I was inspired to try and find the oldest piece of writing I hadn’t deleted and it’s from right after I turned 14. It… is the most pretentious thing… omfg. I was so proud of this shit. It was my featured deviation, back when the dA lit community was active and cool. I thought I was a fucking prodigy. At least I can confirm that my obsession with girls who have boy names and kiss girls has been ongoing for at least twelve years.
Notes: Today is M’s birthday and she wanted kagune cuddles, so here is a very stupid fic I wrote on my phone to celebrate her womb exiting day. I’m sorry, dear, we both know I can do better, but I still hope you enjoy.
Could.you do an update post? It doesn't have to be big things but I like reading about you and your life :)
Thank you! That means a lot to me. Things are going well, I have my days like always but on the whole things have improved a ton.
I’m attempting the whole social thing again. I went on a date last night (except I didn’t know it was a date at the time, I’ll be honest. And if I did I probably wouldn’t have gone, haha) but we went to Yogurtland and I actually really had fun. I was so not looking forward to going, just with the pressure and falling into the mindset of “never being good enough/having weird eating habits/having crappy hair/being awkward/having no friends so why even try to be normal” but I went and had fun. I’m not even remotely interested in having a boyfriend (I wish more people just wanted to be friends, boo) but it does help to get out of my bubble and out of my routine.
I started my Dietetics program. Had an existential crisis when I did because I’m not sure I want to be a dietitian at this point in time. But whatever, I love(!) my classes and I’ve reached a point in life where I’ve just had to let go of planning and knowing every single thing because it was making me miserable. It’s another stepping stone in life and it will lead to new opportunities. Letting go has helped my mood a ton.
James Potter had never been so afraid of anything as he was of baby Harry.
Tiny Harry with his little fingers and kicking legs; smiling Harry with crinkles in his cheeks; happy Harry, barely big enough to handle a Snitch, let alone a Quaffle. There was something inconceivable about the boy, and it might well have been the fact of his existence. At only twenty years old, James Potter was a father, and he might never have known the word for all that it meant now. (It hadn’t seemed like much from his own mouth, but from Harry’s…) Lily had brought their child into the world, of course—his brave, beautiful wife—but still this precious little boy had come from him. For one who has born into a world of wonders, this was something else entirely, and in spite of all his parents praise, James had not thought himself capable of… this. It was magic, wasn’t it? The newfound father had achieved an awful lot in his still short life, to be sure, and had performed some remarkable magic at that, but never had anything been quite so magical as this. Tiny Harry. Fragile Harry.