people are alright sometimes

I’ve recently seen to many cases of people being forced out of the closet by their friends. Straight people have this idea that because they “know” that no one will care if someone is gay or not, they think outing their friends is not an issue, and completely acceptable. Possibly thinking they are helping their friend. This needs to stop. Let people come out of the closet when they want to and how they want to. There is no wrong or right way, or time. Just because you don’t think it is a big deal, doesn’t mean it isn’t for the one who you outed. Coming to terms with your sexuality can be a difficult time, please don’t push someone before they are ready. To anyone who has ever outed someone without their permission: you don’t always see all the consequences to your actions.

the other side of the signs
  • aries: can be very soft, emotional. sometimes doubt themselves. feel unwanted, unloved. they are without a doubt strong people but sometimes they just need someone to make them feel alright again. cry over people who hurt them in the past sometimes. never really forget what others did to them.
  • taurus: overprotective and jealous because they doubt themselves as a partner. sometimes they feel not good enough. can get angry over little things. when in rage they may say things they don't really mean and regret later. focused on their goals so much that they are about to give them up after a little failure.
  • gemini: can be mean and bitter when hurt. wouldn't admit they're hurt. ignore people because they don't know how to express themselves sometimes. overthink things and panic. it takes them a lot of time to regain their strength. they look for a home in other people. they often feel misunderstood.
  • cancer: they can be hard as a rock. they give second chances but they know exactly that giving a third chance is foolish. they won't hurt those who hurt them but they will make sure the people who did them wrong know what they did. is normally a dreamy romantic but they have an iron skin to hide in when it all gets too much.
  • leo: sometimes they feel powerless, as if something was sucking their energy out of them. challenges that seem impossible can bring them to their knees. sometimes their "roar" is a soft, whispering voice. their pride can make them roar incredibly loud though. if they feel like you make fun of them you'll get to see their teeth and this is not how you want to experience them.
  • virgo: sometimes they are mean on purpose, hurt on purpose. they may try to control others emotionally. they do this to be let alone or to make someone stay. sometimes they feel lonely and down. they also create little worlds where they hide then. they can have problems with saying or even knowing what they want and it confuses them and makes them feel uncomfortable.
  • libra: they doubt themselves a lot. they sometimes feel like the failed first try of a painting. sometimes they are not as kind as nomally, sometimes they explode. they never forget what they deserve and they will do anything to get what they want. they use their elbows to get people out of their way if it's needed.
  • scorpio: they sometimes feel things they don't understand and it makes them feel depressed. sometimes they feel like no one on this planet is made to understand them. sometimes they regret things so much that they hate themselves for making those mistakes. it takes them a ot of strength to seem as strong as they are.
  • saggittarius: the longer they look for them, the more "flaws" they'll find in themselves. they are bright people who live in so many colours but sometimes all they see is black and white, maybe grey. sometimes deep thoughts keep them awake and although they usually have many friends they don't know who to talk to. then they feel like the whole word has given up on them. they are known as funny, charming people but sometimes they feel like they're carrying the weight of everyone's happiness, like they're responsible for it, and that can be too much for them from time to time.
  • capricorn: they can be furious. sometimes, when it all gets too much, they yell and kick things and start treating the people around them badly just for standing where they stand, just for being there. they like to know more than they should. they rarely speak about how they feel. they tend to hide their true feelings from everyone around them and when they finally talk about things that bother them no one knows how to comfort them. they don't say what they want but expect others to feel what they want and when no one understands them they get angry.
  • aquarius: there can be a lot of secrets behind the pretty face of an aquarius. the best kept can be their sadness. although they are bright personalities who love to laugh and make jokes, aquarius often have experienced things that still bother them even after a long time. they won't always speak about it, they may try to cover it, but some day they will tell everyone what bothers them. it's actually hard for them to let go of their past.
  • pisces: they can be the most revengeful people. sometimes they know nothing, neither friends nor family. if they want to make someone pay for something they will do so, they will get their revenge. although they love a lot and love intensely, they also know hate. they try to avoid this feeling but they know it too well. actually pisces are haunted by a lot of things, mostly their own mistakes. they sometimes can't find peace. they fight for justice but sometimes they go too far. too far with many things. they tend to be self-destructive.
Nighttime Company

Originally posted by zugzwangcm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (ft. Morgan)

Content/Warnings: Fluff

Words: 485

A/N: I procrastinated writing this by working on another drabble list that won’t be used until November at least. So there’s that. Also coming up with titles is the hardest part of the writing process. Besides the writing, of course. That is all.

This was a request from anon asking for 41 with Reid. I hope you like it :)

“Morning Y/N,” Derek Morgan greeted as you walked into the BAU. “Whoa, you look like hell, you alright?”

“Yeah,” You mumbled tiredly, taking a swig of your coffee. “Just a long night.”

In reality, you had spent your night completely sleepless, not because you couldn’t sleep, but because you were scared to. It wasn’t even because of your job, which was horrific on the best of days, though it was part of it. The last case you and the team had worked on was in the town you had grown up in. The case hadn’t just hit a little to close to home - it had hit your home, since you were kidnapped by your step-father who ended up being the unsub all along. Sure, you knew he was an abusive son of a bitch, but you didn’t think he was capable of butchering the people you had all but grown up with.

You had nightmares every night after that. Last night, you couldn’t take it anymore, forcing yourself to stay awake via TV and copious amounts of caffeine. Needless to say, coffee was the only thing you were running on this morning, but at the very least you didn’t have a case. Just paperwork, which was probably worse. “Good morning, Y/N,” Spencer greeted, giving you a smile. His eyes took in your appearance, and he frowned. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Nope,” You said, collapsing at your desk. “I’ll be alright though.”

“That’s not very healthy, you know,” Reid said, wandering over to lean against your desk. “You need to stop doing this to yourself.

“It’s the only thing that keeps the nightmares away,” You mumbled, propping your head in the palm of your head to look up at him. “Unless you have a better suggestion.”

“Well, um,” Your boyfriend stammered. He very obviously did have an idea, but you didn’t know if he was going to stop stuttering long enough to spit it out.

“What is it?” You said impatiently, tone more snappish than you had meant it to be. “Sorry, I’m just really tired.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Spencer assured you. “My thoughts were, well, people say that sometimes they sleep better if there’s another person with them. And I was just thinking, if you wanted to try, maybe we could…”

“Spence,” You drawled. “I am currently running on caffeine and pure spite right now, so anything that will let me get a full night’s sleep is a godsend. And if you really think that I would say no to cuddling with you all night, you would be wrong.”

“Oh,” He said, blushing. “Right, um, I’ll come over tonight then.”

“Woo, get it Reid!” You heard Morgan yell from across the room, causing the doctor to go an even more vibrant shade of red.

You tactfully flicked Morgan off before smiling sleepily at Reid. “Sounds like a plan.”


i’m quite hurt by what some kids said about my little brother today. children and people in general can be so judgemental sometimes… sigh. but it’s alright, i know he’s a genuinely kind and intelligent human bean. i hope he knows that.

anyway!!! on the bright side of things, i made myself a chai latte, reviewed old bio notes, and am listening to uplifting 80s rock. hope everyone’s having a good weekend!

One thing that’s always stunted my educational growth has always been expectations.

Expectation to do my best, but if I did my best, I apparently wasn’t.

Expectation to do everything on time and that, if I just studied and remembered the whole packet, I had no other reason to fail. So clearly, when I get that non-A or B on test, obviously something’s wrong with me.

And then there was the big one: Expectation to get all A’s and B’s on the basis of having technology, despite the fact that college adapts to the environment and still stays hard, if not getting harsher.

There’s always been the line of pushing a student on, and then just making them believe that the C they’re happy with, isn’t actually something they should be happy about. Even despite the fact they studied the night before and on the way to school. There’s a line with words, meanings that aren’t intentional.

Something like, “Why is your grade like that?” Can sound like “You apparently didn’t try.” To a person who’s questioned how smart they really are, sometimes due to the fact they’ve always been laced with high ideals.

“You’re a smart kid, you can do better.” If said too often, can start to echo self worth. Before it’s even realized, that C is absolutely worthless and is the domino effect of thoughts– failing grades becomes the equivalent of failing college and generally failing as a human being.

Sometimes being gentle about it can cause such better things. Something like, “This is a great job! I’m happy you did this and this, and I see your grade went up from a D to a C, so even better! Just continue to do your best alright? Good job.”

Sometimes people need a harder push, but never all the time.

It may not seem like such an accomplishment to someone who expects A’s and B’s all the time, but as someone who personally understands that reaching expectations is a hard edged stone, it’s ok to be proud of that C. It’s ok to be proud of a grade, because you still put in effort, you did your best.

And if no one’s said it to you in a while:

I’m proud of you.

5 things I've learned this 2016:
  1. There’s nothing more erratic than the seasons of life. There are times when it’s gloomy, frosty, and the silence is louder than the ghosts inside your heads. But there are brighter ones, when the sun is at its peak, your eyes glimmering with hope and anticipation for the soft pecks on your cheeks. And above all, the speck of mantra that all these shall pass, too. You’ll wake up one day and it’s over. It will never be an immediate blink of an eye, but it will only slowly disappear like thin wisps of clouds on an autumn morning. Because it’s true: this too, will pass. As long as I continue to hold on to myself and as long as i have hope and courage inside my chest, it will pass.

  2. You always have to work with all the possibilities. Reevaluate, restrategize, list down all the other options. It is not always the first suggestion that works; sometimes, it requires a minute of putting on my thinking hats, there are even more complicated situations that take more than an hour, a day, even months or an entire year to finish. Do not settle for less, always choose to be more.

  3. Remember to be kinder in everything that you do; believe in the little acts of kindness. Greet your friend through text messages, spontaneously give them a hug, smile at strangers, purchase your favorite bread and make sure you let your sister get a bite, write letters to people, make them feel your love, give the sort of love you were never able to receive. Do not permit anybody to ever feel the way you once hopelessly felt. It is always these little things that matter. It is always these little things that make us better people.

  4. It’s alright not to feel okay sometimes as long as you don’t hold on to it like a keen attachment of thirst for sadness. You can always cry, you can always ask for breathing spaces. Such is life and tragedies are inevitable. You always have the right to feel sentimental or to just break down. Breaking down is part of the learning process. You break down and then you stand up. You break down and then you move. Learn when you shall let go of the sadness. That is the secret to being positive.

  5. No matter how heart breaking it is to let go of the person you love the most, always remember that you will fall in love again. It may not be the same feeling, not a person but an inanimate object, music, place, event, but you will fall in love again. And it may not be as magical or it may not end up as perfect, but you will fall in love over and over and over again. It will break you, but learn how to make it a building block that makes you become a better, stronger person. There’s always space for second chances, don’t be afraid to fail.
H.S. Album Series: Only Angel

Word Count: 1537

A/M: Hope you enjoy it! Tell me if you do!

*Disclaimer- obviously this is only (one of) my interpretations of what I think about when I hear the songs. Of course you may have your own, these are just one of mine.*

H.S. Album Series Masterlist | Ask

You caught his eye while you were waiting on other guests across the room in the restaurant. Though the room was busy he seemed to act like you were the only one in the room. 

He was only reawakened from his daydream by his friend shaking his shoulder. 

“Dude. Are you okay?" 

"Oh. Yeah.” He said to him, as he glanced back up to find that you had left to tend to another customer.

“Ohhhh [Y/N]. Fallen under their spell again haven’t you?" 

He gave a confused look and shook his head, "No… no way." 

His friend laughed, "Sure.” He said sounding unconvinced. 

He sighed, “Why did you bring me here?" 

"Because, I like this place, it’s my birthday and honestly I didn’t think [Y/N] was working tonight. But they’re in the dining room and we’re at the bar, there’s no way they’ll even see us. The place is packed.”

He looked down at the drink in his hands and thought back to himself. 

Sure it’s easy for him to think that, He thought, he doesn’t know the real story.

Keep reading

A Different Look at Mental Illness and Chasing Dreams

So I recently read an article online about a young woman who struggled with her own intelligence and the way her past decisions influenced the way people viewed her. The author of the article, Megumi Tanaka, talks about how people perceive her differently due to her educational background. Sometimes, people she meets assume she is less intelligent. She goes on to talk about how intelligence is not based on how much you actually know- it’s about the capacity to learn and understand.

The further I got into the article, the more I thought of how intelligence relates to mental illness, and then how mental illness relates to how a portion of today’s society view people with diagnoses of that kind, and then the way people diagnosed with mental illness view themselves.

When I was diagnosed with schizophrenia in October of 2014, it didn’t really hit me until a few weeks later. I was laying in bed, listening to music, surrounded by my hallucinations (at the time, the demons), and for once I was able to ignore them, even if only due to the sudden realization that this diagnosis was serious. From that day on until at least two years later, I would sometimes stand in front of the bathroom mirror and just stare at myself for a minute or so. I was fine with myself physically, but I was so destroyed that behind the face I was looking at someone who was really, really messed up. The seemingly eternal struggle to get a grip on reality and get away from the world around me that schizophrenia was constantly creating for me was one of the biggest battles on the road to recovery (I’ll likely do another blog post on this topic in the future).

Now, fast-forward to February 2015. I was a patient at a psychiatric ward- I was admitted for suicidal thoughts. I think that that period of hospitalization was one of the most bizarre weeks of my life (again, probably doing a separate post on this). When I was in the ER for evaluation beforehand, my urine results came back as positive for PCP- turns out, the pill Lamictal can cause a false positive on a drug test for PCP (I didn’t know that at the time). So when I saw the doctor at the psych ward, I told him “I’m not schizophrenic! Someone is giving me PCP to make me look like I am.” He said, “I don’t think you are schizophrenic, either. You are an overachiever.”

And that, my friends, is a statement that still baffles me to this day. My interpretation of it is that schizophrenia is dooming, according to him. That if I had this illness, I was not supposed to have dreams. I was not supposed to be working on a college degree. That I was supposed to be inept and incapable. Because of my vision for my future, I could not be schizophrenic, and he saw me as depressed, maybe bi-polar, with some psychotic symptoms.

Turns out, yes, I do have schizophrenia. But guess what else I have? Dreams. A college education. The semester of school where I was taking three classes (including a grad school level class) as well as dealing with severe psychosis? I got straight 4.0’s. I am in love with the most wonderful, loveable guy I’ve ever met. And now, I have a job interview on March 20th (and I’m so, so excited about it!). Certainly, there’s no guarantee that I will be offered the position, but even having the interview means the world to me and tells me that my life is going in a positive direction.

Sure, my dreams are different now. Sure, I had to drop out of college later on due to schizophrenia and medication monitoring. Sure, at the time of that hospitalization my relationship with Matt was still fairly new. And sure, there have been times where I thought I’d never even apply for a job again.

Turns out, dreams change. And sometimes, they change quicker than flipping a coin. That’s alright! It’s ok! And sometimes, people will tell you that you’re not fit to achieve your dreams, for whatever reason. People try and place this odd cloud of doubt over people whose struggles that don’t understand, or for decisions and life experiences they don’t approve of. People will try to crush your dreams so that you will fit their picture of what you should be like.

Don’t listen to ‘em. Go towards your dreams, as ever changing as they may be. You CAN get that college degree- doesn’t matter how long it takes you to get it- you are filled with the power to succeed, even if you don’t know it yet. You CAN have a successful career- maybe it’s not the same as the one you wanted when you were younger, or maybe there’s a lot of bumps and roadblocks along the way, but you can absolutely do it.

Mental illness is not YOU. You are you, and mental illness cannot take that away. Don’t listen to the doubts, whether they are from outside forces, or forces within you- because you are capable of anything.

i feel really bad that i haven’t been able to post anything about the gem au in a while, like art, but i’m just getting busy with school

and in case anyone cares i may or may not be making halloween/christmas icons of the fusions :3

Types as things they probably heard (and ignored) squad

“You have potential, and you’re really smart, but you need to work for it”: ENTP, ESTP, INTP, ISTP
“Maybe you need a rest”: ESTJ, ENTJ, INTJ, ISTJ, ISFJ
“You have great talent, but it’s not the time for it”: ISFP, ESFP, INFJ, ENFP
“Sometimes, expect that people will reject you, it’s alright”: ESFJ, ENFJ, ENFP, INFP

anonymous asked:

Hi, can you do something on asexual characters in the HP universe?

Three years after Arthur had given them The Talk, Fred discovered girls– the way Angelina bent forward on her broom, streamlining herself for a dive, ponytail whipping behind her; the thoughtful beauty of Eloise Midgen chewing on her pen as she poured over her poetry notebook, however off-center her nose might be. Fred discovered boys at about the same time–Cedric Diggory’s golden grin, Cassius Warrington’s broad shoulders–and he stared after them in the Great Hall.  

George knew this, because Fred told him in the little inventing niche they’d set up in an alcove of one of the Hogwarts passages. He also knew it because Fred had been the other half of his world for all of his life– Fred didn’t like peas, so George ate them. George was afraid of heights, so Fred dared and dared him into going higher and higher–patiently, kindly, gently–until at nine George didn’t want to get down from a broom, even for dinner.

When one of them set it up, the other had the punchline. When one of them started it, the other finished the sentence, or the sandwich, or the job. When Fred stared after Angelina in the Great Hall, George noticed, and looked to his plate.

When Fred waxed eloquent about the grace of Angelina’s passes in practice, George thought about what that meant for Oliver’s game strategies. He remembered what it had been like, being afraid of air beneath your feet. When Fred talked smugly about the gardens outside the Yule Ball–the little niches and nooks, shadowed and cool, Angelina’s backless dress–George fiddled with their latest recipe for Puking Pasties.

Millicent Bulstrode curled up with her cat in the Slytherin Common Room and read trashy romance novels late into the night. She didn’t call them literature but she did call them more worth reading than a lot of so-called literature.

Their Head of House didn’t care for enforcing curfews and bedtimes, except on the rare occasion he got a bee in his bonnet and went about stripping House points from everyone but his nonexistent favorites, so sometimes she fell asleep out there with her cat purring in her lap.

She survived a lot that way–Draco’s sneers at her plump hips and arms, Pansy’s whispers, Gryffindors’ taunts in the Great Hall where she flipped pages beside her morning eggs and read about fainting milkmaids and brave dukes and sinister rogues with hearts of gold. She read through that terrible last year at Hogwarts, and the war, and then her parents’ divorce, and then boring afternoons running the register at a magical flower shop.

In the evenings, Millicent came home from the shop and curled up under a big quilt in her cozy little home. She wrote letters to friends met via owl mailing lists and long lines at book signings. Her cat settled down into the little plush hollow of her lap and purred as she read through the night.

Padma Patil painted light into the curtains of her four poster in Ravenclaw Tower– the insides, so she could watch constellations as she slept. She and Parvati had shared at room, with big windows, at the top of their parents’ spindly house. It had been on the outskirts of a small town and on hot summer nights they had left the windows open and made up stories about the stars.

Padma kissed Eloise Midgen at the Yule Ball, when she’d tired of Ron’s bitter apathy, and the handsiness of Durmstrang boys. She hadn’t tired of the volume of the music, had liked how it beat through her skull, but Padma also liked new things. So she’d tip-toed into a side corridor with Eloise, and tried something new, and decided she didn’t care for it. She preferred painting people, she told El, though kissing was alright sometimes, and that worked out just fine for both of them. 

It was a book that clued Hermione in–when she told Ginny that it had been a book that began her wondering, her sister-in-law would nod, with no evidence of surprise, and offer to buy her another drink.

Hermione read a book–a fun book, even, the kind of light and often Muggle fiction that she mandated for herself to fit into the half hour after her third morning meeting and before her working lunch. But she resonated with a character in ways she rarely did. Eighty-six pages in the book used the word “asexual” and Hermione paused, rereading the page, as her tea went stone cold.

So she read. She researched. She walked out to the public Muggle library to use the Internet, because no matter how often she tried to get a router working in their little flat the wizardry made it go grumpily awry. She found forums, she found studies, she found books, and then she went home to talk to Ron.

When Hermione was done, Ron kissed her absently on the cheek, then paused. “Uh, was that okay?” He shifted on their hand-me-down sofa and she fiddled beside him with the fringe on a pillow.

“Yes, silly, it’s not–” She stopped, sighing. “I’m figuring it out.”

A bird shrieked outside the window with a warble that could be generously described as a song. Ron slung an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him, shy. “You have some reading for me, don’t you?” he said.

“Well…” Hermione said. “Four books, a few pamphlets, some printouts. A bit of light reading.”

Ron choked on a laugh. “I do love you for reasons,” he said.

“Do you?” she said. Her voice muffled into his shirt. He smelled like George’s joke shop–polished wood and the sharp must of Peruvian Darkness powder, firework ash and sinister sweets. He was warm and solid under her cheek and she liked it, had always liked it–bringing her back down to earth in the midst of swarming plants; pale and mouthing off to a murderer in an abandoned shack; remembering the basilisk’s fangs; remembering the house elves; caring so little except when he cared too much; bitter and petty and brilliant and warm and hers. “Even now?” she said.

“For a smart person,” Ron said, “sometimes you can be really dumb. It’s gonna be okay.” He kissed her on top of her bushy head. “But are you sure I can’t just–what’s that Muggle thing?–read the SparkNotes?“

Oliver Wood poured over the training camp notes for Puddlemore United’s rookie roster, gnawing at the back of his ballpoint pen. The other junior assistant coach, a Muggleborn, had introduced pens to Oliver a few weeks back and now his desk was bursting with every type and color. Oliver scrawled a comment about left-sided feints, staining the paper with easy, even strokes of ink. He was pretty sure he was in love.

Angelina Johnson was the middle of three sisters and she thought that was one of the things she liked about Fred–that he knew that if you wanted attention, you had to earn it.

Fred put in the work–the sort of work that made things look easy. But she could see the edges of it, the years of practice that went into the jokes that he and George tossed back and forth between their freckled grins. They snapped Bludgers back and forth the same way, on the field. That was how it started–she appreciated the lack of bruises and worry, as she sped toward the goal. They had her back. They’d done their time, and here they were, broad-shouldered, on point.

So when Fred asked her to the Yule Ball, she said alright–she knew this story. Pretty boy, pretty girl. She leaned her weight on his arms on the dance floor, touched the nape of his neck in the cool of the gardens. It was nice, sweet as a fairytale story. He’d clearly thought about it a lot, and she appreciated his attention to detail the same way she appreciated how he had brushed his teeth, and combed his hair, and how he carried her books sometimes.

Maybe, she thought. In a few years, after school, when she wasn’t worried about grades, or futures, or Quidditch House Cups, or the way Pansy Parkinson sneered at her hair. When she had a place to live, and a life she liked, and maybe a dog. Maybe she’d grow into wanting this, the way you were supposed to.

But then Voldemort came, and then the war. Angelina lived in her parents’ spare room and flew quiet missions for the Order. She heard Fred and George tell stories on the radio, and met them sometimes when she came to give Lee reports and news. She held Fred’s hand, she kissed his cheek, but they didn’t have time for much else.

When Fred died, she thought about his family–the Howlers and warm sweaters his mother had sent him, and the way she’d looked up to Charlie as a rookie on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and Ginny’s red hair tied back into a war banner, her freckles smudged with ash. Angelina thought about the joke shop whose walls she had helped the twins paint.

She thought about the house she had imagined, the little yard, the bed, the kitchen table with a basket of apples in the fall. Fred had been nice. He had asked her to dance. He had put in the work. Maybe they could have built something, if she had just tried hard enough to want it.

Angelina went home to her parents. She got a job at a local cafe, pouring coffee, cleaning tables, paid to smile and pretend to mean it. Her oldest sister came back from Germany, and her youngest sister left for a teaching position in a little wizarding school tucked away in rural Kentucky.

Angelina helped her mother with the house, and her father with his medicines, and got up before dawn so there would be hot, fresh coffee for the earliest risers in town. One day, at the end of her shift, she found George Weasley sitting in a booth. He was missing part of an eyebrow from an invention gone wrong and he was surprised and pleased to see her, so she hung up her apron and sat down.

They talked about Fred, which was a weird way to begin a romance, but George had loved him, and Angelina had thought she should.

But they also talked about the war, about the joyous and goofy look Lee got on his face when his little sister insulted him lovingly, about Ireland’s chances for the Quidditch World Cup, about George’s plans for the joke shop and Angelina’s plans to continue with her schooling.

“Hermione’s got opinions about advanced magical learning,” George said, over ice cream, two weeks later. Angelina had been listing out her pro and con lists for universities–she never wrote them down. “If you want opinions. You might not, though, fair warning.”

Angelina’s father was sick again, but that was nothing new. Angelina had never talked about it with Fred, because when you are sixteen and holding hands with a cute boy, you are supposed to be thinking about life, not death, and she had been trying.

But she was twenty-four, now, and she had flown over occupied territory, holding her breath, had snapped curses at cloaked strangers and known enemies alike, had started thinking about what she wanted. George came by her parents’ house later with loaves of zucchini bread. “I’ve got a little box in the flat’s window,” he told her. “For vegetables.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” Angelina told George, matter-of-fact, four months into something they weren’t naming. They were holding hands, passing through a public park on the way home from an Indian dinner that sat heavy in her stomach.

“Uh. Okay. Because of Fred?” said George.

“No,” she said. “I like how you make me laugh. I like how you listen. But I don’t really want to sleep with anyone.”

“Huh,” said George. “What about, just, actual sleeping, though? Fair warning, I’m a cuddler.”

Four months turned into eight turned into a year. Angelina moved out of her parents’ house. They gave this thing they were not naming a name.

They held hands under the table at Weasley family dinners. Angelina liked it–the noise, the speed of conversation, the way this family tossed words and rolls across the table and make it look easy. They had put in the work, and they were here–Arthur asking Hermione about subway systems while Molly and Fleur teamed up on Bill. They had put in the work. They were here. They made good things look easy, but Angelina could see the years of love and learning.

Hermione and Ron Flooed home, but George and Angelina still liked to fly when they could.

The flat over the joke shop was not a house with a little yard, but George kept vegetable boxes in the windowsills. The stairs up were narrow and creaky, but when they came home by broom they just landed on the tiny, wobbly little balcony and came through that way.

Angelina hung up her coat on a rack by the door and shook the damp of clouds out of her hair. The smells of char, sugar, and wood polish rose up through the floor, and she had been calling those lungfuls home for months now. Angelina’s mother had gifted her curtains for the windows, but she hadn’t hung them yet. The kitchen table, which stood streaked with lamplight under the largest window, was covered in old mugs and old mail and George’s experiments and her schoolwork.

George chewed on his bottom lip as he worked through early mornings and late nights, the shop closed and quiet under their feet. Angelina spoke aloud as she studied, and he listened, and made her tea, and puttered in the windowboxes until his hands were lined with rich black dirt.

When Angelina brought home apples in the fall, George enchanted them to taste like cotton candy, or eggplant, or brown bread, and they dared each other to eat them the same way they had with Bertie Bott’s Beans on the Hogwarts Express. The flat was warm, especially once they put up the curtains. When they went to bed, they stayed up late. George whispered in the dark, lights winking through the smudged window glass, and Angelina laughed loud enough to fill the whole room.

You know what I think about this a lot, but am I the only one that’s actually made pretty uncomfortable by the idea that romantic/sexual attraction is what gender you’re attracted to?

I understand why that was changed from sex, because that was problematic in itself

But I don’t feel like gender is a better term either because that’s presuming that you can somehow see and determine gender when?? It’s one of the most volatile, indistinguishable and intangible things on the planet?? How in the hell are you attracted to gender?? What is gender?? Where is it???

idk maybe it’s just cause i’m non-binary (and quite clearly straight men and non-straight women arent attracted to me bc of my gender) so I suppose it affects me more directly, or rather I have more reason to question it…. who knows

[Ask RPedia] Muse Controlling The Mun?

Anonymous asked: New reader! I have a question. My muse is a villain and sometimes I feel like they’re more in-control of the blog than I, the Mun, am. Is that normal? 

This brings up some interesting questions, mostly, how much is the muse and how much is the mun? The issue is that with a lot of the things we see about writers and roleplayers, we commonly hear ‘I’m sorry! The muse made me do it!’ So it becomes something normal to expect: We’re going to lose control to what the muse wants. This can be truly awful if someone uses it as an excuse to let their character get away with everything up to and including murder. So let’s look at how much the muse is really taking over and what it means. (Spoiler: They aren’t really. You’re giving in to your knowledge of characterization and gut reactions and blaming it on them, and we’ll see how badly that can go.) As usual, read with the knowledge this is just one guy’s opinion, not an argument, or the end all be all of shit. Just what I’ve gathered over the years.

Keep reading

taswel  asked:

hey there! just wanted to ask; is there any advice you can give to independent artists on how to gain more exposure/larger audience? what kind of methods can you recommend or what has worked for you?

Yo! Right off the bat, i’m gonna say one good method of gaining more exposure would probably be putting your work out into whatever fandoms your into. It gives you a pretty decent boost when it comes to getting your stuff out there and noticed by more people! (more points if it’s something not well known probably because if ur like me and are into obscure shit chances are you’re not gonna find much in the tags AND YA GOTTA DO EVERYTHING YAHSELF which can double the chance of getting attention drawn to your stuff👍 i can guarantee u there are people like me who look through the tags and see barely any content and are like!!! where y’all at!!!!! feed me that Good Shit ™ blease… ) 

Do trades and gift art for people (who are alright with it!) People sometimes post the stuff they get into their galleries or will reblog/retweet it which helps get your name out there! As always, continuing to put yourself and your works (fandom and/or original works) out there is the key to getting an audience I think. It’s easy to get disheartened when people don’t give you much notice, but you also won’t get noticed if you don’t post often, if at all. Being an active member of a community I feel is essential for getting yourself out there!! Combine that with doing trades and gifts (or requests if you can handle it), tossing in some fanart or taking part in some memes (like the fursona ones that have been going around twitter) are a good recipe i’ve seen to getting noticed more~!

HOPE THIS HELPS!!! and was coherent dskdfslf. To be honest i’m crap at explaining this because I don’t have much experience with this kinda thing because I never really intended for my art to get as popular as it has and I always have just..drawn what i’ve wanted and shared it with people?? and they’ve liked what I put out so I GUESS I DID SOMETHING RIGHT LMAO. Sometimes simplicity is the best approach and u just gotta do u and you’ll be surprised at the audience you get from just that! But there is absolutely no harm in using fandoms as a bit of a stepping stone to help yourself get into the right direction if that’s what you’re aiming for!

anonymous asked:

Is it rude to ask a d/Deaf person how much they can hear?

That’s a good question, and an important one too.

I personally never got bothered by this question, but from what I’ve been told by interpreters that it’s actually pretty annoying for the d/Deaf person to be asked that question. Apparently it is one of the very first few questions that they are asked, before the initial greeting/introduction (asking what their names are, getting to know each other, etc) 

It becomes a focus on them rather than their own personalities, and that’s something to keep in mind. However, I believe it’s okay to ask, just not right when you are making introductions unless it’s a very brief meeting (I.E. meeting someone that you won’t see again anytime again)

Back to my personal view on this question: It’s alright to ask, but it depends on how you approach that question. It’s okay to ask someone where on the spectrum their hearing loss is.

Keep in mind, if they say profoundly, that means almost 100% hearing loss if not close to that, and severe is just a step below “profoundly”.

But it’s not okay to ask a d/Deaf person “Can you hear this?” or “Can you hear me? / that thing over there / etc”. That is pretty offensive, and it’s basically like letting water know how wet they are.

I also want to clarify one more thing:: It’s alright to ask them if they’re Deaf or not (or even HoH). Such a simple question is totally alright. Because sometimes you see people signing, and the first thing they want to ask, is if they’re Deaf or not.

Alright, people who sometimes acknowledge my existence, remember this little Makkachin applique? Well, I finally got enough time to write up the pattern and I am selling it on Etsy. It’s the only thing there so far but in the coming week or so I will also being putting up the finished brooch/applique along with some of these other crochet items I’ve been teasing you with! I’ll update here when something new is added to my little fledgling shop.

Thanks everyone who gave such positive feedback when I posted pics of these projects! It really gave me the motivation to open a shop, so fingers crossed XD

I miss you. It’s humiliating to say it but I do. I feel emotions strongly and I’ve finally learned how to express them in a healthy way, and right now I’m feeling like I’m missing you. You were my first love and heartbreak, I was extremely mentally ill, half of the time I’m wanting to apologize when I miss you. I stay up at night praying that you don’t hate me. I won’t reach out to you, just know that I miss you, sometimes; but I think it’d be best if we never spoke to one another again. Once I was deeply in love with you and even though it’s been forever everything you’ve done still hurts. My body aches when I think about you and smile. I think I’ve gone days without thinking about you, weeks by now. Still sometimes I miss you so much it hurts to breath and it feels how it did when I was fifteen. I sound weak by admitting it, I sound sad and pathetic. Sometimes we miss people from our past and it’s alright. Sometimes we miss them more than we should, more than they’ll ever miss us. It’s twelve thirty am and I’m missing you.

If you think I don’t text you enough or give enough news just know that I’ve moved away from my country a year ago and only spoke to my best friend 4 times and my brother 2 times since then and I love them both to death and it doesn’t change our relationships whatsoever. It’s not in my nature to reach out and frankly it’s okay and I hate people making me feel guilty for that. I still love my friends and my family either way, but if you force me or pressure me or guilt me into talking to you every day or even just in general well I’m sorry but maybe we aren’t meant to be friends. 


know that it’s okay! )

Sometimes we get overwhelmed with responsibilities or with other drafts. Sometimes our characters or our writing styles don’t click in practice.  If you ever want it give it another go, I am all for it! If you want to step back, that’s fine, too.

There’s no obligation to write with me, ever, and you should never feel badly if your heart isn’t in the thread like you’d want it to be.  

It is okay to have mutuals you don’t write with. It is okay to not have an interest in or thread compatibility with my character.