The subject of romance in general always seeming to carry some sort of bizarre taboo whenever he stopped by for his increasingly frequent visits. Not that Marinette had minded. She had Alya to cry to about her lack-luster love life after all, and given how unwaveringly supportive he was about all of her other problems, it seemed silly to hold it against him that he was uncomfortable talking to a girl about crushes and the like.

His eyes flashed guiltily and he rolled back over, staring out into the darkness of the room.

“Really it’s nothing,” he said again, but he couldn’t quite mask the defeated tone that colored his words.

It was a sound she was all too used to. The same defeated cadence that had echoed from her own lips after her disastrous attempt at confessing to Adrien 5 months and 27 days earlier that no amount of Rom-coms or Alya suggested poster-burning had been able to cure.

“Chat, it isn’t nothing,” she said, sitting up and gently trying to pull him back around. He didn’t budge, still keeping his gaze obstinately fixed at something that she couldn’t see. “If it matters to you… it isn’t nothing. Not to me.”

“It’s not appropriate,” he said softly, “and it’s not fair to you.”

“Shouldn’t I get to be the judge of that?”

“It would be selfish-“

“So be selfish!” she said with a slightly forced laugh. “Trust me, you have a long way to go before you catch up to my level of selfish so I am hardly one to judge.” She teased her fingers through his hair, letting her nails scratch delicately against his scalp and felt him relax in spite of himself.

“Yeah right,” he scoffed lightly, “your strange phone kleptomania aside, you’re a pretty stand-up person.”

“Hey, I will have you know I have been working very hard to reform my phone-napping ways,” she teased, hoping to draw out a real smile from him.

“You stole Alya’s phone just last week!”

“That was a special circumstance. I told you so,” she pouted. “Besides, Adrien doesn’t deserve to be taunted like that no matter what Alya might say about it,” she added softly.  

She felt Chat stiffen slightly, his cat ear twitching at her words, and she was once again suspicious that he knew all about her romantic trouble regardless of their lack of conversation on the subject. She flushed at the thought.

“You are one of the most selfless people I know,” he said, reaching up to grasp her hand in his own and give it a brief reassuring squeeze.

The guilt Marinette was feeling was almost overpowering as the thought of the secrets she was keeping from him weighed on her like a stone. He had never questioned how they had fallen into such an easy friendship, and she had become too attached to having him as a part of her life- her normal everyday life- to be willing to admit the one-sidedness of it all. Here she was getting mopey over someone she had sworn she was done chasing after in front of a guy whose heart she routinely seemed to trample into the dust. Talk about selfish.  

“Please just tell me,” she whispered, her fingers resuming their seductive strokes that she knew full well would reduce him to a compliant puddle in her lap.

He was silent for a few more moments before finally letting out a small defeated sigh.

“I was just thinking about everything and I guess I just…” he hesitated. “She’ll never love me. I know that. I think on some level I always suspected as much.”

His voice wasn’t bitter or angry, and that calm resignation shattered her own heart into a million pieces more than the actual words he was saying.

“I think,” he continued, “I think I will be ok with it. She loves someone else. She doesn’t really say much about it, maybe to preserve our identities or maybe because she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings, but every once in a while she lets something slip and it’s not that hard to put the pieces together. I always thought it was so cheesy in the movies when people would say things like I just want her to be happy, but I think I get it now. She’s incredible and I am always going to love her, but she doesn’t need me to make her happy.”

Marinette could feel the tears pooling behind her eyes as the words poured out of him in his soft, even tone. Her fingers were frozen, buried in his lush golden hair, her breaths turning shallow and frantic as the words reverberated through her like an electric current.

She stared down at the boy beside her. Her precious, irreplaceable kitten, who loved her so fiercely and believed in her so much. Who was willing to call her out for her faults and yet somehow still believed her capable of rising above them.

“She’s smart,” Chat continued, his voice seeming to echo in the near silence of the night, “and I know that whoever she does choose is going to be someone who can make her happy. Somebody good and funny and able to keep up with her when she is at her best and keep her grounded when she’s at her worst. So I think I can be ok with that.”

She tried to imagine what her future would be with some potential lover. Her heart lurched slightly at the thought of Adrien, her own love that was apparently not to be. She brushed that thought aside and instead tried to picture a world where she was curled up beside some new face, running her fingers through hair that wasn’t blonde.

She had to choke back a sob.

The slight twinge of pain she had felt at the momentary reminder that she and Adrien would never be more than friends was nothing to the soul rendering terror she felt at the sudden realization that finding a new love would inevitably mean losing Chat.

They would still be friends. Of course, it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be like this. He would never impose like that. Not her Chat. Her partner who was good, and funny, and who had seen her at her best and her worst, who knew her better than anyone, and who still had never made her feel anything less than precious. Her dearest friend who just the momentary thought of a life without him made her feel like she was dying.

Chat let out a small self-deprecating laugh and Marinette wondered how she had ever been so blind.

“So yeah,” he said finally twisting back around to look up at her, “I think I’ll be ok. Even if she doesn’t love me.”

She gazed down at him, his brilliant green eyes glowing in the near darkness of the night, a tired smile on his face that she longed to see transformed into his usual infectious grin, as the truth hit her like a bolt of lightning.

“I do,” she said breathlessly, before leaning down to capture his lips in a long overdue kiss.