sincerely stranger

In Case of Emergency

Fandom: Supergirl
Rating: T
Summary: In which smol Alex is basically Kari from The Incredibles. And special guest appearance by the Super Friends via framing device!
A/N: Idea came from this post

“What is this?”

That Spring Cleaning has become a group affair is entirely to blame on Kara’s insistence that the Super Friends haven’t been spending nearly enough time together. Winn and James agree, of course, but they’d honestly prefer something like…mini-golf, or maybe trying out the new Italian place down on Third.

But, no. Spring Cleaning it is. For some reason.

Keep reading

Dear old friend,
Correction: You were everything but a friend.
You were more, You are less.
We haven’t spoken in a while.
We left everything and moved on, and I don’t know why.
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if you were ever in it again.
I don’t particularly miss you, or want you back.
I just wonder.
I sometimes question what things might have been like if I knew why we threw it all away. But just as they say, sometimes things are meant to be let go.
So I understand.
I don’t blame you.
I never did.
But I want to know one thing : Do you wonder about how life would have been if you stayed?
—  Sincerely, O.S. 

sincerely-millie  asked:

⭐️ you're my favorite mutual because you're just the best I love you so much you're so supportive, beautiful, and also you're a talented writer ❤️

JULIE!!!! ilysm girly, omg!! 💖💖 Thank you so much queen! You are amazing, hilarious af, so lovely and kind, and it feels like we’ve been friends forever! I love you babs! ✨💕

Q: “Will you check out my poetry and give feedback?”

I know too well the terrifying, gut-knotting feeling of submitting work to strangers for critique, to ask them with all humility and sincerity, Is it worthy? Strangers! Not your teachers, not your friends or family who generally can’t help but use plastic knives and covered knuckles, but strangers! It is an act that takes courage and I am flattered each time someone asks me. But at least for now, I don’t want to take on this role. I just want you to keep writing poetry: some times it will be great poetry, some times it will be shitty poetry, but you’ll never get worse at it.

I am always happy see your poems in my inbox, but please don’t derive any significance or judgement if I don’t respond to your request

[archived to the About page]

Dear stranger,

You weren’t always a stranger. As a matter of fact, you were my best friend. It’s crazy how close you can be with another human being. To form an unbreakable bond with someone is unlike any earthly feeling. But to lose that bond, that you once thought was unbreakable, is also unlike any earthly feeling. Have you ever been in love? I have. I tend to find myself infatuated with things and/or people that hurt me. whether it be emotionlly, mentally, physically, etc… the relationship with a boy who, to this very day, is the reason I flinch when a hand nears my face. The cloudy chemicals escaping my body. With them, they bring a false sense of well-being and in return take your friends, family, job, money, appearance, mentality, your life. I could go on. It’s not my fault that you left me alone and I didn’t make you turn the other way. I enabled it, but you didn’t have a gun to your head, now, did you? I know why you left me, but i’m clueless as to how you could. You don’t want to watch me kill myself, or, so you say. Wouldn’t I still be killing myself? You turn your back, just so you don’t have to watch it, but I’d still be killing myself, regardless the direction in which your gaze falls. Wouldn’t death be the inevitable result? To me, a person who would give their last slice of bread to a stranger, finds that a bit selfish. However, maybe i’m the selfish one. Maybe i’m the one who needs to redirect their fucking gaze. Because, i’d rather have hate over love, unhappiness over happiness, war over peace, foe over friend, because, i’d rather have meth over you.

Sincerely, Just another stranger

anonymous asked:

Imagine Dean dying and actually staying dead (like, forever) and Sammy being distraught and being depressed and meeting a girl who reminded him of Jessica and settling down and eventually marrying her and having a little boy named Dean. Sammy living the apple pie life.

This makes me sad but then I’m really happy that Sam settled down and got his normal life… he deserves that much… BUT CONFLICTING EMOTIONS ANON. 

Because what if then in a few decades time, the little kid Dean sees something “odd”, he’s about 19 so he thinks that if he tells his Dad, he’ll just be told it wasn’t real. But deep down he knows, so he buries it, ignores it, his Mum and Dad happily grow older, they get to see their grandkids, have Sunday roasts, the full apple pie life.

But then it happens. Sam’s long separated himself from that world, but demons are immortal and they hadn’t forgotten him. They track him down one day, when he’s too old and too unaware to fight back. It’s a quick death, but our now early 30s Dean just knows it had something to do with what he saw all those years ago, there was something not right.

So he fights with himself, he doesn’t know, but that’s just what his uncle would have done… the self doubt and internalising it. Then he researches it, just like his Daddy loved to investigate things… and he hunts it. He takes that old impala car he was given by his Dad when he first padsed his test, and by some blind luck he kills the demon with a ‘decorative’ knife he’d been left in his father’s will. It made him feel better short term… Yet revenge never really did fix the problem, did it? So he looks to help more people, prevent the heartache that happened to him from happening to anyone else.

One day, he meets a man in a bar who nearly has a heart attack on the spot when finding out this hunter’s name is “Dean Winchester”, he says very little, just gives him a sad smile and a dry laugh. He tells Dean that it would be the least he could do to help the hunter, that if he ever needs help, please just think of him. Dean looks confused at the sincerity of the stranger but shrugs it off as the man picks up his trenchcoat and walks away.

:)

A Message to Parents part.2

If you haven’t read my first post, “A message to parents.” you can read it here! A message to parents is one of my most popular posts, and for a good reason. So many kids and teenagers with mental health problems are emotionally and psychologically abused by their parents, and nothing is ever done about it. It’s upsetting that so many people, including myself at one point, could relate to that post. 

I got some criticism from my last post, specifically about calling parents out on being abusive. The part of the post in question was the beginning: 

All of the examples mentioned in that quote ARE emotionally and psychologically abusive to a child, and it happens more often than we’d like to think. I recently went through 944 of my posts on this blog looking for messages kids have sent me asking for help with their parents, or venting because their parents were being abusive. Out of 944 I found 43 specific examples, not counting private messages, comments on my previous posts, or fan mails. 43+ is too many. These are children and teenagers living with families and parents who don’t take their mental health seriously. These are children and teenagers being made to feel that they aren’t important, and that their problems aren’t significant. These are kids being abused by their parents, and I’m sick of it being ignored. Out of the 43 examples I was able to find from just skimming through my posts, I’ve chosen 5 to comment on and to hopefully open the eyes of some parents. This is so everyone who comes across this post can understand that this is a real issue. 

That is psychological abuse. That is intentionally triggering someone with a serious neurological condition. That is not okay, and should never be tolerated. 

That is not only extremely dangerous, but is also verbally and emotionally abusive. Putting a cup of ice down when someone asks you politely to stop is not a difficult thing to do. 

If you scream at your kids because of something they can’t control and threaten to kick them out of the house for being mentally ill, you should not be a parent. Simple as that. Your job is to love them and care for them. That’s your responsibility as a parent, and you’re doing a piss-poor job of it. 

Once again, when you brush of your children’s feelings and problems, you’re basically telling them that their problems aren’t important, and that they aren’t important. This often leads to incredibly deep self-esteem problems.

Threatening to take something away for disciplinary reasons is one thing. Threatening to take something precious away for no other reason than having reactions the mentally ill child cannot control is an entirely different thing, and is not okay. Punishing children for being mentally ill is absolutely ridiculous. What if your child was diagnosed with cancer? Would you take away their pets or insult them? No, because that’s completely absurd, and would be considered cruel and unusual punishment. Why isn’t mental health the same way? 

I can’t count the number of asks, private messages, and fan mails I’ve received from suicidal teenagers begging for help and telling me that their parents refuse to take them seriously. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Parents who refuse to take their child’s mental health seriously make me sick. Your child needs your help, so step up and be a parent. 

Many parents haven’t been educated about mental health, and have no idea what kind of effect their words and actions have on their mentally ill child. If your child comes to you with a mental health problem, would it kill you to actually listen to them? Would it damage your parental pride too much to do some research? Would your world end if you had to take 2 hours out of the day to take your kid to that doctors appointment they had to beg you to make for them?

To the parents of mentally ill kids who don’t take their children seriously,
Stop it. 

Sincerely,
A complete stranger on the internet who knows more about how your children feel than you do because you refuse to fulfill your parental responsibilities and take them seriously. Nicely done by the way. Fantastic parenting. A+ 10/10

The Mask

Summary: A masked ball in honor of Lavellan saving Thedas. Not everyone is who they appear to be.

Lupa watched the people dancing from her throne, smiling congenially as someone walked by her and murmured her name. She had gotten better at smiling at strangers, gotten better at a great deal of things that she never thought she’d have to do. Though it was still uncomfortable to sit at a throne above others, still uncomfortable when people of power looked to her, eyes shining with reverence, she was better at hiding it. Instead of seeing a Dalish elf, teeth bared and tattoos stark against her skin, they saw a leader, a commander, and a divine hero. And so she got better at turning her lips up from a grimace to a smile, and she pretended that she still had tattoos that could make a grown Orlesian gasp in horror and indignation at the savagery. She resisted the urge to touch her cheek. She knew they weren’t there.

“Inquisitor, you are not dancing!” Josephine smiled at her, though only her lips were visible. A brilliant, scarlet mask covered the top half of her face and hair, vivid and bold against her tanned skin. Lupa paused and then smiled at her, too.

“I like watching.” She said, as though it were obvious. And it wasn’t entirely a lie. She nodded over to Bull and Cassandra, the first attempting to goad the latter into a dance. Lupa smiled, this time authentically. “He has been trying to get her to dance for the last ten minutes.”

“They are not wearing masks!” Josephine exclaimed, and her voice held a note of disapproval.

“Neither am I.”

“Yes, but…you are the Herald of Andraste! You don’t need a mask. People should see you as you are, a figure of power. Those two…” And then she was off, no doubt to try and force a mask onto Cassandra. Lupa wished her luck. The only two more adamant not to wear masks than she was were Bull and Cassandra. The first, because he claimed that none of them would fit over his horns and rest correctly. The second, because she informed them all heatedly that masks and balls were stupid. Lupa had slipped away from the meeting before she could be pinned to the board and interrogated.

Everyone else was dressed in regal splendor, gowns of sapphire and suits of ruby. They were dripping in the boldest, loudest of clothes, gifts from Empress Celene, with love. It had been hinted that such a masked ball was something that the Inquisition needed, a night of fun and mystery instead of the tension that had made for many a sleepless night. Lupa watched them, and she smiled once more, another sincere smile. They needed something fun. She watched Cole dancing with a woman from the stables, the woman none-the-wiser. And yet…

…she sighed quietly to herself. This was not where she wanted to be.

She stood up and nodded to a group of nobles that bowed deeply to her, biting back the urge to laugh. Nobles, bowing! As though she were the Empress of Orlais herself! This sort of pomp and circumstance was too much, far, far too much. If they only knew how she had once lived, how she had scraped by with her clan, earning every meal and every bit of gold with blood and hard work. And now, humans that would have once stepped on her, bowed to her. How things had changed. 

Gods, how things had changed.

“Your Worship, a small cake?” A baker held out a platter to her, small cakes on plates stopping her in her tracks. She resisted the urge to lick her lips. She loved little cakes.

“Yes, thank you.” She wolfed one down, and then another. Before anyone could see, she snagged another two from the tray and moved on, nodding to the baker and sneakily stuffing another into her mouth. Creators, she loved the little cakes from Orlais. That was something that she could handle as Inquisitor. 

“I mean it! She doesn’t have those…those…well…marks anymore…” She paused when she felt someone’s eyes on her, far more probing than normal.

“The marks? I saw her, it looks as though she never had them.”

“Oh, she did! It gave me such a fright when I first saw them, but now they are gone! She seems…kinder without them.” Lupa stuffed the last little cake into her mouth and swallowed, glancing about before catching the eye of a noblewoman, forcing a smile when the woman saw her watching. Damn.

“Your Worship! I was just telling my dear friend, Jameson du Bluon, about your markings! Didn’t you have them before?” Her mask was lace, a dark color that kept her features from being seen, though her scarlet lips stood out starkly against the other dreary colors. The man beside her, a puffed-up sort of gentleman, wore a mask that resembled a lion.

“Are you referring to my vallaslin?” She said slowly, an uncomfortable sort of feeling prickling in her gut. She hated when people spoke about them being gone. When Sera had laughed herself into hiccups, Lupa had to force herself to walk away before she physically harmed the childish elf. When Josephine had gasped and stammered before tactfully inquiring about them, it’d taken all of her self-control not to scream. Cassandra, at least, hadn’t asked any probing questions, nor had she stared the way others had. It was a sore spot, a subject not open for discussion.

“Yes, yes! I do remember them, vivid onyx and they positively took over your face! Is that why you do not wear a mask? Because they’re gone?” The man, Jameson, she’d said, tilted his head, his expression hidden as his friend spoke. Lupa hated the Orlesian masks. The lion roaring did nothing to show her his true expression.

“I do not wear a mask because I do not need to pretend to be someone else in order to have fun.” She replied, and she checked her tone. The Inquisitor couldn’t be so blunt to these people. She was supposed to be clever, silver-tongued. The woman didn’t seem perturbed, thankfully. She laughed delightedly and clapped her hands together.

“Oh, oh! But how did you get them removed? I had thought they were-”

“I am sorry to cut in,” someone said smoothly from behind them, “but I believe this is our dance.”

She turned around, and she felt a tingle in her veins as she stared at the stranger before her. Rather, she thought he was a stranger. His face was covered in an intricate mask of a snarling wolf, his clothing long sleeved and hiding any rank or distinguishing feature. When she glanced at his hands, they were gloved. Clearly, someone had taken the idea of the masquerade entirely too literally. His voice sounded familiar, but in the same way that an echo was familiar -a remnant of a memory, something that slipped across the mind and then was gone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I did not know you were waiting to dance, Inquisitor!” The woman laughed and fanned herself, curtseying in apology. Lupa, not daring to lose her escape route, nodded to the woman and lightly took the man’s gloved hand.

“It’s alright. Your conversation was so engaging, I’d forgotten entirely.” She replied, and before the woman could bother to question whether she was sincere or not, the stranger led her away to the dance floor. Everyone parted, whispering, but she ignored them. She was used to eyes and lips that spit words, now. Humans couldn’t help it. As the music started, a sweet violin, the stranger bowed to her and took her hand once more, sweeping her up into a graceful dance. 

“I am sorry. You had not promised me a dance, but you looked like you needed rescued.” His grip was light but possessive. As they turned, his fingers tightened on her waist.

“I don’t need rescued. I can take care of myself.”

“Of that I have no doubt. But sometimes, I imagine that it is nice for someone else to take care of things, even if for a moment.” He spun her away from him and then turned her back, an ease and grace in his steps that she couldn’t help but admire. It was easy to follow his lead.

“You imagine?”

“Yes. As Inquisitor, I am sure you are used to the world on your shoulders. But there is no need for nosy people asking questions that you’d rather not answer." 

"And so you rush to the defense of my vallaslin. A knight in mask and dancing shoes.” He didn’t reply at once, and she tried to pin his voice and stature to a face. But he felt foreign, not at all like anyone she’d been in close contact with. An Orlesian noble? No, no…his accent wasn’t anything like theirs. Perhaps a Free Marcher. Someone that joined the Inquisition and wanted to get close to their leader. 

“I know that the vallaslin are important to your people.” He said at last, haltingly. “And whatever the circumstances were that led to yours being removed…it should not be casual conversation among strangers.” He turned her again, and when he spun her back, he pressed closer, a daring move. Instead of feeling repulsed or uncomfortable though, she looked up at him and pretended that she was holding his gaze. It was hard to tell, though. The snarling mask hid everything from her, much to her frustration. She did not like not knowing.

“How refreshing.”

“Besides, Your Worship; you did not appear to be having fun." 

"And now I am having fun?” He laughed, low and sweet.

“That is not for me to decide. Only for me to hope.”

“You stake a great deal of hope on one dance." 

"I do. Perhaps I am overzealous. But I have seen you in action, Inquisitor. You inspire everyone around you to hope for more than they normally would.”  Someone closer than a mere stranger, then. As they spun, their feet moving together as naturally as breathing, she tried to place his voice, his stature. But though there was something so entirely familiar about him, there was enough of an alien pattern of his body language and speech that she couldn’t say how she knew him. 

“You flatter me.”

“It is not flattery if it is sincere. Flattery implies that I over embellish your success. I have done no such thing.” He spoke with such finality, like there was no room for discussion on the matter. There was something in the cadence of his voice, and it soothed her. She couldn’t stop the small smile from overcoming her mouth.

“It is nice to hear a compliment that isn’t followed up by a request for a favor.”

“I have a notion that you have become used to such things. Your Worship grows tired of so many admirers?" 

"I shouldn’t speak, lest I cause offense.”

“You could not offend me, even if you tried.” She bit her lip, considered him as they moved about. It was silly, but she almost felt like they were floating, hardly stepping on the floor anymore. She couldn’t hear anything but him and the music.

“…I have never grown accustomed to so many people.”

“So many humans.” He corrected, and she laughed. My, but how he could read her! He had to know her. She had to have seen him before. But where? When?

“It is easier, now. But struggle brings people together. I think there has been improvement on both sides.”

“But it is still uncomfortable?” She thought about it, wondered if it was safe to divulge so much to a stranger. But what was the harm? What would he say that no one else had heard at some point or another?

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the crowds. I am used to the forest, the trees outnumbering the life around it. Here, the people outnumber the blades of grass." 

"I’m sure you feel that way because you are a wolf.” His words froze her, and she almost stumbled over the next step. He was quick, though, and turned her before she could fall on her face. He tilted his head and she wondered what expression he held.

“I beg your pardon?” She asked when she trusted her voice. Her heart was hammering, and her palms felt clammy. Memories, memories, memories. She could hear his voice, smell the heady scent of mint and earth. She was sure that if she blinked, he would be standing beside her, a secretive smile on his lips and solemn eyes that saw her when no one else did.

“That is…I’m sorry, was that not common knowledge? I’ve heard Varric call you wolf before. It’s one of your nicknames in the barracks and the infantry. The wolf that saved the world.” She nodded slowly, but it was mechanic, slow and stiff. Varric did indeed call her that, though once upon a time, another did as well. Affectionately. Tenderly.

“Yes, I…didn’t realize that it’d caught on.” He spun her, and before she knew what was happening, he was dipping her, arms securely holding her up as he leaned down, a sharp scent on his collar. She breathed it in and stared up at him, transfixed despite herself.

“It suits you.” He whispered to her.

And then she was on her feet, everyone applauding and cheering. They were watching, she’d realized, the entire crowd circling them as they’d danced, eager to see the Inquisitor move across the floor with a stranger. She could spot Cullen, awkwardly at the back with his own lion’s mask, and he was clapping, a half-smile on his lips. At least his mask only covered half of his face. She looked over at the man beside her, appraising the snarling lips of the wolf hiding him from her. His arm was around her waist, and his head was turned towards her, ignoring the cheering and applause from everyone around them.

“Would you like some privacy?” He asked. Without entirely meaning to, Lupa nodded. He moved her through the crowd with ease, dodging nosy nobles and evading Sera who was watching from the back with mischief in her eyes. Her fox’s mask couldn’t hide her blunt bob and plaidweave dress. He led her to the balcony, away from prying eyes, though the open doors still let them hear the orchestra’s new song. She leaned against the banister and stared at him openly. He stood, his back to the door, and she could feel him staring back.

“You managed to attract a crowd without showing your face.” She said.

“They did not encircle us to watch me, I should think. They wanted to see you.”

“I am more approachable without my vallaslin.” She replied dryly. She saw him shift, then clasp his hands behind his back, as if bracing himself.

“…Do you miss having them?” He asked, though he sounded like it wasn’t quite the question that he wanted to say. Perhaps it was the mask that muffled his voice, distorted his tone. She looked down at her hands, battle-scarred and nicked and bruised, and she shrugged.

“Sometimes. They were part of who I was, a rite of passage. But what they represented wasn’t what I as an elf want to represent." 

"They were your mask.” She looked at him sharply, but she couldn’t tell his damned expression. She wanted to rip off the mask, see the person beneath. Her fingers itched, and she resisted the impulse.

“Not a mask.” She snapped. “But…a security. Now my skin feels as though I am always naked. I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

Before she could breathe, he was directly in front of her, a head taller and much broader. Though she couldn’t see them, she could feel his eyes combing over every inch of her, and the knowledge made her mouth go to cotton. She swallowed thickly and stared up at the wolf’s eyes. 

“You should feel nothing but confidence. Ma vhenan…you are so beautiful.” He said, and she froze. Because though in every other way, he was merely distantly familiar, she knew those words, knew the voice that spoke them. Her heart stuttered, stammered.

“Solas?” She whispered, and her voice cracked. And then she was reaching for his mask because she had to see him, had to see him, and her lungs were burning, aching, and she drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and-

He was gone.

She looked around, confused, and saw him hurrying back into the crowd, slipping through the dancers as though they weren’t there at all. Before she knew what she was doing, she was running after him, but instead of evading their swaying, spinning bodies, she was trapped by them. The masks of laughing animals, beasts, and fairies swirled and blended, and as she tried to fight her way through the blockade, she frantically searched for his tell-tale mask because she couldn’t let him get away so easily this time. For the first time in a long time, she’d finally caught his scent. 

And she couldn’t let it go.

“Solas!” She shouted, but no one flinched or ducked away to hide from her. The people kept dancing, the music kept playing, and she stood in the swirling mass of skirts and elegance, unable to move, unable to do much of anything at all. She’d finally found him, finally heard his voice and felt his touch. 

And he’d still gotten away.

“Inquisitor?” Leliana spoke from behind her, and she turned to her friend, unable to stop herself from scowling, a bitter anger easing through her as she stamped down the pain that threatened to blister and burn. Her eyes felt hot, and she blinked rapidly.

“What?" 

"Are you alright? You look flushed.” Leliana tilted her head, her eyes glittering behind a half-mask of a butterfly. The pretty sight of it didn’t appease her, though. Instead, it made her angrier.

“These masks are ridiculous.” She snapped. “Utterly stupid. After tonight, I don’t want to see another one.” Leliana’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t say anything. She merely bowed politely and stepped back, allowing Lupa to pass. Lupa walked by her, and bypassed the little cakes, the friends, the admirers, and she made a beeline for her private quarters because she was tired of masks, and she was tired of the people that wore them.

tallish-hobbit  asked:

omg did you see the full version of the Barney's interview? Where he said he has an Oaklandish ONESIE?!?! Because I died I can't wait for the pictures of that to surface

Sincerely one of the stranger things I’ve seen. I didn’t even realize the newer link was different…because all they added was a single sentence to one question. And his opinion on a few pieces of clothing.


Hard to believe it will be cooling down soon, but what items are you most looking forward to wearing this fall?
I’ll be honest with you, I don’t really know much about fashion and trends, but I have this really fly zipper denim hoodie thing made by Sohung Designs. I also have this onesie by Oaklandish I can’t wait to wear, and Comme des Garcons sent me a couple of really cool pieces after I wore so much of their stuff during Tony season. I’m excited to show those off.

I hope you realize it was never
easy for me to see you walk away.
I heard myself whisper the word stay
like how strangers sincerely say bless you
after you sneeze in public because they realize
your heart stops for a mili-second.
When you turn your back from me
to face her, it felt like dying a little bit.
I’ve tried killing myself
several times because the walls talk about you
when I’m trying to sleep
and the furnitures say it even louder.
My brother hid the pills in places
which he knows remind me of you
like the bathroom doormat which says
don’t step on me or the cupboard
where a mug with your tongue prints are kept.
He knows it would make it harder for me
to touch and take the pills yet your absence
gives birth to my loneliness and with it
comes desperation. But after four
consecutive days of starvation, I realize
I stopped being brave and this
would break my father’s heart.
He once told me that the acid
in my stomach is strong enough
to dissolve razorblades and my body
gives off enough heat within half an hour
which could bring half a gallon of water to a boil.
You know what this means?
I am strong despite this idea of death
clawing in my head. I am strong like the trees,
like the ocean and its waves. I am strong
and it’s okay if you don’t call me.
Half of the world have never made
or received a phone call anyway
but somehow they are still breathing.
I am strong and it’s okay
if you don’t find me pretty anymore.
It’s okay if you’re kissing a different
pair of lips. I just hope you make it
perfect for her. It’s okay.
I finally unlearned self-pity
and longing and they taught me
the things worth dying for.
I am not going to die this time.
—  irishjulienne, i won’t die for you anymore

I hope you all have many moments where you feel so happy you can cry. The moments when you hear your favorite songs and everything feels right in the world for those precious seconds. The moments when you receive a sincere compliment from a stranger or a smile from an individual who makes your insides melt. The moments when you smell the comfort of your favorite food or favorite season. The moments when you look back on something that once made you so weak, but now makes you so strong.

aeide-thea  asked:

uh okay so like, i realize we basically haven't really talked ever, but you said in tags to hit you up for advice on practicing kinder self-talk & honestly i could SUPER USE SOME if you feel like dispensing it to even relative strangers! yrs sincerely & gratefully &c <3

OKAY so this is something I’ve been working very hard on for myself and it has honestly worked WONDERS. I very much used to be the kind of person who would try to….console myself with negative thoughts? I think there’s a point where we get addicted to negativity and bad thoughts because we feel like they understand us, but there is definitely something parasitic about it, like we feed off the negativity and it becomes a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. 

the most important thing for me was the process of removing a lot of negative vocabulary that I found myself using in my every day life? (important note: I’m not policing your tone, like I’m not saying you can’t think negative thoughts and i’m not saying you should feel guilty for having those thoughts!!!!! But I think there are active choices you can make which are very much necessary in the process of saying “I want to get better”)

the first thing - “I want to get better”, or “I don’t want to be sad anymore”. this is huge, and if you’ve thought this - I am so proud of you. And if you’ve not thought this, you will, you’re just not there yet, and that’s okay! 

But let’s say you’ve gotten to this point -

  • tell yourself it’s okay - it’s okay you didn’t do everything you wanted to do today, it’s okay that you said something to someone you didn’t mean, it’s okay you did that thing you said you wouldn’t do anymore - forgive yourself, acknowledge that you are trying.  
  • stop saying “i’m shitty”, “im trash”, “i’m stupid”. stop it. don’t do it. I know!!!!!!! I know this is hard!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and I know that a lot of humor, especially on tumblr, uses this language. But, for me, at the very least it’s very important to consciously separate yourself from the feeling - an example of this is “I feel shitty” instead of “i am shitty”, etc etc.  it makes a HUGE difference. it doesn’t seem like it would, but it really really makes a difference. 
  • comfort yourself!!! I don’t mean coddle yourself, self-care is NOT just “sit in bed all day and drink your favorite tea” or whatever. It can be that, that’s okay, it’s okay if you don’t get out of bed. But it’s also making yourself get out of bed. But anyway, back to comfort - soothe yourself. Tell yourself, even if you have to say it out loud, “it’s okay, everything is going to be okay”. compliment yourself.
  • treat yourself the same way you treat the people you love. it’s hard, because you might think “i don’t love myself” (please love love yourselves, though, learn to love yourselves. you are so worthy of love, I love you) but think about it this way - there are people who love you. They don’t want to listen to anyone mistreat you, and that includes you mistreating yourself. It can be bad to use someone else as a crutch, it’s not a longterm solution, but when I’m really low, sometimes the only thing that helps me is reminding myself that I need to survive for the people who love me, if nothing else. it helps. 

some of this - all of this…..is essentially “fake it till you make it”. It is. It isn’t always because at some point, you stop faking and you make it…as the phrase says. it’s the equivalent of telling a friend that the dress she’s trying on looks fantastic on her, even though you both know it’s not her color. 

Six (6) New Notices

junpeiiorifan34
ft-dc-fan
daughterofthesleuth
britishhsdetectivehakuba
khrikuroleplay
moonlightmajutsushi

“Well this is quite the crowd- er, welcome, welcome, my familiar faces and sincere strangers, to the magic show of the century! Handcuffs to your left, other weaponry to your right, and please try not to piss off the doves.”

Don’t flatter yourself.
You’re not the sole reason for my aching heart.
You’re not the sole purpose for my endless tears.
My poetry that smells of hurt is not all because of you.
I have a part to play in my reckless love for you.

I never refused you when I could have guessed you’d leave me without a doubt.
I didn’t escape when I sensed that smile was going to be the reason I cry when you’re gone.
Spare me the pity. I was like this before you stepped in.
You only made it worse, now.

Reminding me of the way it feels to lose someone that you would give your life for,
A reminiscent feeling of doubt.
In myself, in others that are much like you.

A reminder to myself to lock the door. 
To lock myself, in and not let wondering strangers linger in the foyer.
Strangers that seem love-worthy, soul-searching strangers,
Strangers filled with dishonest sincerity.
Strangers that I believe love me.
The stranger you once were,
Had I not let you in…

Don’t flatter yourself.

—  exodus.king
Crazy Love- Featuring Sehun

He has been admiring you ever since he saw you~

“Really Sehun?How many times have we told you that when you meet your friends, you need to be cautious!” Yelled Sehun’s manager. While he was being scolded, he couldn’t help but not care. The whole time he was being a kpop star, he would make sure that he kept in contact with his old friends, even the girls. It wasn’t his fault that all his fans thought that when he hugged a girl, they were dating. It was four times already that Sehun was caught. He huffed at the thought of making another public appearance to claim that he wasn’t dating another one of his friends. 

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