screw it posting now

I have so many Anduin feels

Clearly, if you couldn’t tell, and I wanted to write it down otherwise I feel like I might explode from emotions. This entire cinematic was beyond beautiful. Blizzard really went above and beyond in the artistic department - everything looked so damn -real-, which took my breath away. But the main thing that really struck with me is the fact that you can clearly see Anduin’s personality in this moment. So please excuse me, but there’s a lot of pics and a long opinion below the cut.

When we first see him, he’s got the lion helmet on, looking all badass. Even after he’s knocked off his feet, he gets back up and proceeds to go after the troll who tries to kill him, granting us this amazing image -

Looks like he’s channeling Varian to me. He’s standing all, big and trying to be imposing. And almost immediately after, they focus on his face, going from this -

- to this -

Look at him. Look at that face. This isn’t a life-long trained/skilled warrior. This isn’t a battle-hardened paladin who’s fought for years and years. This is a child, a teenager (WoWpedia says seventeen, and we all know how Blizzard is with lore, but it does sound about right), who has been shielded from the harshness of actual war for most of his life. War is brutal; war is dirty and cruel and this world has seen it constantly. And I don’t know how much time will have passed from Legion to this expansion, but regardless.

He looks so sad, almost out of place and worried, and just…-scared-. Like the sudden realization of what he’s in the middle of, of what he’s leading here - not Genn, not his father, him. He’s the one who’s leading the armies of the Alliance, thousands of soldiers against an army equally as powerful. Stormwind and the Alliance could fall in this moment and it would be his fault. And I think it all comes at him at once. This is what his father was talking about, it’s what he was trying to protect him from.

But this is Anduin we’re talking about. This isn’t a warmongering character, we all know how much he would prefer to solve things peacefully, and (I’m keeping my fingers crossed that Blizzard doesn’t totally and completely butcher his character of course) it must have been something to drive him to this point. Look - His mother died when he was a baby, his father was gone most of his life and was only around for a few precious years before he was killed, his ‘aunt’ Jaina has been MIA until lately and Velen is who knows where. I’m hoping we’ll get an answer to that between then and now, but my point is this - Anduin, High King of the Alliance, leader that everyone looks to for guidance and support, really doesn’t have a support system himself. He doesn’t have anyone he can really depend on. The only one who’s been shown to constantly be around is Genn, and whether for good or ill, I suppose it’s something, but it’s not enough. He’s probably been struggling to keep things together for a while. I doubt he’s been eating or sleeping much.

And what does he do, surrounded by death and destruction of hundreds of lives? We see that looks around the battlefield in a moment of calm and is clearly distressed by it. 

It’s in this moment that I think he really shines, no pun intended. We know what his father would do in this situation, we know what other characters would do. But Anduin is different, it’s what makes him so special in this game. He looks at his father’s sword, a sword of legend no less - 

You can see the confusion, the uncertainty, the self-doubt even now. Shalamayne responded to him yes, but you can absolutely see him still coming to terms with it. He still feels like he isn’t worthy of it.  
“I cannot do this father. I can’t be the hero you were. I can’t be the king you were…”

And no, he isn’t. That’s what I love him. He’s his own man, finally able to step up and make his own imprint on history. Because of that, I think it’s important to note the imagery of him throwing the sword back down - 

Something about this really strikes me not only as beautiful but incredibly moving as well. There is some very deep in this shot. He’s beginning to accept the fact that no, he isn’t his father. No, he isn’t a warrior. That isn’t his path. What does he do instead, then, when surrounded by injured and dying soldiers? Do what he does best, of course - 

Heal. Resurrect. Anduin has had an affinity with the Light that few have had before, especially humans. We know this and it’s really beautiful to finally see it in such a wonderful cinematic. I think it’s really touching that if you look closely you can even see tears in his eyes -

We know from lore that Anduin has resurrected his father before, which is something that happens so rarely in canon. Casting such a spell for one person would be difficult enough, but an entire army? That’s practically impossible. We also know that for a character to channel such a spell for a long period of time takes a lot of stamina and strength. It’s exhausting. But he doesn’t give up. He doesn’t stop to take a breather. He stands tall with the rejuvenated army surrounding him once more.

“Stand as one!”

Which just hearkens back to previous cinematics, I think. 

“What am I supposed to do now?”
“What a king -must- do.”

“For the Alliance!”

What I find most interesting is that he doesn’t say ‘For Azeroth!’ like his father in the previous expansion, he says Alliance. Which makes me wonder just what has happened to cause all of this. 

The point of all this rambling is this - Anduin Llane Wrynn has been underestimated both by other characters as well as players for too long. Many people call him names for wanting to find a peaceful way to solve problems and for some reason that’s a bad thing? I don’t understand it, but I’m so happy and proud to see him standing alongside us on the battlefield. This boy does not get enough credit and I’m glad they finally have let him do something amazing. He is much stronger than I think even he realizes, and I would love it if people would finally give him the love and recognition he deserves. 

Anduin is too good for this world and we don’t deserve him.

Final Fan art Friday!

Thank you revelmode :D

Speedpaint (X

Chaos is a Ladder / 4

Summary: Heroes do stupid things and die. Jon Snow does especially stupid things. After so much loss, she doesn’t know how she’ll bear it if he dies too. What they’re doing here, now, in her bed, that can only make it worse, but she doesn’t care. It’s too late. She might as well enjoy the pleasurable moments where she can.

Rating: M


They’re a day’s ride from Winterfell when Daenerys blinks awake to find two bright, burning red eyes regarding her in silent evaluation. Behind her, Jon stirs without waking. Sometime in the night his arm ended up around her waist, and it tightens slightly, his skin warm on hers, but then he settles.

“Hello,” she says quietly into the watery morning light. The wolf’s ears stand at attention, alert, intelligence burning in the strange eyes. Solid white and massive, he doesn’t move, his eyes fixed on her. Even as Jon sighs behind her, Ghost doesn’t shift his attention. Watching the wolf carefully, Daenerys can’t help but wonder if this is an intentional meeting, his master slumbering behind her – a chance for Ghost to evaluate her and determine if she’s left wanting. If she’s good enough.

The thought gives her pause. It’s not a question she’s used to humoring, even when it comes to Jon. It isn’t a question of being good enough for him, or him being good enough for her. She knows the kind of man he is. She’s made no attempt to hide herself from him, and he’s still here, so he must know who she is.

But Ghost doesn’t. 

Slowly, Daenerys draws her hand from beneath the furs. It’s cold in the tent with the fires burned low, but cozy with Jon’s naked skin against hers, she barely feels it. Ghost regards her outstretched hand silently, not shying away as she gets closer, but not exactly welcoming her either.

He simply watches her.

Keep reading

How to become a good student (again) 4: Layer Yourself to Merge Yourself

Hello, fellow ex-good student!

Hide yo kids, hide yo wife and hide yo husband, cause I’m about to drop the p-bomb:

That’s right… p…p…pro…


I know. I know. The moment has come, man. Procrastination has cost me so many hours of my life that I will never get back and I guess it’s the same for you.
Here’s a bit of a secret - the first three posts so far? They were actually also about procrastination. Specifically, they were about WHY you or I might procrastinate.
1. Because you’re overwhelmed by choices
2. Because, goddamnit, it’s HARD to to start
3. Because you have a screwed up relationship with studying

Now, in this post, we will be tying these threads together by looking at the WHAT and the HOW. You’ve examined the roots, you’ve gotten rid of the pesky little bugs living down there, so… WHAT is procrastination really and HOW do you defeat it and actually start studying?

Procrastinaton, for me, is a state of mind, a surround sound and most of all: a place - it’s LIMBO. It’s physically being unable to do something. Being caught in a web (very often the world wide one). Drowning in water. Being pulled apart, gaining momentum, losing control, cotton in my ears, the heat of shame in my chest, a thousand voices in my mind that I try to silence.

“You should be -”
“You have to -”
“You must -”

“Do something, do something, do something, anything, anything, anything, anything”
“You loser, you can’t even -”
“YOU USED TO BE GREAT and now you’re just-”

I hate myself while doing it. I feel horrible. I feel useless.
But at the same time, at the very bottom of my mind, there is something that I’ve refused to acknowledge for the longest time: a sense of pleasure.
do I feel this weird sense of pleasure when I procrastinate? Why do I feel pleasure when I know I’m sabotaging my future through inaction? When I’m digging myself into a deeper and deeper grave? When I hate myself at the same time? Why do I procrastinate at all? Is it because of that underlying ironic pleasure?

Well, to find the answer to those questions, we first need to ask ourselves a bigger one: what is the OPPOSITE of limbo? If limbo is being caught in the middle of nowhere, floating, glitching, slowly imploding, then what is the opposite?
I’d say it’s movement, direction and action - you being in charge and moving things along, having agency, being alive and powerful and energetic and hot. I’d say it’s FLOW.

When I was a child, I had little to no problem syncing in and out of flow. It just came to me like second nature and I LOVED it. I loved the way my brain buzzed and I completely forgot about my surroundings. I loved disappearing into ideas, books, stories, video games, homework, a teacher’s lesson, a friend’s story, my own projects. I went in and out as I pleased and could turn it on and off like a light switch. It was so. much. fun. and I was so, so lucky to have had the privilege of such a talent.

Back then, I used to ache and hunger for a challenge. Things were smooth and easy and fun, but I wanted MORE - harder exercises, deeper questions, more challenging teachers. When I told my father about that, he smiled and said

“Be happy. You have put so much work into this. This is the moment it’s all paying off - you’ve turned and turned and turned your wheel and now it’s running smoothly along the street without even noticing how uneven the ground is.”

He was right, of course, but as time went on, I became more and dissatisfied with my smooth little wheel and started to procrastinate more and more. Why? And, again: where does the pleasure at procrastinating come from?

I’d argue that there are two main factors and one huge reason:

FACTOR 1: The wheel didn’t deliver on its promises

I already mentioned this in the very first post, but basically: disillusionment. I loved working hard, but I also expected it to pay off at some point. However, apart from the occasional pat on the head from a teacher or my parents’ smiles, there wasn’t all that much to be gained. There were no harder exercises, no special treatments, no big revelations - even university, my very last bastion of hope turned out to be a glorified bouncy castle.
I was just bored and the work I put into it wasn’t worth the outcome anymore. The system had failed me.

FACTOR 2: Suddenly, there were a lot of wheels

It is easy to glorify my younger self, but, really, child-me had it a lot easier.
Child-me only had one wheel to spin (school) and as I grew older, I realized that there were, well, many other wheels I had neglected.
I had a lot of catching up to do in areas like empathy, charisma, self-confidence and self-worth outside of academia, humour and fashion. And when I left school, there were even MORE wheels: suddenly, I also had to keep my job, my apartment, my much more complicated social life, my manifold hobbies and a somewhat healthy sleep schedule going.
I wasn’t prepared for this abundance of wheels. I’d grown up thinking that as long as I could keep the one wheel I was good at spinning (academia), I’d be juuuuust dandy. Well, I was wrong and I realized that, once again the system had failed me.

If only I’d had better teachers. If only I’d listened to the good ones. If only I’d worked the problem earlier. If only I was part of a better system that would recognize and foster my talents. Who knows how much I could achieve? Who knows how much I could have ALREADY achieved?

And that’s where the pleasure of procrastination comes from.
It is defiance. It is rebellion. It is a big “FUCK YOU” to the system that failed me. It is a “Look at me! I’m operating outside the system and I’m STILL getting semi-good grades. I don’t need any of you. I don’t need any of this. I’m playing by MY rules. I’m getting shit done MY way. Because YOUR way disappointed me. Because I am FREE.”

If, at this point, you’re starting to feel sorry for me (or yourself for being in a similar situation) …that’s exactly the problem. There’s really no way to say this nicely, so here we go:


Let me explain.
When you procrastinate, doesn’t it feel like you HAVE TO do things? Like you’re being FORCED to do something? Like you’re POWERLESS? Like you’re STUCK? Like you’re SUFFERING? Like you’re AT THE MERCY of your negative thoughts, the system or you’re conscience? Like you’re being WHIPPED AROUND? Like you crave recognition of your SUFFERING? Like you don’t have a choice except RUNNING AWAY and not facing what you’re FORCED to face?

All of these thoughts and emotions put you in the position of a sufferer - a victim.

You see yourself as a victim of the system, the school, the state, the assignment you should be working on. You deliver yourself unto their power. You submit to a simple dichotomy: I HAVE to do this or I SHOULD FEEL like shit.
I HAVE to do this, so I MUST suffer and accept the infringement of my freedom.

Well, let me tell you something that just about changed my life when I fully, deeply and profoundly realized the truth behind these words:


…or a bit more eloquently put:

You’re the one in control.

No, honestly. You are. 

If you wanted to, you could throw it all into the wind, take the next train to nowhere and see where life takes you. But do you want to do that? 
And, the even bigger question: why do you feel SO powerless that this small, stupid act of rebellion against The System is enough to intoxicate you SO much that you keep coming back to suckle on its sweet, sweet bitter nectar?

It’s because you feel trapped. It’s because you feel lost. 
It’s because you feel like you have so much potential and it’s all going to FUCKING waste and if somebody were to just give you a FUCKING hand you could really show everybody just how much you can FUCKING do and-

-let me stop you right there and let me ask you 4 questions:

You keep going on and on about how intelligent you are …but what’s the use of your intelligence if you can’t use it to improve your own life?

If you’re anything like me, you find it very easy and rewarding to help other people with their problems. You easily see the roots of problems and the ways that conflicts could be resolved. You’re an excellent trouble-shooter and a strategist in video games and for your friends… but what about your own life? Why do you ACCEPT playing the role of the victim in your own life?

Why do you accept this suffering?

Long story short: because you’ve grown used to it.

You’ve forgotten what it feels like to make active choices, to exert your full agency and to take full responsibility for whatever mess might come of it. Leading me to…

Question 2)
You keep going on and on about how intelligent you are… but what’s the use of your intelligence if you don’t take anything seriously?

Be honest: when was the last time you took anything seriously and gave it your all? …no? Nothing?

Well, if you’re anything like me, I’m sure you know the neat excuse of “eh, I was just winging it, but if I REALLY tried-” and do you know what that is? It’s cowardice and it’s self-victimization.

I know I’m coming on very strong.
But the truth is this: I know this. I know this because I’ve been living this. I’ve been living a second-hand life that I allowed to be ruled by “the system” and guilt and made-up obligations …and I almost lost myself in the process.

Maybe you can realize it with me: It’s some time ago, I wake up in the middle of the night and randomly feel like taking an IQ test online. I’m still half-asleep, I roll onto my stomach, I don’t even sit up, I meander my way through the questions. Shit. I realize that time is running out and I haven’t even finished ¾ of the questions! I panick. I feel guilty. I finally sit up. I start trying harder. I’m getting faster and faster - faster than I ever thought possible. And despite 5 minutes of good effort - 
I fail. Hard.
And as I sit there in my dark room, my unbelievably sucky result glowing on the screen of my mobile phone and I look out of the window, I realize: this has been my life for the past 5 years. Winging stuff at not even 50% of my capacity and being hurt by the results. Honestly, when WAS the last time I took anything really seriously? 

The next day, I get 8 hours of sleep, sit down in front of my laptop with a bottle of water, search for the most professional IQ test I can find and concentrate from the very beginning. I score 30 points higher. 

Let me repeat that: I scored 30 points higher on an IQ test because I actually tried. Magical things can happen if you take stuff seriously.

Leading us to

Question 3)
You keep going on and on about how intelligent you are… but when was the last time your intelligence has brought you joy?

Maybe you’re familiar with the phrase “The burnt child dreads the fire”? When I thought back on my academic progress in the last years, I realized that there really hadn’t been much joy anywhere. Pretty much everything had sucked. 

Big time.

Of course I wouldn’t want to invest my energy into something that didn’t yield any good results … right?

Wrong. My lack of good results was only an indicator for the real problem: my lack of effort.
The simple truth is this: 
We are smart. We enjoy doing what we are good at. We enjoy hard mental work, REGARDLESS of the results.
But once I started to focus too much on the results and thought it was all about having a great CV and min-maxing my grades… I just didn’t have fun anymore. I didn’t allow myself to have fun anymore. To disappear into a world of thoughts like I used to as a child. To invest way too much time into a project, to have an absolute BLAST creating something complex and outstanding and super cool. 

Bringing us to…

Question 4) 
You keep going on and on about how intelligent you are… but can you really create something extraordinary?

See that’s the thing: when I was a child, I didn’t just take school seriously.
I wanted to go the extra mile. 
And honestly? That was the whole secret. I wanted to create something that wasn’t just special but mind-blowingly special. It’s not like I knew I had it in me, but rather that I wanted grow to have more and more in me and I knew that the only way to do that was to challenge myself again and again.
That’s the difference between viewing your intelligence and your capabilities as stagnant or growing. There is no joy and no truth in regarding yourself as stagnant - the best of violin players started out sounding like a dying cat and the best athletes kept stumbling. If you want to create and become something extraordinary, you need to know that it will not happen overnight. You need to know that it will be a slow, hard and challenging hike up a hill and the only thing that keeps you climbing is your willingness to go the extra mile so you can see the view become more and more beautiful.

The real pleasure of studying is not getting good results and bragging rights - that’s just a cool side-effect. The real pleasure of studying is studying and that means working and knowing that working gets you one step ahead one step at a time.

So HOW can you change? HOW can you regain control? How can you consciously go from limbo to flow?
First of all:


The first thing I tell myself in the morning is “My life is in my hands.”
That’s not always an easy sentence to start with, especially if I haven’t slept well or if I’m sick or in the middle of a fight or an existential crisis or just crabby.
But it’s always true. It’s MY life and it’s my responsibility to make the best of it. 

One poem in particular has really helped me, so who knows, maybe it’ll help some of you guys as well:

The Vow

No matter how deep the sadness or wide the pain,
I vow to live for a brighter day will come again.

No matter how many mistakes I’ve made in the past,
I vow to live and in the future avoid them, surefooted and fast.

No matter how many tragedies beyond my control take place,
I vow to live and stay my course within this race.

No matter how poor or rich I may ever be,
I vow to live and aspire to search for the dignity in simplicity.

No matter how much a lover may pierce the inner core of my heart,
I vow to live for like spring I’ll get a new start.

No matter how isolated and alone I may feel,
I vow to live and do something for someone else to heal.

No matter how hopeless my situation my appear,
I vow to live and reflect until my viewpoint is clear.

No matter what happens in this life – good or bad
I vow to live, do my best, and just for living – be glad.

– Malcolm O. Varner

If you want to find pleasure in studying again, you need to embrace your own passion.
I know it’s a lot “cooler” to be indifferent towards studying, to procrastinate, to do it almost out of spite and at the last minute. But is it really?
No one wins. It’s not rewarding. It’s not fulfilling. You’ll have forgotten it in a week. It just sucks for everyone involved. Love what you do. Love it like you would a lover. Be considerate, be tender and be patient.
It must not feel like an obligation. It must feel like a passion - a fiery want for new horizons, mentals fireworks and lightbulb moments. It must come from yourself, from your bowels, your fibres, your blood - not from some ominous outside force. 

“I have to do this.” -> “I want to do this!”
“I’m losing time. There is so much I have to do, I want to be done with this already.” -> “I want to give this my time. This is absolutely worth it. I really want to be doing this right now.”
“Be fast. Be faster.” -> “Slow down. Be patient. Cherish this moment.”
“This is hard. I hate it. I hate it so much.” -> “This is challenging. I love it. I love it so much.”
“I can make this perfect, it has to be perfect! I could give this my all, I can give this my all. If I’m not giving this my all, I’m a complete and utter failure. Better not try at all rather than screwing it up. Again.”   -> “This is a work-in-progress, just like anything else. I am sure I can improve it bit by bit, by devoting some of my time to it. Even if I don’t get very far today, I’m sure the experience will pay off in the long run and I might find some unrelated ideas for other projects!”

You must go from this:

To that:


(Like, maybe make the choice NOT to wear that speedo)

Because that’s really what it comes down to in the end: CHOICE. Nobody actively chooses to procrastinate. Procrastination is the absence of choice. 

Years of little to no success make you feel like your choices don’t matter -> you feel like you cannot influence anything -> you might as well not try -> you procrastinate.
But here’s the thing: your choices DO matter (DITCH that speedo!) and you must regain that trust in yourself.

We NEED to be able to make choices about their own lives. It makes us feel powerful and like we are truly alive.
It makes us feel like we are, you guessed it, in the flow.

Now, of course it’d be nice if I told you “Make conscious choices sweaty <3 ;*” and you’d go out and do it and that was it. But, truth be told, it’s hella hard to get there and it will take you at least a year of constant effort.
For me, this year meant constantly asking myself “Wait, do I REALLY want to do this right now?” and establishing a neat rule for all media consumption that goes “Always enrichment, never escape”. But, as I said, that’s a work-in-progress and something that you will have to work on in your own time and at your own pace.
Luckily, I found a shortcut :D

Now, the shortcut does not replace the year of constant effort, mind you, but it can help to make it a lot easier:


What’s the “Study Room”? Well…
You might have been wondering what the title “Layer Yourself to Merge Yourself” is all about. This was my thought process:

  • 1) I want to get from limbo to flow
  • 2) And I want studying to feel like a reward in and of itself
  • 3) And it’d be nice if I could concentrate on just spinning one wheel at a time, so I can really lose myself in it
  • 4) I also want it to be a conscious choice, so I can train my decision-making process
  • ….
  • ….but how?
  • …”fake it till you make it” or what, haha?
  • ….I guess what that really means is that you have to act like you’re already there until you’re there?
  • …so, like, you have to artifically induce naturalness?
  • …haha, wouldn’t it be neat if I could do that and “transform” into my “study-form” like the Avatar or a magical girl or a superhero or something?
  • …..
  • …wait. Wait. WAIT. What if I COULD?
  • What if there was a “me” that was specifically always in the flow and already loves and is good at studying and which I only access whenever I want to study?
  • So I create a new “me”, so that, over time, we can become one again and I can change into that “me” whenever I want?
  • …cool.
  • …but how?
  • I could always go to a special place, but that would limit me whenever that place wasn’t availabe.
  • …buuuuuut…..
  • …..what if it was a place I could ALWAYS access?
  • what if it was a place in my MIND?
  • ….
  • …..holy SHIT.

And that’s how the “Study Room” was born. Below, I will detail the journey to my personal “study room”, but I wager that everybody’s study room will look a little different depending on what makes you feel most comfortable, rational and “in the flow”.


Close your eyes. Lean back.
Do it with me now. Consider this your tutorial. Bring yourself to a screeching halt, throw an anchor into the the ground of the stormy sea, pull the brakes, just - stop. Stop. Slow down.
Close your eyes, lean back, keep your eyes closed for a good minute - god, how long a minute can be, right?- and feel your breathing consciously, slowly, feel how you are alive and full of hunger, feel how your heart beats, feel how much tension has built up inside of you, how much energy has been stored and how much you actually ache to do something meaningful. Feel it. Keep your eyes closed until you feel it. Then, come back to me.


I don’t know if you’ll need this step, but I live very much inside my head and limbo just makes that effect even stronger. So, I like to remind myself of my physicality, of my spatial realness, of my ability to perceive and interact with the world in this step. I re-connect with the world and it slows me down even more - it’s a bit like hooking myself into this world, so limbo can’t claim me so easily.
I drink a glass of water, I eat a carrot, I touch a cold tile, I feel the texture of a pillow, I play with my own hair - if I’m in public, like in a library, I usually just brush over my lips or grip the table unobtrusively. It’s a small step, one that usually doesn’t take longer than 10 seconds, but it’s one that has helped me a lot.

(When I’m really caught up in limbo, I usually lie down on the floor in my room. That works wonders)


At this point, I close my eyes again and visualize. I enter another world, the world of studying in my mind.


My eyes are still closed and imagine a dark, circular room: this is the entrance to my Study Room ™. I stand in the middle of the room - there is one door right in front of me, two to my left and two to my right. I have no idea what’s behind those other doors or why my imagination has conjured up a room like that, but hey, it works and here we are.
I gather all my concentration and repeat “My life is in my hands. I take on the responsibility for my own life. I WANT to learn. I CHOOSE this.” to myself. Then, I consciously choose to walk in only one direction, channeling all my thoughts into a straight line: towards the door right in front of me. I enter through it - somehow, I never have to actually open it, so it might be more like an open doorway?


I step through the door and find myself in a space filled with water. I have absolutely no trouble breathing and I can easily swim, turn, glide and spiral like a dolphin. The water washes the last remnants of limbo off me, I feel my tensions washing away, my mind waking up, the wheel starting to move, my chest feeling lighter, my heart feeling hotter, my breathing going slow and steady. I swim in this liminal space for as long as I need to, I revel, I breathe, I wallow, I luxuriate until I feel ready to emerge from the water.
(wonder what psychologists would say about this little ritual - is it a literal re-birth? is this the womb? who knows? it works and that’s good enough for me right now …now that I think about it, that beach scene from Gravity might have been an inspiration. Man, I loved that movie already, but that ending?? Aaaaanyway, moving on…)


Then, I swim upwards and emerge from the water, head-first. The sun is warm and shines on my head and I step out of the water with bare feet, toes curling around grass and my lungs breathing in fresh forest air. Somewhere, a bird is singing, white clouds are languidly drifting by, all is warm, comfortable and good. I sit down on a giant mushroom by a tree (hey, don’t ask me, I don’t know), take a last deep breath and put pen to paper.
At this point, I open my eyes in the real world. I am completely relaxed, a thousand miles away from limbo, in another dimension even, calm and happy to engage with questions and wonders.

I’m in the flow.

In this world, I am a different me. A “study-me”.
In time, this me and I will merge again and we have already merged quite a bit. My walk through the Study Room process has become faster and faster and I am quite certain that, in time, it won’t take longer than a fraction of a second and it will seem like I can switch my flow on and off again like I used to. My study wheel is rolling again.

But if yours isn’t just yet, then …this is it. This is how, this is why and this is the very moment I re-connect with my “study values”, my passion and my agency, again and again and I choose to do it. Again. And again.

It is, really, all about choice.

And that’s the advantage I have over the old me. The old me studied because I didn’t know anything else and because I thought that I had to. 
The me right now chooses to study because I want to. And that makes it ten times more effective, more freeing and more fun.

So run wild, enjoy, actively enter that world of studying in your head, no matter what yours might look like (rain? palm trees? other planet? go bonkers!), it’s about choosing this and wanting this. It is about YOU saying “Yes, there are other interesting things and wheels out there, but right here, right now, I want this, nothing else and I will give it all of myself for as long as I want to.”

As you might have guessed by the gifs, I really recommend watching Free! Iwatobi Swim Club if you’re interested in overcoming procrastination.
(I swear I’m not sponsored by KyoAni, but for all their other shortcomings, their characters always have amazing character arcs when it comes to professionalism and passions) Both Rin and Haru are caught in their own versions of limbo and following Rin’s journey in Season 1 and Haru’s journey in Season 2 really helped me realize a lot of things about my own life and about how I dealt with passion, talent and my career.

The last part of this series will include a Q&A, so if there is something you didn’t quite understand or are unsure about, something you’d like to add or recommend to others, something you’d like me to explain in more detail or demonstrate through other examples, please, just write me a message (my inbox is absolutely open!) and I will answer it in Part 5 :)

Thank you for coming along on this ride! I hope some of my thoughts could help you and please, do let me know if my methods work for you - I’d love to know! :D 

Your life is in your hands,



They tell me love is beautiful
                            is good
                            is pure
but my love, we
were never beautiful
                   or good
                   or pure

we are just two tired souls
trying to survive
only survive, nothing more
     side by side
     in lockstep

and every time we kiss
     i swallow poison from your lips like the nectar of the gods
and every time we touch
     my skin blossoms blisters under the heat your fingers
and every time we speak
     another star fades away like a candle blown out by our cold breaths

but perhaps
     in the background
     hidden away
     in the darkness
our shadows held hands
like they cradled the entire world in the nest of their joined fingers

and perhaps
     that is beautiful
               and good
               and pure

and perhaps
     that is


OH BOY oh boy, I’m pretty stoked about my new Deadlands character~ >83c Elliot Harland Sterling, entitled son of a late steel-industry tycoon, meets an unfortunate end when a business trip goes wrong in Salt Lake City (or rather, the City o’ Gloom in this setting). …But in Deadlands, dying ain’t always the end. >w>

My GM was awesome and ran a little one-on-one-shot with me to establish how this poor jerk became a Harrowed before we start the campaign proper, and it was DELIGHTFUL good fun. Rather than play the possessing manitou as a force that periodically wrests control from me, he’s gonna be this persistent, influencing voice in the back of my guy’s head (Elliot even calls it “The Voice”, which sort of established the spirit as a MESS of voices all shifting in and out of one another—love it & tried to do it visual justice, haha). Since we’re doing this on Roll20, this means lots of fun secret whispers and rolls; can’t let the rest of the posse know they’re hanging out with a dead man, after all, eheheh~

Inktober - Ink Rain

Anxiety made me sick so I decided to draw something to a tune my grandmother always used to sing because it makes me feel warm and can quench a drought of happiness for me, even on the rainiest of days.

“I love you. A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck!”

I love tumblr mobile, the way it just *clenches fist* never loads anything, accidentally makes you follow and unfollow a blog eleven times, takes you out of a tag when you accidentally tapped on the left and doesn’t let you go back, takes you to the top instead of where you left off without a warning, and, of course, crashes on you completely :)

part 1 of an oc (Theo) fic with a little bit of fluff, a little bit of torture, a little bit of me not knowing wtf I’m doing.

EDIT: oops, I should probably also mention that my ocs have abilities & you can read about them here. c:


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Hoseok; Smooth As Fuck (M)

❝yo, there are people who like gangster!hobi so why not??? /I’m still working on the other stuff but it’ll take a while since finals are around the corner, badoop. i hope (aha see what i did there) you guys like this ; w ; 
►3367 words | scenario, rated m for my my, i’m screwed
© (photo credit)

It’s just a typical, average Saturday afternoon—average being in a room with a lighting that you can’t really complain about to do your work, surrounded by papers and a comfy comforter to hurdle you in and it’s not like you’re going to move about anytime soon unless it’s a bathroom break or if your stomach cries for food. You’re sighing as you reach the third report to type out for the day, you feel your joints cracking as you move your fingers, neck, arms around before you reach for a sip of your tea and then you’re moving at the speed of light again.

The door creaks open and for some reason, you don’t hear much after that so you brush it off, thinking he’s just bored.

Then he starts to speak and you realize, oh, he’s saying—“Hey, pretty girl,” but you’re not responding so he continues with, “Aye… are you going to ignore your boyfriend? Your oh-so-hot boyfriend?”

You’re rolling your eyes the same time you hit the spacebar, “There’s nothing for me to respond to, Hoseok-ah,”

“Oops, I thought your name was pretty girl,” He snorts, welcoming himself into the room made for two and he’s settled by the bed beside you where his eyes can’t seem to look away from you, “Anyways,” He clears his throat, a hand already smoothening on your thigh covered with the soft comforter, “Get dressed later,”

This is what makes you stop typing. “What for?”

He grins when he sees that look in your eyes, his hands maneuvers your laptop away from your reach at least, in a safe distance before he puts his arms around your waist and drags you towards him until you’re comfortable on his lap instead, “We’re going out on a date,”

Your eyebrows seem to have furrowed and he feels the squeeze on his shoulders that he rubs circles on your waist, leaning up to steal your lips for a quick kiss that erases all ill thoughts until you’re smiling when you feel what he means and he spells them out into words as he says, “I’m free for the night and I’m going to take you out for a nice dinner,”

His forehead tilts up until it meets yours and you can’t help but close your eyes with the biting of your lips, feeling giddy all over and you feel like it’s the first time ever that he’s asked you out. However, it feels foreign to the point where you have to ask, “Really?”

He drapes an arm over your waist, holding you up by your lower back when you’re straddling on him while his other reaches up to frame your cheek in his hand, “Really.” He assures you with a kiss, then another, and another until you’re affirmative that by the time the both of you leave this bedroom, it’s going to be hell trying to walk later but it doesn’t matter when he has you locked on his body and his lips is all you feel on your neck before his hand seems to be touching at the places that make your breath hitch and he relishes on hearing that sound because you can sense his smile on your skin. Then you’re being playful to say between the licks and bites he’s giving on your neck, your fingers threading through his hair, “I don’t think it’s advisable to start with dessert,”

He takes two seconds to digest your words and then he’s chuckling as his eyes meet yours, brighter than ever, “You can’t compare yourself to that—if you do, then you should be every meal of the day,”

“Smooth,” You coo, feeling him switch positions and it’s your back greeting the mattress while he shoves the remaining papers on the bed just to get a good look at you when he’s hovering above you, “As fuck,” he finishes, continuing with what he has in mind with his lips spending ample of time on yours before he trails down to your neck, fluttering through your collarbones and he asks in between if do you like this shirt and you’re answering it’s yours and he laughs right, so I can do this, and the shirt is being dragged down harshly to kiss your exposed skin and then oh, his tongue should be a sin.

But before he can progress any further, before he can pull away and strip down to nothing, strip you down to nothing, there’s the familiar sound of a ringtone that echoes in the room. He makes no effort to stop, focused on giving you all and whatever you want when the sounds you make are too fucking beautiful to ignore and he can’t possibly brush off the silent pleas of please, Hoseok, more and he’s shoves his hand down into your shorts to feel that fuck, you’re wet. Your senses are strong enough to notice how his phone is ringing again, and you know that a call can mean anything to him, his people, his work that you’re putting your hands on his shoulders, trying to nudge him off, “H-Hoseok, your p-phone,”

“No,” He deadpans, swirling his tongue around your nipple and a part of you is screaming let him continue but the most part is—“B-But, Hoseok, fuck, answer your phone,”

He groans against your chest before he sits up, eyes opening and hair askew but before he gets up to the dressing table where the damned device is cock blocking the pair of you, he flicks your shirt back up and fixes your shorts before he brushes his hands on his clothes. As he stands by the table, the phone by his ear, you can hear how annoyed his tone is when he greets with a sharp what?

You’re feeling rather cheeky today where you trail over his footsteps he’s made to get to where he is, your shorter arms are able to wrap around his waist perfectly and then he groans silently when you kiss the nape of his neck, lips dotting butterfly kisses to reach the side of his neck and he voluntarily moves his head to give you access and it’s just a few more seconds before his jaw goes slack the same time your hand slides down over the line of his jeans, sneaking in past the waistband of his boxers while your lips seem to attach to his skin. He wants to let go, he’s desperate and you feel it against your mouth but when he stiffens and lets out a what the fuck, it all crashes down because you already see this coming.

“What do you mean he won’t listen to anyone? Fuck, I knew that fucker would do this,”

And the cries on the other end are needy for Hoseok that you hear Namjoon’s strained, “We’ve tried talking to him but he wouldn’t listen to us! He’s going to ruin everything if you don’t come here!”

He gulps thickly when he’s at a crossroad, torn between to turn left or right but it seems like you’re pushing him down to the path he should choose but can’t choose when your lips are gone, arms pulled back and he no longer feels you behind him. “Just go,” You whisper into his other ear and before he can turn around and persuade you, you’ve already gone back to picking up the pieces of paper and then back into the bed with the laptop on your lap. It pains him to say those words but then he does and he hangs up with I’ll be right over. The both of you know that this means much more than just a ruined orgasm—it’s another scenario of broken dates, empty words and he sighs as he sits on the bed once more, hand holding onto yours when you try to click on the previous document, “…I’m sorry,”

You’re shaking your head when he knows you want to scream, cry out of frustration but it’s happened too many times too many for you to get mad all the time that you brush his hand off, “It’s work, I understand,”

His mouth opens and closes, no words seem to escape but when they do, he blubbers out, “I’ll make it home in time!”

You spare a glance at him and he looks like he means it, “I-I’ll make sure this gets settled by dinner time and I’ll get back to see you in that dress I like and God, we’re going out on a date I fucking swear,”

Your heart wants to trust his words, your mind tells him—“We both know, Hoseok-ah,” then your eyes confirm what you’re feeling as your words comply with your gaze, “I’m going to be dressed and ready way before the time you should get home and… well… it’s either you’re going to call and tell me that you’ll be here,” you’re shaking your head, “but you’re not going to until it’s late in the night and I’m going to hate that dress, ruin my makeup with tears and I think you should go and make sure things are fine with the boys,”

The look on his face is unreadable but his words do leave a punch when he says, “Then what about us?”

Now you’re sighing as your hand reaches out for his and you’re giving him a soft squeeze before your eyes meet once more, “Us will still be here when you get back. I will still be here when you get back.”

Regret is what you hear when he says, “I really just want to—“

Reality is what hits him when you cut him off, “You should really go now before things get worse,”

Guilt is laced over his face as he kisses you on the forehead and bids you goodbye.

Hurt is what he sees before he closes the door on his way out.


By the time he opens the bedroom door with a heavy heart, he sees you buried in the sheets with your back using the bed rest as a support as your head tilts to the other side where he can’t particularly see you. His lips curl up into a smile when he knows you’re waiting up for him but upon being reminded of what happened before this, what could drive you to work to this late into the night, it disheartens him as he steps through. He discards his jacket, partly bloodied from a tiny gunfight and thank god he’s not badly wounded or it’ll add fuel to the flame that should be blown off by now. He makes sure he’s careful enough to discard his clothing until his down to his boxers so he can’t possibly stain the sheets and when he does, he reaches over for your laptop and the papers he messily threw off the bed hours ago. Now piled up in a stack and by your device on the table, he knows it’s time to make it up to you.

He also knows how deep you are in your sleep to be in this position, so, his steps are quiet as he kneels down by the bed. He starts with leaning up to unbutton your shorts, his fingers are swift to drag your panties along with it and before he knows it, he’s thrown them over his shoulder and it makes a sound but it doesn’t wake you up yet. He’s well aware he can make use of your position by the side of the bed to keep one leg propped up while he gently directs the other to the floor, spreading you out nicely and then he begins.

It feels harder to breathe and in the midst of dreaming of what it could be out on a date, laughing and smiling until it hurts when he’s cracking too many jokes to fill your night with stars, your eyes snap open when something curls from within, the heat flushes through your veins and it’s impossible to ignore with sleep. What you see is his face between your legs, both hands busy with one holding you down, the other abusing his fingers on your clit and it makes you—“F-Fuck, Hoseok—what are you—“then he uses his tongue and at this point you’re sure he’s trying to break you apart as his fingers slide in two at a time that you forget what you’re about to say. Your nails scrape through his hair and he groans, digging his tongue in deeper that it makes the air trap in your throat and it’s everything collapsing from within when he harshly presses down to where it makes your body jolt, his fingers gradually picking up the pace and his tongue doesn’t let up.

You’re in a mess, you feel like a mess and you’re sure that you’re sweating, cheeks flushed but you can’t find a fuck to give when the next few seconds, you’re coming, fuck, Hoseok! He groans once more time, he’s giving it to you harder, faster, deeper and your eyes clench shut and that’s not the only thing and your thighs try to refrain from clamping him in because it’s hard to stay still when you come and he knows that. He gives you a moment to collect yourself as he rides you through with his tongue, slowly pulling away to relieve the sensation with his fingers on your lips and before you can say anything about it, he silences you with his own, allowing you to taste what pleasure is at the tip of his tongue.

He swallows the wince you let out to his mouth when he moves you down on the bed, back to the mattress, head rested on the pillow and him between your legs until nothing else can come in between.

“You waited up for me,” He says after he removes your shirt, busying himself to kiss down the trail that was long awaited earlier in the day.

“I tried,” You say, holding onto him and he’s making it harder for you to breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” He says, moving up to kiss your lips once more before he looks into your eyes, “It’s okay,”

“You’re lying,”

“Then punish me for lying,”

His boxers come off and they join the map of clothes on the floor. He pushes himself in and it still makes you scream. He doesn’t let up until he feels you dragging your nails down his back, through his hair, over his shoulders and then around his neck where you pull him down to kiss the fuck out of him. He gladly complies and goes to the extend of keeping a hand between your legs, already building you up before his hips start moving and then he feels you biting his tongue the same time he decides to snap his hips without any clear warning. He puts his arm around you, the other steadying himself with the headboard because the whole bed is shaking. But that’s not the only thing when you’re trembling, your voice cracking because it’s all tearing you down and he urges you further, just come, let go, fucking come all over me and then he goes faster, faster and faster.

Then it’s all heavy breathing, sweaty backs and chests, lingering warmth of the aftermath as he kisses the remaining air you have in your lungs. He pulls out and wraps you in with his body and arms, limbs tangled before he tugs the comforter over the pair of you. You feel his lips in your hair as he plants another kiss, and then another when he flips you around delicately so he can go back to give you the loving you deserve on your lips. His hands slide over your back, up and down and then they settle by your hips when you have a hand on his chest and the other remains right above his bottom. Your fingers draw shapes on his chest until a certain spot makes him whimper that the both of you repel from the kiss.

You’re staring at the way his face contorts in pain in the dark and then you take a closer look to see that fuck, that’s a wound. How have you not realized this is a wonder but it makes you feel fucking dumb as you sit up and flick on the bedside lamp to see that he’s actually wounded, no.

“I-It’s nothing,” He mutters out, clutching onto your wrist before you can get up and you hiss, “You’re in pain,


“Why didn’t you say anything?” The creases appear on your forehead, the worry is in your eyes and fuck, he just wants to kiss them away.

“I… I wanted to make it up to you—“

“Damn it, Hoseok,” You curse, moving up and about and it does take you a few seconds of wobbling but the concern gets the best of you to wonder off that he sighs and sits up, collecting one or two clothing on his way after slipping his boxers back on. He finds you by the kitchen counter, rummaging through the drawers until you find what you want and when you do, you see him already on a stool by the island. You’re about to apply the medicine on his chest but he pauses you, he stops you just to put his your shirt on you and you’re about to question but he says—“I can’t have you walking around naked when the curtains are open,”

He catches that blush that’s faded on your cheek as you mumble a soft thanks and then you’re taking care of his wound. He does say it hurts here and there but when it’s all over, it seems to feel much better as your palm gently rubs over the white patch of a bandage taped with tape. He sees you clearing up the things and when you’re done, he pulls you to him until you feel his chest against your back. It’s a few more steps back to the bedroom and you want to tell him it’s right there but you can’t when he’s whispering quietly, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Your hands stroke his arms banded around your waist, your head tilted a bit to get a glimpse of him having his face in your neck, “What for…?”

“For disappointing you,” He admits, his voice almost cracking but then he looks up to frown at you, “For not being able to make you happy like I used to…”

“Idiot,” You breathe, turning around in his grasp just to hold the sides of his head, “You always make me happy. I mean, yes, it sucks not going out on dates like how we would anymore but we do every now and then,” he takes every single word you say and it leaves him wanting for more, “I do get disappointed when you cancel them, that I will not lie but… you coming home to me, you… prioritizing me in the occasions that you shouldn’t and you loving me in general, that’s more than I can ever ask for,”

He’s crying and God, he’s crying that you wipe his tears away before he tugs you into his embrace and this, is what you could ever ask for, “You don’t hate me?”

You’re snorting as you pet his head, shaking your own, “If I didn’t hate you when you’re holding a gun, what makes you think I’ll hate you now?”

“Well, now it’s just me, just Jung Hoseok and not J-Hope of one of Seoul’s dangerous clans—“ a kiss is all it takes to shut him up.

“Either one, I still love you,”

He smiles and it seems like hm, his eyes are sparkling, “Thank God there’s only one of you.”

You’re rolling your eyes and hm, he finds that cute but you’re oh-so-beautiful, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I have you—the one and only for mine to keep.”

“Smooth,” You’re saying once more as he directs you to the bedroom. “As fuck,” He finishes, closing the door behind him and it’s a long night after before the door opens again.

some stuff like pretty blue girls and esper boys

ignore the weird ass lighting,,,,,

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 Princess Stretch and RosaBerry as i said i would~ with my own little spin on it @tyranttortoise

this has been teasing me for days in my draft, fuck it im posting now screw saturday

You know, what gets to me most about Juvia following Gray to Silver’s grave, is that it’s at one of Gray’s lowest points. Gray had just encountered ‘Deliora’ in his father’s body (even though it was a lie, it would’ve been traumatizing), and then he just saw his father die in front of him, okay, not a good time for him.

And then Juvia’s there, to apologize! Yes! And Gray’s so nice he comforts her! All while he’s at his lowest point in a long time. So we’ve gone from Gray’s emotions to Juvia’s.

And he was vulnerable, and she was acting so vulnerable and he’s so nice it’s like he just gave her a massive opening and now he’s in Trouble, because not long after that, she’s following him around again. She is in his home. She is trying to force herself into his bed. All from that one vulnerable point.

And that just really gets to me about that scene.