now i can trick people into thinking i can afford clothes like this

In stream the other day, we started talking about an Avengers Mall AU, and now I can’t stop thinking about it, because I have so many years of bad retail stories built up in my head and non-powered AUs usually don’t work for me, but the longer I think about it, the funnier this gets.

Steve and Sam are two guys who retired from their military branches and teamed up to run an artesian bespoke candy shop.  Steve has no idea half of their sales comes from the fact that Sam put the candy pulling hook in the front window and teenage girls just stand there, drooling.  Sam is totally aware of this, and uses it to ALL his advantage when he’s doing the sugar work.  

Bucky took a part time job at the Hot Topic across the way because hell, he was spending all his time hanging out with Sam and Steve, might as well get paid.  He was the only reliable employee over the age of seventeen; he is now the manager and he’s FURIOUS about it.  His staff is made up of Nico, Kamala and Sam Alexander and various people who get hired and then don’t make it through the training because Bucky glaring at you while you take register training is just SO HARD TO HANDLE.  No one is sure if he’s after Sam or Steve or both.

The SHIELD crew runs a pretty decent mall restaurant, but yeah, used to be a Golden Corral and Fury reserves the right to yell “Do you see a buffet here?” at anyone dumb enough to think it still is.  He doesn’t actually do it, because most of the people who are confused enough to ask are retirees who remind him of his grandma, but still.  He reserves the right.  Nat is a truly terrifying line cook, Maria’s front of house, and Phil’s the head waiter.  Clint doesn’t actually work there, but he’ll put on an apron and belt out an impressive rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ in exchange for free food, and no one else on staff wants to do it, so he eats there A LOT.

Clint is always in the mall.  In the back corridors.  Hanging out in the food court.  Wandering up and down the anchor store escalators.  Everyone thinks he works somewhere else.  No one knows where he actually works.  There is a betting pool.  It has been building for YEARS.

Jan runs the sort of high end boutique that has like, four outfits in two sizes on six gigantic racks.  There are no prices.  You do not ask how much it is. You know if you can afford it.  If she likes you, you can afford it.

Thor runs the hardware store.  No one knows why the hardware store is there.  This is not the sort of place one would see a hardware store.  Thor says he inherited it from his father, and it was there before the mall, and no one really wants to look into it.  Mostly, they seem to get by on selling knives..  Big knives.  Little knives.  Knives as long as your arm.  They get by on selling knives, because who’s buying screws at this place?  Oh, right, anyone Sif TELLS to buy screws.  "You need screws.“  "Oh, no, I-”  "You can always use more screws.“  "Y-yes, ma'am.”  She might be domming half of their customers without knowing it.  The Warriors Three run the stock room.  Badly.

Bruce runs the used bookstore down on the lower level where he can’t really afford the rent but the mall management like saying there’s a bookstore, and no one else is going to rent that hole, so he gets to stay, hiding in his piles and piles and piles of used books.  Mostly science and history, but he does a brisk business in romance novels and murder mystery paperbacks.  He likes it down there.  He wishes people would stop trying to get him to come upstairs to socialize.  He also kind of wishes people would stop coming down TO socialize.  His cousin Jennifer runs the register and helps the customers most days, she’s very quiet and very mild mannered and wears very lumpy clothes and giant eighties style glasses, so no one recognizes her when she goes to her second job, as a crossfit instructor for the gym on the top floor.  Jenn is, as they say, RIPPED. Put her in a leotard and her whole personality changes, it’s like she’s a different person.

Carol is a recovering alcoholic ex-pilot who runs the bar at the ‘bad’ chain restaurant down on the far end of the ground floor.  Other than the SHIELD place or the food court, it’s the only place to eat in the mall, and honestly, you’d be better off in the food court.  The food is trash, but she can mix a mean mojito and she knows every secret of every worker in the place, and she’s paid double on Saturdays because she’s her own bouncer.

Jessica Drew runs the arcade on the main floor, one of those stupid ones with 'glow mini-golf’ and games that constantly spit out tickets, you know, legalized gambling for children.  It’s a chain, but the give out far too many prizes and she and her staff (Peter, Miles, Anya) would be fired if they also weren’t the highest grossing location on the eastern seaboard.  They throw the best birthday parties in the state, and have a waiting list that’s like, months long.

Wanda’s shop sells… Something.  No one knows what any of this stuff does.  Or if it’s legal to own.  But when you find something you want, OH GOD YOU REALLY WANT IT.  She mostly sits and reads, and drinks tea from Hank McCoy’s tea shop. 

Stephen Strange quit his job as a surgeon and retired to run a magic and joke shop.  If you ask him why, he just shrugs and said he made some very bad choices.  A relative somewhere oversea, Asia, Clint says it was somewhere in Asia, died and left him some sort of inheritance.  So now he just sells fake rubber vomit and teaches slight of hand.  Buy him a drink, and learn more than you wanted to know about card tricks.  Walk into his shop, and be prepared to sit through at LEAST four card tricks before you can escape.

Greer run’s “Tigra’s Treasure Trove” on the second floor, it’s the anime and manga and gaming and comic shop.  She wears cat ears and a tail.  Every day.  No one’s sure if she does it to bring in the otaku, or if it’s a lifestyle choice.  No one wants to ask.

Tony owns the mall.  Owns like a hundred malls across the country.  No one knows, Obie does the day to day running of the management company, but Tony owns them.  He’s mostly in it for the buying and selling, but he likes this mall.  This one.  He likes it here.

He has a Sharper Image type store on the top floor.  It’s him and Rhodey and Pepper and Pepper will kill them both one of these days but he sells the sort of stuff you do not need but God you want it.  You walk into his store and it’s all apple store chic, white and chrome and gleaming surfaces, collapseable tablets and robots and holographic projectors and all the geek chic that you want and everyone in the mall wants something from him, they’ve all got something on layaway (he only does layaway for other retail workers because he doesn’t want to keep track of this stuff) except Steve and it makes him insane.  He spends far too much time trying to figure out what he can stock or create or build that will get Steve into his shop.

Pepper calls them “Steve-Grabbers,” Like 'grandma grabbers’ but designed to attract the most sincere hipster she’s ever met and she’d kill Tony over adding this stuff to stock without telling her, but it all sells.  It all sells.  In his desperate attempt to attract Steve, Tony misses and attracts EVERYONE ELSE.

Writing Tips - Werewolves

Hey! Grim here.

So, werewolves. Where to begin? (Did I just write that? My apologies for terrible punnage.)

Most werewolves (or lycanthropes) are probably based on grey wolves, though many authors fail to do their research and get their facts wrong. I don’t expect people to get quantum physics or advanced chemistry correct - I took chemistry for my Leaving Cert, and that stuff’s hard - but I do expect people to be able to do an internet search! 

My apologies for any uncaught typos, my tablet-laptop thing (It was a gift) is against correct spelling and loves to randomly open the console on me.

Listing, because I love lists! They’re easy to read!

1. Wolf pack hierarchy

Most authors seem to be under the mistaken impression that wolves have a leadership structure that has one all powerful alpha at the top and an omega at the bottom whose job is to be the pack’s personal butt monkey.

In actuality, packs are structured more like a family unit: the mated alpha pair (who bond for life) can order the rest of the pack (composed of their children) around, but beyond that it’s a case of A can beat B, B can beat C, C can beat A, D can beat B and A but is tied with C - each wolf can boss around wolves that he or she can best. There is no “omega”. So A can order around B, but not C, despite B ordering around C - make sense?

2. Communication

The packs contain about ten individual wolves, who the others can identify by howl. Howling is used to communicate over long distances, as is scent.

Dogs are descended from grey wolves, so feel free to describe the scent communication the same way dogs use it. Depending on the chemicals in their urine, dogs can leave messages for each other. Nothing too complex, but they can communicate things like “I just had pups”, “I’m happy”, “Danger!” and so on - which could be pretty useful and interesting. Dogs tend to save up their urine for walks so that they can leave messages at specific areas. Now you know why Chica always pees at that lamp-post.

3. Biology

Grey wolves are the largest dogs in the world, weighing between 30 and 80 kg (66 - 175 lbs) and measuring at 1 - 1.6 m. They reach maturity at 22 months of age, living for 16 years and can breed once a year.

In many stories, the werewolves bones are described as breaking during the transformation. While it wouldn’t be comfortable, the bones probably would not break - too much risk of infection and the bones would probably just need to be resized a bit. The tailbone would have to grow, and you might wind up with five toes instead of the typical doggy three, but it’s mostly just changing length. Take a look at an x-ray of a dog and a diagram of a human skeleton - different shapes and sizes but basically the same structure, spine, skull, ribcage, legs. Some organs might be adapted during the transformation to better suit a wolves diet.

The above applies even to a more typical half-wolf, half-human depiction - the bones are still mostly just going to be resized. Think of the growing pains you may have had, just all at once.

Also, most animals once assumed to be completely colorblind can see colors, the colors are just slightly different to what we would see - try looking it up to see the differences between wolf and human vision.

4. Hunting

During the summer, the pack tends to hunt alone for small animals such as beavers or hares, while in winter they wok together to bring down moose, elk, oxen and reindeer. They hunt by smell and chase their victims down, taking turns to bite at the flanks and face until their kill collapses from exhaustion.

Werewolves are often depicted as the mortal enemy of the vampire - they could use these same tactics to bring down vampires, just go for the legs and avoid the teeth.

Grey wolves can run up to 200 km (125 miles) in one night, so a werewolf waking up halfway cross country/state after a night on the prowl wouldn’t be outside of the realm of possibility. 

5. Weaknesses

Werewolves were believed to be weak to aconite (also known as monkshood or wolfsbane), a plant that was used in wolf hunts for it’s poison. this is often believed to be part of the cure, but if a human consumed some it would disagree with them sooner rather than later. Witnessing aconite bloom during an Autumn full moon was believed to cause lycanthropy.

The weakness to silver is a twentieth century addition made by early monster movies. If you include it, remember that silver can be very expensive, so a full magazine of silver bullets may not be entirely practical. A silver knife might be even less so however, given the bite of a werewolf is believed to pass on the curse. Your characters will have to walk a fine line between affordability and safety.

6. Describing the transformation

One of the most commonly used words to describe the act of transforming would appear to be “phase”. Personally, I prefer “shift”, but you can use whatever word you wish. 

There are a few things you need to consider about werewolf transformations. Is it voluntary? If you are writing about someone’s struggle with the beast inside, involuntary shape shifting may be the way to go, but if you are writing a story about vampire hunters then voluntary transformations might make more sense. Some stories have the werewolf able to change shape outside of the full moon or even partially with enough practice.

If you intend to have the full moon involved and for your story to be set in a specific year you may find it useful too look up the dates of the phases of the moon that year or even purchase a lunar calendar. (EDIT) I forgot to mention this(I was half asleep, lol); you need to consider where their clothes will go during the transformation. At least one writer had them tie clothing to their legs before transforming, but take a look at a picture of a wolf or a large dog. Now look at your own leg. Pretty big difference in circumference, huh? Using that trick could easily result in circulation being cut off or the clothes dragging through the dirt. I’d suggest having a hollowed out log or something; your werewolves could put their clothes in a waterproof rucksack and then stuff it in the log. Concealment and protection from the weather in one!


That’s all I can think of for now, folks. I will write a post about Mary Sues on Thursday, but as always I will be checking the blog between then and now, so feel free to ask questions or leave a comment, i will get back to you as soon as I can.

Might do some posts on Celtic (Irish) and Norse mythology next week.

Have a nice day!

anonymous asked:

shiela i read your post from a while ago about skin bleaching and how you dont do it anymore but sometimes still feel insecurities about your tone and i was wondering what you do to feel better about it if you dont go back to bleaching

Heya nonnie. 

Okay so, first off, guessing that your asking cause it’s what your going through right now, no worries. It’s perfectly normal to have insecurities!! People don’t say this enough and I think they should. It is okay to be insecure. Its okay to doubt. Its NORMAL. Don’t feel bad about yourself and then feel bad for FEEELING BAD about yourself. Lots of times I would get super insecurity and then hate myself for even being insecure. 

It’s a stupid, awful, vicious cycle. We as human are going to have insecurities. And they don’t always go way. Mine still haven’t and I’m not sure they ever will. 


Some things I do when I feel super insecure, specifically about the tone and color of my skin, is focus on things I do like– and honestly if theres nothing there – I focus on the things I can control.

Because my nsecurity of my skin color isn’t something I can control. I used to think I could with bleach. But its obvious after now that was a lie. And for others that might be their weight, or their nose, or their height or whatever it is they cant ACTUALLY control. Not right away. Or ever. 

So I focus on things I can control. I CAN contol my hair. So back when I was really depressed about my skin I bleached all my hair, I cut it, I dyed it, etc. It was preoccupying and I didnt mind my hair goiing through all that cause it was at least some FORM of change. It helped me feel in control. It helped me feel good to see something change. It was almost liek I was tricking my brain into thinking I had made a change even when the thing I wanted to change didnt. 

I still do this, when I feel insecure. But I do it buy maybe going shopping for new lipstick or makeup. Or I go clothes shopping. Buy myself things that do flatter me. 

My skin tone might bug me but I look fly as hell in this new dress. Etc etc. 

And if money’s tight, sometimes I do shopping dates. I go and try on expensive clothes at the mall, shit i seriously cannot afford, take pictures, look awesome, and then go “okay im done.” Cause I prove to myself that I might not feel like it, but I deserve to wear an 800 dollar dress if only for a few minutes to prove I can. 

And when aesthetics fails and your sick of yourself, thats when you put your focus outward. If I get depressed so much with my face and body I turn to skills. I taught myself how to lockpick. I looked up tutorials for photoshop. I learned the differences between wide angle lenses and telephoto lenses in cinema. On one terrible bout of depression I ended up learning everything I could about the different types of engines cars have and how they work and how to change you car oil yourself to save 60 bucks. 

I know that all sounds dumb or firovilous. But its honestly distracting. 

And there’s something nice about waking up and thinking to yourself. 

“I hate this stupid fucking face and body, but ain’t nobody out there who can swindle me into paying for an oil change when I can do it myself.” 

If you can’t change the aspect you hate, empower yourself to understand that the value of that aspect doesn’t matter. Because in the end that insecurity isn’t stronger then your own self dependece and worth and knowledge and all the ther things that make up you! 

Strength Potion

Edward The Great: Hey man you awake?

Weird Cedric: dude it’s three am

Weird Cedric: of course I’m awake what’s up

Edward The Great: Tryouts for the wrestling team are in three weeks. I don’t think I’ll be able to take the heat. I know I won’t make it.

Weird Cedric: Hey hey hey don’t give up now you GOTTA make it

Edward The Great: I’m a stick. Let’s be honest. Even if I worked out every day there’s no way I could match up to those meatheads.

Weird Cedric: steroids?

Edward The Great: Are you… you’re absolutely serious. Dude. No. Illegal. Expensive. And it shrinks your dick.

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Unbroken (Part 2)

A/N: This is the second part to my series Unbroken. There may be some mistakes and I apologize for that and I’m completely open to constructive criticism.

Summary: You’re an unidentified creature that has been captured by Sam and Dean, and Castiel has an interesting theory.

Pairings: Eventually Castiel x Reader

Warnings: None

Click here to see Part 1 of Unbroken

And as always like and subscribe :)

Sam looked at you and raised an eyebrow, “How do you know who we are?” He asked. You looked up when the bags of the food you ordered were being handed to you. As you grabbed them, you racked your brain knowingly understanding the mistake you made by talking to them, and trying to find a way out of this without giving the Winchesters anymore reason to be suspicious of you.

Thoughts flooded your mind of how to escape. You couldn’t afford for them to follow you and find Meg or Lucifer. So you knew you couldn’t leave without them choosing to let you go. ‘I shouldn’t have opened my stupid mouth’ you thought.’ “I.. I..” You stuttered trying to think of an excuse “I’m a hunter, just like you!” You claimed unconvincingly.

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Request: Nct’s Mark, High School Au. You’re a cheerleader that sucks at Math and Mark, who is a little bit in love with you gets to tutor you.

Word Count: 1,834

A cheerleader who couldn’t do Math. What a cliché you thought as you ran a hand through your hair and frowned down at the textbook in front of you. Cliché or not though when it came to you it was true. Biology you were good at, Geography you had no trouble with at all, History you loved, but Math… Math was not your friend.

You’d had a tutor for two weeks now and you still weren’t getting it. It was ridiculous. You should at least know where to start with this by now. You’d spent more time with your tutor lately than you had with your family and he was a good teacher. Not only was he one of the smartest kids in your class but he was kind and and patient too. He never got mad at you, no matter how long it took you to grasp what he was saying. And you’d been trying your best, you honestly had. But no matter how hard you tried your brain obviously just wasn’t made to deal with numbers. “I’m sorry.” You said looking up from your textbook, your eyes settling on Mark who was sitting across the table from you. “I know you explained this to me on Friday but…” you trailed off with a sigh. Friday had been two days ago. Why your brain hadn’t been able to retain a single thing he’d told you, you didn’t know. It was the worst.

“Stop apologising.” Mark told you, shaking his head slightly and pushing his glasses further up his nose.

He suited glasses you decided as you tilted your head to the side to get a better look at him. You’d never really noticed Mark before he’d offered to tutor you, something else that was totally ridiculous now you thought about it. He might not hang around with the same people you did or be a member of the same clubs you were but he was in at least half of your classes, including your ever-dreaded Math class. And you were regretting not noticing or approaching him before because you genuinely enjoyed spending time with him. It was easy, he wasn’t like some of the other boys you’d spent time with, he made you feel comfortable. And if you liked spending time with him when you were doing something you hated, then you’d probably enjoy spending time with him doing something you both enjoyed ten times more. Maybe you should ask him to do something once this whole Math thing was over and done with. You could go get something eat together or see movie, it could be a thank you for him putting up with you being such a terrible student. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.

You heard Mark pushing his chair back, the legs scraping across the floor and you blinked, startled. You’d been so caught up in what you were thinking that you’d completely zoned out. Again. Maybe that was part of the problem here. You had no attention span.

“I don’t mind going over it with you again.” Mark was saying now as he made his way around the table.

“I’ll pay attention this time, I promise.” You told him as he pulled out the chair beside you and sat down, pulling your textbook towards him so he could see it better.


It was hard to pay attention with Mark sitting so close. You were both hunched over the open textbook, Mark’s shoulder pressed to yours as he pointed to one of the problems on the page. You were wearing short sleeves and the fabric of his sweater was rubbing against your arm every time he moved. It was a really soft sweater your brain pointed out, you might have to ask him where he’d gotten it and get one for yourself. But no, that would be silly you thought, backtracking. That would almost be the same as you having couple clothes and you weren’t a couple. You weren’t even friends, not really. He was your tutor and you were his… tutoree? Was that even a word? You didn’t think so.Oh God, what was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just focus?

“Did you get that?” Mark asked and you almost jumped out of your skin.

And no, you hadn’t gotten that, whatever that was, you’d been too busy thinking about his sweater of all things. You’d picked up on a couple of words, something about something being congruent… or not congruent? Okay. You had no idea what he’d just been talking about.  “Um… can you go over it one more time?” You asked, embarrassed. “I’m a little tired that’s all, things take longer to sink in when I’m tired.” It had been a long day to be fair, that was probably why your attention kept wandering.Yeah, that must be it, it had been  long day and you were tired.

“We can take a break if you want.” Mark offered.

“Thanks.” You said, rewarding him with a smile. You were glad he’d been the first person who’d offered to tutor you, he was always so patient with you. If you’d been in his place you’d be pulling your hair out by now. “But I can’t afford to take a break. We’re being tested on this on Friday and I can’t afford to fail. I need to make the most of our hour.”

“I don’t mind staying here a little longer.” Mark told you, “I’ll make sure you still get your hour even if we do take a break.”

Seriously, why had you never made the time to get to know him before now? The boy was an actual angel. “Are you sure?” You asked. Angel or not you didn’t want to take advantage. “I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got plans.”

“No plans.” Mark assured you. “And anyway, it’s no chore. I like spending time with you.”

You doubted that. You were hardly a pleasure to teach. He had to explain everything to you at least a half dozen times and you had the attention span of a goldfish. He was probably just saying that to be nice because that was what he was, nice. But you couldn’t exactly argue with him, that would be like calling him a liar and that would be rude. “Okay, let’s take a break then.” You said. “But just a short one. I don’t want to keep you here all night, that wouldn’t be fair.” Also it wouldn’t be that long until the librarian kicked you both out anyway, it was getting late.


It was approaching closing time and you and Mark were still the library. You’d used your break to ask him what music he was into and the conversation had lasted longer than you’d intended it too. But Mark, keeping to his word, had made sure you got all the tutoring time he’d promised you anyway.

“Done!” you said and with a sigh of relief you sat back from the page of problems you’d been working on and dropped your pen onto the table.

Rather than pull your notebook closer Mark leant into you, his sweatshirt brushing your arm again as he cast his eye over the page. You waited with bated breath as he appraised your work, mouthing the numbers and symbols he was reading as he did so. “Good.” He said at last. “It’s all good.”

“Really?” you asked, not quite believing him.

“Really.” He said. “That break really did the trick. You’ve done amazingly well, there’s not one mistake on the page.”

He was looking up a you now, a smile on his face, clearly pleased and you felt your face flush at the compliment he’d given you. “I don’t think it was the break.” You told him, trying to shrug it off. You’d never been very good at accepting compliments. “And I’m not that great. If you weren’t such a good teacher those problems would still have looked like gibberish to me.”

It was Mark’s turn to turn slightly red. “I’m glad I could help.” He told you.

“And thanks again,” you added, “for staying. You didn’t have to do that. I appreciate it.”

Mark shrugged. “I didn’t mind. I told you, I like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you too.” You admitted.

Mark seemed surprised by your answer, his forehead wrinkling slightly as he considered what you’d said. “Honestly?” he asked at last. “You like spending time with me too?”

“Yeah…” you said, your voice wavering a little. The look he was giving you was kind of intense. “… honestly. We get on okay, don’t we? Maybe one day we could hang out properly, do something that’s a bit more fun than revising Math… I don’t know.”

“Maybe.” Mark agreed.

He was staring at you as if you’d grown another head. But as disconcerting as the staring was you couldn’t help noticing how nice his eyes were. You’d never had the chance to look at them properly before, they were always hidden behind his glasses but he was sitting close enough for his glasses to be framing them now not hiding them and yeah… they were sort of pretty. He smelled good too you noticed as you tried to think up what to say next, like citrus and something else that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

But before you could work out what it was Mark was closing his eyes and leaning forward. It was almost as if he was about to kiss you, you mused. But no, this wasn’t a date this was a…


He’d just kissed you. It hadn’t been much, the slightest brush of his lips across yours and now he was pulling back his eyes snapping open. “I’m sorry.” He stuttered. “I’m really sorry.” And he was pushing his chair back, darting around the table and grabbing his backpack and his coat.

And still reeling slightly from the shock you just watched him. It was only when he started walking away, still shrugging his coat on over his shoulders that you managed to pull yourself together. “Why are you sorry?” You called after him but he didn’t seem to hear you, he just kept walking. “Wait!”

He wasn’t waiting. Why wasn’t he waiting? And seriously, why was he sorry? He should have asked if he had anything to be sorry for before deciding for himself. And you’d have told him that he didn’t. Okay, so the kiss had come as a surprise but it had been a pleasant surprise. And now that you thought about it Mark had been on your mind a lot lately. You’d put it down to how much time you’d been spending together, when you spent every weeknight with someone they were bound to get inside your head a little. But maybe it had been more than that. He clearly liked you, he wouldn’t have kissed you if he didn’t and he certainly wouldn’t have been so mortified afterwards. And maybe… well maybe you liked him too.

No, there was no maybe about it. You liked it when he sat with arm pressed to yours, you liked the shape and the colour of his eyes, you liked the way he smelled. You liked the fact that he was nice person, that he was patient and smart and kind. You liked him. And you were going to tell him just as soon as you got all your Math stuff back in your bag. He’d been walking at quite a speed but if you had to run to catch him up then you would. This thing with Mark, it was definitely something worth pursuing and you weren’t going to let his speed walking skills or your lack of back packing skills get in your way.

Admin Nic x

Thank you so much you both! <3 But I suck so bad at drawing tutorials as I don’t even know how to make one. Believe me, I tried. I just tell someone you just open a blank canvas on photoshop and draw something you love. Which, I know, isn’t very helpful. But that’s how it’s always been for me. For more blabbering about art stuff, do continue. If not, just ignore. :D


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Loving Can Hurt

Summary: When someone falls in love with Dan, they get amnesia, essentially forgetting they knew him, let alone ever loved him.

Yes, I’m still working on Soundless and that requested songfic, just one thing at a time! As for this, I don’t expect the story to be too long, but I am uploading it in parts, because, I don’t know about you, but I hate those EXTREMELY long fics that take forever to scroll through just to get to the next post on my dashboard. So I won’t do that to my followers:) Let me know if you like this and want to see them fall in love <3  

Word Count: 2,669

Warnings: Fluff?

{Master Post}

*EDIT: This fic IS completed, so if you find any of the “Next Chapter” links crossed out or not working, please let me know so I can attempt to fix them!*




Dan lived alone. Mostly by choice. He can’t seem to have a flatmate or family member who wants to live with him. His family, for obvious reasons, doesn’t want to live with him, because, well, he’s twenty-four years old. He’s a grown man, who shouldn’t still be living with family. As for friends, that’s another story.

Living–or having–friends is dangerous ground. At first, the friendships might mean nothing. But as they keep moving forward, things sometimes … happen. The more someone (excluding family) gets to know Dan, the more they end up liking him. Which is good for most people in the universe. Just not Dan. Because when people like Dan just a little too much, they seem to forget who he is.

Dan doesn’t know why this happens. He hates it. No one can ever truly love him, or else they forget him.

Dan was convinced that he was never meant to have love in this world. He could love someone, but they couldn’t love him back. The world wouldn’t allow Dan that pleasure. So he goes to work, and comes home, alone. He doesn’t try to make friends, and he doesn’t try to have a nice time with anyone. All because he doesn’t want them to forget him.

But there was this one person. This one person Dan couldn’t stay away from, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew his name and he knew his face. He knew his laugh, his likes, his dislikes. All because Dan knew him before he forgot who Dan was.

Phil Lester loved Dan a little too much. And he forgot all about it.


One Year Ago

Dan hated Mondays. Or maybe Mondays hated him. They always started out the worst, and ended with the worst. He couldn’t ever seem to beat Mondays, no matter how much he tried. But today, this Monday, things were different.

It didn’t start off too bad. His alarm woke him up at the proper time, his clothes weren’t in a crumpled pile on the floor–though his tie was still a tangled mess from when he tried to take it off last night–and his milk hadn’t gone bad quite yet, so he could have a bowl of cereal before work. Today would be the first Monday in a long time that didn’t start of terrible.

Or so Dan thought.

He missed his train to work. Missed it by just two minutes, despite running through the streets like a maniac trying to catch it in time. The next one wouldn’t be for a while, so he had no choice but to call his boss and tell him his unfortunate circumstance.

“Late!?” his boss had practically shouted on the other end of the line. “Howell, this is the third time this month!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just–”

“Don’t try to explain it to me. Today is your last day of being late. One more time, and you’re done, Howell. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” Dan replied lowly. His boss was never usually a jerk. He was actually a pretty nice guy. Which is why Dan wasn’t mad at the fact that he was being chewed out for being late again. He knew he was in the wrong. His boss was only doing what he was supposed to do.

“Good. See you soon,” his boss said, cutting off the line before Dan could say anything else. Not that he had anything to add, anyway.

While Dan waited for the next train, he leaned against the wall and sunk down to the ground to fix his tie. He took the whole thing off, not wanting to undo the knot it was already in. He wasn’t sure he could get it back into a knot if he undid it completely.

“You look like your struggling,” someone said, hovering over Dan.

Dan looked up at the man, who had coal black hair and pale skin. He was kind of like Dan’s opposite–cold looking with a fringe styled in the opposite direction of Dan’s.

“What makes you say that?” Dan asked. It was true, though. He was struggling quite a bit with his tie.

The man chuckled. “You look very focused there with your tongue sticking out between your lips and your brows furrowed. Not to mention that it’s been nearly seven minutes since you started working on that tie, and you still haven’t gotten it properly.” He smiled down at Dan, his gaze sympathetic.

“Yeah, well, I was never really taught how to tie a tie. I mean, I would use a clip-on, but my boss says that makes me look less professional. I don’t see how he could tell it was a clip-on, though. It looked real enough to me.” Dan dropped his tie on the dirty ground, not caring about it any longer. He was already late to work. Nothing could get much worse until later in the day.

“Let me help?” the man asked.

“Have at it,” Dan said, picking the tie up off the ground and handing it to him.

The man took it with ease, sitting down on the floor in front of Dan as he did so. “My dad taught me a trick, once,” the man said, undoing the knot Dan had the tie in. “It’s simple. Here, I’ll show you.” He got the knot undone, and set the tie down flat on the floor. “First, make two loops on each end of the tie, going in opposite directions.”

The man kept talking, but Dan wasn’t really listening. He was too busy focusing on the gentle way his hands touched the tie, careful to not mess it up or get it dirty from the ground. And his voice … it was soothing, in a way. Dan liked listening to him explain something he should probably be paying attention to.

“… then just put it through there and put it around your neck!” the man finished. “Here.” He put the big loop over Dan’s head, letting the tie drape down. “Just adjust it to how you need it, and you should be good to go. Easy, right?”

“Yeah,” Dan mumbled, slightly unsure what he was talking about. Oh, right. The tie. Dan grabbed the newly formed knot and slid it up, adjusting the tie as it needed to be. He couldn’t remember the last time it looked so good. “Wow, thanks …” he trailed off.

“Phil,” the man supplied. “My name is Phil.”

“Thanks, Phil.” Dan stood up, Phil following suit. Phil brushed off his clothes as if he was covered in dust and dirt from the few minutes he sat on the ground. “Guess I should be watching for my train. Don’t want to be late twice in one day,” Dan chuckled awkwardly.

Phil smiled. “You already late?”

“Yeah. Missed the first stop by two minutes. What rubbish.” Dan put his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do with them. He hated being awkward when talking to people. Social interaction wasn’t really his thing. Especially when love was involved. But he wouldn’t think about that now.

“That’s unfortunate. I’ve only been late maybe once or twice, but I know the feeling. It’s like the moment you’re late, your whole day is thrown off,” Phil said, smiling knowingly.


A second later, the next train into town came to a stop. The doors opened and people flooded out. Dan supposed he should hurry up and get on the train. He couldn’t afford to miss it. But he didn’t really want to stop talking to Phil. He liked him. He was nice and had helped him tie his tie. Even if Dan wasn’t listening to a word he had been saying.

“Thanks for helping me out with the tie,” Dan said to Phil.

“No problem. Glad I was able to! I like helping people whenever I can.”

Dan nodded once and smiled before making sure he had all of his belongings and getting on the train. He made it just as the doors were closing. He stood at the door, clutching one of the poles to stay upright as the train began to move. Phil stood in the same spot Dan had left him in, watching as the train took off, taking Dan with it.

For a brief moment, Dan had wondered if he would see Phil again. Chances were, he’d only see him again if he was late to work. And Dan would never be late again. He already told his boss as much.  


Dan’s boss made him stay an hour later to make up for the hour of time he missed this morning. He also gave him another rather long lecture on being late to work.

“It looks bad on me when my employees are late!” he said. He didn’t yell at Dan, so much as he did just tell him like it was a casual conversation. “I like you, Howell. You’re a good worker here. But I can’t keep letting you be late. It’s not fair to everyone else who works just as hard. They show up on time, so can you.”

Dan mumbled along, agreeing with what he was saying. Dan knew he was right. He just didn’t want to admit to anything.

Dan had to catch the evening train, this one less crowded than the last. He was able to find a seat next to a man who was scrolling through his phone with a pair of headphones in. He had the music up pretty loud, which allowed Dan to hear the song. Barely. It was MCR, much to Dan’s surprise. He didn’t think people still listened to them anymore.

“No way!” the man next to Dan said rather loudly. He must not realize how loud his voice was because of his music. “It’s you!”

Dan looked over, only to find Phil. He was the man listening to MCR. What were the chances of seeing him again? This soon, to be exact?

“How strange! Never thought I’d see you again,” Phil said. “Even more so since you never told me your name. You know, that really bothered me earlier. It was only after you hopped on the train that I realized you didn’t tell me your name.” Phil pulled the earplugs out of his ears and wrapped them around his phone, shoving it in his pocket.

“Oh. My name’s Dan,” he replied.

“Well, Dan. I think it’s spooky that I ran into you again. How is it that we never crossed paths before?”

Dan considered this. “Maybe because of our work hours? I mean, I was late by an hour, and an hour late getting home, too. I’m usually caught in the traffic an hour prior to now. Same for the morning.” It made sense. They both used the same method of transportation, only one hour difference between when they did.

“Interesting,” Phil said. “Must be it. But twice in one day?”

“Yeah, that’s a little strange,” Dan agreed, smiling sheepishly.

They sat in silence the rest of the way, which for Dan, was a bit awkward. He hated silence after a good string of conversation. He liked things to keep moving. He could continue the conversation, but he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know Phil or his likes. What if he said something wrong and set him off? He seemed nice enough earlier, but that was their first encounter. Everyone tended to be nice when meeting new people for the first time.

When the train stopped, most everyone stood up to exit, including Phil. “I’d say see you around, but I guess that only applies if you’re late to work again.” He smiled at Dan.

“Yeah, I can’t be late again. Don’t want to get fired.” Dan stood up, following everyone else off the train.

“You going to follow me home instead?” Phil asked, a permanent smirk on his face. He arched one brow.

Dan looked flustered. “I–uh–no, I just live right up there.” He pointed upwards.

Phil laughed. “I wouldn’t mind, though.”

Dan’s jaw slacked. Wouldn’t mind what, exactly? “What?” Dan asked dumbly.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Phil repeated. “If you followed me home,” he added with a wink.

Dan’s eyes went wide. How was he supposed to respond to that? “Oh. Confident, are we?” he said instead, mostly evading Phil’s statement.

Phil chuckled. “You have to take chances in life. Phil Lester. Look me up later.” He smiled with his teeth before getting lost in the crowd of people heading up the stairs. Did Phil really just do that? He did.

Dan stood still in the same spot, contemplating Phil’s words. He couldn’t believe it. A random guy–who happened to be extremely cute–just hinted that he wouldn’t mind seeing Dan again. Mondays were supposed to suck. How could something so lovely happen now, of all times?

With a smile, Dan trekked up the stairs and back to his flat. Little did he know, Phil was still lurking around. Watching Dan as he made his way home.


Dan immediately stripped off his work uniform, careful to keep his tie neat, however, before putting on his PJ’s and settling down into his sofa crease. This was Dan’s favorite part of the day. He liked to just lounge around in a comfy pair of clothes, and browse through Tumblr and catch up on TV shows such as Game of Thrones and The Walking Dead. He felt more like himself when he wasn’t wearing work or casual clothes.

After a few hours of doing literally nothing, Dan had the sudden recollection of what Phil had told him earlier. Phil Lester. Look me up later.

Should Dan look him up? If he did, how would he know which was the right one? Surely there would be more than one Phil Lester in London. Well, maybe. Dan knows what he looks like. He could just go off a picture then, right?

Dan opened up Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter, just in case Phil only had one social media. He started on Twitter first, because usually that was the easiest way to find people. As soon as he typed in Phil Lester, he got a search result for someone who was verified. Was this his Phil Lester? He clicked on the name, and sure enough, he was in the profile picture. There was no mistaking his black hair, blue-ish eyes, and pale skin. This was him. The guy on the train. But why was he verified?

Phil Lester, Radio DJ at BBC Radio 1. I am official. An official geek, his bio said.

So Phil. The guy Dan ran into twice on the train, was some popular radio DJ with a little over two million Twitter followers? No way.

Dan’s mouse hovered over the follow button. Did he really want to do this? Phil would just see a notification for another fan following him. Dan’s follow would mean nothing. Then again, Phil was the one who told Dan to look him up. This was the end result. He clicked on the follow button. Not a moment later, there was a notification for Dan’s Twitter, telling him Phil had followed him back.

Geez, stalk much? Dan thought, but chuckled at it anyway. He tossed his phone aside, happy with the way this Monday turned out. It was the first time, in a long time, that a Monday didn’t fully hate Dan. Maybe they could start getting along a little better now. After all, it did let him meet Phil. And Dan had a feeling that this was the start of something good, and terribly bad.

Everything should be fine, Dan thought. Just as long as Phil doesn’t fall in love with me.

Dan laughed. Like that’ll ever happen, was Dan’s last thought as he drifted off into sleep that night, completely unaware of where life was going to take him next.

{Next Chapter)

The Boarding House

[Word Count:2273]

I found this letter when clearing out my great-grandmother’s attic in Lancaster. From what I’ve been told, my great-grandmother was a very strange and eerie woman so I’m not certain she didn’t write this herself just to freak someone out from beyond the grave. But it was hidden under a floorboard with a dozen old photographs and letters of equally strange contents…so maybe it was hidden for a reason? I transcribed it with difficulty; the cursive was really hard to read and people back then were really wordy. It’s really disturbing. Maybe someone out there can confirm or deny its legitimacy:

To my dearest and well-respected brother, Wilhelm, or any other unlucky soul,

It is my sincerest hope, for your personal safety and precious sanity, that you are not indeed reading this letter. It is far better for you to think me missing in some unknown country or lost at sea in its tumultuous waters. For if you are indeed perusing my residual musings in my notes and ledgers, you are in the warped place I once stood in fear, sat in hushed contemplation, and slept in silent resignation. If so, I implore you with heartfelt convictions to leave this place before the dimensions and space begin to warp and twist, tricking you into prolonging your stay here.

Perhaps by some lucky happenstance this letter has been brought to you. Perhaps the proprietress of this miniscule and unsightly boarding room will have discovered the space to be back to its original form and finding me missing will have taken the envelope I nailed to the wall with a tack from my shoe. Perhaps then it will be safe for you to study its contents but I have reservations that you will comprehend its truth.

Keep reading


It makes me SO MAD how socially unacceptable it is to want to save money!!!! There is a HUUUUGE disconnect between all the people who want to be rich and are dying for more money but make you feel super lame if you don’t wanna get coffee or go to the movies because you don’t wanna spend extra money!!!!! GRRRRRR!!!! I used to be a victim of this AWFUL mindset and now that I’ve seen the light I just wanna cry when I think of all the thousands of dollars I wasted buying expensive food when there was a cheaper option or going to the movies like six times a month or paying way too much for parking when I was only gonna be somewhere for an hour….. The list goes on and on and on. The word “thousands” probably shocks you and that’s cuz no one promotes how quickly it all adds up, but the reality is we have all spent THOUSANDS in our lifetime and a LOT of it was unnecessary!!!!!!! IT MAKES ME SO MAD!!!!!!!!!
Here’s the problem: many people are in debt. They don’t talk about it. Many people have like no money in their accounts, it’s all tied up in bills and money owed and expenses. Very normal. Especially young people, we just seem to have no money. We all wanna have fun and enjoy our lives, we do NOOOT wanna miss out, and life seems to cost a lot of money so we think we just have to spend it all and then we are stuck.
It’s been made VERY normal, at least in America and places I’ve been, to eat out constantly, go to the movies regularly, go to events our friends are going to, have the nicest car, nicest clothes, nicest anything you can afford so you can “rank” well against others, and if you don’t wanna do those things you will be looked at as very weird. Lots of people will call you boring or lame and you will probably feel bad about yourself.
Behind the scenes we’re all like, “geez this is so expensive” “omg that’s my bill this month!?!” “THATS how much I spent!??!?!” “Aw man I have like no money left” “how do people afford this???” THATS THE THING THO. THEY DONT. THEY HAVE NO MONEY IN THEIR ACCOUNTS. JUST LIKE YOU. I AM SO MAD THAT WE ARE ALL BEING TRICKED!!!!!!! We’re like “wow everyone else is doing so well, they’re eating out and driving nice cars and living in a nice place and wearing nice clothes, how come they can afford it so much easier than I can!?!” but that’s the trick!!! THEY ARE IN THE SAME BOAT AS YOU. THEY ARE SPENDING ALL OF THEIR MONEY TO MAINTAIN THIS COSTLY LIFESTYLE THAT IS SWALLOWING THEM ALIVE. HE WHO SPENDS HIS MONEY FAST WILL LOSE IT FAST. Everyone is trying to act as rich as they can to impress a bunch of people who are also secretly struggling to appear as rich as they can!!! BUT ITS ALL A SHAM!!!!!!!
Now let me be clear, it probably sounds like I’m saying you should never spend money on anything. No, that’s not it. I’m also fully aware that there are plenty of people in the world who are barely getting by and they don’t have extra money to spend, period. This obviously doesn’t apply to them lol. What I’m saying is decide what is an absolute necessity and keep paying for that. Like don’t skip your bills haha. But anything you don’t absolutely NEED, try to go without it more often! If you get coffee every day for like $4.00, you’re like whatever 4 bucks is nothing, that doesn’t matter. But 4 bucks a day is $28 a week, $112 a month and $1,344 a year. A thousand bucks a year on coffee alone if you get it every day!!! Even if you cut back from every day to just twice a week, you would save 960 dollars in a year. Make your coffee at home for crying out loud! Hahaha I know it’s fun to eat out and stuff but when you think of how much money you’ll have when you do it less often, it’s a lot easier to turn it down here and there. Also when you eat out every day it’s not even fun anymore, it’s just a fix you need to get by. The more you go without it, the more special and fun it is when you do eat out! Go through your receipts/bank statement right now, I dare you. Look at what you spend the most on cuz I bet you a lot of it is food!! Haha and the thing is you can eat more (which is awesome lol) if you buy stuff at the grocery store and just bring it with you! I do this all the time it’s so awesome!! I bring pb&j sandwiches, snack bars, grapes, mini oranges, goldfish, fruit snacks, whatever is in my pantry. It saves me SO MUCH MONEY because I don’t get stuck in a hungry pinch an hour after I left the house, desperately searching for something quick to eat. I already have it with me!
I love my life SO MUCH. I have a ton of fun, I do fun things all the time, I have great friendships and an awesome relationship with my family and I feel a lot happier than most people I know. I don’t feel like I’m missing out at all, quite the opposite! I still go to concerts, I still buy albums, I still go to dinner once in a while, I still see movies, I just CHOOSE WISELY. I make sure I’m only spending that extra entertainment money on things I REALLY want. When I hang out with my friends, I just invite them over to watch a movie or go swimming or go for a hike or a walk downtown or something that doesn’t cost money. If they say they wanna hang out and propose an idea that costs, I don’t say yes right away unless it’s something I’m dying to do and I have money in my budget that I can use for that. Otherwise, I’ll suggest another idea that’s free or much cheaper. And a lot of times they’re relieved! The reality is I’m not the only one who likes to save, a lot of people really appreciate that too 😂
It might seem lame not getting coffee 24/7, staying in some weekends instead of blowing your money at the bar, learning to do your own nails, shopping at thrift stores instead of the super expensive places at the mall, bringing snacks and cooking your own food, but I didn’t feel lame buying myself a car at age 21. I don’t feel lame paying all my own bills and being 100% financially independent. And I certainly don’t feel lame owning a house at age 22 hahaha.
And btw, you don’t have to have a bajilion dollars to do any of that! You just have to cut back here and there and then put that extra money in savings. You’d be AMAZED at how much those little things add up, only instead of watching them add up in horror as you go through your receipts, you’ll be watching them add up in pure delight as you check your savings account each month 😎💰 ahahaha
This is information no one shared with me until the last few years and it CHANGED MY LIFE so I wanted to share it with anyone who wants to take away all that monetary stress and financial burden and just relax and feel taken care of!!! It is a GREAT feeling and a feeling you can have sooner than you think if you just start paying more attention and making those small changes! Good luck!!! 😁

Madness is of two kinds, and modern psychiatry is aware of only one kind; and because it is not aware of the other kind, its understanding about madness is very lopsided, erroneous, faulty, and harmful too.

The first kind of madness that psychiatrists are aware of is falling below the rational mind.
When you cannot cope with realities, when they are too much, when they become unbearable, madness is a way of escaping into your own subjective world, so that you can forget the realities that are there. You create your own subjective world, you start living in a kind of imaginary world, you start dreaming even with open eyes, so that you can avoid the realities that have become too much and are unbearable.
This is an escape; one falls below the rational mind. This is going back to the animal mind. This is falling into the unconscious.
There are other people who manage the same thing in other ways.
The alcoholic manages it through alcohol. He drinks too much; he becomes completely unconscious. He forgets the whole world and all its problems and anxieties—the wife, the children, the market, the people. He moves into his unconscious through the help of alcohol. This is a temporary kind of madness which will be gone after a few hours.
And whenever there are difficult times in the world, drugs become very important. After the Second World War, drugs became of immense importance all over the world, particularly in the countries which had seen the Second World War, in the countries which became aware that we are sitting on a volcano that can erupt at any moment. We have seen Hiroshima and Nagasaki being burned within seconds—one hundred thousand people burned within five seconds. Now the reality is too much to bear. Hence the new generation, the younger generation, became interested in drugs. Drugs and their impact all around the world, and their influence on the new generation, are rooted in the experience of the Second World War. It is the Second World War that has created hippies, that has created drug-people; because life is so dangerous and death can happen any moment… how to avoid it, how to forget all about it?
In times of stress and strain, people start taking drugs. And this has always been so. It is a way of creating a temporary madness. And by madness I mean falling below the rational mind—because it is only the rational mind which can be aware of problems. It knows no solutions; it knows only problems. So if the problems are manageable and you can co-exist with the problems, you remain sane. When you see it is too much, you go insane.

Insanity is a built-in process of avoiding problems, realities, anxieties, stress situations.
People avoid in many ways. Somebody will become an alcoholic, somebody will take LSD, somebody marijuana. And there are other people who are not so courageous—they will fall ill. They will have cancers, tuberculosis, paralysis; so they can say to the world, ‘What can I do? I am paralyzed. If I cannot face realities, it is not my responsibility. Now I am paralyzed.’ ‘If my business is going to the dogs, what can I do? I have cancer.’ These are ways that people protect their egos—poor ways, pitiable ways, but still they are ways to protect your ego. Rather than dropping the ego, people go on protecting it.
Wherever life becomes too much of a tension, all these things will happen. People will have strange illnesses, incurable illnesses—incurable because there is a great support from the inside of the person for the illness, and without his cooperation with the medicine and with the doctor there is no possibility of curing him. Nobody can cure you against you: remember it as a fundamental truth.
If there is a deep investment in your cancer, if you want it to be there because that protects you, that gives you a feeling that it is because of the cancer that you are not able to fight in the marketplace, that you are not able to compete, that it is because of the cancer—if it gives you a satisfaction—if this investment is there—nobody can cure you, because you will go on creating it. It is a psychological disease; it is rooted in your psychology.
And everybody knows it. Students start feeling ill when the examination comes close. Some students go mad when the examination is just there. And after the examination they are okay again. Each time there is an examination they fall ill—fever, pneumonia, hepatitis, this and that. If you watch you will be surprised—why at the times of examinations do so many students become ill? And suddenly after the examinations everything is okay. That is a trick, a strategy. They can say to their parents, ‘What can I do? I was ill; that’s why I could not pass,’ or, ‘I was ill; that’s why I have come third class. Otherwise the gold medal was certainly mine.’ It is a strategy.
If your illness is a strategy, then there is no way to cure it. If your alcoholism is a strategy, then there is no way to cure it, because you want it to be there. You are a creator, you are creating it on your own—maybe not consciously. And so is madness; that is the last resort.
When everything fails, even cancer fails, alcohol fails, marijuana fails, paralysis fails, when everything fails, then the last resort is to go mad. That’s why madness happens more in the Western countries than in the Eastern, because life is still not so stressful. People are poor, but life is not so stressful. People are so poor, they cannot afford so much stress. People are so poor, they cannot afford psychiatry, psychoanalysis. Madness is a luxury. Only rich countries can afford it.

This is one kind of madness that psychologists are aware of: falling below the rational mind, moving into the unconscious, dropping the small conscious that you had. It was not very much in the first place; only one-tenth part of your mind is conscious.
You are just like an iceberg—one-tenth above the surface, nine-tenths below the surface. Nine-tenths of your mind is unconscious. Madness means dropping that one-tenth that was conscious so the whole iceberg goes underneath the surface.
But there is another kind of madness—that too has to be called madness because of a certain similarity—that is going beyond the rational mind. One is falling below the rational mind; the other is falling above the rational mind, falling upwards. In both cases the rational mind is lost: in one you become unconscious, in the other you become superconscious. In both cases the ordinary mind is lost.

In one you become totally unconscious, a certain integrity arises in you. And you can watch: in mad people there is a certain integrity, a certain consistency—they are one. You can rely on a madman. He is not two, he is utterly one. He is very consistent because he has only one mind, that is the unconscious. The duality has disappeared. And you will find a certain innocence also in a madman. He is like a child. He is not cunning, he cannot be. In fact, he had to become mad because he could not be cunning. He could not cope in a cunning world. You will find a certain simplicity, purity, in a madman. If you have watched mad people you will fall in love with them. They have a kind of togetherness. They are not divided, they are not split; they are one. Of course, they are one against reality, they are one in their dream world, they are one in their illusions, but they are one.

I have heard about a man who worked for many years in a drama company and his role was always Abraham Lincoln. After many years working as Abraham Lincoln, talking as Abraham Lincoln, wearing the clothes of Abraham Lincoln, slowly, slowly the man went mad. He started thinking that he WAS Abraham Lincoln.
At first his family and friends thought that he was joking, kidding, but slowly, slowly it became clear to them that he was not joking. He had fallen into that trap. He believed it; because not only in the drama—outside the drama he would wear the same clothes. He would have the same walking stick; he would walk the way Abraham Lincoln used to walk. He would stutter the way Abraham Lincoln used to stutter. He remained Abraham Lincoln twenty-four hours a day. Friends persuaded him, tried to convince him that, ‘What are you doing?’ But he was so convinced, he said, ‘What are you saying? I am Abraham Lincoln!’ Finally, seeing there was no way, they took him to a psychiatrist. He tried all that he knew, but the man was utterly convinced.

Mad people are very together. You cannot create doubt in them—doubt is part of the rational mind. Whatsoever they believe, they believe fanatically, so all mad people are fanatics and all fanatics are mad people. Remember that. A fanatic is one who believes, ‘Only I am right, and everybody else is wrong.’ The fanatic is one who believes, ‘Whosoever believes in what I say is right, and whosoever thinks that I am wrong is wrong.’
There is no possibility of any communication with a fanatic; you cannot communicate. He thinks only in two ways: either you are a friend or an enemy. Whosoever believes the way you believe is the friend, and whosoever does not believe the way you believe is the enemy. That’s why I call Morarji Desai a fanatic. He thinks the whole country has to believe the way he believes—that I have to believe in his ideology, only then can I be allowed to exist in this country. The fanatic can never be a democrat; the fanatic is always a fascist. The fanatic is mad.

So all efforts failed. And the man was so convinced about his being Abraham Lincoln that slowly, slowly, day in, day out as the psychiatrist was trying, even the psychiatrist started being doubtful—maybe he is. He also looked like Abraham Lincoln. For years he had been acting, and when you act something for years, you become it. The lie repeated again and again becomes a truth.
When the psychiatrist also started becoming suspicious, that ‘Who knows? You may be right. We all may be wrong; that is also a possibility,’ he tried one thing. There is now a machine in America; it is called a lie detector. It is used in the courts. He brought a lie detector; it detects whether people are lying or not. It is a simple device. The person is not aware that he is standing or sitting on the lie detector; it is hidden underneath. It is something like a cardiogram, it goes on making a graph of his heartbeats. When he is speaking the truth there is a harmony in the graph, and whenever he speaks a lie the harmony is broken. So first a few questions have to be asked about which he cannot lie, about which there is no possibility of lying, so we know the graph is going harmoniously.
The man was asked, ‘Look at the clock. What does the clock say?’ And he said, ‘Fifteen to ten.’ A letter was given to him and he was told, ‘Read this letter,’ and he read the letter. Now the graph was there going on harmoniously. And a few more questions to be absolutely certain—‘How many people are present in the room?’ He said ‘Seven.’ ‘What color is the curtain?’ He said ‘Green.’ Things like that, about which he could not lie, there was no possibility. And then he was asked, ‘Are you Abraham Lincoln?’
He was getting tired. Every day for years people had been persuading him that he was not. So just to get rid of the whole thing, he said, ‘No, I am not,’ but the lie detector said that he was lying! The conviction had gone so deep that he was only lying just to convince people, to get rid of these foolish people. He said, ‘No, I am not,’ but he knew he was.

Madness has a consistency, a togetherness. There is no doubt in it; it is utter belief. And the same is the case with the other madness. A man goes above reason, beyond reason, becomes utterly conscious, superconscious.
In the first madness, the one part that was conscious becomes dissolved into the nine parts that were unconscious. In this other madness, the nine parts that were not conscious start moving upwards and all come to the light, above the surface. The whole mind becomes conscious. That is the meaning of the word ‘Buddha,’ becoming absolutely conscious. Now this man will also look mad, because he will be consistent, utterly consistent. He will be together, more together than any madman can ever be. He will be absolutely integrated. He will be an individual, literally an individual—it means indivisible. He will not have any split at all.
So both look alike: the madman believes, and the Buddha trusts. And trust and belief look alike. The madman is one, utterly unconscious; the Buddha is also one, utterly conscious. And oneness looks alike. The madman has dropped reason, reasoning, mind; Buddha has also dropped reasoning, rationality, mind. That is similar; and yet they are poles apart. One has fallen below humanity, and the other has risen above humanity.

Modern psychology will remain incomplete unless it starts studying Buddhas. It will remain incomplete, its vision will remain incomplete, partial; and a partial vision is very dangerous. A partial truth is very dangerous, more dangerous than a lie, because it gives you the feeling that you are right.
Modern psychology has to take a quantum leap. It has to become the psychology of the Buddhas. It will have to go deep into Sufism, into Hasidism, into Zen, into Tantra, into Yoga, into Tao. Only then will it really be psychology. The word ‘psychology’ means the science of the soul. It is not yet psychology; it is not yet the science of the soul.

These are the two possibilities: you can go below yourself, you can go above yourself.
Become mad like Buddha, Bahaudin, Mohammed, Christ. Become mad like me. And that madness has immense beauty, because all that is beautiful is born out of that madness, and all that is poetic flows out of that madness. The greatest experiences of life, the greatest ecstasies of life, are born out of that madness. Initiating you into sannyas, I am really initiating you into that kind of madness. This place belongs to mad people.

—  Osho
Fic: For Want of a Nail

Pairing: InahoxSlaine (orangebat)

Rating: PG-15

Chapter: 1/?

Words: 1.7k

Genre: Humor, romance, angst, fluff


 There is too much Inaho wants answered and so, rather than just leave Bat after shooting his aircraft down, he takes him in for questioning.  

On how different the events of both seasons would be had Slaine spent time in the Deucalion.

Prologue: Peripeteia    

“Your princess was dead. And in spite of that…why are you looking for her?”

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"That does it!"

When Luke came out of the stock room a short while after past nine and found Lily standing by the bar scratching her head out of frustration, he went straight to where she was. “Hey!” he greeted her enthusiastically as he ducked under the pass-through. He shook his head as his father’s employee started fussing with her cash box. “Take a break, Lil. You’ve been killing yourself the moment you started your shift. I’m asking you to work hard, yes , but I’m not expecting you to kill yourself. What can I get you? Want some club soda?”

“Thanks,Sir! That would be awesome!” Lily looked pleased that he noticed her favorite drink, she climbed onto the vacant stool. She sat in a provocative manner, emphasizing her generous breast and checked her boss beneath her fake lashes. Lily has been trying to flirt with Luke, but he’s oblivious to it. Probably, he got someone in mind already, someone who isn’t Lily or her kind.

Luke poured club soda over the ice cubes and handed her the glass. “I was just in the storage room looking for more vodka,” he blurted conversationally. “And I’m telling you, I’ve never found a manager as unorganized as my sister. Everything’s a disaster back there.”

Lily snorted. “No bullshit. Things had been a lot better since you’ve taken over this business. I don’t wanna speak ill of your sister but your dad’s smart enough to let you run this instead. All she do here is flirt with cute customers, you know.”

Luke shrugged . “So I’ve heard. But I’m not really in charge here. Dad made it clear that it’s Y/n who’s your boss. I just help whenever.”

“Sure thing! You actually make a great team, this bar has never been this promising.” Lily admitted, both of their attention now on Y/n as the latter wiped down the last of her assigned tables at exact closing time.

Luke watched Y/n’s body movements, like a hungry predator on his easy prey, he watched her. He never wanna admit to it but he got this crazy attraction towards her, but knowing how his father value Y/n made him decide to take a giant step back from making a move on her. Distancing himself would be a good, solid decision, and it was held together perfectly until she came waltzing on her job tonight wearing her regular outfit, plain shirt and skinny jeans, enveloping the most beguiling body he ever laid eyes on. To add insult to the injury, her low cut shirt afforded him glimpses of her delicate cleavage, the mere thought of it, even now when it’s safely out of his sight, makes him reach down to discreetly adjust himself in his pants.

He dragged his gaze away from the swing of her round little rump and stared blindly at the paper in his hands. Fuck. He can’t get it! Usually, he went for girls whose breast were big enough to overflow in his hands. What Y/n has would barely snuggle into his palms, let alone give his fingers something to hold on to. Yet, Luke found himself desperately wishing to see them, feel them. He want them so bad he could practically taste them.

Licking his lips, he scowled. Tasting her was something he wanted to do.

“ Is something wrong?” Lily’s anxious voice broke into his filthy thoughts, and Luke realized that he’d not been paying attention to her reconciled tab.

“No, I’m fine.” he assured her, somewhat worried that if she could read his mind, she’ll find him perverted disgusting. Luke seemingly just wanted this long night to be over.

“You looked mad for a minute.”

“ I was just thinking of something else.” Like how he’d get his dick out of his fly, maybe. He forced an anemic imitation of his usual uneasy smile. “Why don’t you go ahead and take off?”

He realized his mistake the instance his words left his mouth. Lily’s departure would leave him alone with Y/n, but before he could retract his offer, she’d already flashed him a brilliant smile.

“Thanks!” In a haste, Lily yanked her apron off and grabbed her coat and purse. Next thing Luke knew, the door of the bar was all but smacking her in a butt as it swung closed behind her.

He drew a deep breath into his lungs, and exhaled it and warily kept his attention away from Y/n as she finished setting chairs upside down onto the table on her section. He could hear her singing along to John Mayer’s Your Body Is A Wonderland that plays on the background. It was already bad enough that she’d gone looking the most beautiful girl tonight, and suddenly she can sing too? Where is her usual intimidating look when Luke can get use of it? What’s with the singing too? She surprisingly carry a tune that is worth an ear.

Luke knew she’s animated, and that quirk had grabbed him by the heart.

He raked both of his hands through his blonde hair to the back of his head, massaging it in an attempt to untied his crazily knotted thoughts of her. He wanted out of there, he wanted to be out where he could breathe fresh air. He had to get his head back on straight, and a few strokes of crisp air will surely do the trick. All he had to do was hold on for five more minutes. Hell, he survived college, so how hard could it be to hang tough for another five minutes, right?

Y/n finished polishing her station, placing her hands in the small of her back, stretching her tired muscles. It had been a long night for her too, all she wanted now was to cash out her box and head home to bed. Or maybe, spend herself another fifteen minutes with a nice hot soak in the clawfoot tub on her old apartment building.

She collected her tray and cash box, then headed to the counter. Luke ignored her all night, and she was determined to be equally aloof, so she just silently reconciled her receipts.

That’s why it startled her when, out of the blue, he asked, “ So where’s your boyfriend? It’s pretty late, won’t he come and drive you home?”

Looking up, Y/n found herself replying to the back of Luke’s neck. Her teeth tightening due to his refusal to even face her, yet she answered with hard-won equanimity, “Ryo’s just a friend. I don’t know why you people think otherwise. And also, he left with Katrina.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Why not? At least someone’s getting some tonight,” she murmured to herself. “God knows it’s been forever since I have.”

Luke slowly turned. His cheekbones looking sharp and his voice suddenly owned an edge that rasped over her nerves as he demanded, “Would you like to?”

Yes. She stared up at Luke, in his dark blue eyes that promised all manner of sexual  satisfaction. Yes, she’d like it very much. Now.

But then, she remembered that this is Luke Hemmings, the son of her boss. She just can’t hooked up with him easily and work innocently tomorrow night and after that. So instead of granting her sexual needs and his, she grabbed on to her resolve and firmly stated. “No.”

Every muscle in Luke’s body tensed, and for a second he looked downright dangerous. He was full head taller and half as wide as her, suddenly goose bumps raise up her spine at the knowledge that if he took this issue to his head, she’d be utterly out-matched. But what terrified her the most was the thrill that his angry eyes gave her.

Luke stepped back, twitching his shoulder and gave her that heavy-lidded gaze he does so well. “Your loss, Princess. I could have made you feel real good.”

That’s what exactly scared her. But her chin went up and bantered. “Sorry, Mr. Hemmings.  But I think that my fingers are better than any of your kink.”

The tension left Luke, as he gave him a laugh of appraisal, his gaze lingered a bit longer on her clothed breast before raising his head to meet her insulted eyes. “ You’re too confident. I like you.”

Feeling flushed and somewhat embarrassed, she uttered a rude sound. “ And I hate you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and the tension seemed to dissipate a fraction. But before she could wonder if he might outright smile, he’d turned his back on her again. The cash register opened with a thud, and Luke started emptying it’s content into a bank bag. He shot her an expressionless glance over his broad shoulder, “ You got that cash box tallied yet?”

She looked down at the slip in her hand and silently separated out her tips and pocketed them before passing the cash box and tally to him.

“Good.” he said gruffly. “ Now, get out of here and go home.”

Y/n looked between the tray in her hand and the angle in the counter beneath the bar where she stored it every night when she’s done with her shift. Luke was once again blocking her way and for about a minute or two, she considered asking him to put the tray for her. But his attitude earlier discouraged the idea. She didn’t think that talking to him still is a good idea now.

She eased as close as she could get without touching him, then reached around Luke to slide the tray into it’s usual resting place. Unfortunately, she had underestimated the sheer amount of space he took up, and she found herself plastered against his back as she strained the last couple of inches. She slammed  the tray into his place and jumped back, highly aware of his heat radiating through her thin shirt. Aware, too, even in that briefest of contacts, of the sudden rigidity in Luke’s muscle as he stilled.

“All right,” he growled, “that does it!”

He spun on his heel to face her, and next thing she knew, his big hands were wrapped around her hips and he was swinging her around and lifting her to sit on the counter. Y/n’s head whirled and she grabbed two fistful of his shirt to anchor herself, tilting her chin up to stare at him.

“I’m being a good soldier, Y/n.” He said in a raspy voice, an unholy fire burning in his electric blue eyes as his hands slid from her hips and came up to frame her beautiful face. “ Even with your doubtful eyes, your body language, told me something else, I respected you when you say no. But you sure as hell don’t get to tease me, woman. You can’t say no in one breath then rub yourself all over me the next.”

“All over you! I didn’t mean to touch you at all! I misjudged the distance between you and the…”

(to be continued…)

anonymous asked:

Can I please have Dorian/Bull modern au?

Another teaser for a modern AU which is nominally still set in high-tech Thedas but might accidentally look a little like it was set in Stockholm if you squinted. You know, in a bad light. 

suggested musical accompaniment


Life In This Town
1,000 words of people smoking too much mostly.



The train rattles out of the tunnel into cold grey air, offering a moment’s view of the frozen river, boats under tarpaulins on the banks, the villas with their snowy gardens that stretch all the way to the water’s edge. A boathouse leans drunkenly, one corner buried in the ice where its footing has given way.

Then rushing darkness.

Dorian’s own reflection in the glass is smudged and indistinct. Someone tired. Eyes hollowed out to black holes.

In a metro station, the universal declaration of human rights is lettered across the wall in a language his tongue still can’t find the shape of.

An older woman refuses to take the seat beside him.

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“I Most Likely Ate Cereal” - An Interview with Bob Scerbo

What is an average day for Bob Scerbo?

I usually wake up around 11 or 12, walk the dog and get coffee and sit in my yard and mess around on the computer for a bit, listen to music and watch incredible displays of ignorance on the internet to entertain myself.

Eat some food, possibly go riding or creep around somewhere and shoot photos/explore.  Come home and chill with the dog, possibly meet up with Joe Rich or Stricker for lunch or coffee then pedal to work usually around 8.

Stand and check ID’s all night, eat a chicken sandwich because it’s free at work.  The bar I work at closes at 2am so I have to stay and clean for another hour and a half.  Pedal home around 3:30, walk the dog and go to bed.

If I don’t have work I’ll usually either stay home and read or work on Skapegoat stuff or go to the bar and hang out.

How has your life changed since you were a young and starry-eyed lad riding around New Jersey listening to emotional hardcore?

I would say I listen to indie rock, not emotional hardcore but either way my life hasn’t changed much other than I have gotten older and I can’t be out riding all the time because I need to work to pay my bills.  

Can you talk me through the day of the backwards icepick down the rail? What did you eat for breakfast? How many 40s had you drunk? Could you do it today?

I most likely ate cereal, I was sober, it was cold out and I didn’t feel like riding, and then I was watching Corey Martinez ride a ledge and for some weird reason I started thinking about that trick and got super motivated and suggested we go to that rail to look at something and it worked really easily — I pulled it twice in a row within a few tries.  

I had no plans of trying that that day and I have no idea why I decided to do it.  I would imagine I could still do it pretty easily but I don’t really have any desire to.

When me, Clarky and Gunn came to Philadelphia you scooped us up from our 10 hour flight and proceeded to drive us over two hours to a small skatepark on the outskirts of Atlantic City. Was this some sort of test?

HAHA — not a test at all — I just wanted to go ride the skatepark and chill by the beach for the day, I do that all the time when I feel like I need a break from being in the city.  When I lived in Jersey I would go to Coney Island, in Philly I go to Atlantic City and in Texas I go to Galveston.

What is Brigantine… and how does one kick it there?

Brigantine is a town with an old snake run that I ride, and one kicks it there by driving all the way there, taking a few runs then sitting on the beach drinking coffee. Not many people can handle the lack of action in my riding regiment so I usually end up doing it just me and the dog, and I am fine with that.

Why do you like driving so much?

I don’t know why I do but I really love driving around aimlessly checking out neighborhoods or new cities — it’s sort of an obsession.  It’s really relaxing for me and it also helps me think because my mind wanders like crazy.

Changing your surroundings often is a good way to use your brain differently.  If I could afford to I would live on the road, just camping and staying in Motels all the time.  I did that for a majority of the summer this year and it was great.

You now live in Austin. Do you ever find yourself listening to Mogwai?

The only time I have ever listened to Mogwai is when Joe plays it while I ride the T-1 ramp, so I guess I do pretty often but not by choice.  I do think they are a good band though.

How many more videos have you got left in you?

At this rate possibly one more just because I work so much and don’t have any money to put into doing anything at the moment,  I have been slowly working on something but it’s probably gonna take a while. I like not being involved in BMX anymore as my income but I would still like to be able to continue riding and working on fun projects.

Have you ever thought about branching out from riding videos into other cinematic genres?

I have thought about doing documentaries or hip hop videos but I really don’t know what will happen with that.  I could see myself working on a documentary at some point.

How do you feel about little dweebs like me pestering you for interviews?

I don’t mind it, I actually think it’s cool because I am sick of reading interviews on other sites where all people talk about is there filming process and how great their sponsors are.  I wish more independent media would pop up and shine a little more light on the less competitive side of riding and stop catering to advertisers and trying to turn street riding into a contest.  

Also I think you are funny English gentleman so I don’t mind doing an interview at all, I’m more confused why you would think anyone wants to read what I have to say at this point.

James Newrick would like to know about the navy blue hooded sweatshirt you often wore in videos. What are the origins of this garment? Why was the sleeve torn? Was there more than one blue hoody? Does the original still exist?

I did not own a sweatshirt at the time so I started wearing my girlfriend’s so it was technically hers. It was ripped because I wore it every day and it was really beat down.  It might still technically exist but it got stolen.

I had a backpack with all my clothes I owned in it and the bag got stolen from Steven Hamilton’s car in 2003. It was terrible. Road Fools left the next day and I had to load up at the thrift store on clothes and Kevin Porter gave me a Dead Memory shirt I wore most of the trip.

Have you ever had a lucid dream?

Yes, I have them constantly and I have gotten pretty good at controlling them and staying in them for a while.

What is your definition of a goon?

A Goon can come in many forms and shapes, there is no actual definition but you can always tell when you are in the presence of one.  Also someone can be a Goon but not always show it — it tends to come in waves and often shows up when alcohol or drugs a present.  I have met people who are a Goon 24/7 though and those are the ones you need to look out for.  Never believe a Goon if he or she claims to have changed either, it will come back and the relapse will raise it to higher levels of Goonery.

Favourite ramp?

All time it is Skater Island’s wooden snake run, Whiteboy’s Ramp and the Banana Farm.  They are all gone.  My current favorite is the T-1 ramp, 2 blocks from my house and built perfectly.  I love the bowl at Rampworks in Liverpool also but I only rode it once.

When was the last time you did a 720?

Probably in 2003 over the Hackettstown box jump.  I tried 3 over the spine and kept landing flat so I just let one rip over the box and it worked first try, I was hyped.

When was the last time you cooked a meal?

A few days ago. I cook pretty often these days since I moved to Austin, before that it had been a few years.

In what year could you bunnyhop the highest?


Is it true that trails riders wet the bed?

A lot of the ones I have known over the years had a tendency to. I think that era is over though… I hope so at least.

Have you got any life lessons you’d like to pass on?

Time is more valuable than money, make the most out of your time and don’t think money will solve your problems, it is usually what creates problems.  

I think that’s pretty much it. Anything else you’d like to add?



Who is your favourite Ralph? Ralph Lauren or Ralph Sinisi?

Pink Bike Ralph from Philly, he did the Penn rail then quit riding on the spot, I respect that, makes some pretty decent clothes too.

Have you ever driven another zamboni since Road Fools 12? And has that day been bettered?

I have never had the luxury of driving one again, I have had a few better days since then but not many.

Sorry to bring it up but what was the name of your pet mouse that died while you were on Road Fools?

Hahaha, his name was Wally.  I went in the pet store to get something for my cat at the time and for some reason left with a mouse.  He was cool as shit although we did not have much time together technically… but time is relative so it was all good.

Colour photos courtesy of whoever took them

This informative article originally appeared in Urban Mist 6