simple sort of love

How To Make Almost Any Narrative More Interesting

More women. So many women that the Smurfette on any five-person team is now a Smurf.

Relationships of every type between said women.

Less heteroromatic tropes.

More queerness.

Less whiteness.

Make people fall in love and stay in love. LOVE IS NOT BORING. It is spectacularly unlikely and thus really quite fascinating.

If there’s a larger mystery in play, solving part of it will not actually make your world collapse, so for fuck’s sake GIVE PEOPLE THE SMALL WINS.

Don’t be afraid that the audience has figured out where you’re going and thus change everything to produce a “surprise.” A surprising amount of people actually have no problem with suspecting where things will end up, so long as you give them the ending they feel they and the characters have earned.

Whenever possible, go with adults over children, children over babies, babies over pregnancies. You’ll never go wrong with this one simple rule.

NEVER present lying to people you supposedly love as any sort of a legitimate choice. Call that crap out if a character does it, and make them stop it.

Legitimate foe-yay and enemies-to-friends comes out of common goals, common interests (competence porn), common enemies and/or common moral meet-points. It’s not code for “I bugged [this person] until they gave in,” because that shit is gross.

Let more het, cis men and het, cis women be friends.

Let more people of every other type than het or cis be more than friends.

Less moral binarism. Let people be grey. 

Let the standard be protagonists, not heroes. It makes the heroes stand out like they do in real life.

Let characters learn, grow and change. No take-backsies.

No fucking re-set buttons.

So I ask her about love and she tells me about the bits of us that we give away. You’ll never get them back. When you’re this empty you’ll try anything to cover up the void. So I ask her about her favorite color and if it has anything to do with passion. We feel more pain than we’d care to mention– so we draw, paint and write just to have a little more self-expression. So I ask her if she hands away so much of herself, who is she by the time it’s all over? You don’t really know someone until they walk away. You don’t really love someone until it’s too late. You don’t know a damn thing until it’s all said and done. So I ask about her smile. Are you happy when we’re talking? Do you enjoy this as much as I do? So I ask if she does late afternoon runs to run from herself or to find something. Do you chase ghosts too? Inside those halls, you’re trapped in photographs. Inside that soul, you’ve burnt the whole house down. Inside that heart, you’re still looking for love. So I ask about us and if she sees hope. She points to the smile that they used to love. She points to the scars and sketches a constellation of promises on my skin. So I ask if she’s a sucker for love poems and honesty. So I ask if she’s ever been hurt before. What do you do when it’s just you? Does the anxiety rip you inside out? You can write until you’re all out of words. You can love until your heart is a grain of sand. You can be angry until your fist bruises the night. So I ask her about love and if it’s ever worth it. Do you really see us together? Isn’t it weird? Two strangers. Before meeting– you didn’t exist to one another. Now? You’re routine. Now? You choose to stay. I can ask if she really means it all. I can ask if she believes me. I’m always in my head picking myself apart. I’m always in my heart sorting out feelings. The complexity of something as simple as saying I love you to someone bothers everyone who stays up really fucking late. We all have a past that won’t sleep. We all have a present worth living. The future? I don’t know if it holds us, but I’m here until the last page.


Also known as Annie projecting their own feelings onto a character in an attempt to avoid dealing with them

warnings: gender dysphoria, crying mention, food mention, nausea mention

word count: 1013

The room was silent and still.  A red blanket was draped over a sleeping body that lay curled up on a king sized bed.

Eyes flickered open and instantly squeezed shut again at the blinding brightness of the room.  They fluttered over to the window to notice the blinds up and winced.

Gaining awareness, hands reached for the phone on the bedside table and fumbled with it sleepily, until a text was somehow successfully sent.

From a few doors down, Logan’s phone buzzed.  He picked it up and read the message displayed across his screen, sighing.  Roman was up, and already not feeling well.  The message was simple and typo-ridden; “Rbring tea pleasei love you”.  It always sort of bugged Logan that he didn’t have autocorrect on, but he rarely made mistakes while typing anyway, so he refrained from bugging him about it too much.  Upon receiving this message, Logan closed his laptop- on which he was watching a very informative and inspirational Ted Talk- and shuffled out of the office in his unicorn onesie.

A few minutes later, through the door, Roman could hear the tea kettle whistling and he softly smiled.  Logan was certainly different than he seemed.  He was loyal and kind, and the moment you asked for his help he was there to provide it.  Just moments later came a few soft taps on the door, so quiet they sounded as if just one knuckle was used.

“Mhm,” Roman responded as loudly as he could manage in his sleepy, dazed state.  And in walked the most gorgeous boy Roman had ever laid eyes on.  His hair was a mess, so uncharacteristically adorable, and steam danced from the white mug that he clutched in his perfect hands.  He almost sat up to give a proper morning greeting, but Logan was seated on the edge of his bed before he had to.  

“I love you too, by the way,” Logan said softly, setting the mug on the night stand and pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead.  “Do you want to sit up to drink this, or would you prefer waiting?”

“I guess I’ll sit up.”  Roman’s voice was low and gentle, much different from his usual boldness.  He shifted and sat up so that he was at a more comfortable position to drink the tea that Logan had so kindly made for him.  “Chamomile?”

Logan smiled and handed over the mug.  “With a drop of milk and a generous drizzle of honey, of course.”

Roman took a sip and smiled.  “It’s perfect.  You’re perfect.”

“Well, no,” Logan rebutted, “That’s impossible.  But I appreciate the sentiment.”  Roman huffed out a laugh and took another sip of the tea.  “How are you feeling?”

He paused for a moment.  How was he feeling?  His thoughts weren’t quite sentences, so it was hard to articulate.  “Not great,” he finally replied.  “Cramps are pretty bad right now and I’m only on day two, which usually is way too soon for cramps this strong to kick in.  But they’re there.”  He set down the mug on his night stand.  “And dysphoric, as usual.  But I’ll be okay.”  He pulled the red comforter so it was covering his arms and shoulders and pulled his knees up to his chest.  Logan reached a hand out to run his fingers through Roman’s hair and he smiled shyly at the touch.

“You know you’re so handsome, right?  You really are, Roman.  Handsome as ever,” he cooed.  Roman couldn’t help but blush and bury his face in his knees as he continued.  “I hope you know how much I love you.  You’re my prince.  Forever and always.”  He pressed a kiss to the top of Roman’s head, which made him look up and reveal his blushing and smiling face.

“I love you, nerd.”

Logan smiled sweetly.  “Are you hungry?  I could make us some breakfast if you’d like.  Chocolate chip pancakes maybe.”

Roman groaned.  “I’m too nauseous for food right now.  Just tea is fine.”

“Would you like some water?  A heating pad?  I could put in a Disney movie of your choosing,” Logan suggested.  He just wanted Roman to feel comfortable and happy.  That’s all he ever wanted.

Roman smiled.  “I’m okay, really.  I’m happy right now.  You’re sweet, Logan.”  Logan blushed.  “Lay with me?” Roman asked, outstretching his arms to his boyfriend.  Wordlessly, Logan stood and lifted the corner of the comforter, slipping into bed and cuddling up beside him.  He pressed another gentle kiss against Roman’s shoulder.

Logan didn’t truly know what gender dysphoria felt like, and it would be illogical to pretend that he did.  He just knew that it sometimes made Roman shake him awake at 3 in the morning because his world just felt wrong.  He knew that no matter how many times he called him handsome, Roman would still feel a little bit off.  He knew that transitioning was going to be a long journey that had barely begun.

But he also knew that sometimes when they popped in their favorite movie and half-watched it while Roman pointed out every actor and their name, age, and height, and Logan would laugh and call him a geek… he’d forget.  And when they went on walks in the woods and looked at all the birds and Logan would point out every species he knew and Roman watched him fill with passion as he talked about it even though to him it sounded like a different language… he’d forget.  And when Logan would have trouble sleeping and they’d take a bubble bath together, and Roman would hum to him as he drifted off to sleep in his arms… well how could he focus on anything but Logan’s soft, steady breathing, and how adorable he looked in his sleep, and how every once in awhile he’d shift and pull Roman’s hand a little bit closer?

It wasn’t fun, dysphoria.  It was painful and draining and unfair.  But having the love of his life with him made it a little bit more bearable.


anonymous asked:

I've had Jay on my mind this week. I was at Disney World when we learned of her passing. I woke up, read about it and started crying. Scared my spouse until I could explain what happened. It was such a shock and I felt so badly for the whole Tommo-Deakin clan. I'm 37 and I treated myself to Mickey Mouse balloon 🎈that day because it was just one of those days that needed some sort of simple happiness.

Aw love. Here’s a snuggle for you. ♥️

anonymous asked:

What's your headcanon on-the-run name for Will, if you don't mind saying?

(X) *preens* Don’t mind at all, Nonny.

I headcanon that Hannibal would arrange for Will the alias Thomas Cavall (but Will would go by ’Tom’ for short.) 

After Tommaso dei Cavalieri, to whom Michelangelo addressed 30 of his 300 poems, as well as gifting him a series of his drawings featuring muscly men out of Greek myth being beset by eagles. (Remind you of anyone?)

Also, on top of being similar to the real surname Cavill, it’s a pun on the unrelated English word meaning “to raise irritating and trivial objections; find fault with unnecessarily.” Which suits grumpy super-high-maintenance-bitch!Will down to the ground. ^_^

Progress Log Day 2: I woke up in time to attend my first day of work as a scientist. It is the best way to complete my directive. Hopefully I will still find it stimulating despite our kind being far more advanced scientifically than anyone on this planet could ever dream of. I will not do too much too fast. I do not want to scare the humans. I want to help them.

My first objective of the day was to concoct a sort of food replacement serum. Extremely simple, but unnecessary to humans. Humans love food. I do not think they would ever be satisfied by a generic replacement. 

I have a co-worker named Nina. Nina has not taken a liking to me. I think she feels threatened. I also sense that she is suspicious of me. I wonder if human females with crimson hair are more astute than their follicle-y different peers. 

My first day of scientific “work” was simple but fruitful. I am feeling more confident in the directive and its success. 

you know what i need more of: makoharu childhood fluff where it’s just really simple. like, childish amateur marriages/marriage promises, playing house, childhood first kisses, cuddling during bedtime; i’ve seen it all.

but simple stuff: like them sitting on the side of the road and watching people go by; climbing trees and getting knees scraped; getting permission from their parents to stay up late and watch the new show on tv together, or to go out and sit on the stairs to watch the stars and moon; being typical boys and crashing through the trees playing pretend knights; making sandcastles and filling a bucket full of seashells to take home and horde in their bathtubs.

being starry-eyed kids with nothing to worry about in the universe. playing in the dirt and watching the world go by.

maybe their affection is as subtle as them as young adults. they don’t make declarations of promises/love to each other; they don’t make promises to get married, they don’t hold an innocent marriage ceremony for the both of them; they just take on the world together as little boys too, side-by-side, never leaving and always constant. as constant as watching trees steadily grow and wither away, then grow and wither away.

— give me things like: their families taking them to the beach to play and splash against the tide; running along dirt paths and sandy roads; their slippers flying off and eventually they just run on bare feet until the sun sets and their parents have to carry them - sleeping and tired - home; drinking ice tea and eating candy in haru’s backyard, watching stray cats sunbathe luxuriously despite their matted coats; running and falling until they are dirty and one of them is perhaps in tears - and one of their moms (or haru’s grandma) gently chides them while wiping the dirt off their faces (and they don’t let go of each other’s hands the entire time).

fashioning paper airplanes and little paper boats and trying to get them to fly/set sail; flying kites at the height of spring and trying to retrieve one when it gets caught in a tree/the top of a house; lying on their stomachs, on the ground, and spending the afternoon watching an old turtle cross the yard; their parents treating them by giving them some money to go buy candy from the local candy store hand-in-hand, and sitting on the sidewalk eating sweets.

they don’t get into mischief or trouble with the neighbours, perhaps everyone knows them and adores them - especially makoto - but they spend their days together almost all the time, exploring each part of their sleepy little town because they had all the time and all the world with each other.

give me makoharu enjoying their childhood simplicities, with all its simple pleasures, when their days had seemed endless and growing up seemed like a far-off myth, when they weren’t sure of some things but they weren’t scared of them either, when there was nothing in the world to them but each other and their families.

anonymous asked:

What's you fav se vision scene in 5x18 if you have one

You know, their 5x18 kiss is one of my favourites of theirs:

I think it’s beautifully done, elegant and simple and epic in that sort of subtle way and I loved their talk leading up to it and the first date sort of giggles they both have, it’s really cute and I smiled the whole way through.

But my favourite vision is the engagement scene:

Because it’s just so authentic. Stefan trying to cook a beautiful anniversary meal and failing miserably and the way Nina and Paul move around each other, it feels like a couple who have been together for a long time in a way that’s still different but with the same ease as the way RW Stefan and RW Elena navigate each other, it’s a simple detail but there’s a moment where Elena goes to get the bottle opener for the wine and she puts her hand on Stefan’s back as she walks toward the drawer that just sold me on their intimacy. And her finding the ring too, it wasn’t this overblown grand gesture, it was a beautiful, happy mistake: “Nononono, not that drawer!” The panic in Stefan’s voice and the way he lowers his head when she finds it and Nina looks so happy:

and the way they gaze at each other so in love, so happy:

It’s a beautiful scene.

At some point, as you grow older, this life will expect
you to settle down, to make do with a simple, comfortable,
easy sort of love. You will interview hopeful contenders
in their droves, choosing whoever’s easiest on the eyes or
purse: the most important decision you are given in your life
becomes little more than a clever business move.
Slow down. Do not allow yourself to lose the desire we all
have when we’re young to find a love you’d fight for,
the kind that puts a shiver down your spine when you kiss,
and an ache in your soul when it leaves. I’m telling you,
we must listen to our inner voice, and when you know whose
name it speaks then prepare yourself for war, because love
is not a choice.
—  Beau Taplin || Santiago.