shake your hands

you know what? fuck all that shit about how your significant other is supposed to make your heart beat faster and your hands shake. I want them to make me feel at ease, like I’m finally coming home. I want to feel incredibly calm and content when I look at them or spend time with them, no anxiety, no agitation.

“The Buddhists say if you meet somebody and your heart pounds, your hands shake, your knees go weak, that’s not the one. When you meet your ‘soul mate’ you’ll feel calm. No anxiety, no agitation.”

when you dream about kissing her your hands shake. if she saw inside of you - if she knew. there are voices that tell you to leave her side so she can be happy. you are no longer sure if they’re right and it’s their story. there’s a place somewhere inside of you that smells of rotting meat. and she glows. she’s a meadow. when you look at her things shift. get simple and stay delicate. things become worth it. 

what if it means nothing. what if she never kisses first. what if in the morning sun she regrets admitting her heart. what if this is mortal, and you, your heart, could never have forever. 

I Wish You A Merry Christmas
  • I Wish You A Merry Christmas
  • Mystic Messenger
  • Mystic Messenger


MC: Who is it?

I wish you a Merry Christmas… I wish you a Merry Christmas…
I wish you a Merry Christmas… and a happy… new…

…Haha… Hahahaha!

Look at your face… Yes, that’s the face I wanted to see.

Your heart’s racing, no? I can see your hands shaking… haha…
Should I call myself the Santa Claus watching over you? I’m always thinking about when I should bring my present.

Should I give the present today…? Or tomorrow?
When would you like to receive it?

MC: I don’t want it.

… I see. I appreciate your answer.

Of course, I have no intentions to do what you want me to do. Hahaha…

Entertain me with your frightened face, with your trembling… everyday from now on… If you bore me, I’ll go find you, okay?

You thought that if you’re nice, you’ll get a present on Christmas? Well… I have a different way of giving gifts.

I despise nice children… I despise them very very much.
Try and be nice until I go see you. Don’t you want to know what I’ll do?

Merry Christmas~!

Be patient and wait for the day… you come to be by my side.

Should you fight them: HS kids edition

John Egbert: why on god’s green earth would you fight John Egbert??? He just wants his friends to get along. Look at him, he’s just a big dork baby with glasses. He’d probably just offer to shake your hand with a shock buzzer on. Besides, kid’s fucking ripped. Giant hammers, expected to lift a safe, homeboy may not have beef w u, but he has BEEF. He’s been plagued by nightmares his whole life he already hates himself more than you Don’t fight him.

Rose Lalonde: think to yourself very carefully. Rose Lalonde is ready to rip imps and ogres apart at a moment’s notice. She’ll psyche you out without saying a word. She will kick ur ass. She has a vampire wife. Do NOT unless ur prepared. U must be prepared.

Dave Strider: no!!!! He has had enough fighting!!! Let!!!! Him!!!!! Live!!!!!

Jade Harley: raised by an aggressive dog God and always carrying guns. This should not have to be explained. That smile is deceptive.

Jane Crocker: Jane looks sweet and soft but honey she is READY 2 THROW DOWN. Her dad had to use a fridge to ground her and she sent a table 360 flipping through the air with one arm. She’s emotionally vulnerable, but that could turn on you REAL FAST. Be wary.

Roxy Lalonde: she could go for a few rounds, but literally why???? Roxy has gone through enough hardship and killed the Condesce leave her alone.

Dirk Strider: You could. And prolly win if ur good enough. But do you really want to??? He hates himself more than you could imagine. He’d beat himself up. Shits gone pear shaped straight up decapitate him he don’t give a FUCK.

Jake English: he’d love a round of fisticuffs. Mano el Mano. And he’d be so cheery and such a good sport about it. Fight Jake English. But friendly fight him. Being his enemy is dangerous.

  • centuries-old, slightly demonic & terrifying entity, surrounded by an ominous glow: so...... do we have a deal?
  • me: yeah! yes! of course! absolutely! i'd shake your hand but i can't really.. locate, ah... that... are you free for dinner later? didn't have breakfast or lunch & i feel like selling my soul is an occasion that calls for like.. SOME kind of celebration, y'know

our hearts were made of stronger stuff than this. am i crying because it is the only thing left or because even the earth needs rain. our hands were formed to create. explain this to me while you’re sipping your coffee. explain to me the hole in the wall where you punched through your mother’s divorce. the hole in yourself you ripped, strings you tied off. you don’t believe in love and that’s okay. maybe love doesn’t believe in you. at eighteen you knew how to sew yourself into bed at night and rip yourself out of it in the mornings. tell me about the tiny destruction. about how your heart aches for things beyond the ocean. about how you’ve always wanted out but you’ve since lowered your goals to just surviving. about how the walls of your home are teeth. you were made to love so much it would wake up the sun. you fill that empty with numb. your hands shake. tell me over coffee we were made to create; tell me over the phone you’re destroying yourself anyway. we were supposed to be better but we forgot the equation somewhere in our childhood fish graves. i tell you that you can stand up and run. you tell me you’ve given up. 

what makes death a lover? oh, when he’s won.

The Thing About Safety Pins

Hello, cishet white people. I am a fellow cishet white person, and we gotta have a bit of a heart-to-heart. 

Some of you have decided to do that wear-a-safety-pin-to-show-solidarity thing. Thank you for making that decision. I shake your hand and give you a friendly clap on the back. Seriously. When the choices are “show solidarity” or “meh”? You made the right choice. You have shown that your heart is in the right place. Yay!

But here is the thing. It’s not enough for your heart to be in the right place. In the coming weeks, months, and years, it’s going to take deliberate action, not just good intentions. When your friend breaks their leg, you help them, right?  You call an ambulance, or you take them to the hospital, and you help pull them out of immediate danger so they don’t get even more hurt. And then, THEN, once they’re getting medical treatment, then you say, “Get well soon!” or decide to pray for their quick recovery.

If you watch your friend break their leg, and then stand there saying, “Oh no, this is terrible. Let me know if you need anything, okay?? I’m here for you!”… You see what I’m getting at? A good friend says, “Oh shit, oh fuck, you have health insurance, right? Does it cover ambulances or should we try to get you in my car??” 

Our country has broken its leg. 

Well, okay, let’s be honest – the country broke its leg a long time ago. Last week it also got hit by a high-speed orange train. 

And now we come back to the safety pins. You’ve put them on your lapels to designate yourself a safe space. Good start. But, fellow cishet white people, I’m hearing that some of you who have safety pins are standing by and watching while other people get bullied and harrassed. What’s that about, friendo?

I kinda know what it’s about. Privilege blinds us to a lot of what other people go through, and now your eyes are starting to open and you want to help but… you saw something going down and you froze. You didn’t have a mental script for how to help. Your brain went “!!!!!!!!” on five different levels and threw up 404 errors and while you were standing there trying to reboot quick enough to make a decision about oh my god what do I do… the person being harassed looked over, saw your safety pin, saw you standing there doing nothing to help, and felt like you personally had betrayed them.

I think you’ll agree that that’s the exact opposite of what you meant to do.

Fellow cishet white people, I gotta be honest with you: You have to ask yourselves why you’re wearing the pin. Because it’s a responsibility, and some of you just aren’t ready to be shouldering that, just like how we don’t ask someone with zero first-aid training to be on the front lines of an emergency because they’re more likely to hurt than to help. Or they, y’know, freeze up. 

But you want the safety pin, you want to help, you want to be part of the fight! Again, good! GOOD! Yes! Welcome! We want you to want that! But you’re gonna need some training first. So I have a few small suggestions for you:

FIRST: Put the safety pin on the inside of your jacket (or the inside of your purse, or in your wallet, or a photograph of it as your cellphone background), somewhere that you’ll see it and touch it often, but where it’s not visible to anyone else. It’s not a sign for anyone else now; you have nothing to be showing off about. It’s a sign for YOU.
In the Renaissance, rich folk would carry around these things called prayer nuts: tiny wooden spheres that opened in two halves like a walnut. Inside would be carvings of Biblical scenes of particular significance to the owners, and they’d use them to remind themselves of the sins they were trying to vanquish and the virtues they aspired to.
The pin is now your prayer nut. It’s a reminder to you that you have a duty of honor, a social obligation, to be part of the fight and to stand up for people who need help. It is a reminder that you have to try every day to be better. Whenever you see it or touch it, I want you to think, “Did I do enough? Can I be doing more?” It’s for YOU and your betterment, not a sign to anyone else. Not yet.

SECOND: You’re concerned, I bet. You feel a little weird about putting it on the inside of your jacket. You wanted something to show that you’re part of the movement. Maybe something to signal that you’re not a threat, that you’re not about to launch into horrible racist, misogynistic, Islamophobic rhetoric, and you thought the pin was a pretty good symbol of that. I’m stiiiiiill gonna ask you to keep the pin as a prayer nut for now. Instead, go out and get yourself some of those lapel buttons for causes you specifically support: the LGBT rainbow buttons, BLM buttons, anti-ICE buttons… Put those on your clothes. Your message of, “I’m on the good guys’ team” is still there, but you’re also not designating yourself as a Person Who Will Instantly Leap to Someone’s Defense. 

THIRD: Seriously, sit down with pen and paper and come up with some things you as an individual can do to help when you see someone being harassed. Come up with scripts and scenarios and rehearse them in your head. I’m not kidding. Half the reason that bystanders are bystanders are because they can’t fucking decide what to do, if anything! So make a decision BEFOREHAND, in a calm, secure, sober environment, and practice it a bit so your brain will be able to cope. You know how trainee pilots do flight simulations of all kinds of different scenarios so they’ll be ready if any of them happen? Same thing. Educate yourself! Read articles, listen to people from marginalized and threatened communities, use what you learn to revisit and modify your mental scripts.
Not all of us are social justice warriors. Some of us are social justice clerics, and that’s okay. If you’re not the type to get in someone’s face and scream at them, then there are other ways you can help. Figure out what they are. Some action is better than no action. And maybe after a while when you’ve gotten some practice, you’ll find yourself shouting someone down even though you never thought you would.
I’m not requiring you to be a certified superhero by tomorrow. I’m just asking you to figure out your plan of attack so you can be a little more effective. This is going to be a growing experience for you. (Just don’t expect your marginalized friends to give you cookies and pats on the head for your growth. I’m sure they appreciate you and your friendship and solidarity, but again, they’ve got enough on their plates right now, so chill out.)

FOURTH: Execute your mental scripts when you see someone being harassed. Do this until you achieve some kind of minimum level of proficiency and you can count on yourself to be an ACTIVE helper, as in: a helper who TAKES ACTION. 

FIFTH: Then and only then, move your safety pin to the outside of your jacket. To be able to say that you’re a safe space, you have to be able to defend people and keep them safe

Go forth, fellow cishet white people. Educate thyselves, and don’t let other people down by claiming more proficiency and confidence than you currently possess. Do your flight simulations. Actively practice! And then USE THEM, cause we’re going to need all the help we can get.

And hey, thanks for reading this far. If you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask. The newly-founded @rebelrouser tumblr is also aiming to be a good resource for people who are wondering how best to help!

Happy anniversary FNAF 2! This game continues to be my favorite out of all of them! AlsoitgaveusthegiftofToyFreddysoitsthebest:P

to read during a panic attack:

  • it won’t last forever. it will be crazy and overwhelming for a while, but it will stop eventually. i promise.
  • breathe through your nose, it will help slow you down.
  • call a friend if you need to talk, they will listen. even if they can’t help much, get your thoughts out if you need to.
  • don’t scratch at your arms or legs, don’t pull at your hair. try to be gentle with yourself please
  • biting your nails isn’t going to help anything.
  • turn on some rain or waves sounds, or a comforting song
  • if you can’t stop shaking your hands out, clench them into fists, don’t dig your nails into your palms.
  • if you’re rocking back and forth, listen to a slow song and gradually rock to the beats.
  • don’t listen to the intrusive thoughts.
  • when you’re calm, pick yourself up, and freshen up if you can. even if it’s just splashing your face with water. just a little something. take a shower if you’re able.
  • breathe steady. you’ve gotten through this before, you can do it again.
How To Become A God For Beginners

Make a mosiac of those bedraggled bones, swallow cloudfulls of sky and roast stars on

open fires. Kiss like the whole world’s fate depends on the friction of your lips. Shake

hands with the dead-eyed ghost in the mirror, tell her you’re sorry, tell her you’re trying. Tell

her that some days are sparks of nothings, how some are droughts and others torrential. Sever

all ties with boys who bloom like bad dreams and stop biting your nails. Don’t waste your time

on wasps with katanas for teeth. See how long you can hold your breath underwater. Let the

light slurp up your rose-flaked skin. Take the small risk of stepping outside. Remember, there

are no comfort zones, to a God, everywhere is no man’s land, a warren to walk free. Apologize,

no being is perfect, and immortality often comes at the price of one’s soul. Take the night

by its stuttering reigns, zip its mouth shut. The darkness is a mere blot on your shirt, and your

shirt needs a good wash. Rekindle the hopes you’d thought you’d lost, Gods never give up.

Watch the world with fresh eyes, in you flow a million veins, in you stutter a million heartbeats,

so many churches to fill. Don’t pick at your scars, eat them. Now that you’ve ingested them,

they’re harmless. They’re trapped. Color your hair and give your body the gift of sleep. Hold

your own hand, hug a tree. You don’t have to scale the side of a mountain or hold the weight

of Atlantis to make a difference, to leave a mark. Remember that the best stories come from

drowned cities. Remember you’re a kingpin with wings handcrafted by angels. Remember

that the moon withers with you, that a firefly goes out everytime you drop your hurting head.

Remember the tides look to you for their lovesick cues, that the desert found a safe

place to sleep in you. Remember that, when you’re a God, the morning always comes.

in another world we don’t even need to have this conversation. in another world you already know what I want to say before I say it. there, there is no need for words. you tell me you’re afraid of being alone in the way you overfill both of our coffee mugs, the way you never make my side of the bed. I hear about your insecurities in your ever-shaking hands, all the plates they’ve dropped, all the broken glass they’ve caused. you know my last heartbreak in the way I end every phone-call with call me back when you can instead of goodbye. you know I’ve missed you when you come back to all the lights on, to the tv on full volume.

in another world we don’t have to say things to make them real. you know I love you, oh how you know I love you.

This is the most disgusting card I’ve ever seen literally it’s only purpose is so you can sit there with a shit-eating grin while your opponent is forced to shake your hand right before you completely destroy them. This is an entirely different level of disrespect.

Tales of a Vet

Remember this series? I just talk about things from my life you can maybe turn fictional.

There’s been a number of times I’ve had to take a flight in uniform. It’s highly uncomfortable. You’re just standing there trying to mind your business, and everyone wants to come up to you and thank you and shake your hand.

And I know how it looks saying that, because you just wanna be like…yikes dude; we’re just trying to be respectful? People are walking up and shaking your hand and thanking you oh the humanity poor you. 

And like, you’re right, and I know the intentions are good, and I appreciate the fact that I live in a country that supports its troops instead of hating them. It’s just very uncomfortable for a lot of us. 

Some of us have social anxiety, most of the time when we’re flying we’re sleep deprived, a lot of us either haven’t seen combat and don’t feel right being thanked for it and a lot of us don’t feel proud of having been in combat and don’t feel right being thanked for it, and even if we are okay with being thanked for it, it’s awful to have to have the same conversation over and over and over and over again while going through an airport. On the way to our gate alone we’ll probably get pulled aside and whispered a “thank you for your service” at least a dozen times. Can you imagine how frustrating that is? God forbid we wind up standing next to someone in a security line whose great uncle once removed was in the army sixty years ago so he knows all about it and he wants to showcase his knowledge to me. And then there’s the fact that I’m silently cringing in my head because I know if a number of these people knew I was bisexual they would not be shaking my hand. 

So you know. I know this is a widespread complaint by it’s by no means universal. Some soldiers enjoy the attention, and honestly you know that’s great for them. We all know that civilians have the utmost of intentions. But especially if you’re writing a soldier character out and about in uniform, (and it is common for soldiers to wander around off post in uniform) it is very realistic to them to be practically be assaulted by well-meaning people and getting maybe just a little peeved by it.

-Spc. Kingsley

i fear you’ve lost your happiness and it terrifies me because you are so quiet about your pain and so quick to hide your wounds and i know you won’t reach out for help or a hand to hold. you’ll just ache and break and insist that you’re fine. but you see, me and you have the same wounds and scars in the very same places. you’ve welcomed me into your mind but still, you’ll tape a smile on your face so every single second of the day you never seem anything less than happy and i hate this because i see right through it. i see your ghosts and i hear them screaming and lingering around the halls. i want to talk to your ghosts, i want to shake hands with your achy bones. i want to know all of you and i am fully okay with the spider webs.
—  because when i say i’m here, i mean it. nothing can scare me away.

you are small
you are maybe smaller today
than you have ever been before

but you are not the only small heart
beating hard and heavy with bad news
you are not the only one scared

and i do not know
if that makes it worse
or makes it better

there is a heart in your chest,
beating, and it is still your chest.
there is a heart in your chest
and it is still beating.

from sea to shining sea–
across prairie and desert and peak–
here are your hands, shaking,
and here are your hands, steady,
and here are your hands,
small against the sky,
which keeps going and going on.

here is your heart,
big and beating and beautiful.
we have work to do.

—  ejl.
Not Yourself - Newt Scamander x Reader

Originally posted by abigailskanes

Title: Not Yourself

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader

Rating: T (might be considered heavy T?)

Word Count: A lot. 4000+

Warnings: A little, itty, if you squint at it, non-con.

Sorry lovelies, this one is a little sad in a few places. Mostly the whole thing. Except for the middle bit.

Keep reading