i made this so long ago but i have nothing else to post

WHAT’S HAPPENING IN VENEZUELA? // long post, but worth the read.

So, it’s official. The Constituent was approved. In the past 18 years, aka since Hugo Chávez was elected President of Venezuela, the government has altered election results to their benefit so it really isn’t strange to us that they would do it this time. However, we didn’t think they would be so shameless as to alter them this much. According to Tibisay Lucena (President of the Electoral Power) there was a total of 8.089.320 votes in favor of this Constituent, and these numbers simply don’t add. This past 16th of July a referendum was held where voters would have to answer to 3 questions about whether or not they agreed to move forward with the Constituent; the results? 6.492.381 votes made in Venezuela and 693.789 votes outside the country, meaning a total of 7.186.170 against the Constituent. While these two results add a total of 15.275.490 votes that fit under the 19.805.002 of venezuelans summoned to vote, here’s why yesterday’s number makes no sense:

  •  8.191.132 votes in favor of Hugo Chávez (Presidential elections of 2012). - While these numbers were most certainly altered, it’s no lie that at the time Chávez had a huge group of supporters, called Chavistas.
  • 7.505.338 votes in favor of Nicolás Maduro (Presidential elections of 2013). - These elections were made because of the recent death of Chávez, who knew he didn’t have much time left so he decided to brainwash all of his supporters to think Maduro was the best option for president. May I add, Nicolás Maduro doesn’t have any kind of educational degree, he literally was a bus driver before becoming president. Totally unqualified man. All his votes were bought or made up.
  • 5.599.025 votes in favor of the PSUV (Parliamentary elections of 2015) - PSUV stands for Partido Socialista Unido de Venezuela and would roughly translate to “United Socialist Party of Venezuela“, I think. These elections were a big deal to the oposition (represented by the MUD aka “Democratic Unity Roundtable”), because we owned the National Assembly with 112 deputies (67%) and 7.707.422 votes (56,2% of the total votes)

I think I’ve made my point as to why yesterday’s result of 8.089.320 votes is nothing but blatant lies, except that’s not all! Turns out that, in these past days between the referendum (July 16) and yesterday (July 30), any person making a buy that required a fingerprint scan or using a “carnet de la patria” (an id recently made to “ease the access to social programs”) would count as a vote in favor of the Constituent. This government spends so much time looking for ways to stay in power because they know that the majority of the country is against them, and obviously they won’t acknowledge that they’re not as “loved” as they used to be, or else they wouldn’t ignore the protests that have been going on for the past 121 days with at least 128 confirmed deaths (17 of them happened only yesterday).

Now I’m going to explain why this Constituent being approved is literally confirming we’re living under a dictatorship.

  • Venezuela becomes a communal state.
  • Private enterprise will be eliminated.
  • All private sector employees become public employees.
  • The right to private education will be eliminated. From preschool to universitary sector, including adoctrinamiento político on all levels of education.
  • Means of social communication will be at the service of communist power.
  • University autonomy will be eliminated.
  • Municipalities will be eliminated.
  • The president of the republic is the only one able to choose governors and mayors, without taking into account the opinion of the people.
  • The presidential term will last between 20 and 30 years, with chance of indefinite reelection, applicable to the current president.
  • The movement of citizens inside of the country will be limited, meaning you’ll need an official permit to travel around Venezuela.
  • International departures will be limited, meaning you’ll need an official permit to get out of the country.
  • All powers, public and private, disappear.
  • The armed force disappears, becoming fighting bodies integrated into the government’s party.
  • All political parties will be eliminated.
  • The right to protest will be eliminated.
  • Opposing or thinking differently than the government will be a crime of betrayal to the motherland, meaning freedom of speech disappears.
  • Article 350 of the actual Constitution, that establishes you can disown the authority when the Constitution is violated, will be eliminated.
  • Authorities can break into your house without a warrant.
  • People’s houses can’t be sold or inherited, becoming propiety of the state.
  • Life guarantee will be restricted, the regime has now custody of people’s lives.

This is really serious, and I wish more people were talking about it because what I’m doing right now will be literally considered a crime as soon as the National Constituent Assembly enters in action. I know you guys may think that reblogging, retweeteting and regraming some posts is not gonna help us, but trust me, they will. The government is putting up an act of “everything’s fine, we’re the same 1st world country we were +20 years ago” and we’re not. We’re being killed, tortured, starved, lied to and so much more horrifying things are being done to and against us. Let the world know what’s really happening in Venezuela, and who’s the real villain in the story.

Does anybody else remember a time, long long ago, when you could just enjoy things?

You could watch a movie and just appreciate it instead of over analyzing every single scene to make sure there’s nothing remotely offensive about it.

You could have a favorite character and just like them and appreciate how great they were written and portrayed, without being told you’re terrible because they’re a villain. Even though they’re FICTIONAL and most likely were deliberately written to be likable. (Even if they were written as an evil character, I still think you have a right to like them, but maybe that’s just me)

You could love and be a fan of the actors without having to go full on FBI agent, looking into their backgrounds to make sure they are 100% perfect and had never made a mistake ever.

You could post about said actor without some busybody little fandom cop, slithering into your inbox to tell you(all too happily) that your fave is “problematic” (god, I fucking hate that word), and you’re disgusting if you still like them.

I’m in my 30’s so I remember those good ole days and it’s kind of sad to know, that most of you will never truly know how great that was. That’s a time long since forgotten. Bummer.

A Punny Story

I had this girlfriend once where things were getting pretty serious. We wanted to move in together, so we went looking for an apartment. The second one our real estate agent took us to was perfect, we both loved it, so we made the decision to move in. Our neighbour was a really nice guy named Joseph. His wife had left him a few years prior, leaving him alone to take care of his eight-year old son. I always felt kinda bad for the guy. He had this weird accent that was really hard to place.

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First Kisses

Their first kiss wasn’t spectacular. No one stood in the background, waiting to light off fireworks while hordes of people cheered and applauded. There was no performance at all, really.

The fact of the matter is that their first kiss was on a Tuesday night, and Draco was making Harry stay up with him to study for a Defense Against the Dark Arts exam they had the next morning. They were the only ones in the common room. But Harry looked at the clock and realized it wasn’t Tuesday night anymore, it was actually Wednesday morning, and somehow during their studying they’d slumped over onto each other, eyelids weighed down with sleep. The fire had all but burned out, the glowing coals casting a dim orange light across the two boys on the overstuffed sofa…

It wasn’t spectacular. They just sort of… fell together, I suppose, melting into each other, and Harry wasn’t sure where his mouth ended and Draco’s began anymore. He kept falling. Harry hoped he’d never hit the ground.


Their first kiss was in the rain after Harry and Draco were both shit-faced drunk, stumbling out of the bar while still swaying in time to the pumping music inside. Harry’s glasses were askew, and his cheeks were flushed, and god, his pupils were so dilated… Draco had intended on mapping out every corner of Harry’s face so he could remember it later when he went home alone like usual, but when he straightened Harry’s glasses for him, his hands lingered against his cheeks, thumbs tracing Harry’s lips. Their foreheads pressed together. He could feel Harry’s breath against his mouth and when he finally closed the remaining space between them, Harry’s wand shot out sparks and singed Draco’s coat. If you weren’t looking closely as you walked past them in the dark, you’d think it was one cloaked figure, standing very still outside the crowded bar.

Draco didn’t go home alone ever again after that night.


Their first kiss was in the eighth-year common room, surrounded by friends who had all had far too much firewhiskey to drink. It was Harry’s turn, and his face was already beet red. He wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or from what was about to happen, but he wasn’t sure that mattered right now. He spun the bottle as hard as it would go. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and the bottle just kept going… There was no way there wasn’t magic involved in how long it took it to stop spinning. Maybe he was so drunk, it had stopped spinning hours ago and he just hadn’t noticed.

The room went silent.

Harry was particularly aware of the fact that there was a floor beneath him, and something else underneath, and he felt entirely too heavy to hold up. He looked at who the bottle pointed towards and wished the floorboards would give way to send him plummeting into whatever room was beneath them.

And Ron was assuring him that no, if he really didn’t want to, he didn’t have to do it, but Pansy started chanting “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” and made everyone else join in. Hell, even Hermione was pumping her fists and chanting, and all of the blood in Harry’s body rushed to his head. He was most definitely a deep shade of scarlet now.

He looked up from his lap, though, and inches in front of him was the one person he never thought he’d touch in a way that wasn’t with malintent, and his eyes were already closed.

Draco tasted like peppermint and booze. The first time, at least.


Their first kiss was full of fire and anger and sweat, and they were seventeen. There was no one left in the showers after Slytherin lost another Quidditch match to Gryffindor, and Draco was convinced Harry had cheated. He’d almost had the snitch. He could have beat him for the first time in his life. Draco punched first, hitting the hard brick wall and bloodying his knuckles when Harry ducked out of the way. Harry’s face was covered in dirt and neither of them had much in the way of a hairstyle after playing out in a rainstorm for several hours. But Draco couldn’t think about Harry’s unkempt hair or muddy face right now, because somehow Harry had pinned him up against the wall, breathing hard and muttering something about how Draco should think very hard about what he did next…

Harry had hickeys landscaped across his chest for days.


Their first kiss was confusing for both of them. Of course Snape had paired them together for potions again, and Harry was prepared to sit back and let Draco do all the work again, but they were being watched so Draco thrust into Harry’s arms some things to chop up that had nothing to do with what they were brewing. Harry was getting a Dreadful in this class and he wasn’t sure how he was going to finish school if he flunked out.

“I’ll help you,” Draco mumbled, and Harry became aware that he had somehow managed to say all of this out loud.

“You’ll what?” asked Harry, dumbfounded.

“I said I’ll help you, you git,” Draco sneered, “McGonagall wants me to do something for the less fortunate because it might help me get a job when we get out of here.”

So Harry agreed, and for two hours on Saturday nights Harry and Draco had a scheduled slot of time to argue study. They’d never spent time alone together though, at least not for this long, and Harry began to notice little things about Draco. Like how when Draco was thinking hard about something, he flossed his hands through his hair, pulling it all off of his forehead and accentuating his widow’s peak. He looked like a blond vampire like that. It was a good look on him.

“What did you just say?” questioned Draco, one eyebrow raised. Harry had thought out loud again. Shit. He tried to think of something to cover up what he’d just said, but it was all out in the open now. He couldn’t backtrack on something like that. Draco looked beyond pleased with himself, and Harry felt his jaw clench. That git.

God, Draco got under his skin, but here, in the empty potions classroom, alone, he looked…

God.

He got under his skin so much that skin was all Harry could think about now. Draco’s skin. It was softer than he’d ever imagined. And his lips were another story.


And that’s what I love about fanfiction. The fact that we can write into existence hundreds of first kiss, each one unique in it’s own way, but each one dripping with more magic than anything you can cast with your wand. Each one the jumping off point for an infinite universe of stories, love, heartbreak, and laughter. So here’s to beginnings. Here’s to more first kisses.


Thank you @parkkate for reminding me of the post I made a few months ago that fell along this line! I figured I’d have at it once again like I did with the other post I made yesterday since I don’t really remember anything I wrote last time! 

Bruise [ VI ]

Genre [Rating] : Angst [M]

Length: 9.2k

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Summary: He wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, but that couldn’t stop your heart from believing otherwise.

Bruise Masterlist

Originally posted by mochidoni

Brown sugar was a smell that had grown to make your heart swell, the familiar scent one that lingered in the air of Chanyeol’s apartment every time you stepped inside. The feeling of the plush carpet of his bedroom floor was now your favorite thing to feel in the morning, second only to his lips on your skin. Hearing his groggy morning voice was your preferred alarm, closely followed by the humming he’d do while he brushed his teeth. Everything about him had grown along you, for a month straight Chanyeol had tightened his grip around your heart more with each word that left his lips. He was unsure and slow, not taking any steps too big to backtrack from should he need to. You knew to anyone else you’d probably seem stupid, staying with someone who couldn’t promise you more than what you were now, a non-relationship relationship with a non-committal boy who got anxious even saying the word boyfriend.

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like real people do p.3 | jeon jungkook

summary: the feelings for your friends with benefits are changing. months pass, and you feel your gut telling you that you want more. you’re just not sure if he feels the same.

college student!reader, friends with benefits!jungkook

piece 1, piece 2, piece 3

this component is based off 6LACK’s ‘Prblms’

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How To Win A Boy: Fumbling Punk Edition

How To Win A Boy: Fumbling Punk Edition | Dan Howell, local punk, and his friends need a new cafe to hang out in, now that Dan has ruined starbucks for them (don’t ask). So they try out the new family business that just opened up a few days ago… and somehow Dan falls in love with the Pastel Goth kid behind the counter who just so happens to be his waiter. Why Phil seems to think disgusting smoothies are going to win Dan over, no one knows, but… well, they do. | Phan | Teen and Up | PastelxPunk | 8,359 Words

Thanks to @botanistlester for the title, and the fic inspiration, not to mention listening to me talk about this fic for the last 3 hours of writing. I apologize for any typos, but screw proofreading, I really want to post already.

Art: (Dan & Phil) (Mini Comic) (Full Comic)

(ao3 Link)

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EDIT: SO FAR THIS HAS BEEN TURNED OUT TO BE A HOAX. PLEASE SEE OTHER, PERHAPS MORE RELIABLE RUMOR, FROM HERE

REMEMBER ALSO REBOOT VERSUS XIII PETITION

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Of Hidden Talents (Feysand Fluff)

So this just popped into my head last night when I couldn’t sleep. Set post-ACOWAR and contains nothing but fluff.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Feyre found herself commenting, smiling slightly as she tried not to groan in pleasure under Rhys’ hands.

He chuckled from where he was seated behind her, the sound sending a thrill through her spine, even decades into their relationship. “I should hope so; I have to keep my High Lady entertained somehow. Wouldn’t want her eternity to get boring.”

“Boring? How could I ever get bored with a mate who thinks so much of himself?” She shot back, though its effect was lost when she leaned further into him, her hands running over the legs that were on either side of her. She could feel the delicious heat of his bare chest so close behind her, the thin nightdress she was wearing a poor barrier between them. 

Rhys’ fingers continued to comb through her hair, expertly separating it into three equal parts. “I take offense to that.”

Feyre let out an aborted snort. “No, you don’t.” 

“No, I don’t,” Rhys agreed, in a blithe voice.

They fell into a comfortable silence then, built on years of learning how to just be together. Neither of them felt the need to always fill the air between them with pointless chatter. Oh, they liked to joke and bicker… but they also knew when to let words fade away and just enjoy each other’s company.

It had been happening more of late, likely because Rhys had refused to leave Feyre’s side for the past few months. He was a constant presence at her side, though he did his best not to hover too much (he knew all too well how she loathed feeling locked in, how it still made her bones lock up in fear, even after all this time). He needn’t have worried; Feyre never, never felt tied down by her mate, never felt confined by him. She knew that even now, when he was so concerned about her, he would give her space if she asked.

(He’d once told her, in a fit of hopeless romanticism, that he would give her the very stars above Velaris if he could. Feyre had believed him, of course, if only because she said she would do the same for him.)

So Feyre was quiet, letting Rhys gently braid her hair as if he’d done it hundreds of times before. She’d been utterly surprised when he’d offered to do it for her earlier, after he’d heard her curse in front of the mirror while she struggled with trying to tame her wild locks into something more manageable. Feyre was so tired these days and sore too, the heavier she got. And she was constantly hot then cold, her hair always in the way and, Cauldron, she didn’t care for it much now and all the work it took to keep it neat, not when she was already so uncomfortable. She’d been beyond tempted to just chop it all off, had Rhys not stepped in when he did with his innocuous offer.

At first she tried to deny the existence of a problem but she really couldn’t hide anything from Rhys; he knew her too well, felt her struggles through their mating bond and tried to ease her discomfort as much as he could. (Rightly so, Feyre sometimes thought when she particularly annoyed with how limited she was lately, considering he’s the one that put me into this situation in the first place.) 

So here they were, Rhys’s gentle hands working wonders on Feyre’s nerves, his fingers softly tugging at her hair as he built the braid into something spectacular; Feyre herself was usually no slouch when it came her hair (at least when she wasn’t so cranky), but she had the feeling that Rhys was even better. So many hidden talents, this mate of mine.

“Where’d you learn to do this?” she finally asked, curiosity getting the better of her. She’d felt his hesitancy when he first offered, that pang of grief that he’d been unable to conceal from her.

“My sister,” Rhys said after a long pause. His voice had lost that light-hearted edge from earlier, filled instead with wistful regret. “She’d come to me when our mother was too busy for it. She could have asked the servants, of course… but she liked to spend a few moments with me, I think. She continued to ask even long after she could do it by herself. I never had the heart to say no.” 

Feyre’s own heart ached for her mate, for the family he’d lost so long ago. He rarely spoke of the little sister she’d never meet, even less so than his mother. From what she’d gleaned over the years, his sister had been quite a bit younger than him, had looked up to him in a way no one else ever had. Feyre couldn’t even imagine what it had been like for him to have to bury her broken body.

She rubbed her thumbs comfortingly over the sides of his knees. I’m sorry, she sent softly to him through their bond. I’m sorry

Rhys’ mind caressed hers. Me too.

Feyre kept running her hands soothingly over him, tempted to turn around and pull him to her, wrap her arms around those broad shoulders of his. She didn’t though; the act of braiding seemed to calm him… like coming home to something he’d thought he’d long forgotten. (Still, she wished she could protect him from all the pain he endured… but that same pain had made him into the wonderful male he was today.) 

When he was finally done, she saw his finished work briefly through his eyes, the image flashing through her mind.

“It’s beautiful,” Feyre said with a smile, reaching up to run her fingers over the intricate pattern he’d managed to weave her hair into. “Thank you.”

Rhys’ strong arms around wrapped around her body, finally pulling her back to rest against his chest. “I figured it was about time I got some practice,” he whispered in her ear as he moved one hand to cover her rounded belly. “I wouldn’t want our poor daughter to be left with an inept father.”

Feyre tangled her fingers with Rhys’, holding them over her stomach, where their unborn baby was slowly growing. “You could never be an inept father, Rhys,” she told him softly. Rhys only pressed kiss under her jaw in response, though she could feel his quiet gratitude for her faith in him. “Besides, how do you know it’ll be a girl?” Feyre continued, turning her head so she could arch an eyebrow at him.

Mischief lit his violet eyes. “Perhaps I asked Elain.”

Feyre leveled a look at him. “Elain would never tell you, even if she knew.” Her sister had become quite the responsible seer over the years, never revealing more than was necessary. (Well, that and Feyre had wanted it to be a surprise, telling Elain in no uncertain terms not to let Rhys charm the answer out of her.)

“Then let’s call it a father’s intuition,” Rhys replied now, unable to stop his grin.

Feyre laughed, leaning her head against the edge of his jaw. “She’s going to have you wrapped around her little finger, isn’t she?” 

“Of course,” he kissed her forehead, his happiness a near tangible thing. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Feyre could only cuddle in closer. She looked at where their joined hands were resting on her belly. Don’t worry, baby, she thought, we love you already, no what you turn out to be.

(A few years later, when their daughter runs up to Feyre, her hair braided in a crown around her head, little flowers carefully tucked in the midnight blue strands, she doesn’t need to ask who did it. Rhys’ proud smile is answer enough.)

Freckles, Flaws, and First Steps

Wow my title isn’t one word for once. This is a one-shot for the below prompt from @alexandrbello which I got a while ago. Sorry for just posting this now, my life has been w i l d. Hopefully you guys are glad to see some writing!

AU where lance had freckles but is ashamed of them so he hides them and then he runs out of whatever he covered himself with and anxiety, then keith comfort and klance, lots of klance please, thanks

You got it.


Lance had always been an outdoorsy kid.

It wasn’t surprising, considering how close his house was to the beach. Growing up, the ocean was practically part of his backyard.

No matter what, if Lance wasn’t at school or doing any number of chores, he could be found at the beach. Rain or shine, night and day, whatever the circumstance, no one could stand between him and the shore.

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I sometimes like to imagine Vader meeting Leia on the Tantive IV and wondering why in the hell she seems so familiar. He’s heard of her, sure, but since Vader is not always directly involved in politics he’s never seen her before and she’s just so young. But it’s not just that, there’s something else…

I think it also bothers Vader that she is completely unbothered by him. Vader is probably used to getting the upper hand on people purely based on his appearance - especially when you consider his suit, his height, and his modulated voice - but Leia is completely unfazed. She openly defies him, she lies to his face, and she’s smug about it, too. And yet, despite all the setbacks and confusion, Vader cannot for the life of him put a finger on why she bothers him so much.

Maybe it’s the way she talks to him, or her lack of fear, or maybe it’s the youthful veracity that tinges her every dissentful remark.

Once Leia escapes the Death Star, though, Vader finds himself preoccupied with the origins of another - a certain Luke Skywalker. Not only is he the pilot credited with destroying the superweapon, but he bears the same name as him, as well as the same tutor: Obi Wan.

Vader thinks nothing of Leia, at least not until his confrontation with Luke on the second Death Star. Luke’s origins are almost a no-brainer. Once he learns of the rebel’s surname, it’s only a matter of time before he confirms that the boy was his… but there was no mention of a sister. After all, Leia was an Organa - he always knew that. Regardless of whether he followed galactic politics or not, Bail Organa had been a contemporary of Padmé’s, and royals have kids all the time, right? There was no reason for him, or anyone else for that matter, to think otherwise. But suddenly, Leia makes sense to him now. 

She looks like Padmé. She has her eyes, her hair, her same penchant for politics - but she’s not actually like her at all. She looks like her mother, yes, but she takes after him. She is as passionate and personable as Padmé, but she is fueled by the same fearless ferocity as Anakin. He sees Padmé, but all Vader can sense is himself - but a better self, an old self he left behind long, long ago. And in his son, he sees his older visage - the same youthful face framed by blonde hair, those bright blue eyes - but he senses Padmé. Luke has her kindness, her compassion, and her unending patience when it comes to others and seeing the good in them. Leia is tempestuous and argumentative, and just as impatient with the galaxy as Anakin was with the Jedi Council. 

She has Padmé’s eyes, yes, but she is also every bit of Anakin, yet a far better version of himself than he could ever possibly be.

To the high school graduates ...

Here is something I wrote a few years ago that is still quite applicable, especially re:Hot Pocket™ safety.

Hello, high school graduates! All of you are likely close to collapsing under the weight of well meaning old-people’s advice, which for the past few months has piled up like so much smug, well-meaning snow. Allow me to add my own dusting.

1. Leave high school behind you, now. Whether you were the most devastatingly cool guy in all of McNary High School or the most excruciatingly awkward girl at Sprague, once you leave high school, no one will know. Or, more importantly, care. Most really cool people who do interesting, creative things with their lives didn’t have super happy high school careers. Many really cool people had great high school experiences. But any reasonably cool person over the age of 19 knows that what you earned, or endured, in high school has zero bearing on who you are the day you graduate. I know. It seems SO IMPORTANT now. But … it’s not. Not even a little.

2. Manners count, and they’re free. You can get away with murder if you do it politely, because whoever expects a polite murderer? Manners make other people feel comfortable and happy and respected, and when people feel comfortable, happy and respected they are 8,000 percent more likely to let you get your way.

Say please, thank you, excuse me, it was so nice to meet you, hope I see you again soon. Whatever you do, send thank-you notes so people are inclined to keep doing nice things for you.

3. Chew with your mouth closed. In fact, sometime when you’re alone, go sit in front of a mirror and watch yourself eat, then make any necessary adjustments now before it becomes a permanent habit.

4. If people expect you to go to college, but you’re not super-excited about it, skip a year and work before you head off. It’s not the end of the world, and it doesn’t make you a failure. That time is too expensive and too precious to use on something you’re half-assed about. Also, I speak from experience — folding jeans at a store in the mall for minimum wage for a few months made me feel very differently about how tedious and mindless sitting through a lecture class feels.

5. Unkindness, from here on out, becomes less and less attractive. Cruelty is one of the four main currencies of high school, along with attractiveness, athletic ability and actual currency provided by your parents (I see you, West Salem kids!). In high school, a profoundly mediocre person can rule — or at least maintain a position at the periphery of the popular kids’ group — through fear.

But once you get into college, you begin to leave that b.s. behind you. You don’t have to be mean to be funny. You don’t have to be mean to disagree with someone. You don’t have to be mean to someone powerless to prove your power. All meanness showcases is that you have ugly internal architecture. And as the facades that were so important in high school fade, that is what others will see when they look at you.

6. Know which classes you have to go to, and which ones can be skipped in lieu of more important things. Yes, if you want to go to Harvard Law or John Hopkins Med, you need to ace all your impossibly difficult classes. But if you want to do something post-college that doesn’t involve grad school — if you want to work in non-profits, if you want to write for a paper, if you want to do public relations, if you want to run a business — then instead, look for ways that you can get those experiences in college.

Join extracurriculars that mimic the experiences you someday want to get paid for. If you hate doing it for free, then chances are you’ll resent it even when you get paid for it. Also, this way, when you graduate college, you can prove to employers that you did something, not just wrote compelling papers on the metaphysical nature of being.

7. If you’re a person for whom the hooking up thing doesn’t work, then don’t do it. College is a time of lots and lots of casual sex. This, I think, plays pretty well into what many — not all, but many — 18-year-old guys want, and terribly into what most — not all, but most — 18-year-old girls want. Know what you want, and don’t feel bad if that’s not in line with what someone else wants. Also, know that after freshman year, people begin to date again rather than just drunkenly coupling and uncoupling.

8. Freshman year, you can and should be friends with everyone. Sophomore year will tell who is actually worth keeping.

9. After you microwave a Hot Pocket, be sure to gently tug open the end and let the steam out, and wait a couple minutes, because there is nothing more painful than a Hot Pocket steam-and-molten-cheese burn to the top of the mouth.

10. Don’t tell the internet too much about your love life, or deep innermost feelings, or secrets. It’s none of the Internet’s business, but the Internet has a big mouth and a long, long memory. Make good friends, and tell them in person when you hang out in each other’s dorm rooms and watch movies and eat Funfetti frosting straight out of the jar. Do this a lot. It doesn’t seem important, but it is.

Keeping Your End of the Bargain

I promised I’d give you all another Dark fic when we reached our next milestone, and I always keep my promises. 

Just a quick warning- this is not fluff. It’s not romance. It’s not a sympathetic portrayal. This man is a manipulator, a good one, and he does what he does to further his own interests. He enjoys control, not company. And, to use Mark’s own words:

He is not here to help you. He is here to use you.

Enjoy.

Originally posted by wrcngchcice


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How to become a good student (again) 3: Yearn for friendship - not worship; not debasement

Hello, fellow ex-good student!

‘tis done! This beast just got longer and longer, so I decided to cut it down a bit for the sake of readability. But let me know if there’s something that was too vague - the nuance might have got lost in the editing process.

Alright, let’s get down to business (to defeat! The Huns!)! So, if you’re an ex-good student, I’m pretty sure that you know this static in your head, right? Whenever you really need to do something but you just can’t get up and do it, so you keep procrastinating even though you hate it and keep scrolling and scrolling or gaming and gaming and feel more and more guilty?

Well, it might not be the most immediate analogy, but for this post I want you to consider that what connects you and your subject of study is essentially a relationship and that this static is (among other things) an indicator of how screwed up your relationship is. Just like with real people, your relationships with subjects can either

  • prosper and bear fruit (me & Creative Writing)
  • become cold and distant (me & French)
  • or, worst of all, turn sour and actively harmful. (me & PE, back in school)

Now, nobody likes to hear that they’re relationship-ing wrong. And it is true that different approaches work for different people. But here are the counter-productive relationships that I’ve personally ended up in and I’m gonna show you how I got into and out of them, so you can try to do the same. Maybe it’ll help you lift that static from your head.

Side-Note: Always remember that, since your subjects are just that (subjects), and not real people, you are the only one who can actually mend these relationships and, conversely, you are the one who screwed them up in the first place (probably with good intentions, though).

So, we’ll take them in this order:

1) Overeager Debasement

2) Undereager Debasement

3) Worship


(Oh, and in case you wanna catch up:

Masterpost 

Part 1

Part 2)


1) Overeager Debasement

What is it?

The desire to do everything, perfectly, at the same time, right now. Not to limit yourself to just one field of study, but to master them all, to reign supreme above knowledge, to keep your mind wide open to new possibilities, similarities and contradictions.
You overvalue your own capacities and undervalue the needs and difficulties of your subject.
(also refer to the first post for this)

How did you get here?

(read picture from right to left)

So. Many. Possible. Reasons.

  • it’s a cage. The idea of doing just one thing for the rest of your life scares you and you feel imprisoned at the thought of it
  • you know that you could be outstanding if you applied yourself
  • you know that you could be even more outstanding if you became accomplished in multiple fields
  • you want to find connections between fields nobody’s ever considered before
  • you feel like you’ve wasted your last few years and need to catch up to others
  • you’re afraid that you’re not good enough
  • you’re afraid of being ignorant
  • you’re arrogant

No matter the reason (I’ve gone through them all), people caught in this state of mind shovel more and more onto their plate.
And then wonder why they can’t swallow it all.

What do you think you’re doing?

A labour of love, most likely. You think you love languages and sciences and athletics and programming and cooking and hanging out with friends and being alone and so you just want to do it all!
You don’t want to limit yourself! You don’t want to lose any time! But there’s just so much and you have so little energy and ugh, if only I wasn’t destined for greatness, then I could relax like other little people, but no, I need to keep pushing! In every! Direction! At the same! Time!

I know your delusion. I’ve been there. You imagine yourself to be that one perfect friend who gets up at 6am, watches the sun rise, does yoga, eats a healthy breakfast, goes for a quick run, comes back home, answers all correspondence, is artistic for a few hours, then scientific for a few hours, then social for a few hours and ends the day with tiny masterpieces in each area, goes out with friends or family to grab a healthy dinner and goes to sleep, happy and balanced :)

Well, you know what, my starry-eyed friend?

What are you actually doing?

You’re the mental equivalent of a social butterfly.
You’re being fucking disrespectful.

You’re always on the run and never able to really commit to anything, because you’ve already scheduled something else afterwards. You’re shallow, deluded, that one friend that always comes in running, screaming “Besties  ~ ♥” and everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats and smiles a painful smile and humours you, because they know you mean well, but they also know that you know nothing about them. 
You’ve never been there for them ever, but always expect them to be there for you. Whenever they want to talk about themselves, you nod and then proceed to about yourself and your plans and “ohmygosh, this is so nice, we need to meet more often ~ ♥ “. But at least you mean well, so they’ve agreed to keep it simple and on the “The weather is nice today”-level with you. 

But here you are, wondering why you’re not making any progress.
Mysterious.

So what do I do?

Well, you need to go from this:

To this:

How? More on that below.


2) Undereager Debasement

What is it?

This stage is what happens when you notice that your lofty ideals from Overeager Debasement cannot be fulfilled. You turn bitter, hateful, cold. You think you’re a failure, you think you were too soft. Instead of wanting to be friends with everyone, you now want to rule over everyone, fuck what they want.

You’re burnt out. You’re done. You just want to get through these stupid classes and catch a goddamn break, goddamnit.

And you WILL get through. You’re too proud to do anything else. But you don’t really care about any of it.
You just want to make it.

How did you get here?

If you were a good student, you probably heard at some point or another that you were “different” and that your complex and mysterious ways were not understandable and definitely not achievable for your average classmate.

Most people who tell you this mean well. A few want to make fun of you, but most actually do mean it as a compliment. But they don’t know how dangerous it is to hear it again and again, because regardless of whether it’s true or not, you start to believe it.
You start to believe that somehow, you have a higher calling, a higher standard. And you start to long for that day when your high standards will be met - when you will go to that one mysterious class where everyone is just as eager as you are, where the “Oh, captain, my captain!”-teacher will spark a fire in your brain that will never go out and when your ominous “gifts” can finally be put to good use for the prosperous future of mankind.


And you work.

And work.

And the class never comes.

You feel the weight on your shoulders when teachers talk of “high expectations”, you feel it crush you a little bit every time your friends tease you about your genuine fear that you might not get an A, that you might lose it all, that your “gifts” could disappear and you’ll be stranded and useless and you put in the hours, you work your ass off to keep that high standard, all in the hope of having that one miraculous class that never comes.

I realized that that class would never come when I entered university.

University, I’d told myself, would be my Arcadia, my Eden, my academic paradise where all my hard work would be rewarded!
Instead, I only found more drudgery, more incompetent professors, more disinterested students and even more bureacracy. To say that I was “disappointed” would be putting it very lightly.

I became disoriented and disenchanted. I realized that I could get through most classes with half-assed effort, I was hardly ever challenged, I floated along and hated every second of it. I blamed my boring teachers, the imperfect system, the teachers who had given me hope only for me to watch it crash and go up in flames.

What do you think you’re doing?

Being badass, cool and detached, most likely.

You dream of yourself as a master and your subjects as slaves. They bow to your will, they dance to your tune, you command them with the snap of a finger.

“Look, you slave of the system”, you say, lying on a velvet sofa, “Look, at how it hardly takes any effort for me to pass these classes! Look at how I spend my time doing things I actually like and that are actually worth it, unlike these stupidly easy classes taught by stupidly incompetent professors in a stupidly screwed-up system! Look at me, being edgy and drowning in self-hatred because I can physically feel myself gliding off the rails that made me so “special” and becoming one of the average people in the masses, haha. Ha. Ha. Screw academia, but still give me good grades, amirite?”

I know your delusion. I’ve been there. You imagine yourself to be that one perfect friend that never studies for classes, comes for three lectures per semester and still manages to get perfect grades because everything you do in school is, like, so five years ago. That one friend who has read all the classics in their spare time, has conquered and enslaved all the knowledge actually worth knowing, will quote obscure Polish philosophers you’ve never heard of and plays the piano with a perfect pitch. They’re the wisest, most culture-non-conforming people you know - they’ve been up until 5am, wandering the streets and drinking vodka from a bottle while forcefully pentrating the mysteries of the universe all by themselves until they finally fall asleep on a park bench and awake with an epiphany about Klein bottles.
They’re “special”.

What are you actually doing?

Caring more about appearing “special” than actually trying to be “special”, that’s what you’re doing.

But, look, what made you so “special” and “different” in the first place was not a “calling” or “gifts” or the fact that you wrote good grades and were destined for greatness.

Here’s a handy chart I’ll use later - you were lucky enough to fall into the green zone, lucky enough to be born with an innate respect and a love for learning. That’s what made you “special”. That’s what made you succeed. Not pressure, not warped ideals and certainly not the fear of failure.


But somewhere along the way you forgot that and only focussed on the results. You started to believe yourself to be so special that everybody else should cater to you.
The fancy titles, the awe-struck looks, the “You’re so amazing”s and the “The genius of a decade”, the planned Nobel prize speech and the prestige, the dream others had lovingly created for you and you had slowly absorbed and warped as your own? It got to you. Hell, it got to me.
And it became more important than learning itself.
Somewhere along the way, you and I, we became an arrogant and lazy assholes.

You looked down on your easy courses and homework and instead of recognising how lucky you are, doing it in a minute and a half and then putting in the extra work on top to dig deeper and to maybe contribute something of value and fun, you threw it aside with a snide remark as beneath you.
Of course it wasn’t fun. Of course it wasn’t challenging. You never even tried to make it either.

(And don’t get me wrong: I honestly do think that the education system as it is right now needs MAJOR reforms. But right now? It is what it is. And instead of making the best of it and doing what you once loved so much, you succumbed to societal pressures you found yourself unable to fulfill and said “meh”.
You cared so much about the fame and the title that the relationship itself didn’t matter.)

But this isn’t the master-slave relationship you imagine it to be.
It’s a trophy-friendship. Once upon a time, you got on really well with this person and other people loved your friendship. You fell in love with the ideal, with their connections, their money, their prestige, their name on a CV, and you stuck around just for that.
You valiantly ignore the reality of the state of things between you two
and take them out only when absolutely needed, only when things are this close to falling apart and so you keep walking a fine, fine line.
Whenever a deadline approaches, you shower them with attention and love and, gingerly, they open up to you and you see a depth and complexity to them that astounds you and makes you think “Imagine! Imagine how much more I could have seen if only I’d started earlier?”
But the moment the crisis has passed, you toss them aside once again.

Because this is enough to make your name.
You may not remember much about these nights or about the person at all, but the only thing that counts is that it will fulfill your “special” prophecy and make you a legend, right?

Well, always remember this:
(read picture from right to left)

You’re not “special” if you made it to university. You’re not “special” if you’ve made your name. 
It comes down to a simple choice: do you value appearances over integrity or the other way round? Do you dare to look like a fumbling idiot again when you start something new? Is the “appearing like an idiot”-part more important to you than the “learning/creating something new”-part? 
Have a think about it.

3) Worship

“Alright”, you’ll say, “Alright. I get it. So I’ll treat my “friends”/subjects with respect and integrity and I’ll take all the time and concentration I can bestow upon them, just as I would upon real friends. But do you want me to be like, uh - like…

What is it?

“…like one of those anime characters that lives only for their dream and gets up at like 6am, does the thing, talks about the thing, breathes the thing, goes to bed, dreams of the thing and then wakes up at 6am to do the thing?”

(Google: Did you mean Hinata Shouyou?

Yes, yes, I did, google.)

Well, no, I don’t want you to do that. See, that’s the other extreme and unless you’re an anime character, chances are that it won’t work out for you. 

How did you get here?

Personally, I was caught in this trap for a loooooong time. Anime offered me a new way of relating to my passions that neither my family nor my school had ever shown me: unabashed obsession.
I wanted to be perfect. I wanted to be obsessed. I wanted to give myself up to a higher ideal, something above human consciousness, something that would endure. I wanted to, well, get up at 6am, do the thing, talk about the thing, breathe the thing and so on - “the thing” in question being, of course, studying. I made elaborate plans, complicated lists, study-plans that shift on a daily basis and cover all grounds, I wanted to study for two hours before school, wanted to repeat lessons, wanted to give myself up to knowledge, made cool covers for my notebooks, made mock exams for my friends to use, planned to focus on each continent for a month and study it, planned to listen to one new composer each day, planned to go to the museum every week, planned to analyze Sherlock Holmes and think just like him, planned to - you get the idea.

I wanted to be like this:

What do you think you’re doing?

Being but a humble servant to the eternal workings of truth. Knowing thou art unworthy, yet suffering the perfection of study.

I wanted to go from 0 to 100, I wanted knowledge and wisdom to transform and deliver me, I wanted to feel enlightened, I wanted to feel my brain burning, pushing frontiers and breaking through to new horizons, I wanted to elevate myself to touch even the lowest levels of truth.
I wanted to do something noble, something worthwhile, something that could never be critisized and would always be valued, something with eternal meaning that would echo through the ages and I wanted to be even the tiniest cog in the machinery of mind.

What are you actually doing?

Being, quite simply, an idiot.

This is one of my favourite quotes (David Wong):

“There are two ways to dehumanize someone: by dismissing them, and by idolizing them.” 

The same goes for studying. As shown above, studying won’t work out if you do not treat your subjects with respect. Conversely, studying also won’t work if you continue to idolize it as work beyond all work and reproach, as the only true calling, as the realm of the genii and by self-flagellating yourself and repeating “I’m but a humble servant in your kingdom of reason and will never reach where you are, but will spend all my time trying to reach you.” 

Why? Because by saying “I’ll never reach you or be worthy of you”, you’ve already sealed your fate. Some students (no matter how well they actually perform) are stuck thinking that they are stupid and incapable of doing well. Others think that the trick is in the preparation and they undergo complicated rituals of finding exactly the right study spot, exactly the right study drink, exactly the right study time, etc. in the hope of channeling the connection between their godly subject and themselves, but it never turns out quite as glamorous as they’d hoped (once again, speaking from experience).

This is because you cannot force a true friendship if you think yourself unworthy of it. It will always be worship. 

And why are you worshipping?
Because it takes the pressure right off of you
. This always annoyed me about some of my fellow students. They treated becoming a good student as this miraculous and unlikely event that only happens to the #blessed.
I insisted that “no”, it could be done. “Yes”, it was hard work, but ultimately absolutely doable. But now that I’ve been in their shoes? I understand.
Admitting that you could have done it anytime implies failure on your part for not having done it. By saying “Oh no, it is so very complex and divine and a lowly worm like me could never hope to crawl in its shadows”, you shift the focus away from yourself and onto the thing itself. 

But this is a synthetic, manufactured relationship with a partner that does not even exist. It is, at its heart, a kyaa  ~ I hope senpai notices me! (๑♡⌓♡๑) - kind of relationship. It’s idolizing not a person’s true character, but their appearance, their aesthetic and the values that they represent for you. It’s not really listening to what they’re saying, but warping their words so they fit into your perfect idea of them.
Just, unlike with undereage debasement, you do not play pretend that everything’s fine and secretly hate the other person deep down - you honestly idolize them to heaven and back, so you could never possible reach them.
You’re using them to fill in the holes in your own personality.

And that … just isn’t fun? I dunno about you, but treating studying as something that must be done perfectly with exactly the right pen and the perfect face-mask after the right smoothie and in the right lighting by a window overgrown with ivy and with perfect concentration from the first moment and unwavering, knightly passion and exact planning from 6am to bedtime all because I know deep down that I will not be able to fulfill these ideals and thus don’t have to feel bad about not reaching them just … isn’t for me. I don’t like my relationships to be all overstructured and “perfect” and high maintenance like that.

I want my friendships and my studying to be authentic. And that means that sometimes it’s messy and sometimes it’s hard and sometimes it’s quoting Keats while lying on the floor at 2am in the morning and chugging milk out of a carton, but it’s real.
I truly do understand this longing to make studying look pretty and like a magical realm, because when you’re in the flow that’s really what it feels like. But the beauty comes along with the practice, not the other way round.

No, but honestly - what do I DO then?


Y’remember Hippogriffs from Harry Potter? That’s how I imagine my subjects. Approach them carefully, honestly, maintaining eye contact and as equals and they will respect you. This scene:

This scene is what I’m talking about. 
If you were in a worship-state, you would only admire them from afar, gushing over how beautiful they are, but sad that they would never deign to even look in your general direction. (think of all the subjects you thought would be way too difficult for you)
If you were in a debasement-state, you’d either try to make friends with all the hippogriffs, hopping from one to the other and forming no bond with either or you’d “tsk” disdainfully and try to force them to obey you against their will. (*cough* Malfoy *cough*)

If, however, you’re in the green, there will be mutual respect between you and you will be able to fly.

So what does it mean to be in the green? 
It means not to do any of the above, obviously, so 

  • take your time for and invest brainpower into each and every one of your subjects - be a good friend. Be there. Listen. Even if they have crazy ideas at 4am in the morning. 
  • appreciate your subjects and know that they are more than the teacher who tries to get you to know them. Sometimes, some people just have a really shitty PR department (especially maths)
  • don’t think too much or too little of yourself. You can do amazing things, but that does not give you the license not to do amazing things anymore, rest on your laurels and expect others to applaud you for it. 

  • some relationships take longer than others to build, but getting to understand someone who puzzled you from the first moment and challenged your beliefs will improve your own personality as well
    (side-eye at PE. Yes, I love you now, you crazy athletic bastard)
  • do it for the sake of the relationship itself, because you enjoy their company. Results are presents which, although very much appreciated, should not be the main motivator to keep you going.
    This essentially means that you should think of studying as hanging out with a friend - already makes it seem so much more inviting and way less daunting, does it not?

    (Logic and I, being saltmates. Real friends judge other people together)
  • be aware that all friendships go through rocky patches and some subjects might take a while to warm up to you or you to them. But if you think that it’s worth it, then you gotta power through that. If you don’t think it’s worth it, you gotta be brave enough to say good-bye. 


Look, what I’m actually saying is … be Souma Yukihira from Food Wars.

Food Wars is a crazy and at times pretty pervy manga/anime, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t also one of the best pieces of fiction I’ve ever consumed and if Souma isn’t one of the most admirable main characters I’ve ever encountered.  

The relationship between him and cooking is filled with trust, love and equality. He trusts his cooking skills, because he knows that they have spent a long time together - cooking won’t let him down and he won’t ever let cooking down by stopping to look for ways to improve.

That doesn’t mean, however, that he’s always deadly serious - he loves to play around with cooking and to try ridiculous new things. He never forgets the joy that even the simplest form of cooking brings him. 

There’s one great episode where he puts his life as a chef on the line and someone fearfully asks him what he’d do if he lost. He shrugs and says he could become a lawyer or a teacher or something. So while he loves cooking profoundly, he does not worship it and he knows that there are other relationships he could build up if he had to. He just …doesn’t want to, because cooking is his bff. 

He loves to take on challenges to see how far he and cooking have come -

- and he takes challenges very seriously -


- but takes it even more seriously if he loses -

- and nonetheless knows that they are stronger for the challenges they have faced together. 

So, yes, this is what it means to be in the green. Cherish your friendships, hang out together, be honest, funny, clever, curious and you. 

You’ll be surprised at how much fun the two of you will have, now that all the pretensions and pressures are gone. 

Just …hang out and have fun.

(and maybe watch Food Wars!, because damn, Souma is the MVP of my inspirational heroes)

Have a great day and I’ll see you in the next (and hopefully shorter) part 4 :)

{PART 5} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut 

Summary; You’re hesitant to reveal your painful past to Jungkook, but time gets cut dreadfully short when Jungkook excuses himself upon receiving an interesting phone call.

{Part 1} {Part 2} {Part 3} {Part 4} {Part 5} {Part 6}

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time)

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rant. sorta. hiatus.

I’ve just found out that some people here think I’m using my blog for the wrong purpose, that I’m cliquey, and that they dread being associated with me. That’s completely fine but that’s not who I am.

I talk to everyone who talks to me. I have trouble reaching out to people because I don’t want to bother anyone. I don’t think everyone wants to talk to me or anything similar, so I don’t reach out to people. I have mutuals that I adore, but I’m too scared to talk to them because I feel like I’ll be bothering them. I still feel annoying when I message some people, for example @noona-la-la-la, who I’ve been following from day one, let alone when I message people I’ve just met or that have just followed me.
As for the cliques … I have a couple of writer friends. I talk to a lot of writers, but it’s about our stories and it’s basically mutual fangirling.
I think it’s extremely unfair of people to talk about me when they don’t know who I talk to and they can’t see my inbox. I talk to a lot of writers who are just getting started, I just don’t promote people because I don’t want to get used for that. If everyone on my blog asked me to promo them, this would become a promo blog and I don’t think you guys are here for that - this is a fanfic blog. I think anyone can understand that. Besides, I’d like to think that the people whom I talk to aren’t here to get promoted but are here because they like talking to me, even if they are considered “smaller blogs”. That’s so subjective and depends on so many things like how often you post, what members you post about, how long you’ve been on this site, what time of day/week you post, who reblogs your stories etc. Notes don’t mean quality.

At the end of the day, I am who I am. I may come off as mean to some people, but I know in my heart I’ve tried to be the best person I can. If you’ve been following me for a while, you know I’ve been through a ton of shit this year, starting from a breakup of a 4 year relationship to getting diagnosed with a disorder (which I don’t want to get into because it’s TMI and it’s personal). I like to keep my things private and I think people tend to forget they’re not the only person that follows me and that I’m a real person with real problems and feelings. Right now, there are about 28 000 people on my blog. To me, that number is INSANE. This isn’t me boasting or bragging about it - I don’t think my blog deserves that many followers at all. I don’t deserve that kind of attention. There are people that are so much more talented than I am that don’t get enough attention and I don’t think I’m better than anyone. I don’t even know what most of the followers are doing here since a lot less people interact with me than before. But realistically, if anyone thinks I can talk to a hundred people daily and answer all the asks I get and write and work and deal with personal shit all the time, I’m willing to give them my password and see them try to keep up with it. It’s hard to deal with your own life and then come to tumblr and get messages about people asking you to help them overcome depression and suicidal thoughts, asking advice about a breakup, asking help about tumblr stuff, about uni, school etc. I’m not a machine. When someone sends me a message saying they want to die, I feel like shit because I know nothing I say can help that person and I try to come up with the best answer possible to give them some comfort and try to get them to ask for help. So if I don’t reply to an ask asking about when I’m updating something, it’s because I tend to prioritize the asks I get, if I even get the time to go through them.
This is tumblr, not the real world. It isn’t something serious, it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t change anyone’s value as a person. I DON’T THINK I’M BETTER THAN ANYONE HERE, especially not based on notes and follower count. Personally, I felt happier when I had around 1 or 2 000 followers because I knew they were all here for my stories and not for whatever reason they are now, and I talked to a lot of them on a daily basis and I still do. Now I don’t even recognize most of the usernames that like and reblog my stories because that would just be impossible. It’s easy to preach when you’re not in this situation, I think.

If you’ve ever felt ignored, I’m sorry. I’ve tried to reply to every ask and message I got, but a couple of months ago, I was going through something and I let them pile up. And then I just didn’t have the mental strength I needed to go and answer the asks so I let them pile up and I hated logging on. Then I had a literal breakdown and I deleted the 4K messages that were in my inbox because they were just adding to my already insane anxiety. They were stressing me out and I felt horrible for not being able to reply to all of them and they just kept piling up and I wanted to delete the blog and everything that came with it, but the problem wasn’t this blog or the asks or the questions - it was me and my anxiety and I’m aware of that. If that makes me a bad person, I’m a bad person.

To the people with the mean comments - I wish you all the best. I hope you get a lot of followers, lots and lots of them since I’m being judged based on that, and when you do, you will see that it isn’t as amazing as you think it is, and it isn’t easy to keep up with everything. If you’re offended by this post, I’m sorry. That was not my intention. I just want to give my opinion since I’m being judged without anyone even talking to me or addressing it directly instead of behind my back. I’m a person, not a robot behind a blog. When I find out someone’s talking about me behind my back, it hurts, despite this being virtual and despite these people not really knowing anything about me. It hurts because it’s not fair. But the world isn’t fair and I’ll deal with it.

To everyone else, thanks for your support. You guys have helped me a lot without even knowing. I’ve posted about my personal issues through my stories a bunch of times because it was my way of dealing with those things and the conversations I had with you guys about my stories have been so pleasant and some of them have helped me a lot. Thanks for being here and for reading my stories. Conversations with you guys have helped me deal with the problems I have. Like I always say, you’ve made Tumblr my happy place. I know it sounds corny, but a lot of times I would feel horrible and this was the only place I had, and you made it great for me. I loved logging on and talking to you and just being here in general. 💗
I’m going on hiatus because of my master thesis, but also because I keep getting dragged into childish drama that I don’t want to be a part of. I don’t want to log on and see posts about me, posts shading me, or trying to make me feel like shit. I don’t think I’ve done something to deserve that. This is a social media site, not my life, and it shouldn’t be anyone’s.

The Only Exception (Part 1)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,442

Warnings: language, fluff, wishful thinking, hot firemen, sarcasm, cynicism, bad jokes

A/N: Okay, so I saw a movie a long long time ago that was terrible, but it inspired the ‘bad’’ love advice and the firemen. I’ve been dying to have fireman!Bucky in one of my AUs.

And yes, the title comes from the Paramore song. I felt like it’s how reader feels throughout. Hope you guys like it. I had some writer’s block, and some house guests, so this is a little late being posted.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Originally posted by 8bit-arc-reactor

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ships passing in the night.

A quick, (hopefully) fluffy little fic featuring musician!Derek. Inspired by this prompts post of “Reunited AUs.”

now also on ao3!

Stiles is so close to getting somewhere with Derek. He can feel it.

They have inside jokes. They eat lunch together every day in the cafeteria. Stiles has found out that Derek can play like fifteen different instruments and likes to fiddle around with composing music in his spare time, and Derek knows all about Stiles’ fascination with folklore, unexplained phenomena, and The X-Files. Stiles overhears Derek telling Boyd that Stiles is a “brilliant researcher.” Derek has seen Stiles having a panic attack in the men’s restroom and talked him through it, and he went with Stiles as his (sadly platonic) plus-one to his dad’s wedding. There’s even a drunk almost-kiss at their boss Lydia Martin’s engagement party, Stiles making an idiot of himself but Derek smiling fondly anyway, and then—nothing.

“Hey, where’s Derek?” Stiles asks Greenberg when he comes in Monday morning. Derek is one of those annoyingly productive morning people and always beats Stiles to the office. Today his desk is empty. Like, weirdly empty. Stiles would almost venture to call it bare, except that makes no sense. “He’s not sick, is he? Or hungover?”

Although, as far as Stiles knows, Derek doesn’t drink.

“He quit,” Greenberg says, not looking up from the magazine he’s reading, as if this is totally normal.

There’s a strange ringing in Stiles’ ears. “Like, for the day?”

Greenberg doesn’t look up. “Like, for forever.”

It really is that sudden. One day he’s plugging away in the cubicle next to Stiles’, and the next, Stiles finds out from fucking Facebook that Derek Hale is overnight famous.

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FP Jones/Andrews family/Riverdale imagines - Oh Dear Part 9

Originally posted by riverdalesource

AN: This chapter is a little different… It’s also a little short so I may release the next chapter a little earlier than Friday. 

(Part One) (Part Two)(Part Three)(Part Four)(Part Five)(Part Six)(Part Seven)(Part Eight)

Overall Summary: You’re Archie’s old sister and you have a thing for a certain serpent

Pairing: Reader x FP Jones, Sister!Reader x Archie Andrews, Daughter!Reader x Fred Andrews

Word count: 1,335

Warnings: Well, FP is clearly older than the reader in this fic, none really

Before homecoming…

FP watched you leave the trailer with a unconscious smirk on his lips. 

You really were something else. 

He turned to the kitchen and poured himself a coffee, he had to be at Alice Coopers in an hour and if he was honest, he was kind of nervous. 

He knew Alice. He knew that this wasn’t just some social gathering to bring the Cooper/Jones family together but he said he’d go since Jughead seemed so damn excited about it. And in the end, he didn’t care that much about Alice’s intentions as long as his son was happy.

And your surprise visit was enough to encourage him to get through the rest of the evening. Knowing that you would be at the Whyte Wyrm in a pair of combat boots and black washed jeans that clung to you so tightly was enough to help FP through the night. 

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Why Do You Build Me Up?

Summary: Tom has, unknowingly, been stringing Y/N along. Making her feel like there could be a chance between them.

AN: this is based on build me up buttercup by the foundations i suggest listening to this song because the plot of this fic is based on this song and also because it’s amazing

Tom Holland x Reader

// Masterlist //


Originally posted by tomhollandisdaddy

“You’re here? As in you’re home?”

“I am. Just for a couple of weeks before I’m off to shoot another movie.” Tom’s smooth voice rang in my ear.

“Oh, um, wow. That’s great! I-I’ve missed you.” Tom and I have been close friends for years. I can’t deny that, in those years, I started to develop feelings for him. He and I would flirt sometimes but nothing ever really came from it. No matter how much I wished there would.

“I missed you too, Y/N.” I blushed. “How about this? I’ll come over tonight. Just you, me and a movie. Sounds good?”

“That sounds amazing.” I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling so widely.

“Great. I’ll be over at 10.”

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