sound of silence in my mind

Hey not to sound sappy or awkward but I wanna say a quick thank you for everyone suddenly getting really chatty in my tags and comments, I really really appreciate it. ;u;<3 It came in a time when I really needed it! Usually I don’t really really mind silence, people interact with art the way it best suits them and is most comfortable, (and I keep to my own corner a lot too), but sometimes silence gets under your skin and it’s hard to create and keep motivated even when what you’re doing is what you do for your own fun. <3<3<3

SO: thank you. so much.

🔔 BELLS IN WITCHCRAFT 🔔

Originally posted by marklsmovingcastle

Bells might just be the earliest form of superstitious practise that I remember. My baba attached three sakura-patterned suzu bells on my schoolbag as a kid, purportedly for good luck and protection from evil spirits – and Japan is far from the only place to have associated bells and bellringing with mystic practise. They’ve been used worldwide to ward off evil and carry messages – and in a more metaphysical sense, sound is the movement of energy through substance. Sounds have the potential to work powerful magic.

Here are some of the ways I’ve found utilising bells to be helpful to my craft. While I’m more likely to use traditional suzu type bells, your own background, path and culture will likely have its own types of bells – and as ever, bells can be ornate antiques or they can be a bottle cap in a tin can, as long as they’re used with intent.

GETTING STARTED

🔔 As with so much of the craft, if you’re new to the witching bell, it’s a matter of exploration and experimentation. Get a “feel” for what works for you and the specific bell you’re using.

🔔 It’s good practise to ensure that the bell itself is cleansed, warded and protected – you don’t want anything nasty tapping into that power. All witching tools can do as much harm as good, intentional or accidental.

🔔 A good way to begin incorporating bells into your craft is infuse them into any typical ritual that you’re comfortable with, or even just a prayer or moment of contemplation at your altar if you have one.

🔔 Give the bell a soft ring while focusing on the energy it’ll ripple and move, try to track the movements it creates and what it touches. The tone it’s sending out.  The most primal and versatile use of the bell – and what many of the below come down to – is simply another manner of physically channelling energy, giving it shape and direction.

PROTECTION

🔔 “Passive” bells such as windchimes or small bells attached to belongings you don’t want disturbed are a starting point. They will scare off some forms of spirit all by themselves, especially if appropriately blessed, charmed or enchanted. Or cursed.

🔔 Gently tolling can draw energy into a ward or circle you are forming and enforce its protective properties, or for a simple cleanse, letting the sound travel to every corner of the area you are protecting. It’s a little more “cutting” than a smoke or incense cleansing, which I view as more “gentle” forms of cleansing. Both have their uses.

🔔 Harder tolling is, in my opinion, one of the most powerful ways in which to enforce a banishing – however, it’s best to you know what you’re doing with the bell before you go bashing it about.

DISCERNMENT

🔔 Bells can have quite the effect on your perception and awareness. Ringing and then stopping, listening to the silence left in its wake, can bring you new perceptions or make things you’d previously missed obvious. Let it attune your mind and senses to something new, whether that’s in your thoughts or something with a little more presence. Visualise travelling with the sound, taking heed of the energies it touches and disturbs. Take note of the echoes – you’ll learn what they mean with experience.

🔔 A set of windchimes can let you know if something is passing through or if there’s some unusual energy afoot – and, yes, it may also just be letting you know that it’s a particularly breezy day, but that’s witchcraft for you.

CONJURING

🔔 This can be as simple as calling good energies to witching tools, spell jars, tarot decks, crystals, altars and shrines, your favourite teddy bar, anything at all.

🔔 With spirit work, it can truly help to magnify your “calling”. This can range from gently bringing your latest offering to the attention of your friendly neighbourhood house spirit – all the way to trying to catch the attention of something more. Be mindful, however. As I said, I consider bells pretty powerful tools and a call that’s too loud is not good spirit work practise for the spirit worker’s own sake. It can really help coax something out of hiding if you’re gentle with it, though.

COMMUNING

🔔 Some use bells to mark the beginning and end of a ritual, and I’ve read that in Wiccan practise an altar bell can be used to invoke the Goddess, although as a non-Wiccan, I’ll welcome corrections on that if I’m wrong.

🔔 In my experience, very simple forms of communication via bell work a lot better than anything too complex – “come here” and “stay away” have already been covered, and other than that they can serve as greetings or signals of a start or end of some practise or ritual, the opening or closing of a door, etc.

🔔 They can also serve as a warning or a litmus test regarding spirits, a signalling of your presence and awareness, lack of fear, or willingness to defend – but be prepared to deal with whatever responses these garner.

BINDING

🔔 Bindings are where you most often see that famous (clockwise) circular motion of the bell, embodying the meaning of the spell. This can be a simple binding to seal a spell or charm or enchantment, or a spirit-binding.

🔔 Personally, spirit-binding is something I do as little as possible simply due to my beliefs holding the autonomy of spirits in very high regard. However, sometimes situations arise that call for it, and I’m aware that not all bindings are unwilling. Far from it – and some spirits are dangerous when unbound.

🔔 As an animist (believing that all things, including inanimate objects, contain a spirit of their own), I consider gently nudging a spirit back into its physical form a sort of semi-binding, and that can be useful.

I’ll leave you all with a note that I am an urban apartment-dwelling witch through and through, so I understand that we can’t all be jangling away at all hours. I myself have a glass windchime in my front window that makes a distinct but muted sound when disturbed by passers-through, and highly recommend wooden ones also. I also only use my small and relatively quiet suzu bell for my crafting – one given to me by my baba herself.

Feel free to add any of your own findings, and happy tolling.

Zach asking you to sleep over at his house - Part 2

A/N: Sorry on such a long wait for this imagine. I hope that it was worth it though. Enjoy my lovelies:)


The final bell rings, signalling the end of class and also the end of the school day. You start packing up your things with shaky hands, your nerves getting the best of you. It’s Friday today. Which means it’s the beginning of the weekend. This also means that you will be going to Zach’s house, staying there for the next couple of days.

You have been able to stay calm and collected the next few days after he had asked you to sleep over at his house for the weekend, but right now you can’t help but start to feel really antsy. 

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…

PROCRASTINATION!

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.
Why
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:

PROCRASTINATION IS NO MORE AND NO LESS THAN A GLORIFIED VICTIM COMPLEX.

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:

YOU 
DON’T 
HAVE
TO 
DO 
SHIT. 


…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:

QUESTION 1)
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:

1) RECLAIM YOUR RESPONSIBILITY AND YOUR PASSION

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:

2) MAKE ACTIVE CHOICES.

(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:

THE STUDY ROOM

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”.

STEP 1 - DETACH FROM LIMBO

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.

STEP 2 - BECOME AWARE OF REALITY

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)

STEP 3 - ENTER YOUR STUDY PLACE

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

STEP 3A - THE DOOR

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?

STEP 3B - THE WATER

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…)

STEP 3C - THE WORLD

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,

-studyinstyle

In group settings, men are 75% more likely to speak up than women, and when a woman does speak up, it’s statistically probable her male counterparts will either interrupt her, or speak over her. It’s not because they’re rude, it’s science, the female voice is scientifically proven to be more difficult for a male brain to register. What does this mean? It means, in this world, where men are bigger, stronger, faster, if you’re not ready to fight, the silence will kill you.
—  Meredith Grey, The Sounds of Silence (12x09)
Preference: Proposals

Rowan:

It’s during a sparring match, and you, for once, successfully pin him to the ground. You smirk as he stares up in awe. ‘Marry me’ he suddenly blurts out, and you can’t help but laugh. ‘Did I suddenly pass your test? I get to marry you because I was able to beat you?’ Quickly, Rowan switches your positions so now he is on top. ‘No, of course not, but it does help.’ He winks as you scowl up at him. ‘But really, I want you to marry me.’ ‘Okay, but only if you beat me in the first thirty seconds of the next round.’ He grins at the challenge and stands, offering a hand to help you up. Of course, incredibly easily, Rowan once again pins your to the ground and smirks. ‘Well, guess you’re gonna have to marry me now.’ You grin, ‘A deal’s a deal, I suppose.’ 

Rhysand:

Always the hopeless romantic, Rhysand proposes to you with rose petals. He makes a trail of them from the front door to your bedroom, where ‘Marry me’ is written out on the floor in front of your bed in even more petals. You gasp, tingles spreading down your spine as he comes up behind you, his arms circling your waist and pressing the ring into your palm. “Will you, darling?” He murmurs into your ear, sending even more shivers through your very bones. You turn around in his arms, pretending to think about it as you slip the ring onto your finger. After playful deliberation, you sigh, ‘I suppose,’ you finally answer, his arms tightening around you. His head tilts forwards and you smile against his lips. ‘You wicked thing.’ He accuses, then scoops you up and carries you to the bed, which is also covered in rose petals. 

Dorian: 

Walking along a beach, a perfect date with Dorian is coming to a close. Suddenly, he gets down on one knee and you gasp, covering your mouth with one hand as he takes the other in his own, looking up at you with his big, sapphire eyes full of hope. Out of his pocket, Dorian pulls a small red and gold box, presenting it to you and showing a beautiful piece of jewelry inside. ‘I don’t want to rule without you. Please, marry me. Bare my children. Be my queen.’ When you scream yes, he slips the ring on your finger and stands, picking you up around the waist and twirling you around. 

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destiny

Originally posted by parkers-myth

requested by: @dimplesandcutesmiles

summary: Tom believes in destiny, you do not. But when the two of you keep running into one another too many times to be coincidental, he pursues it–despite your firm anti-fate beliefs. 

pairings: tom holland x reader 

word count: 1.6k

warnings: just an assload of fluff and one swear word

a/n: this is for one of my dearest friends, i hope you love it darling! again, i’m so sorry it took longer than expected, here you go babe!! 


“I’ve got a bagel here for ‘[Y/N]’,” the barista called out, pushing your breakfast across the serving bar where your hungry fingers nearly snatched the bag away.

“Thank you so much!” you said cheerily as you left the coffee shop you went to every morning before class, pulled your scarf tighter around you in the chilly, morning air. As you started walking in the direction of campus, you opened the bag to pull your bagel out.

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Wildest Moments | 6

You are determined to get over Min Yoongi.

pairing: yoongi x reader
genre: smut, fluff, angst
wordcount: 8.6k

part one | two | three | four | five




You stumbled into your apartment building, hoping that Jimin wouldn’t be home. You were exhausted, and all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and cry your eyes out. You were sure Jimin would be out still with Jungkook, allowing you privacy to cry. More tears shed over Min Yoongi. You shook your head bitterly to yourself, your throat was raw from holding back the tears as Yoongi’s face flashed in your mind. How many times had you sworn would be the last?

Your apartment was dark as you let yourself in. The silence was oddly comforting, the only sound was the shuddering sigh that escaped from your lips.

“Y/N?” The light switched on, you jumped under the sudden harshness of the light. Jimin stood there, dressed in just his pyjamas, a confused look on his face. Oh my God, he’s home. You struggled to maintain a composed expression, glancing away, hoping Jimin wouldn’t notice how upset you were.

“What are you… hey. Are you alright?” Jimin’s eyes widened when he took in your tear stained cheeks, your red and sore eyes. Of course he noticed. Jimin always noticed. 

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If I ever have to sing in a campaign where I play a bard, the DM requires that I sing. Sometimes I make up something on the spot, other times I use a song that’s just on my mind.

Me: I start a fascinating performance, the song sounds like John Cage’s 4'33".
DM: Okay, sing.
Me: (silence)
DM: Dude, go or skip your turn.
Druid, who is a music nerd as much as I am: He is, 4'33" is four minutes 33 seconds of silence.
DM: So you’re just standing there with a lute in hand having a staring contest with an Orc.
Me: Yea.
Druid: Orcs are pretty dumb.
DM: I’m letting this one slide.

Dreams

Summary: When Meg possesses Sam, she lets a couple of his secrets out.

Warnings: Wincest, dirty talk (I guess?)

Word Count: 1800

A/N: I love me some desperate first time Wincest. Enjoy! XOXO

Sam’s still in the bathroom.

It’s become Sam’s habit to stay in the bathroom until he thinks Dean’s fallen asleep. Or to stay out, needing to grab some food or something. Or to just not say anything at all, just disappear from the room and come sneaking in once the lights are off.

Anything to keep from talking about it.

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The sun bathes me in a nostalgic glow
with memories so vivid they stain
my mind in gold.

This summer is emptier than the last.
It’s the sound of laughter from long-time friends
turning into a violent silence between strangers

It’s the bitter taste of overdue goodbyes–
each one freeing me, but I’m still left
feeling hollow inside.

Should I feel better now?

My past leaves me like a tired lover
and all I can do is watch it disappear
watch– as it leaves me here.

The moon lights up my skin telling me
that I still matter, but I lose myself in
every season, and I’ve forgotten who I am.

All I remember is them;
I remember everyone except for me.

—  ahurricaneinabottle, Summer Mourning
Just Friends | Jughead Jones x Reader

A\N: English is not my first language so I might make some mistakes, feel free to tell me if something’s wrong or what you think about this writing in general.

Originally posted by stydiaislove

It was a chilly autumn evening. (Y\n) was sitting on the couch in her room with a window slightly opened to let the fresh air come in. Everything was calm. Except her mind wasn’t. The silence was filling the room until the sound of a buzzing phone broke it. The girl came up to the table, took her phone and unblocked it. There was a message from one of her bestfriends, Kevin.


    From Kev: “Hey, you okay?”


   She definetely wasn’t okay. And he definetely knew it. All of her friends noticed that something was wrong with her because of how she acted like when they all were hanging out at the Pop’s diner. She wasn’t acting completely different. She smiled a lot, as she always did, but her smile was fading away too quickly this time. If her and Jughead or Betty made eye contact she would immideately break it and look down at the table. There were these little but noticable things that made everyone realise that she wasn’t in the best mood. Though not all of the friends were able to figure out the reason why. 

   So, she spent the past few hours in her room thinking about how everything went so horribly wrong, blaming herself for this and crying from time to time.
   The girl sat back on the couch and typed. 


   To Kev: “I don’t think so”


   She decided to be honest. There was no point of hiding her feelings. If she would say that she’s fine, Kevin wouldn’t believe it. He knew her too well.
   The friends recently found out that Betty and Jughead were together. Betty Cooper. Her bestfriend. (Y\n) was truly glad that Betty found someone who made her happy, because she definetly deserved it. But now everything felt so wrong and hurt so bad, and she didn’t know what to do about it. 


   From Kev: “Can I come over?”


   Kevin was the only one who knew about her feelings. (Y\n) didn’t wanted to tell anybody at all, it was just an accident. But she knew she could trust Kevin with that. Everyone else, Betty included, just thought that there was some kind of connection between the two. But recently (Y\n) and Jughead started seeing each other less often. It didn’t mean that the connection dissapeared, it just didn’t have the chance to show up again. 


   To Kev: “Sure, it’d be nice to see you”


   Betty and Jughead, on the other hand, started hanging out with each other a lot more often while working on the murder board, trying to get more information about Betty’s sister, Polly, and the mistery of Jason Blossom’s death. And it lead them to being something more than just friends.
From Kev: “I’ll buy us some milkshakes at Pop’s. See you in an hour x”
   Lina read the message and it made her smile a bit. 


   To Kev: “Thanx. Love u”


   From Kev: “Love you, too" 


   She blocked the phone and put it on the couch next to her. Thoughts started to crowd round in her head again and she felt a lump in her throat. The girl couldn’t help it and let herself cry. After a couple of minutes she calmed down. Then she suddenly heard her phone buzzing again. She picked it up and read the message. 


    From Juggie: "Come outside, please, I need to talk to you”


    (Y\n)’s heart raised. She didn’t expect Jughead to come to her or to even text her. At least not anymore, not when they fell apart. She thought that now he had more important things to do, different people to care about and to talk to. Anyways, she came downstairs, put her slip-ons on and walked ouside.
   And there he was, standing beside an empty road in his black jeans, boots, green sweater, light denim jacket and overworn grey beanie giving her a little side smile as she walked out of the house.
“Hi,” she greeted him for the second time this day, smiling.
“Hi,” he greeted back.
   There were a few seconds of silence. (Y\n) stood beside the door, arms crossed over her chest. She was looking down at the stairs. He was looking directly at her.
“So… You wanted to talk?” She finally asked, not letting the silence become awkward.
“Yeah, yeah… I… Are you feeling alright?” Jughead said and came a little bit closer.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied. “Why would you ask?”
“Uhm, It’s just… You were looking kind of upset when we were at Pop’s.”
“It’s nothing, don’t bother,” she lied again.
“Are you sure?” He gave her a look.
    (Y\n) just nodded and looked down at the stairs again. Jughead came closer and sat on the doorstep, turned around inviting her to do the same. So she did. The girl sat on the same doorstep but much further from him than she usually did. She just felt like she didn’t have the right to be as close to him anymore. And the thought of that suppressed her. She was looking everywhere - at the trees, at her shoes, at her hands, at the sky… Everywhere, but not at him.
“(Y\n),” he spoke, looking at her. She finally faced him.
“Yeah?”
   He wanted to say something, but didn’t do it straight away, trying to figure out the most right way of saying it.
“Is it because of me and Betty?” Jughead asked. (Y\n) turned away. A wave of shivers went down her spine. She didn’t expect him to know about that.
   Once again, there was no point of hiding anything. He already knew. That was it.
“How did you know?” She asked.
“To be honest, I wasn’t really sure until now.”
   She tried hard not to cry. They both kept silent.
“I’m sorry,” Jughead said. She couldn’t help it anymore. A few tears streamed down her cheeks.
“There’s nothing you sould be sorry about, Juggie,” (Y\n) answered, wiping the tears away.
“Maybe, but… I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know. And you never did,” she was desperately trying to calm hersef down.
“Well, I don’t think I can explain this situation in any other way that that.”
“It’s not your fault, Juggie. It’s mine. You did nothing wrong. I just…” (Y\n) said, her voice shaking and more tears falling down her face.
   As much as Jughead wanted to hug her, comfort her, be closer to her, and as much as she wanted him to do it now, he couldn’t. They both knew it would only make it worse.
“I should go. I don’t want to bother you, Jug. You don’t have to deal with all of this,” she pointed at her blubbered face with her hands. “You already have enough shit to deal with.”
   She stood up as she said that. Jughead stood up aswell, took her by the the shoulders stopping her from turning around and walking away.
“But I do, I do have to,” he said, looking into her eyes.
   She pursed her lips together and shook her head no.
“Yes, I do, (Y\n)… Because we’re friends,” Jughead said regretting his words as soon as they slipped out of his mouth.
   Friends. Just friends.
“Yeah… Friends,” she nodded. “Thanks for coming, Juggie, but I really think I should go. I’ll try to get over it. I’ll be fine.”
    (Y\n) looked him right in the eyes, gently put his hands off her shoulders, smiled slightly, and came back to the house.
   The girl came upstairs and walked into her room. She stood up beside the table and started crying even harder covering her face with her hands. Jughead was looking at her from the street through the opened window and his heart was breaking into million pieces as he heard her cry. Luckily, he had someone who could fix it.

World’s Best Pie

This is my submission for @avasmommy224 #JennsBirthdayChallenge

My prompt is: “I’ll have what she’s having”

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,600

Warning: Smut, a lot of it

Enjoy!



“World’s best pie,” Dean muttered as he pulled into the small diner’s parking lot. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Grabbing a seat at the counter Dean looked to the specials board. A loud sensual groan snapped his head around. His jaw dropped a little at the sight of you. Eyes rolling into your head as it felt back, a look of pure satisfied bliss on your face.

As your eyes opened you immediately went bright red when you found a gorgeous man at the counter staring at you. “Sorry, it’s just really good pie. Like, we’re talking orgasmically good here!”

“Yeah I’ll bet, it sounds like you just had one!” his face went bright red as his eyes got wide. “Oh my god I am so sorry! I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just gonna turn around now and mind my own business.”

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Pennywise X Reader (Time Tells) Pt. One

Pennywise X Reader ( Time Tells )

After getting to know Pennywise much better after your first meeting, he begins to grow a strange, but pleasant feeling towards you. He wants you to be safe, feel that way when you’re with him. When he tells you this you explain it as the human emotion known as love and in return he gives you a special gift. One of his bells, and if you should ever need him, ring it. You never knew you would have to use it…
——————————————

It was a rather dreary afternoon, the sound of drizzling rain filling the silence as you sat atop your bed, book in hand, eyes scanning over the words etched onto the paper. It was a peaceful afternoon and nothing could ruin it for you. Well you couldn’t exactly say, nothing… The sudden rapping of knuckles bright your attention from the book you’d been reading to gaze at the window. A familiar dressed figure clad in a rather outdated clown costume stood in the rain, not minding of his hair had gotten wet.

“P-Penny? Oh my..” He gave you a large grin, his painted cheeks making his smile all the more sinister than it already was, but you, of course knew better than that.

You set the book aside and slid off the bed making your way over to the window and unlocking the hook before sliding it up. “Come inside you’re getting wet, Pen.” The clown glanced down at his soaking wet outfit and chuckled. “Nah, it’ll be fine. I don’t mind the water, after all I live in the sewers of Derry!” He declared crawling through the window with ease despite his height. Although his voice was filled with joy there was a slight uneasiness to it, living in sewers must be so lonely.

“You don’t ever get lonely down in the well house?” You asked curiously turning back to gather your things and put them back in their rightful places. Pennywise watched you in slight curiosity as you put the items away before reaching to grab a towel. “Not really, I mean I eat children for a living, why would that mater?” He asked brushing off the dust on the bed before sitting down.

“No wait! Y-You can’t sit yet..” You pulled him back up to stand and sighed but smiled seeing he was worried he had upset you in some way. “I-I’m gonna go get another towel, stay here, don’t move.” Pennywise did as you told him to and stayed very still, and he knew soon he’d have to ask you the brining question, this feeling.
—————————————–

After helping him dry off his costume He sat down so you could dry off his hair. After doing so the usually very well tamed hair became a poofy mess. You giggled slightly pulling the towel away. “Do you mind I brush your hair back into place… you can’t scare children with that mess.” Pennywise in return laughed with you, but in that high pitch cackle he normally uses only around you.

The laughter died down as you began to comb the brush through his fiery locks, styling it as he usually had it. “So is there a reason why you stood in the rain just to see me?” You inquired raising a brow.

Penny’s blue orbs glanced down at his gloved hands, “I hadn’t been as hungry lately and well I thought maybe it was because it’s been a year, so maybe it was time for my rest, but I was wrong.” He sighed turning his eyes to look at your reflection in the glass mirror. “This feeling I have.. only happens around you. When I’m with you I feel like there’s no need for me to eat. I get this weird feeling in my stomach and my actions are well….just plain odd.” You stopped brushing and blushed slightly. He turned to look back at you blue orbs staring into your own.

“What is it? This feeling I have?” You set down the brush and spoke, “Well, Penny.. it’s called love. That’s when two humans have the same feelings and are a match for one another.” You told him.

Penny turned around facing you, “D-Do you feel the same?” He asked grabbing your hand. You nodded face still red, “I do, Penny, I do love you.”


Originally posted by just-doodles-and-stuff

@tiedyespacesuit

A Slice from Your Childhood

Summary: You’ve been struggling on what to get Steve for his birthday. Deciding to bring back a piece of his childhood, you made him his mother’s chiffon cake.

Author’s Note: Happy Birthday 99th Steve Rogers! 💕

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 1,174

Originally posted by redhotshellac

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Paper Hearts

A stupidly fluffy SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Valentine’s Celebration


Simon

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Meet me in Room 172.

           I refold the note, noticing how the paper has already settled into well-known creases since this morning.  It’s not the first anonymous note I’ve gotten over the past week, but it’s the first time the writer has made a move beyond waxing poetic.

           The Watford halls are sickening today, even to me.  I understand the appeal of decorating for Christmas, but Valentine’s Day?  It just seems a little patronizing to adorn the walls in that many paper hearts, whether the hearts can magically float around people’s heads or not.  And it’s not that I’m a cynic, but Valentine’s Day this year was set to be a difficult one for me, since I no longer have Agatha to dote upon.

           But as I slip the little creased note back into my pocket and make for Room 172, the paper hearts seem less mocking and my own beating heart feels just a bit lighter.

           When I reach the door I falter, doubts rushing to my head.  What if there’s no one there?  And what if there is?  Then what?

           But I turn the knob and shove open the door.

           And immediately I see who’s waiting and I hate the thrill that bolts through me, and I wish that I had turned back.

           Baz’s face goes red when he sees me and I wonder briefly if I’ve seen him this angry before, so enraged that he turns colour.

           “What,” he seethes, “are you doing here?”

           “What am I doing here?” I spit back, my heart sinking and racing at once.  “What are you doing here?”

           “None of your business,” he growls, sitting on one of the desks and pointedly looking anywhere but at me.

           Everything in me is boiling.  I’m angry and I’m disappointed at once, but I puff up my pride and stalk over to another desk and sit down to wait.  Maybe the fates will be on my side for once and the mystery writer will reveal themselves yet.

           Although, would that be the fates with me or against me?  Because everything right now is looking like Baz wrote the note, and sitting here in the empty classroom full of paper hearts with him just a few desks away, it’s getting harder to ignore the buzzing under my skin and harder to ignore the fact that he is the common denominator.

           The clock ticks away like a drumbeat and I stare at the door, hoping, praying for something to happen.

           “Why are you here?”

           I throw a glance over at Baz, who has turned his head so that he can see me without looking at me.  “If you must know,” I reply sharply, “I’m waiting for someone.”

           “Really?”

           “You think I’m lying?”

           “I think you’re pathetic.”

           I have to squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten like Penny told me before I can breathe evenly again.  “What’s your excuse, Basil?” I grit through my teeth. “Why do you have to be here?  Has no one invited you across the threshold?” It’s a lame dig, but I know it will be effective, whether he shows it or not.  If there’s anything I’ve learned from being his enemy it’s that vampire jokes are a no-no.

           “I told you, it’s none of your business.”

           “Can’t you take your business elsewhere, then?”

           “No.”

           “Arse.”

           “Prat.”

           When I turn to throw another insult at him, the sun through the window catches the side of his face and turns his eyes to silver… and the insult dies in my throat.

           Beautiful.

           I try to stomp on the thought.  No.

           But it’s too late.  

           It’s there.  It’s taken root.

           And the longer I look at him the more it flowers.

           Another thought bubbles up to the surface almost tentatively.  Are you sure it wasn’t him?

           As much as I know I should try to extinguish that notion along with the previous, I let it linger.  If I think back on it, I don’t think I ever have seen him angry enough to turn red.

           So maybe he’s not angry.  

           Maybe it’s something else.

           When he meets my eye, I’m still staring at him, and his gaze darts away again, but his cheeks.

           They go pink, and there’s no anger in his eyes.  Only uncertainty.

           His silver eyes.

           And all at once, I decide to change everything.

Baz

“Alright, Baz,” comes Simon’s soft voice, “you can drop the act.”

           I turn to look at him again, and it’s like looking at the sun because I can feel his image scorching onto my retinas.  Meeting Simon Snow’s gaze is something that can only be done in doses, for me at least, I don’t know why.

           Well, I know why, but I can’t logically explain it.

           “Act?” I repeat dumbly.

           He slides off the desk and takes a slow step in my direction, and even that is enough to set my heart hammering.  “Yes,” he says, “act.”

           “I don’t know what -”

           “I think you do,” he interrupts me, “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” He pauses for a breath, like he’s second-guessing himself, but then he meets my eyes again.  “I think you wrote the notes.”

           My brain screeches to a halt and nothing makes sense.  “Notes,” I reply, and I hate myself because the boy I’m head-over-heels for is actually not at my throat and I sound like a parrot.

           He seems to get a burst of confidence.  “It’s okay, Baz,” he goes on, still slowly advancing, “I don’t mind, but you could have just said something.”

           I have nowhere to go.  I want to leap up from my spot and run, but I can’t.  Even in all this, my pride wins.  I’m on a desk in the middle of an empty classroom, and I’m cornered.  “Said something,” I stammer, “about what?”

           He shrugs, right in front of me now.  “Anything from any of the notes, which were unbelievably mushy, by the way. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

           “Hang on,” I stop him, unable to keep from shrinking back.  “You’ve been getting notes?”

           “All week,” he grins, “though I didn’t realize it was you until I got here.  I have to say, that last one was weak poetry. I mean, ‘roses are red, violets are blue’?”

           Something in my brain clicks and I swear I hear a ding.  “‘Meet me in Room 172’,” I finish with a sinking feeling.

           His face lights up like all the stars in the sky are in his eyes.  “I knew it was you,” he murmurs, and – Crowley – his gaze flickers to my mouth, no more than a foot away.

           And I want it.  I want to keep quiet and let him close the distance.  Hell, I want to do it myself.

           But I reach into my pocket and pull out the scrap of paper from inside.  “Then I hate to tell you this, Snow,” I say quietly, my heart breaking, “but I didn’t do it.”

           He looks away from my eyes for the first time and his brow scrunches up when he sees the note in my hand.  He takes it from me and unfolds it, his eyes scanning over the words again and again, the same little three-line poem.  I watch as he checks his pockets, finding an identical note in his jeans, and the penny drops.

           “It wasn’t you,” he says, almost to himself, and his face falls.

           “I’ve been getting anonymous notes all week, too,” I confess.  “It’s a trick on both of us.”

           His hands are shaking.  “Why would anyone do this?” he asks quietly, his face reddening, and I can’t tell whether it’s with embarrassment or anger or sadness, or all of the above.

           “I don’t know,” I stand at last and saunter over to lean against the wall, grateful for some air that isn’t charged with proximity.  “People are dicks, I guess.”

           “And you swear that you had nothing to do with it?”  He won’t look at me at all now.

           “I swear.”

           He squeezes his eyes shut and I half expect tears to appear on his cheeks, but he just nods once and turns to march towards the door.

           An image flashes through my brain, of his eyes boring into mine, of how they flickered down to my flustered mouth.

           And suddenly I decide that I’ve had enough of this.

           “Simon.”

           He stops dead in his tracks.  “What?” he says without looking at me.

           “I’m sorry.”

           “What for?  You said you didn’t do anything.”  His voice sounds sore, like he is fighting tears after all.

           “I’m sorry that you thought it was me,” I tell him, “because…” I trail off, unsure how to finish.

           “Because what?”

           I wish he would look at me.  “I hate to ask, but did you mean any of that?”

           “About not minding if it was you?”  He sighs like he’s given up.  “Yes. I meant all of it.”

           He meant all of it.  From the words to the glance at my lips.  All of it.

           He shoots me a red-faced glare at my silence.  “Happy?”

           I stare back, and I can feel a big stupid grin bubbling up.  “Yes, actually.”

           That catches him off-guard.  “Why?”

           “Because I wouldn’t mind if it was you, either,” I blurt out before I can lose my nerve.

           His eyebrows finally un-furrow and he meets my eyes properly.  I know that I’m turning pink again, but as he starts to step towards me, I hold his gaze.

           When he’s right in front of me again, close enough that I have to look down to see him, he whispers “You mean…”

           One of the paper hearts littering the room suddenly jumps up off a desk, and I don’t know if they’ve been charmed to target fools in love or not, but it starts to dance around my head.

           Simon chuckles at the heart.  “Is that a yes?”

           I allow myself a tempered version of the big stupid grin.  “You could say that.”

           The heart swoops in front of my eyes, and I lazily wave it away.

           Simon stands on tiptoe and plucks the heart from the air by my eyes, and we’re no further than a breath apart.

           And then he leans in the rest of the way.

Agatha

Penny squeezes my hand hard when they finally fall together, and I squeeze back.  Stealthily she snaps a silent photo on her phone, and I make a mental note to get her to send it to me later.  The fruits of our labours.

           We step back from the open door of Room 172 as quietly as we can, but I doubt we need to worry.  Simon and Baz are both far too occupied to notice us.

           Penny keeps hold of my hand as we make a break for it, waiting until we’re around several corners before speaking.

           “Damn,” she grins at me, “we are good.”

           All I can do is grin back, still holding her hand as we stroll down the hallway, kicking up clouds of red paper hearts.

This Is Why You Woke Me (Peter Quill x reader)

Request: regaltempo said:Hello! My request is a Peter Quill x Reader. The reader is a human too, who likes and plays classical music on violin, and one day when you think everyone is asleep in the ship you practice on your violin, but little do you know Peter is listening to you on the other side of the wall. After you’re finished he shows himself and asks for a dance and you play a cassette tape of classical music and dance the waltz together. Thank you!  Peter probably has never heard of classical music before. That could be why he is so interested in hearing the music at night. And the reader could be surprised that he doesn’t know and they compromise and he teaches you how to dance and you play classical music for him during the night. And maybe some kissing.

Follow up to Why Did You Wake Me?

“I don’t think she likes me,” Peter groaned quietly, sitting in the pilot seat of the ship and swiveling the chair back and forth nervously.  His friends sat behind him, listing to him complain for the last several hours and growing impatient at the incessant whining session.  “She sits in her room all day and barely says two words to me.”

“I agree that she does not like you.  It’s obvious and you are quite right in finally noticing it,” Drax nodded eagerly, reaching out to slap his friend supportively on the arm, only to have him pull it from his reach.  “This makes you sad.  Would you like to me to speak to her for you and find out why her hatred runs so deeply?”

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Minor Details (ALiL Deleted Scene)

Summary: (College!AU) In which a walk with T’Challa makes you aware of some minor details that you missed.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,114

A/N: @the-loud-and-crazy-rabbit-pirate requested: I would like to suggest what happened after Jealousy; like Reader telling T'challa Bucky’s reaction (cause he did say he would like to know what happened with the little stunt they pulled)”. This takes place between “Jealousy” and “Knight in Shining Armor”.

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - Thank you for existing.

Originally posted by wukanda

“T'Challa, I don’t think this is going to work out.”

“You’re not trying.”

“I am,” you say through gritted teeth, making T'Challa laugh. “I’m glad you think this is funny.”

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated, did you know that?” When all you do is fix him with a death glare, he puts his hands up. “Fine, fine. We can stop now.”

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I met love in the corner of your smile. When the world spins faster than my mind I try to write about the color of your dreams. The closer you get to someone the further they go away, the harder you love someone the further they go away. I paint my thoughts into your eyes. I find my dreams into the sound of your laughter. I met pain in the corner of your silence
—  k.m