this is one of the most important things i've heard in a long time

mooosicaldreamz  asked:

first off, i want to say that i legitimately love every single one of your supercorp fics and have read them perhaps way too many times. in particular, i've read fall A TON. so you're great and i hope writer's block enjoys the ass kicking you're gonna give it. second, if you've got the upper hand on writer's block and want to, i've got a prompt: supercorp and doing charity work? or legit anything you come up with. i will take anything.

It was funny how utterly inconspicuous a hairnet could make one look. All the make up and hoodies and caps pulled down low in the world have not been able to do what an apron, a pair of latex gloves, and a simple hairnet have been able to do.

Then again, perhaps it wasn’t about being inconspicuous but just the plain absurdity of finding Lena Luthor—heir to LuthorCorp and sister to the notorious Lex Luthor—volunteering in a soup kitchen. Who would believe her even if she admitted it to their face? Just the other day she’d been caught on camera wearing a dress that cost more than most people made in a year—someone who could waste money like that could surely hire someone to volunteer at the soup kitchen, or at least donate lavishly (as the Luthors were wont to do) and dispel the desire to freely offer services entirely.  

And yet, for whatever reason—the hairnet, the inability to suspend disbelief, pure and unbridled luck—she was at one of the many soup kitchens scattered across National City, doling out mashed potatoes and gravy while listening to the woman in charge bark orders at the grocers and cooks who were working in the back, and not a single person batted an eye at her.

Keep reading

There’s a difference between disagreeing with someone, and dismissing someone – between saying you’re wrong and saying you are not capable of being right.

You can disagree – emphatically, even! – on minor matters of opinion, or on subjective questions of taste etc., without invalidating the other person’s right to have their own perspective.

For instance, if you like a certain book, and someone else doesn’t, disagreement might sound like, “But this and this are in the book! It’s brilliant in the way it does this! This element really spoke to me!”

Dismissal might sound like, “You just look for things to dislike. It’s because you spend so much time with those snobby friends of yours.”

One of these is a respectful expression of disagreement about a book. It opens up a conversation where it’s possible for everyone to talk about what they did or didn’t like about it. It might be possible to come away from this conversation with a better understanding of each other or even the book itself.

The other is a dismissal of the other person’s right to even have an opinion. It shuts down the original conversation about the book and opens an attack on the other person’s entire worldview. You’re no longer saying they’re wrong about a book, you’re saying that they don’t have any real thoughts or opinions of their own, that something about them (in this case, the “snobby friends” they like to spend time with) completely invalidates anything they might ever think or feel or believe. You’re telling them they have no right to any opinion at all.

There’s a difference between shutting someone down like this and respectfully pointing out reasons you might have noticed something they didn’t. There’s also a time and a place for intentionally shutting down a conversation. But know the difference, and be aware of what you’re doing.

This dynamic is very easy to accidentally slip into, especially if there’s an existing environment of dismissal.  I’ve noticed this dynamic is incredibly common in the way families treat their members who are developmentally disabled or mentally ill, or otherwise different to everyone else. It’s also common in social groups where one member has a vulnerable or marginalized identity the others don’t share. Instead of just disagreeing about small things, the automatic response to that person becomes condescension and dismissal. 

When this kind of dismissal becomes a habit, it fosters an extremely unsupportive environment where someone may not feel able to talk about things that are important to them, things that are hurting or scaring them, or things they need. And it encourages other people to cement their disrespect of the target and take them less seriously in an increasing variety of contexts.

It’s an incredibly effective tool for isolating someone, making them feel as though they have no right to be heard, and in its most extreme form, gaslighting them about their own experiences or stripping them of their right to make choices. 

Pay attention to how you behave when you think someone you care about is wrong. Your response can affect them more than you may realize.

How I ship Gency:

I like to think that Angela is a kind but very very tired soul that continues to push herself beyond her limits for the good of humanity. She’s constantly trying to improve medical science and works long hours to make it happen. She will sometimes go days without sleep on the job and forget to eat. Over the years, it has made her jaded - almost dead inside. But she does what she must.

One day, a body is rushed to her by Blackwatch all the way from Japan. She has never seen this man - or what’s left of him - before, but he’s obviously very important to Overwatch’s interests if he was rushed to her to be saved. So she begins the grueling process of breathing life back into his body. Thanks to the advances in medicine that she has pioneered, she is able to save the miraculous, weak heartbeat in him. Regardless, she still works for months slowly rebuilding him and salvaging any organic parts possible. All the while he is comatose.

The first time he awakens, he is disoriented, angry, and violent. Angela has to call for back up to restrain him so she can explain where he is, what has happened, and that he is safe. Gabriel Reyes enters during this time. Reyes doesn’t beat around the bush. He tells the man - Shimada Genji - that he was saved because they need his knowledge of the Shimada clan in order to dismantle it - that he will be instrumental in taking down his family business. Angela is horrified. She’d never been told to what end Overwatch needed this man - only that he held valuable information. She only guessed who or what he could be. Perhaps an important diplomat or undercover agent - but not an outsider. Not someone who would be in their debt for life. Her operations on him were costly. There was no way Overwatch would do that and expect nothing in return. Though they worked for the safety of the world - Angela knew they were not a charity.

She shoots a piercing glare in Reyes’ direction - saying silently, “This is NOT what I signed up for! We WILL talk about this later!” Reyes ignores her look. He waits for Shimada’s response. The man is silent. Thinking. After a pregnant pause, his gaze crawls up to their faces and a chill runs through Angela’s spine.

“I could be more than just information,” he says with seething rage boiling in his eyes. Reyes lifts an eyebrow. Angela can’t breathe. Shimada continues, “It would be my pleasure to assist in destroying my brother’s empire.” His lips curl at the word brother.

Reyes and Shimada exchange hard stares at one another. Reyes is the first to speak. “What are you asking, boy?”

“Let me personally assist on this project. On the field. I know more secrets than just the business of the empire - and how to exploit them. I am already a trained fighter with extensive experience in stealth and… Other fields of interest to your organization.” The menace in his gaze reveals that he speaks the truth.

Angela leaves abruptly. She doesn’t need to look at Reyes to know that he will accept Shimada’s offer. She is so very tired.

She assists in Shimada’s recovery. She fine-tunes his motor skills. She helps him learn to walk again. She helps familiarize him with his new functions… She refuses to comply with Blackwatch’s request to integrate weaponry into his cybernetic body. She hates weapons. She hates violence - it’s what stole her parents from her in the war. She has only ever killed in battle when absolutely necessary and in self-defense, and she has no intention of making instrument of death.

They confiscate her medical files on Shimada-san. She is told she will no longer be his overseeing doctor. She does not see him for a long time.

She cannot help but worry about him. She spent months caring for him in his most vulnerable state, yet here he is working for Blackwatch with cybernetic weapons and enhancements. His new armor covers his face. She has not seen it since the day he awoke.

Over the years, she occasionally hears of strides made in the Shimada Empire Project. Inside jobs. Sabotage. Assassinations. She always thinks of Shimada-san.

Then everything goes to hell.

With the Swiss headquarters razed to the ground and Overwatch outlawed by the PETRAS Act, Angela is alone and so very tired. Overwatch and Blackwatch agents have scattered across the Earth, she among them. Despite the weight of the world on her shoulders, she can’t help but wonder in the back of her mind what Shimada will do now. His rage and bitterness had driven his actions since the day he was revived. Where would he go with no organization or project? She worries.

A year passes. She receives a letter - a hand-written letter?? It’s covered with postage and forwarding stamps to multiple addresses. It is from Shimada. The contents are awkward with apologies and abundant with reluctance at even writing to her. He is apparently staying with the Shambali monks in Nepal under the teachings of Zenyatta Tekhartha. He writes that Zenyatta insisted that he begin writing letters to someone in his life as a part of his healing process. Healing process? He ends the letter with an apology for bothering her.

“Healing process”… Her heart warms at the thought. She writes him back, expressing that she is not bothered by his letters and informing him of her current mailing address for future ones.

For the next three years she looks forward to every letter. She is still overworked. Still trying to better the world. Still so very tired. But his letters remind her that working to help others heal is valid and worth the pain. His transformation is gradual, but evident. At first he is guarded - only sharing bare minimum details of his lessons. As they exchange letters, however, she begins to see his walls crumble as he shares more personal thoughts and feelings. He even starts to inject wry humor into his script. She doesn’t know for certain, and maybe it could never truly be this way, but Angela believes she is getting to meet the man from before the fight with his brother. He asks that she refer to him by his first name, Genji, so that he is not reminded of the name he shares with his brother, Hanzo.

Genji still refers to her as Miss Ziegler.

The Overwatch recall blindsides her, yet she travels to Gibraltar as soon as possible… She knows where she belongs. She writes Genji from Gibraltar informing him of her new address. She does not receive a reply. She worries.

One day, several weeks after the recall, a stranger covered from head to toe in intricately designed garments appears on their doorstep, an omnic companion in tow. Winston greets them hesitantly, Angela unconsciously stands slightly behind the gorilla. The stranger stares past Winston and into Angela’s face, saying nothing at first. Several moments pass. The omnic places a hand on the man’s shoulder, and he seems to relax a bit. He is hesitating. Why? Slowly, the man lifts his hands to undo the headdress covering his face, all the while keeping his gaze locked on Angela.

A moment more passes as he unties the cloth around his head. Then all at once the headdress is off, leaving his face naked.

Rich brown eyes meet hers, steadied with courage. Pale, old scars marble his face, crawling upward and across his cheeks, nose, and lips. His mechanical jaw clenches in apprehension. His black hair is plastered to his forehead from the headdress he’d been wearing not long ago.

Angela cannot breathe as she looks upon the face that she has not seen since the day she revived him.


She is hugging him before she realizes what she’s doing. His arms hover over her back, shock evident in his face. Pulling back and wiping joyful tears from her eyes, she apologizes for surprising him.“But,” she adds with a wry smile “you surprised me first! So we are even.”

The shock in his eyes melts into something softer that she cannot name. He chuckles. “I suppose you are right, Miss Ziegler.”

She feels a prick of annoyance at his formality, but quickly squashes it. After all, she’s just heard him laugh for the first time. She smiles genuinely. “You seem well, Genji.”

What passes across his expression can be described as nothing other than the purest of inner tranquility. The corners of his lips upturn just slightly. His gaze is soft, unguarded as he looks into her eyes. The shadows of the violent rage that boiled in his soul so many years ago are nowhere to be found. “I am a different man now. I am whole.”

Her heart squeezes. Tears blur her vision and she cannot help grinning as the joy for him thrums throughout her body. “…That is wonderful!” she manages.

She is the furthest thing from tired.

Sometimes people need to heal before love can blossom. Falling in love is not the cure-all. But loving others, building those relationships through the thick of it all - that is one of the most important bonds you can ever have.

we'll fashion ourselves a better fit

because i project harder than an imax, have some nurseydex relationship talks. big thanks to @vicioushyperbolizer​ for suggesting Shane Koyczan when i was searching for a poem to use in this. (also on ao3)

Dex has never really been one for talking about his emotions, certainly not as plainly and bluntly as he and Nursey have been over the last few months, but he can’t really argue with the fact that they haven’t had the big blowout fight that he’d been worried would come when they first started dating. Between the relationship talks and the therapist he started seeing after he had an embarrassingly public meltdown in front of the team, Dex is pretty sure he’s talked about his emotions more in the last five months than in his entire previous life. He can’t argue with the results, and it has gotten a bit easier with time, but—

It’s still really fucking awkward.

Which is why he’s been pacing his and Nursey’s room for the last twenty minutes, waiting for Nursey to get back from class. Because as his therapist has pointed out, he’s brought the subject up in every session for the last month and a half, and since Nursey’s the only one who can really settle the issue, at some point this conversation needs to actually happen.

Dex is dragged out of his worrying by what sounds like a buffalo charging up the staircase, and he can’t help but laugh a little. The Haus is old and creaky as hell, but he’s pretty sure that Nursey and Holster are the only ones who’ve ever made that much noise going up and down the stairs.

Dex tries to smooth his hair down from where he’s been running his fingers through it (and pulling on it, which is a bad habit that he can’t seem to break). He’s still trying to get control of whatever expression his face is making when the door opens.

Nursey drops his backpack next to the door and turns to grin at Dex, pulling him into a quick kiss and what would be a quick hug, except that Dex tightens his arms around him and buries his face against the side of Nursey’s neck. Nursey’s hugs feel so safe, and he always smells warm, and the scared animal part of Dex’s brain is screaming that he’s going to lose this. He allows himself to cling, just for a moment.

“Hey, babe, everything alright?” One of Nursey’s hands comes up to cup the back of his neck, and Dex takes a deep breath before straightening up and meeting Nursey’s eyes.

“I wanted to talk about something, if that’s okay.” It’s what they’ve settled on to start serious conversations, because it doesn’t help anything to try to discuss something important when one or both of them is exhausted or upset. Dex sometimes hates using scripts and key phrases like this, but it works, and he resents the process a lot less than he appreciates the results.

“Yeah, of course,” Nursey says, and Dex has to look away. He goes to sit on the edge of the bottom bunk—technically Nursey’s, but they sleep crammed together in it more nights than not these days—as Nursey drags the desk chair over to face him.

Words are always hard for Dex, especially when it’s something he’s feeling vulnerable about, but with Nursey looking at him, open and patient and slightly concerned, they feel almost impossible.

“I— Y-you— We—” Dex growls in frustration, now is not the time for his stutter to make an appearance, but Nursey just leans over to grab the fidget cube off the edge of the desk and hands it to him. Dex isn’t sure who it originally belonged to, but it’s shared property now, and he always talks better if he has something else to focus on. He flips it around in his hands a couple of times before he settles on rapidly flicking the switch back and forth, waiting for his breathing to calm.

“You knew I was ace before we started dating,” Dex says, trying to lateral his way to the point. “We talked about it. We talked about it a lot.” He glances up at Nursey, who nods encouragingly. “I know you’ve said you’re okay with us not having sex, and I know you’re not lying about it, but I keep being afraid that at some point you’re going to… I don’t know, get fed up and decide I’m not worth it.”

Nursey makes a concerned sound and hooks a foot behind Dex’s ankle. “Have you talked to Dr. Ramos about it? I know you said you guys were working on intrusive thoughts.”

“Yeah,” he glances up again and catches Nursey’s eyes for a moment before looking away, talking to the wastepaper basket next to the desk. “At like our last four sessions, but none of the counter thoughts I’ve come up with have really been working. We pretty much decided that the best plan was for me to talk to you about it directly, so…” Dex makes a vague, expansive gesture.

Nursey takes Dex’s hand, the one that isn’t holding the cube, and squeezes it gently before letting go, shifting his weight in the chair, and saying, “Do you know why you’re worried about it? Is there anything I’ve been doing to set it off?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so?” Dex says, running his fingers through his hair, pulling at it a little, trying to focus. “It’s just, people talk about sex like it’s the most important fucking thing in the world, you know? And I should be able to just trust you when you say it’s not—I want to!—but I hear a girl in my stats class say she’s thinking about dumping her boyfriend because the sex is just that bad or I watch people at kegsters who spend the entire night looking for someone to hook up with and I just—” Dex runs a hand through his hair again, flipping the cube around and rapidly clicking one of the buttons, “I guess the problem is that the only context I have is what other people say, and I’ve got you saying you’re fine if we don’t ever have sex against literally every other time I’ve heard someone talk about it.”

Nursey’s quiet for a moment, thinking, and Dex wishes he had something more destructive to do with his hands, like shredding a paper cup.

“When I asked you out,” Nursey says, after a small eternity of seconds, “you told me that I needed to be absolutely sure, because you didn’t want to start something if a lack of sex was going to end it.

“And I thought about it, Will. I thought about us a year from now, looking for jobs and trying to figure out where we’ll live, apartment hunting together. I thought about us five years from now, with jobs and a life and probably like twelve gigantic dogs because you’re some kind of monster,” Dex huffs, grinning. The dog debate is longstanding and constantly mutating into more and more ridiculous permutations of itself. “I thought about ten years from now and maybe adopting a couple of kids, being dads,” Nursey’s voice has gone soft, and he knocks his knee against Dex’s. “I thought about all of that future, and I want that, I want it with you. Part of being with you is not having sex, and I want that too.”

“Derek,” Dex’s voice comes out as a croak, and he has to swallow hard, blinking against the tears he can feel gathering. Maybe three months is too short a time for the amount of love that’s rioting in his chest right now, but Nursey’s looking at him with soft eyes and a soft smile, and Dex can’t help but reach out and cup his cheek, gently pull him in for a kiss, press their foreheads together and try to breathe through the storm of emotions.

“I want that. I want all of that so much,” he says hoarsely, pulling back slowly and trying to wipe his eyes surreptitiously. He hates how easily he cries, but Nursey’s never made fun of him for it, never even brought it up. “I just don’t know how to get my brain to stop telling me that it’s something I can’t have. I feel like… like you’re giving something up for me, but I haven’t given anything up for you. I feel selfish.”

“Babe,” Nursey says, but Dex can’t drag is gaze up from where he’s staring at his own hands, “relationships aren’t built from a template that you add or subtract from. I never gave anything up to be with you. Us, what we have, we built that from scratch.”

Dex keeps staring at his fingers like he hopes they’ll somehow provide the answer to why what Nursey’s saying isn’t helping. It feels like chasing a nasty sliver with a pair of tweezers, every time he thinks he’s got it, it slips out of his grasp and burrows deeper.

“I know, I know that,” Dex says. “I’m not trying to be stubborn, but it still feels wrong. It feels like… I don’t know.”

They sit in silence for a long time. It’s probably minutes, but it feels like years as Dex tries to let his mind calm, as if the right answer will settle out like sediment.

“I think,” he says eventually, “it’s… people talk about sex like it’s food. All the words around it like ‘hunger’ and ‘appetite’ and 'sated’. And all the metaphors around it too, the imagery and stuff.” Dex takes a deep breath as the words for the feeling that’s been itching under his skin for weeks finally, finally take shape. He looks up and meets Nursey’s eyes. “It makes me worry that I’m starving you.”

Nursey looks startled for a moment, then frowns thoughtfully. “You’re not starving me,” he says, “and I’m not starving myself, either, so don’t start.” Dex hadn’t been planning to, but the thought had occurred. They sit in silence for another handful of heartbeats before Nursey speaks up again.

“It’s like,” he says slowly, “if it were important to me, and I asked you to, would you stop eating pork?”

Dex feels all the air punch out of his lungs like he just got checked into the boards as that sliver of doubt is finally, finally pulled out from under his skin.

“Yeah,” he says, breathless, “yeah, I would. I— Yeah.”

Nursey’s grinning at him like the insufferable asshole he is, and Dex’s hands are shaking just a little with the force of his relief because he suddenly, finally feels like he understands, and abruptly Nursey is entirely too far away. Dex drops the cube as he reaches out and hauls Nursey onto the bed with him. It takes a little maneuvering, but soon enough they’re curled together, facing each other. Dex might be crying, just a little, but Nursey has one hand in his hair and the other around his waist and Dex is hugging him so close that there’s no space between them and it’s good. It’s so, so good.

They end up making out on the bed for a while, until Dex’s emotional high settles a bit and they slowly transition to cuddling. Eventually, Nursey drags out his laptop and sets it on their laps. They’ve recently started watching Legend of Korra together, and Nursey’s just cued up the next episode when a thought occurs to Dex.

“I think I want to do something like that for you, though,” he says, and Nursey shoots him a look that’s equal parts confusion and concern. “Not— Not as a trade or because I think I owe you or anything, I just think it would be helpful to have something really solid to use as a counter for intrusive thoughts.”

“I can see that,” Nursey says, looking thoughtful. He closes the laptop and sets it aside, turning to face Dex more fully. “It’s not like I actually want you to change your diet or anything, though.”

“No, I know,” Dex says, taking Nursey’s hand and lacing their fingers together, “and it doesn’t need to be particularly big. Just, you know, something I wouldn’t necessarily do for myself, but that I can do for you.”

Nursey nods, and they sit quietly for a moment, this silence so much lighter than the ones previous. Slowly, a smile steals over Nursey’s face. It’s Dex’s favorite, quietly happy with nothing affected about it. He’s seen it a lot since they got together.

“I think I have an idea,” Nursey says, standing and walking over to their bookshelf, overloaded and sagging because it’s definitely too small to hold everything that’s been crammed onto it. He pulls out a small book and returns to the bed, handing it to Dex.

Visiting Hours,” Dex reads aloud. The cover is a little worn, and as Dex flips through a few pages, he smiles at Nursey’s handwriting in the margins.

“I’ve had it since I was in middle school,” Nursey says, “there’s some really good stuff in here.”

“Poetry,” Dex says, letting it fall open to a random page and running his fingertips down a column of text, “I suppose I should’ve guessed.”

Nursey flicks his ear, but he’s still smiling. “Maybe you could read one or two a week, give us something new to talk about.“

Dex closes the book again, weighing it between his hands. "I think this is perfect,” he says, then thrusts the book back at Nursey and adds, “read one to me.”

“Dick,” Nursey snorts, grabbing Dex around the neck and hauling him in for a noogie. He’s grinning, though, and by the time Dex squirms free (with the help of an elbow digging into Nursey’s ribs) they’re both laughing. Nursey leans over and picks up the book from where it got knocked to the floor, and as they settle back in together, Nursey flips through the pages, seemingly searching for a particular poem.

“Alright,” he says, wrapping an arm around Dex’s shoulders. Dex snuggles into his side and rests his head against Nursey’s chest. “I think you’ll like this one.

During visiting hours
I had to read to sick people

the kind of people who had no one
it was my punishment
catholic school community service
for farting on a nun’s muffin

Dex laughs, and Nursey grins down at him before continuing to read.

They’re good. They’re so, so good.

anonymous asked:

Genji, Mccree, Mei with an s/o struggling with their anxiety or self doubt about themselves like they feel like a burden? I'm very sorry I've just had a rough month

Sweetheart, please don’t apologize. I understand having a rough time, whether it be with friends, family, work, school, or just yourself. I’d be happy to write for you, and if you ever want to just message and chat, I’m willing to lend an ear. I just hope maybe this cheers you up a bit


  • Like any woman, she is observant
  • So even when you think your hiding your stress and anxiety and those thoughts in your head…she can tell
  • Mei notices when your eyes burn with self loathing when you make a mistake
  • Has seen how your fingers dig into your skin till you bleed, heard you berate yourself under your breath, seen the bitter prick of tears in your eyes when you face obstacles
  • It breaks her heart every time
  • Being Mei, she isn’t sure how to help you but she takes it upon herself to try and find a solution
  • Finally, Mei decides that although she cannot take away your fears, your anxiety or those doubts that fill you, but she can try to bring a smile to your face and show you that even if you don’t believe in yourself, she does
  • One day after a rather long and grueling mission, you were feeling at one of your lowest points when you walked into your room. It took you a moment but you noticed something on the bed.
  • There was a single white lily flower, a box of your favorite chocolates, and a jar. Lifting the jar, you saw a note on the top. ‘Please take out on piece of paper every evening. Take out two on the worse days.’
  • Opening the jar, you saw it was jam packed with papers. Taking one out, you unfolded the small pink paper and you gasped softly. ‘Your smile takes my breath away!’. For a moment you stared, and then hold the paper close.
  • Reaching in, you pulled out one more. The yellow slip opened to reveal a picture of you and Mei making snow angels in the winter beneath a big pine. It read ‘You’ll always be my snow angel’.
  • Holding the two papers and staring down at them, you felt slowly all the negative emotions melt away. Tears filled your eyes, and you didn’t make a noise as a pair of arms pulled you close from behind. Turning, you buried your face into her neck and knew that in her own way, she was trying to make you feel better.
  • “Thank you.”


  • More then most, Genji can understand doubting in yourself and feeling anxious about things. When he became a cyborg, between the hate he harbored for his brother and the confusion and doubt of being a cyborg, Genji had been a mess
  • Of course, he also knew it was different for everyone. So it tore him apart seeing how you struggled with yourself
  • Especially when you seemed to devalue yourself and your hard work
  • A lot of the time he tried to give you as much praise or encouragement as he could, to show you that your effort was noticed but unfortunately, it never seemed to really hit home with you
  • One day Genji went to check on you after being called by Ana. Apparently you had a melt down during the Bombs Activation and Deactivation class. Automatically the two wanted to make sure you were okay
  • As he came up to the door, Genji stopped when he heard your voice. Peeking in, he could see you on the bed with your head in your hands, crying
  • He heard as you told yourself that you were worthless, that you would never be able to contribute to the team. That you’d only let them down.
  • Unable to bear hearing this, Genji shoved open the door. Startled, you sat up but before you could do anything, you were pulled tight against his chest. His hand brushed through your hair and you heard him take a shuddering breath
  • “Don’t say that. I beg you. y/n, i know…that you cannot see what i do. But i see a strong, selfless hero who will do anything to protect the people around them,” he said in your ear, needing you to know how he saw you, even if you didn’t see it yourself.
  • Taking off his mask, he lifted your chin and gave you a soft kiss. You couldn’t understand why, why he was so sweet to you when you felt like you weren’t good enough for him or Overwatch.
  • But before you could speak, the tears still sliding down your face, Genji caressed your cheek. “Do you know what i admire most about you? Its the fact that you try your very best at everything, no matter how impossible the task, because whats most important to you is the people you protect and defend. Mistakes might be made…but what makes a hero is that you will continue to fight and stand up for those who can’t,” Genji told you quietly.
  • Slowly, as those words rolled over and over in your head, the frustration and anger towards yourself ebbed away. Genji was always so kind to you…it was impossible not to feel the love radiating from him
  • “I just don’t want to let you down,” you whispered.
  • Genji smiled tenderly and shook his head.
  • “You could never let me down, y/n.”
  • And with that, you knew that he would always support you.


  • Jesse could always tell there was something wrong but a lot of the time, he couldn’t exactly put his thumb on what the problem was
  • A little less observant, most of the time he thought you were happy with how well you were doing
  • It was like he was your own personal cheer leader, except instead of pom-poms he had pistols
  • But a few months into your relationship he started to really notice that something was up with you, the way your face fell at moments or the way you’d stare off into the distance looking troubled, and all Jesse wanted was to make it better
  • Feeling restless one night, something kept niggling at the back of his mind. A thought, or perhaps more of a feeling
  • To stop his paranoia, Jesse got out of bed wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms and his belt, before heading to your room to check up on you. Honestly, he expected everything to be okay. But in the dark room, as he opened the door slightly, he heard quiet sobs
  • Slowly, Jesse pushed open the door and slipped in, shutting it without your notice. Seeing you curled up in the fetal position on the bed made him want to cry too, but right now his job was to soothe you
  • You jumped as the bed shifted and a warm, muscled body pressed against you. Strong arms pulled you close, and the feeling of a beard tickled your neck. That and the scent of cigars told you who it was even before he spoke.
  • “Don’t cry, darlin’,” Jesse whispered, his voice soft with worry. His Texas accent was soothing, as was the deep lilt of his voice.
  • The fact that he’d caught you in the middle of a break down embarrassed you. Without a word you tried to hide in the pillow but he was having none of it, pulling the pillow away.
  • Turning you, Jesse moved to sit against the headboard with you in his lap. “Don’t hide from me, sweetheart. Please tell me whats wrong. I might be a dumb cowboy but…but i still want to be here for you,” he murmured. It only made you cry harder but Jesse just rocked you and rocked you into his arms.
  • Silently he just rubbed your back as you let out all the tears that had been building up for such a long time. Finally, when the dams were empty, you admitted to Jesse the truth behind your feelings and how you were always worried of failure or screwing up, and how you doubted in your capabilities. Jesse didn’t speak a word, humming an old western tune softly in the darkness as he pet your hair and held you. Finally, you finished and waited for him to make fun of you.
  • It took a moment but Jesse pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Its not stupid to be afraid to screw up,” he said softly. “Its not stupid to doubt yourself. What your feeling is okay. That’s why you have me. I’ll always be there for you, baby. So please, no matter how dumb you think it might be….tell me what you feel, okay?.”
  • It felt strange, hearing Jesse say it was okay. This was the first time you’d told anyone how you felt. But as you laid there on his chest, exhaustion from the crying starting to fill you, you couldn’t help think that maybe it would be okay.
  • As long as you had Jesse there, maybe his love was all you would need to be able to push yourself in life.

anonymous asked:

I haven't gotten around to voltron season 2 yet because I've had tons of school work. But I've heard it's nowhere near as good as the first season. What were some of the problems with it?

Off the top of my head, my biggest beef was with the writing lmao.

  • Hunk/Lance/Allura were kind of pushed to the side to focus more on Shiro/Keith (and sometimes pidge) which would be… fine… but Hunk/Lance/Allura’s characterization was often sabotaged to either make time for Shiro/Keith or to develop those two further
    • Basically: H/L/A were reduced to a more one-note/flattened version of their season 1 selves, especially in Hunk and Lance’s case (There was a BIG increase in fat jokes and ‘lance says d*mb shit’ moments)
    • Allura’s character arc was so… poorly handled lmao. Like yeah, she was wrong, but the way the narrative framed her as almost this villain, it was so bad ughhhhhhhhhhh.
  • I wasn’t a huge fan of the pacing?? I felt like some things were just… rushed, when I expected them to be more drawn out. Like the separation thing, I thought they would milk that more.
    • Also some Really Important scenes were totally skipped?? Where were my reunions… where were my reactions… (y’all know what I’m talking about)

Overall, the plot was good and the animation was as fantastic as always. I enjoyed the exploration of the Lions and the reveal of some new powers, etc. But the writing dropped the ball so hard, lmfao. It felt like most of the progress from Season 1 was just…….. reversed, or dropped entirely. 

You know there’s a problem with you show when a bunch of teenagers shitposting on the internet can write your characters better than you can lol :/

look, you can call out specific ace folks who post horrible homophobic shit without acting as if it’s indicative of the entire ace community okay?? and without using those examples as proof that asexuals inherently do not belong in the lgbtqiap+ community??? like you don’t need to actively seek out instances of ace people saying fucked up shit and compile whole tags on your blog for those instances and make those tags shit like “#ace disgrace.” you especially don’t need to take posts that are in no way hurting us–posts reminding ace people that they’re not broken, posts hoping for education on ace identity so that people don’t have to spend their lives thinking there’s something wrong with them, etc–and make mean comments on them. i’ve seen all of that multiple times from people i consider friends, and it makes me feel sick in every part of my being. 

i’m a lesbian. i don’t think i’m ace, although i’ve definitely had to spend a lot of time questioning it because i have some serious issues related to past trauma that have yet to be resolved. but you know what? i remember being maybe thirteen, and happening across an article in one of my mum’s magazines about asexuality, and every person interviewed talked about the pain of not knowing there was a word for them, that there were others like them. they were mostly women and many of them talked about forcing themselves to have sex for years with men and not wanting it and feeling wrong and broken for not having the desires expected of them by this society. and i could relate so strongly to that feeling that i started fucking crying. to this day compulsory heterosexuality has me so fucked up i still find myself imagining a future in which i marry a man, because that was what i learned from every facet of the world from birth. i hate the idea; i hate the part of me that still expects to be straight, to be “normal” but it’s there, and it’s put me in a lot of really awful, upsetting situations with men where my comfort was ignored and my boundaries violated and i sat silent and let it happen. so even as a very young teen just coming to terms with my orientation, i felt so strongly for these women, most of whom would define themselves as romantically straight: their experience of the world may be in a lot of ways easier than mine but i felt the shared pain, the commonality between us sharply.

i’m a lesbian. i’m a black-mixed woman. i’m neurodivergent. this summer at a pride protest in my community one of the speakers, a woman I look up to immensely, addressed the multiple axes of her identity, from her disability to her blackness to her queerness. and one thing she said was “i came out twice: once at 14 and once at 47.” she came out as a lesbian at 14 and as ace at 47. she talked about being proudly and loudly lesbian for decades, but always feeling like something was missing, like something wasn’t right, and not having the words or knowledge base to understand what it was. she talked about asking her doctor if there was some kind of medicine she could take to “fix” her asexuality, and how her doctor said “why would you want to do that? are you unhappy? is it causing you pain?” and she talked about how, after decades of discomfort, she was able to fully come into herself by learning about and embracing her asexuality as well as her lesbian identity. both were important to her: both needed to be spoken proudly. 

one of my friends said that asexuality wasn’t like lgbp+ orientations because it was “making private information about your sex life everyone’s business” whereas being lesbian or pan isn’t necessarily about sex. he said that it shouldn’t be talked about except with partners, that people shouldn’t be coming out as ace the way they come out as trans or queer. but i think that’s just…so untrue, and so hurtful and dismissive to all the people for whom the term “asexual” was like coming home, like a light turning on, like comfort and understanding. i’ve also heard people say that asexuality is not inherently part of the community, often under the assertion that their struggle is not comparable. but then why am I as a cis woman considered a community member, despite the immense privilege I hold over trans people, and trans women in particular? it would be just as easy to take posts from all the horrible terfs on this site who happen to be lesbians and use them as proof that lesbians don’t belong in the community, so why isn’t that a common practice? what kind of logic is it to say that because a heteroromantic ace doesn’t face homophobia, they have no right to talk about their particular experiences with compulsory sexuality and erasure? you don’t have to be The Most Oppressed to talk about your particular experiences, as long as you aren’t erasing or dismissing those of people whose marginality is not yours. i can talk about my struggles with compulsory heteronormativity and with lesbophobia, and that doesn’t mean I think that trans lesbians somehow magically have it easier than me. it is harder in this world to be a trans lesbian than a cis lesbian, and that still doesn’t mean my particular struggles are invalid. 

like god, call out ace people who are perpetuating homophobia, because you should call out anyone who is perpetuating homophobia. but don’t deliberately construct a narrative that says they are homophobic because they are ace. don’t tell them that talking about their experiences and identity is inappropriate. don’t create a dichotomy in which only the lesbian or bi or gay or pan or queer part of a wlw or mlm ace is relevant and significant, especially if they explicitly consider both to be integral and interconnected. so what if you see the barriers ace people face as comparatively small? if “all” a community needs to stop being marginalized is increased awareness from the general public, that should be something to strive for and something to celebrate, because it means that with a little effort we could create a world in which no ace person has to spend years feeling broken. because as someone who used to cry every night and had a whole plan to kill myself if i wasn’t straight by the time i was 20, i know what it feels like to think you are broken and wrong for something innate and precious, and i don’t want anyone else to ever feel that. 

anonymous asked:

Can you offer any tips on how you got your hole to the point it is at now? What toys did you use? You have probably the most beautiful hole I've seen and I want mine to look the same.

I’m not very good with tips, I believe it’s all mostly individual. I can just share my story but there’s no guarantee it’s gonna work same way for you :)

I never saw any fisting porn or heard of it until I got my own fist in my hole. It all started with a normal dildo when I was about to turn 17. I was out of any relationships for quite awhile, bought my very first dildo. I wouldn’t call it huge or anything, it was about a size of a large humans dick. Important to mention that back then I used to bottom very very rarely. First time with that dildo was a struggle of course. But very soon after the pain I found a lot of pleasure and I was playing with it every night. This is where my hole just started to grow.

Soon I felt like It’s time for a larger toy and I got another dildo, a little ticker and twice as long. And I played with it every night too. Soon I was able to take it in entirely and I could even see it abut my belly from the inside. I was always into rough play so I was fucking myself with those dildos really hard. I got afraid when I saw my rosebud for the first time lol :D I could see it just a little bit, I couldn’t understand what is it, I thought did I hurt myself or something? But it didn’t hurt, instead I was getting turned on even more by touching it and looking at it in the mirror. I loved seeing how my tiny hole was getting bigger and even more now when I could see my rosebud. The look of it getting destroyed turned me on A LOT. 

I thought to myself hmm it’d be cool if I could get both of my dildos inside :D I tried and they got in. I was surprised, the felling of both of my dildos in my new-to-that hole was intense but I loved it a lot. It was new, it hurt a lot at first, but I couldn’t stop. I played with them both like that every day. One day I played again, I pulled them out, rubbed by destroyed hole with my hand a I felt how big it is now, I can even put 3 fingers in there no problem… oh wait, 4 fingers… FUCK!!! I kept pushing in and my hole swallowed my entire fist! I was laying on the floor legs-up looking at it in the mirror. I was shocked. The feeling of it, the look, everything - I got obsessed. Addicted. I wanted more. And more and more and more :D That day I looked it up the first time and I realized it’s a real thing called ‘fisting’ and there’re TONS of porn with that (hi xtube). I was fisting myself every single day and couldn’t get enough of it. And I was into punching straight from the start. I was just slamming my fist in my hole as hard as I could. Lube, piss and tears all over my room haha :D I was thinking about the feeling of fisting myself in the morning, during the classes at school, on the way home, and as soon as I would come home first thing I would do - you already know :) 

Since then I had a lot of crazy changes in my life, but one thing never changed - I still fist myself almost every day, and by fist I mean punch of course ;) 

So in my case it was all about the obsession, addiction, forcing myself to overcome the pain for the great pleasure.

Nemesis Mine

Chapter 1

Chapter 2. Baz.

Simon is starting to heal. It’s been a few days and I’ve been watching him almost constantly, usually when he’s not paying attention (I’m always looking at him when he’s not paying attention). I notice the way he carries himself and how he never flinches when his shoulder or his arm brushes against a wall or bumps into another student, so I finally decide that he’s really fine. He hasn’t been seriously hurt.

He looks up and smiles when I walk into our room, collapsing in my desk chair.

‘Hey, Baz,’ he says. ‘Long day?’

Simon communicates in shrugs and fragmented sentences. We’ve been roommates since we both started at Watford at the beginning of the year and after a few weeks I realised it’s just the way he is.

‘You have no idea,’ I say with a groan. ‘My tutor is a complete git.’

He’s flicking a pen back and forth between his fingers, and it flies across the room. He blushes and laughs.

Simon also blushes easily. I try not to have too much fun with it.

‘Look, do you want to go out for dinner?’ he says casually once he’s retrieved the pen. He sets it down on the desk and folds his arms.

I raise an eyebrow. Simon loves the food we get in the dining hall, especially the fact that our meals are included in our accommodation and are already paid for, meaning he can eat as much as he wants.

‘I would love to,’ I say, and his entire being seems to light up. (Fuck.) ‘But I can’t. I’m behind on my assignment, and I’m busy tonight.’

He pouts. ‘Behind as in due in a week, right?’

I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, so?’

‘So that’s not behind by most people’s standards, smart-ass.’

I smirk. ‘Fine. I’m barely on time with my assignment.’

‘Great, then you can go out with me,’ he says with a winning smile.

Words, Simon, I want to chide him. He’ll either not use them at all, or he uses them to imply things that he probably doesn’t mean.

‘Nope. Sorry, Simon, but I really am busy.’

Sometimes I just want to say fuck the superhero life and walk away from my family. I’d much rather go out for dinner with Simon than go chasing bad guys. (The chasing itself isn’t even so bad. It’s what comes after.)

‘Doing what?’ He sticks out his chin and stares me down, defying me not to give him a straight answer.

Oh, Simon. I wouldn’t lie to you if I didn’t have to.

‘Meeting friends,’ I say, avoiding his eyes.

Meeting friends in dark alleys in the middle of the night. That’s what I always imply, and it sounds dodgy enough that he knows not to ask any more questions. I suppose Simon thinks I’m in some sort of gang or something. It seemed like the most plausible excuse as to why I keep coming back hurt late at night. Soccer practice stopped sounding believable after the first two weeks.

‘Right, meeting friends,’ he echoes. ‘Guess I’ll see you later then.’

‘Yeah, later, Simon.’

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi Can I request for a reaction? Nct(u+127) reaction to Their Gf being motherly. Thank you ♥

NCT U + 127 Reaction: Their GF Being Motherly

jamlesswritings  → dong-hyucks
my internet doesn’t want to load the gifs right now, but i’ll add them in the morning or whenever my internet decides to work properly :)



Taeil would just be chilling at the dorms, waiting for you to come over like you had told him. The Dream Team™ was over as well, the three units all had a day off at the same time for once. When he heard the doorbell ring, he couldn’t get up in time for Chenle to slid over to the door – literally; his socks slipped quite easily on the hardwood floor – and open it before him. You must’ve heard Chenle slip into the coat rack because the moment you entered the dorm you had asked if he was okay and began checking up on the male. Taeil just watched with amusement, a small, teasing smile playing his lips like a fiddle.

Originally posted by nctinfo


You, Johnny, and Jaehyun had been out grocery shopping. You had been sleeping over at the dorms and Taeyong mentioned their fridge being empty. You nearly scolded the heck out of them for not refilling their fridge regularly, but instead Johnny suggested you come with him to the grocery store. Jaehyun ended up tagging along after a snake Yuta began to tease him for something. It was nearing midnight, but the closest grocery store was open 24/7 thankfully. Out of no where, Jaehyun would sneeze. Your mood immediately changed, stopping the boys completely to check up on Jaehyun’s health. Johnny would laugh, staring at you with adoration in his eyes.

Originally posted by jeongyunos


You had come to their practice room to accompany Taeyong. The boys had a day off that day so they all, for the most part (some of them were lazing around the dorm), made plans and went out. Taeyong had been the only one who wanted to practice that day, so you decided to tag along so he wasn’t alone. While you watched him dance, you’d be like his cheerleader. And when a song would come to an end, you’d rush over with his water bottle because hydration is important. Taeyong would get flustered for only a moment, not used to being the one that’s doted on. After a while, he’d just get really smiley, eternally grateful to have someone like you by his side.

Originally posted by nctaezen


Yuta would be preparing for an awards show when he first witnessed you being even the slightest bit motherly. The boys had gone ahead to the salon but Yuta had a slightly different schedule than them that day; he had gone to an interview. To save time, the boys’ manager had Yuta change into his suit before coming to the salon. You were somewhat of a coordinator for them, so you were also tagging along to at least the salon. When Yuta came out, you’d laugh and walk over to him with an amused grin. “What?” Without answering him, you’d just fix his tie, the tie that he had horridly done. Yuta’d just laugh at your motherly act, staring at you with pure love in his eyes.

Originally posted by rebel-bee

Doyoung [Dongyoung] i am still not used to his real name wtf

The two of you would be lazing around the dorms watching Mark and Donghyuck play a video game quite passionately. Occasionally, Doyoung would make a playful joke; ‘You aren’t as good as you claim to be,’ etc. Honestly, the two would just ignore him, too immersed in the game. When it got to the point where you had been cuddling with Doyoung long enough for his arm to fall asleep, you raised a brow at the boys. “You shouldn’t stare at the screen for so long, boys. It could damage your eyes.” Doyoung would just give you a look before laughing quietly to himself. For the rest of the night, he’d notice your subtle yet clear motherly acts and he’d smile.

Originally posted by nctaezen


You and Ten were on a little date atop SM’s rooftop. [i have no clue what SM’s rooftop looks like or how high it is tbh] You had a small picnic and now you were just laying down side by side and relaxing. You and Ten had ended up talking for hours on end, enjoying each other’s company greatly. Suddenly, Ten would remember something he had wanted to show you on his phone a meme and rolled over to grab it. You were quick to stop him upon making a single glance in his direction. He hadn’t noticed, but if he had kept rolling he would’ve hit his head on the metal skylight. You then continued to tell him to be more careful, only to be interrupted by his carefree laugh. He’d grin at you and ruffle your hair; you could’ve sworn you heard him say cute under his breath.

Originally posted by vertzuki


You had gotten permission to tag along with him and Johnny to the building that they recorded NCT Night Night shows. The entire ride there you were bouncing in excitement because you enjoyed listening and watching the lengthy recordings. Upon getting out of the boys’ manager’s vehicle, Jaehyun almost immediately tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. Both you and Johnny were quick to pull him back before he could fall forward the entire way. When you had begun to fuss, checking to see if he had sprained his ankle or anything, Jaehyun would get kind of shy and laugh a lot. He’d find you really cute worrying over him like that– not like he’d ever admit that.

Originally posted by nctaezen

Sicheng [Winwin]

You and Sicheng were having a night together. He had a schedule early the morning after, yet he had still persuaded you to go out with him. You ended up sitting at a wooden picnic table, the moon’s light hidden from view due to the blue and white umbrella that hung overhead. He had taken you to an ice cream parlor that was open all day and all night. While you were talking, Sicheng suddenly winced, scrunching up his nose as he abruptly placed his ice cream cup down. His hands went to rub circles into his temples. You chuckled, giving him a mini lecture about the speed he ate at and the aftermath of practically inhaling his cold ice cream. He wouldn’t notice at first, but later on he’d think back to it and laugh quietly to himself.

Originally posted by blackgirlslovebts


You and Mark had been hanging out at his dorms when he first witnessed you being motherly. You were playing a racing game whilst simultaneously nibbling on some chips. At first, it was quite calm. You’d lean against his shoulder as he leaned back into the soft cushions of the couch. As time went on, you both got more and more playfully aggressive. At some point, Mark had flailed after losing a game and ended up hitting himself in the face with his controller. You’d go into immediate mom mode, your kind actions making him smile widely and blush.

Originally posted by dovounq

Donghyuck [Haechan]

You and Donghyuck were on a midnight coffee shop date. Except, you weren’t drinking coffee taeyong asked to see the receipt when you got back to the dorms you were drinking hot chocolate. Whilst you waited for your drinks, you and Donghyuck talked about a number of things. His idol life, your job, school, etc. Eventually, a man came by with your orders. Donghyuck, without thinking, took a quick sip of the hot chocolate. He quickly jumped, after carefully placing the cup onto the table that separated you, and covered his mouth. You’d chuckle a bit, but then make sure he was 100% okay. Your concern had him blushing and cracking bad jokes and puns. Not that either of you minded.

Originally posted by nctaezen

(a rewrite of That Scene from ep. 59, between percy and vex in the feywild the night before syngorn. with a few changes, though – just because i have some Feelings about trans lady vex, and how well that particular headcanon feeds into her specific insecurities regarding her appearance and how she is perceived and judged, and how Anxious she is about going back to a place where people knew her as a kid.)

tw for implied past transphobia, and mentions of unhappy childhoods / mild past child abuse


“Percy,” said Vex, abruptly, her tone suddenly… not quite sombre, but considerably more serious than it usually was. There was none of the light, easy teasing, almost flirting, he’d grown so used to, and it worried him. Vex was rarely serious. “Change of subject. Would you say I look put together? Well-off? With this armour, I mean.”

There was a long moment’s silence, where Percy attempted to parse the question – not just what she’d said, but what she meant. The two were so often entirely different things, he’d discovered, not just with Vex, but with her brother, too. “Hmm,” he said, eventually, careful and thoughtful, “in what sense?

“Well,” she said, a little impatiently, words carried quickly off the tip of her tongue by the anxiety cold down her spine. “You come from money, right?” She barely waited for him to nod before continuing. “Right. So, um. Do I look like… like I come from money?”

It was such a simple question, so oddly honest coming from Vex, that Percy nearly laughed. The look on Vex’s face, the naked vulnerability, stopped him – made him settle down and sit on the edge of the bed next to her instead, brows drawn together – but it was a near thing. “Honestly, dear,” he said, smiling a slightly crooked smile through his concern, “you’re too happy to look like you come from money.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I have chronic fatigue as well. Do you have any tips on trying to manage it? I've done all the bs lifestyle changes, blah blah blah. But I would love to hear from someone who ACTUALLY has chronic fatigue. Any advice?

Advice for CFS sufferers from a CFS sufferer.

First things first I want to make it perfectly clear that everyone with CFS/ME is different and because of this things that work for me might not work for you or others. However, I’m going to give some advice based on things I do or things I wish I did.

Food and Drink

It is important to make sure you continue to eat and drink even when you are on your worst days. You may not feel a lot better when you’ve eaten but believe me you will feel worse if you do not eat. Food is important and so is hydration.

Microwave meals are a lifesaver. They may not be the most nutritious thing and they may not always be the nicest but it is always better to eat something than nothing. Microwave meals take next to no effort. Pull it out the freezer, pierce some plastic and away you go. And you can get such a variety of things. Please do not neglect your body.

If you do want to cook, be productive on your better days. Cook up things that you can freeze and come to easily. Things like tortilla based foods, pasta based meals, even rice can be cooked and frozen and recooked. This was pretty much what I lived on when I was at uni the first time because it saved so much energy which I rarely had at dinner time.

If you are in bed and struggling to get out keep a large drink by your bed. I have a cinema special edition cup that I got at a midnight screening once. It holds a litre and has a really long straw so I don’t have to worry about holding the heavy cup or even sitting up properly if you don’t want to or can’t. If you’re out and about carry a drink with you.

Coffee is useful but don’t rely on it too much. Coffee may give you an energy boost but most people even without a chronic illness feel a come down from coffee, imagine that come down with the addition of always being fatigued. I am guilty so much of over using coffee and it’s not good when the come down happens.


It can be hard if you’re used to wearing clothes with a lot of buttons and zips and heals or what have you because dressing can be difficult and can take a lot of energy that you might not be able to spare. For me, hoodies, t-shirts and jogging bottoms are a must. They are easy to get in and out of and comfortable whether you are out and about or lounging inside.

The other thing is pyjamas. With CFS you’ll probably spend more time in your pyjamas that you did before you had CFS. Invest in cute pyjamas. Ones with your fandoms on or cute animals or whatever it is you’re into. If you’re in Britain Primark is great for cute pjs, I love them because they’re so cheap. Continuing the pj theme, you need to have pjs for warm and cold weather or warm and cold you. Sometimes it’s like 25oc outside and you will be freezing, sometimes it’s -5 and you’ll be boiling, so bear in mind that the temperature outside doesn’t necessarily correlate to the temperature of you. Fluffy socks are great too.

Personal Care.

If you have a bath and a shower at home, find out which you find easiest and do that. I personally find showering easier because while standing for long periods is difficult, I find that baths cause me to go lightheaded and feel really off. It is okay to go a few extra days without bathing/showering than you normally would. You may feel kinda off because of it but it’s not the end of the world and resting up is definitely more important than washing your hair.

On the subject of washing your hair, invest in dry shampoo. I’ve not used it but I’ve heard a lot of other spoonies talking about it and how useful it can be. If you’re struggling to bathe or shower but you want to do something, things like strip washing while sat on the toilet seat can be really helpful as well.

Mobility and Life Aids.

This is a really big one: Do not be afraid to use aids. Do not be afraid or ashamed to use anything that might help you. Whether this is a walking stick, a wheelchair or anything else, you are allowed to use it. You are disabled enough, you are ill enough. I’ve known people with chronic illnesses who have been afraid to get mobility aids because they are young, because people are more ill than you or whatever reason. It’s bullshit, okay. I don’t care if people think you don’t need it. If you feel like you need it and it will help you then you have every right to get it.

I don’t use a great amount of mobility aids but I have recently brought a walking stick and it has honestly made the world of difference for me. It’s lengthened how long I can walk for, how long I can be upright, how I can be out. I put off getting it for a long time for the reason above and it’s stupid because it helps. If you can be helped by getting one, do so.

This goes for everything. This does for anything that can help you. Things that are generally advertised towards older people are not solely for them. You are never too young for an illness, you are never too young to need something.


This is a bit of a lighter note but when you’re in a place where you can’t go out or you can’t go out for very long, life can get really really boring. If you don’t have the energy to do a lot you need to find things that you can do will you are stuck at home. I have a few things to recommend but there really whatever you can manage is great

1.       Netflix. TV and DVDs are great but Netflix is a life saver for me. There is a lot more on there, it’s very easy to find something new to watch whatever mood you are in.

2.       Audiobooks. Getting a subscription to Audible was a wonderful decision for me. I love reading so much but I don’t always have the energy to follow the words or even hold a book, so having an audiobook means I can still get the entertainment of books without having to put so much of the effort into it.

3.       Crafts. If you’re able to do things with your arms without getting achy, I definitely recommend some sort of craft. I make things out of felt, but drawing, sewing, decoupage, writing, colouring books, anything really to keep your brain stimulated.

4.       Phone Games. You have next to no energy but you’re too awake to actually sleep, phone games are wonderful. They take little energy and little concentration.

5.       The Internet. I wish I had known how great the internet is for spoonies when I was first diagnosed. God, it is wonderful.

Like I said, there are more, there are so many more. These are just a few I use.

Medication and the Medical Profession

Every spoonie to ever spoon knows that the medical profession is an endless cause of frustration. You’ll regularly go to your doctors and be told that you just need to pace yourself or that it’s mental health related or this or that and what they are really saying underneath all of this is ‘we know jack shit about this illness’. It is important to find a doctor who believes you, unfortunately there are still a large number of medical professionals who don’t believe in CFS and it fucking sucks. Find a doctor who believes you, who listens to you and who at least tries to help even when there isn’t anything they can do. You have every right to change doctors if the one you had is more harming than helping. Remember that.

Get doctors to check for other things. Don’t allow them to put everything down to the CFS. A lot of the time it will be. A lot of the time you will find that there is not logical explanation and you’re going to have to get used to that. But sometimes there will be other things as well. I was anaemic while also having CFS and iron tablets made the world of difference to me. I was on iron tablets for two years and my iron has finally normalised.

If you suffer from brain fog, before going to the doctors make a note of what you wanted to talk about. It can be in depth or it can literally just be bullet points to trigger your memory when you get there. If you are worried you’re going to forget what the doctor has said to you, ask them to write some things down for you. They should be willing to do so.

If you have medication, do whatever it takes to remember to actually take it when you’re supposed to. I use a pill organiser so I know whether or not I have taken them each night. I find I have to check twice that I have filled it properly, brain fog can honestly be a problem with this. But pill organisers are definitely useful. Alarms are another thing that is useful. If you have to take something the same time each day set an alarm that says ‘tablets’ or something like that so you remember it.

Painkillers are your friend. See if you can get them on a prescription because you will probably end up taking them regularly. You will often find that they don’t help or only scratch the survive of the pain, but believe me it is better than nothing at all.

I hugely recommend keeping certain things in your house. I have a drawer of my bedside cabinet that has my prescriptions and other related things in it. Keep in painkillers, heat pads, cool pads, a first aid kit, lip balm, and probably some other things that I can’t think of right now.


Having an illness like CFS messes with your mentally as well as physically. This is partly because of the effects of the actual symptoms and partly because of other people’s reaction to you. People suck when it comes to illnesses and disabilities. Being diagnosed with CFS is a life sentence that often comes along with losing friends and family members, it often means having to stop studying or stop working. It is a complete shape up of your life. It’s the knowledge that this may or may not get better and if it gets better again it may just as tell get worse again.

Whatever you are feeling is okay. You are allowed to be angry, you are allowed to sad, you’re allowed to be frustrated. There is no correct way to feel about your illness or the way you are being treated because of it. You are not doing anything wrong if you’re so angry you just want to scream at everyone. You are not doing anything wrong if you just want to cry and cry. People will spout a load of shit about positive thinking but it is unhealthy to be positive all the time and if you are upset or angry or whatever you are allowed to be. Don’t let anyone tell you that you shouldn’t be feeling that way.

Out and About

You are likely to miscalculate the number of spoons you have. This can go either way but you are very much more likely to overestimate. Don’t let your illness stop you from doing things if you feel like you can do them. But on the flip side don’t do things when you are too ill because you feel like you should be. Sometimes you will go out thinking you can deal with a day of action and you after a couple of hours you will find that you actually you really don’t. It is hard, almost impossible to properly calculate spoons.

1.     Take your Mobility Aids. There is a change you won’t need it but it is 100% better to carry it with you and not need it than to need it and not have it with you.

2.       Rest along the way if you need to. Whether this is leaning against a shop window because holy hell suddenly the world is spinning to fast, whether it’s stopping by a café because getting a drink and/or a snack will give you an excuse to sit down for, well, as long as you need really, or whatever it is but listen to your body and give it the rests it needs.

3.     If you need to leave something early do so. Is it frustrating? Does it make you feel anti-social and boring? Yes and yes. But if you cannot manage what you have organised even if you are part way through it and you need to leave do so.

4.     Have a back-up plan for getting home. Now this is something I don’t do and really wish I did. Say one of your friends is the designated driver and you are on a day out and suddenly you don’t have the energy to go on but you also don’t want to ruin the rest of your friends’ day. Have another way to get home: someone who can pick you up, public transport, whatever but have a way.

Other People

People can suck. We all know this anyone but having an illness like CFS you learn a whole new way in which people suck. And you learn, sometimes, that it’s not stranger that suck all the time, sometimes it’s your closest friends. I’m very lucky now because I have friends who do their utmost to understand and help in any way that they can but I haven’t always been so lucky. I was thirteen when I was diagnosed and I was off school was seven weeks before any of my friends got in contact with me. People don’t always bother with people who aren’t around anymore and it’s really sucky but it happens. It hurts, it hurts a lot, but I promise you there are better people out there. You will find people who care about you whether you are healthy or ill or whatever else.

Family and friends won’t always believe you. People will make comments about how you are exaggerating, how you are lazy, how you need to just push through. They will tell you’re making their life difficult because of your illness, etc, etc. There is no end to abled-peoples insensitive comments. I’m sorry but the only thing you can really do here is learn to let it go over your head. It will take time but eventually you’ll learn that you are the one in your body, you are the one who know what its really like and that you are not a burden, you are not a problem, you’re just a person who is ill.

Everyone and their aunt has a ‘cure’ for you. Everyone knows someone who suffered from it and if you just ‘try yoga’, ‘cut out gluten’, ‘change your diet’ you will be better again. It’s bullshit. It is a chronic illness and chronic illnesses mean there is not a cure. People are insensitive as I have said. Ignore them the best you can and focus on the things that you know to help or hinder. Once again, you are the one in your body after all.


This is probably the most important part of all of this and it encompasses pretty much all of the headings. Looking after yourself is the most important thing. You need to put yourself first, you need to make sure you are doing everything you can for your health, for your well-being. If this means sometimes you just put on clean pjs and go back to bed, then you do that. If this means laying in a bath until the water is almost cold, do it. If it means lying on the sofa with a blanket and a teddy and a cup of tea do it. If it means pushing yourself a bit too much one day and dealing with the consequences for a week then do it. You deserve to put yourself first!

There is probably a lot more I could say but I think this is long enough already. I really hope this helps lovely and that it wasn’t too intense to read. If you want me to talk about any specific subject either in more detail or something that I haven’t touched on at all please feel free to message me again. Hope you’re having a less than terrible day. Love and spoons. xxx

jennablackfox  asked:

Moddy, I've been in such an angsty mood lately! So in tandem with this, can we have more of Obi-wan being a suicide risk? How is Qui-gon handling that?


That’s the word Qui-Gon uses as the world seems to slow down to a single point of focus of three.

Himself, hand raised with his saber in his other hand.

Obi-Wan, standing with his back to Qui-Gon, gasping noises escaping the boy.

And Xanatos wide, crazed eyes as he stood in front of the boy with a viroblade buried between the boys ribs that were meant for Qui-Gon’s back.

Grasping the Force, Qui-Gon throws Xanatos as far away from them as he can, fear choking up his throat as grabs Obi-Wan and pulls him back to him to see the damage. The viroblade is still there, buried in Obi-Wan’s flesh with blood starting to coat his tunic, the boys unlit saber falling from his fingers as he stares up with wide pained eyes turned an eerie green by the glow of Qui-Gon’s own saber.

‘No…’ Qui-Gon slowly looked towards Xanatos who was slowly rising like a wary feral animal, eyes on them.

He had a choice.

Fight his fallen apprentice or save his current one.

The choice was simple and Qui-Gon swept the boy into his arms, saber going onto his belt as he turned tail and ran, relying on instinct and Force.

“Force kark it Obi-Wan. I told you not to do that!” He hissed at the steadily paling boy in his arms.

“S-Sorry…Master.” He got out, small hands going for the viroblade.

“Don’t touch that!” Qui-Gon snapped. “Its the only thing preventing you from bleeding out.” He jumped, landing on the first of what he knew to be several roofs.

It didn’t matter how many he had to jump.

Obi-Wan was getting to a medic, NOW.

He tried to keep the painful throbs of his heart to a minimum as Obi-Wan’s small hands instead fisted themselves into Qui-Gon tunics instead of touching the viroblade.

“How often do I have to tell you that I value you Obi-Wan? You can’t just…I’m not losing you!” Qui-Gon put on another burst of speed, listening to the choked breaths Obi-Wan couldn’t help but let out.

“You’re important too…master.” Obi-Wan whispered, face tucked to his chest.

Pulling out a swear he would later deny knowing, Qui-Gon landed neatly in front of the nearest medical center, scaring two gands and a whole bunch birds into the air.


“And he is now stable?” The Korun questioned.

“Yes, for now. The medics are still cautious but optimistic, it was touch and go for a long while since his ribs were pierced.” Qui-Gon pressed his lips together, remembering Obi-Wan choking on his own blood when the viroblade was removed.

“Mace?” The words were on the tip of his tongue, it felt like acid on his tongue but they needed to be said, they needed to come out because he was Obi-Wan’s example. “I think its about time I go to the mind healers.”

The holo of the Korun stared at him and Qui-Gon could feel the rest of the councils eyes on him even if he couldn’t see them.

“I’m sorry what?”

“Obi-Wan is not healthy. If I am to convince him to go to them, I have to go forward with a good example.” Qui-Gon looked aside, frowning faintly as he put his hands into his sleeves. “…And I think that he needs more help then I can manage on my own. I think he’s a suicide risk. Not an active one but…He’s barely thirteen and he seems to think that self sacrifice is the answer to every conflict, seems to consider his own life worth less then others…”

There was silence for a few moments.

“If I knew getting you to take a padawan would make you rethink going to the mind healers, then I would have forced you to take one before.” Mace snorted before raising his brows when Qui-Gon leveled him a glare worthy of a super novas heat.

“I don’t think you heard me Mace. One of our thirteen year old padawans who only recently was an Initiate seems to think that dying is an acceptable form for solving conflicts. And that makes me very wary about the generation of padawans we are raising.” The big man snapped.

“Not everyone is padawan Keno-”

“You are not listening to me. If this is one of our most promising, then why does he think that his death is an acceptable thing. I know we are Jedi, but he is still a child. That is not acceptable.”

“What are you suggesting Master Qui-Gon?”

That voice was Yaddle, Qui-Gon was sure of that.

“I’m suggesting nothing except perhaps we should look into the practices of how we are raising our young. And what the creche are doing with those Initiates that needs a more delicate hand…or bullying happening in the creche.” Qui-Gon shifted. “Or do we want to see more of Obi-Wan’s behavior for our future generations?”

Since he only had Mace holo, the contemplating expression that slowly turned into the slightest bit of horror.

Yeah he didn’t think so.

“Now if the council will excuse me, I have a padawan to care for.” He turned the holo comm off and stepped back, taking a deep breath. ‘… Force take it little imp. I’m going to see you a knight come hell or high water.’

anonymous asked:

Autistic people are often framed as having only a singular, heavily involved "special interest", or perhaps 2 or 3, to the absolute exclusion of anything else. While I know this is likely true for some, I can't imagine that every autistic person ever doesn't have multiple hobbies or interests pursued with varying degrees of engagement. The sense I get from the NT-written things I've encountered make autistic folk seem very one-dimensional. I'd like some help clearing this up, please!

This is one of those topics that hasn’t really been researched, as far as I can tell, so I’ll be sticking to my usual method of speaking for myself and inviting autistic followers to add their thoughts. I can in no way claim to speak for everyone, but am happy to share my perspective.

First off, let me explain how a special interest works for me with a simple metaphor: falling in love. When I first come across a new special interest, its eyes sparkle at me from across the room. I get a tiny taste of it, a fragment of information or a glimpse of a picture, and a spark flies, and a fuse lights, and a bomb of euphoria goes off in my head. This thing, this thing right here, is quite clearly the most amazing, important thing I’ve ever come across. This thing is frigging incredible, the best thing that’s ever happened, and the world needs to know.

I become obsessed. I gobble up information wherever I can find it. I learn everything there is to know as quickly as I possibly can. I become an expert on this thing in a remarkably short amount of time. This is LOVE, man. Well, more accurately, this is infatuation. Puppy love. That drug-like rush of chemicals in your brain when you feel you’ve found THE ONE. I talk about it constantly, much to the annoyance of those around me who just don’t quite understand why this thing, this one thing, is so amazingly great that I need to rant about it to the exclusion of everything else in the world. (Especially since they’ve heard it all before.) Just talking about it gives me a rush of euphoria. Sometimes I can see that those around me aren’t interested, but I just can’t stop. The words pour out of me, the excitement radiates off of me, I can’t be ignored, can’t be interrupted. This is like nothing that has ever happened before! Surely, if I can explain it well enough, everyone else will see, too, right? Right?

If you’ve never been in this kind of love, you might not have learned this lesson yet, but here it comes, folks: that kind of love doesn’t last. That euphoric high that results when your brain decides to take a bath in happy chemicals - it’s just physically impossible to sustain it. Eventually, the high, the firey passion, wears off. For me, this usually takes about a year. I’ve read and watched and learned everything I can about this thing. It’s been the center point of my life for a long time, the thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. And one day, suddenly, it just… doesn’t hold the same appeal. It’s not that I don’t love it anymore! I will always love it. But the love changes. It becomes the old, familiar love that comes with time. You don’t get that high from being together anymore, but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy each other’s company. You no longer try to persuade the world that this one is the one, is the best thing ever. You no longer need to. This love just settles into the back of your mind, always there, always a comfort, always ready to give you a hug when you need it.

The expertise I’ve gained from all my intensive research, that stays. I will always know just about all there is to know about that thing (at least, all there was to know when I was researching it). I’ll always be able to call that knowledge to mind later on, when it’s useful. And I’ve developed quite the reputation for being a “know-it-all”. I always seem to have some random, obscure fact right on the tip of my tongue, and it’s usually debunking some common misconception that my friends would just as soon keep on having rather than feeling like they’re constantly under attack by that one girl who just HAS to know EVERYTHING.

But it doesn’t feel that way for me. A key difference I’ve noted in communication between autistic and allistic people, and the source of a large percentage of our miscommunications in life, is this: allistic people communicate to bond emotionally and to establish and display power and dominance or submission. Autistic people communicate to share information. When I correct someone, it’s because I know that if I was wrong, I would want to be given the correct information, so I could stop being wrong. But when an allistic person is corrected like that, they take it as an attack on their status, a display of power, and a denial of their feelings. The “golden rule” doesn’t always work. It’s a constant problem.

In any case, I have always been described as someone obsessive. Someone who finds one thing (although it’s often two, three, even four things at a time) and just obsessively learns everything about it and won’t shut up about it for months and months on end. And that really does seem to be true, in a sense. I have very extreme levels of interest. Either something is amazing and I need to know everything about it, or it just doesn’t catch my interest at all. There isn’t much in between.

On the other hand, due to all the many special interests I’ve had over my more than three decades of life, I have built up quite a broad range of interests. I never lost any of them. All of those things still interest me now, and when someone brings one of them up in conversation, I still get a spark of the old obsessiveness deep inside. As a result, I now seem to have a wide range of interests, some of which I’m overtly obsessive about, and others which I keep on file, ready to pull out whenever they’re needed. When I was young, that probably wasn’t the case. It’s likely that I may have been viewed as somewhat one-dimensional as a child, obsessed with just a few things and completely uncaring about everything else. (And when my parents, trying to make me act “normal”, tried separating me from my special interests, the pain was as crushing as being forced to leave your True Love because the rest of the world doesn’t want you to be together - and only made my obsession stronger.)

What I want you to understand is that I don’t see that as a negative thing in any way. An allistic person might see that narrow range of interests and think “oh the poor thing, it’s like she lives in a tiny world and is missing so much of life!” But from my perspective, it’s allistic people who are missing out. Allistic people never seem particularly interested in anything, not by my standards. From where I’m standing, it looks like allistics just drift through life, dabbling in a little of everything but never mastering anything, never finding any real interest, never getting any real, intense joy out of any of their hobbies. An allistic person might say to me, “Yeah, I do a little crocheting, but I’m not really that into it.” And in my mind, I’ll think… then why do it at all? How horribly unsatisfying must it be to go through your entire life, never falling in love with anything you do? Never feeling that euphoria that I get to experience over and over again every time I find a new interest?

Autistic and allistic brains are specialized differently. Allistic brains are best at navigating social rules and structures and internalizing broad strokes and large categories. They look at a table for the first time and think: “That’s a table.” And that’s pretty much as far as they go. They might spend a few seconds to note the material or color or overall condition of the table, but that’s it. 

Autistic brains are specialized in details. It means we have more information to process, all those details without any mechanism for discarding the ones that aren’t important, but it also means we get to see everything about something. I see that new table and I can get lost in tracing the patterns of the grain for hours on end. Sure, it takes me longer, but I get a lot more out of it, and I get a joy from that which allistic people just don’t seem to get.

It’s similar with our interests. Allistics have broad interests, dipping their toe into the shallow ends of a thousand different pools but never really diving in. Autistics have narrow but intense interests. We absorb every detail, and in doing so experience an intense and wonderful euphoria. Honestly, sometimes I feel sorry for all the allistic people in the world who never get to experience that. The poor things… ;)

-Mod Aira

For me, I can have both special interests and normal-level interests. Just because I have stuff that I really really love and am passionate about doesn’t mean I can’t also have other interests, that I’m not quite as passionate about but that I like to dabble in from times to times or as a part of my routine. I do not feel however the urge or will to research them in more depth. There is joy that I can derive from it, but there is not the same “drive” to pursue it. I’d say that’s the main difference between a regular interest and what we call a special interest: a drive to learn about it, talk about it, read about it, build projects about it, engage with it, that is much stronger. So one person can have one or a few special interests, but I’d say it’s not always to the exclusion of everything else.

I think the intensity of special interests, their “obsessiveness” and whether or not the person likes to engage with other subjects that their special interests depends a lot from one person to the next. My special interests sound less intense than what Aira is describing, and I may have more varied non-special interests. So really I’d say this is something that depends a lot from one person to the next.

I also want to add that just because someone has a narrow range of interests doesn’t mean they’re one-dimensional: I’ve seen a special interest described as a lense through which you understand the world. The world is large, and even if you have only one such “lense”, that’s a lot of things to discover with that unique point of view.

-Mod Cat

Fic: I've Got You Under My Skin

Fandom: The 100

Pairing: Kabby 

Word Count: 3326

(A/N: My entry for the @slackru Kabby fluff challenge! Hope you all enjoy! Comments and reblogs muchly appreciated! Cross posted on AO3.)

“This is… Maybe this isn’t a good idea. I mean, it’s probably too soon, right? The timing is… it might never be right. She might not want to do this again, and I’m not -”

Kane.” Indra watched the man pace back and forth in the small, cramped hallway outside medical and wondered if he could even hear his own nervous babbling, but she wasn’t about to let him fall down into a pit of self doubt; in her opinion it would be insulting to both Abby and himself for Kane to question either of their devotion to each other. “Don’t be a fool, and don’t be a coward.”

Why did men always have to make such a fuss over things and blow them out of proportion? This was important, of course, but it was also simple.

“Right…” Kane murmured, mostly to himself, but he was still obviously tense and thrumming with anxiety. “I still don’t think she’ll go for the tattoo thing.”

Indra sighed: a fuss over nothing. “It is the custom of most clans to seal unions with ink.”

“But not all?”

“By all means, choose scarification instead. I believe that is the Azgeda way.” She still felt that deeply ingrained stab of disgust at saying their name. No matter how long she was forced to live with them, they would never be her people. She felt at least a little gratified when Kane winced minutely; he, at least, was as opposed to that suggestion as she was. “How was it done on the Ark?”

“An exchange of rings. Old Earth custom,” Kane replied, “Perhaps you remember the ring Abby wore?”

Keep reading

Violin Lance saves the day I guess?

I’ve recently become obsessed with the thought of Lance playing the Violin since he was young but not telling anyone outside of his family because of some personal reason, and ending up saving the day with his ability during a botched diplomatic mission that results in him being the only one who can convince the people of the planet to release the others.

Keep reading

In four months of planning he’d never once thought Lucy’s eventual return to Portland Row would involve her turning up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, exhausted, shaking, and bleeding. The anger he feels towards the men that tried to kill hers is almost unrivaled, but he files it away. He’ll have his chance to make this right eventually, but Lucy’s well-being is more important.

He’s wanted her back for so long that the days that follow are almost surreal. Suddenly he’s bumping into her in the hallway, sitting next to her at the kitchen table, asking for her insights and advice, like nothing has changed.

But, at least for him, everything has changed.

Lucy is only back for the time being, until they can make things safe for her again, but Lockwood doesn’t care because she’s here. She’s at Portland Row, as a consultant, as a client, as a friend, and that’s what’s important. As long as she’s here, he’s got a chance of asking her to stay.

The problem is that for all his confidence and charm, Lockwood doesn’t know how to ask.

He’s had a lot of time to think on what happened between them, and he’s come to two conclusions: that he is completely guilty of taking Lucy for granted, and that he’s never quite wanted anything as badly as he wants to get her back.

He’d assumed a lot about her, four months ago. That she loved being a part of the team. That she would never even consider leaving. That she wasn’t stubborn enough to see it through. He’d even assumed that she cared about him a little differently than she did George.

Most of his assumptions had been proven wrong the day she walked out the front door. The wake-up call had been a painful one.

Lockwood doesn’t want to assume anymore. He’d assumed before that Lucy liked him. He’d taken that for granted. And now here they were, on the far side of four months where he’d neither seen nor heard from her.

He thinks she’s happy to be here. He can see the difference between Portland Row Lucy and the Lucy that he’d found in that lonely apartment. He thinks she might still care for him. She still watches him sometimes, with that soft smile that suggests he might be the source of everything good in her life.

He thinks she wants to stay. But he’s done presuming anything about Lucy Carlyle.

That’s why the words don’t come. He needs Lucy to stay, it’s too important to mess up, but the timing is never right. And when it is, they’re interrupted. He is terrified that this will all end and she’ll walk out the door and it’ll be another four months, or longer, before he sees her again.

He can’t let that happen.

ann-i-ka  asked:

I love all your works. Your writing has helped me through some awful days I've had lately. So thank you for publishing and I hope that writing brought your as much joy, as I had while reading. The Chancellor Qui-Gon is an interesting permise. What happens with Anakin in that Verse? Is he a Jedi or did Qui-Gon found and adopted him? If he isn't still on Tattooine, how long will it take before he is done with the flirting and UST, and shoves them both into the nearest closet? Just wondering.

Mingling is stressing but a necessary part of his job description.

Mingle with the traditionalists, the liberalism, reformists, conservatives…to many labels, to much fluff, to many people thinking they could influence him with a smile and a backhanded compliment.

Qui-Gon Jinn was much to old to be swayed by such things and if taking over after Valorum had taught him one thing, it was that such people were to be treated with respect on the outside while working around them on the inside.

After all, if they couldn’t see the threat you really were…

Well honestly was that anyone’s fault other then their own?

A flash of rough homespun beige caught his attention among the opulence, colors and wealth that usually covered the balls and parties he was forced to go to.

Obi-Wan, like a quiet banked flame, prowling the edges of the ballroom with observant eyes.

And in all of this, fancy creatures in fancy clothes, its this creature of light and warmth that draws Qui-Gon.

The Jedi who wants for nothing, who gives of his heart and gives genuine gifts from his heart and not to win favor.

Who blushes at the merest of touches.

A casual brush of his fingers to brush away hair from the others face. Thigh against thigh in a speeder. A soft hand on a wrist.

Blue catches green and Qui-Gon raises his glass in a slight greeting, his face blank but eyes sparkling as Obi-Wan’s lips quirk in answer and a small nod is returned along with the blushing tips of the redheads ears.

And then Qui-Gon has to bite in his laugh at the others padawan rolling his eyes pointedly behind Obi-Wan and the redhead hisses at him. He can only just read the word ‘broadcast’ on the little blonds lips before his attention is grasped by another well meaning, simpering politician.

Oh what he wouldn’t give to have Organa around to talk to but he’s on the other side of the room, patiently waiting for Qui-Gon to reach him. Blasted respectable man he is.

He’s almost ready to tear his hair out by the time something happens to cut through the fluff and buzz of politicians scheming.

A flash of beige with Obi-Wan suddenly landing behind him, the now all to familiar buzzing sound of a lightsaber. Over the gasps and cries, he heard Obi-Wan’s voice. “Anakin, stay with the Chancellor.” And then Obi-Wan was off, following someone through an open window.

The padawan stopped at his side with both of them looking at the window.

“…Five credits says he comes back injured.”

“You’re on little man.” Qui-Gon smirked, outright chuckling when the boy gave a delighted grin. “What happened?”

“Mercenary with a blowdart.” Anakin shrugged, gesturing to the melted mass on the floor with a hand. “Master was keeping a tight eye on everything.” He looked like he wanted to say more but held his tongue, something Qui-Gon was grateful for as people were starting to calm down thanks to the guards and the reporters were snapping pictures of him and Anakin.

“Have you enjoyed yourself tonight young one?” He asked instead.

Anakin mused on that. “Its different then what I’m used to for sure. I was…my situation wasn’t ideal before I became a padawan and Jedi food is simple but good, this is all…” He wrinkled his nose a bit.

“Extravagant perhaps is the word you’re looking for.”

Anakin looked like he was mentally going through the definition of the word before nodding. “Yah, that. Kind of wizard though.”

“Where are you from? I have to admit, I have not asked Obi-Wan about to many details when he told me had taken a padawan.”

“Tatooine. Master Koon found me there and took me to the Temple.” Anakin settled his thumbs in his belt and avoided looking at Qui-Gon but that knowledge answered more then one question Qui-Gon had.

The broken ‘I was…’ in full sentence was, ‘I was a slave.’.

“…Tatooine is on the far edges of the Rim, isn’t it?” Qui-Gon hummed. “Hutt controlled…”

“…Yeah.” Anakin pinched his lips together.

“Don’t like most hutts personally.” Qui-Gon settled on saying. “Meet one or two decent ones but most have an unfortunate favoritism towards slavery and spice smuggling.” He sniffed. “Republic will have to deal with them once I can get the Senate on board.” He ignored Anakin looking up at him.

“Oh…” The blond was smiling a bit. “…I think I see why Obi-Wan likes you.”

Qui-Gon smirked a bit.

By the time Obi-Wan returned everything had gone back to normal except for the slightly bleeding scrape on the redhead’s cheek.

Qui-Gon instantly broke from his conversation to stand in front of Obi-Wan, grasping him by the chin and pulling a handkerchief from his breastpocket to put against it. “You were suppose to be careful despite being my guard.” He remarked mildly, aware of every ear and every eye on them.

“The Jedi live to serve your excellency, even at our own expense.” Obi-Wan offered humbly.

From the corner of his eyes Qui-Gon could spot Palpatine fuming by a pillar and kept his face carefully blank despite the smugness he was currently experiencing.

“And serve they do.” Qui-Gon smiled at him.

Tomorrows tabloids would be full of speculations once again and most likely images from the party of Qui-Gon pressing the silken handkerchief to Obi-Wan’s bleeding cheek, but the most important part was to showcast the Jedi in the positive light Qui-Gon wanted to show them from.

Regardless, Qui-Gon got to touch Obi-Wan, that in itself was a win.

anonymous asked:

Hi! Could you please explain how you figured out that you had Ni? Because I'm a bit confused about the difference between Ne and Ni. I've read quite a few articles/posts but I just still don't quite get the difference. Thanks!

Okay, disclaimer: Ni sucks to explain. Like, regardless of MBTI type, Ni is just. It sucks to try to help other people understand it since it’s hard for me to understand it sometimes myself lol (If you want strong Ni, you need strong Se, rip INxJs)

If you have dominant Ni, generally most descriptions you’ll find of it will resonate with you because then you’ll be like “yes! That’s EXACTLY how I work! What in the world” since yourself and other people generally can’t understand or put into words your thought process and someone managing to explain it is a miracle. I mean that may be just me but from what I’ve heard from other INxJs that seems to be the general trend

Like seriously, props to anyone that accurately explained Ni

Anyway, Ni is linear. Every memory or current situation is a forward-flowing series of events that are all connected to each other based on a personal system of organization, aided either by Fi or Ti. Unlike Si, it’s impressionistic. Trying to take into account the results of future decisions is the goal of Ni, so the past is generally only important based on the feelings or lessons that were drawn from it. Ni’s main focus is to summarize information and get to the core themes of something; finding what’s most important to them in a situation and then moving on to continue the timeline of their lives is the general course of action in high Ni-users.

Ni can be sentimental like Si, but if you try to talk to someone you shared a certain memory with and they have a higher sensing function, most likely they will have a different and generally more accurate idea of how the events unfolded. Ni has horrible self-perception, since summarization =/= accuracy. It needs Se to make its perceptions more reliable and applicable to the outside world.

Ne, being extraverted, gets inspiration from the outside environment to fuel ideas. This does not make it linear at all. High Ne jumps around, collecting and thinking about any idea that takes its fancy. This doesn’t mean that it can’t have one idea that jumps out at it more than the others or that it can’t form goals, but a new idea is always around a corner, which is why high Ne users are stereotyped to be flighty and disorganized. A lot of things have the ability to inspire them, and generally high Ne-users like to express those ideas to others, since it’s extraverted and can entertain people because the randomness of those ideas often have a humorous shock factor.

The influence of Fi or Ti will make them talk about or take interest in different things, but either way, Ne is an idea-generator full of options that the high Ne-user can’t always do themselves. Having other people to bounce ideas off of or take over a project idea can sometimes help high Ne-users focus; the influence of Si can narrow options down as well.

The intuition functions are both hypothetically-based, but the differences are pretty staggering imo. That may be because my Ni is dominant that they look so different to me, but I’ll compare the two main things that most people seem to get confused by:

Ni and Ne both look at multiple options, but Ni likes to narrow it down to as small of a number as possible. That way they can plan and weigh the future pros and cons of each option more realistically. Ne has a hard time doing that, since it’s extraverted and therefore acts as a collector instead of a sorting system.

Ni and Ne both can go on long tangents that don’t make sense. Ni doesn’t make sense because it can be vague in detail and personally organized in a way that may not make sense to others, or if it’s high Ni then they may be embarrassed about their perceptions and begin to blabber. Ne doesn’t make sense because it goes in too many directions, gets stuck on certain topics because of Si, and ends up looping around but not getting to a conclusion. Or if it does get to one, at that point the person they’re ranting to probably has no idea what’s going on.

anonymous asked:

That post on Boukenger was brilliant. I've been on the fence about starting Gokaiger. Seems cool but I heard its an anniversary season? It looks cool but I havent seen many other sentai and I'm worried I wont get it well. Could you do a post like your Boukenger one for Gokaiger? If you have time? ^^;

Thank you for your kind words and I would be happy to tell you about Gokaiger! Really happy as it is definitely one of my favorite series!

As you said, Kaizoku Sentai Gokaiger is an Anniversary series and celebrates the entire history of Super Sentai going back to 1975. While this may seem to be an obstacle for a new viewer it really isn’t.  Yes, long-time fans might get more out of the show and the references and homages but they are not at all necessary to appreciate the plots or characters.  This is because though the piratical heroes of the series have the ability to access the powers of all previous Sentai teams through their collection of Ranger keys, they know almost nothing about these teams. 

The plot requires them to unlock the true power of these keys, which forces them to meet past members of each team and learn about their predecessors. It’s a neat way to introduce the entire history of Super Sentai to new viewers and give a great taste of various shows.  That’s not to say the homages are more important than the main plot or the characters.

Speaking of characters, let’s introduce the crew as they appear at the beginning of the series.

The leader of these Star-faring Buccaneers is Captain Marvelous.  He used to be part of a group called the Red Pirates before they were betrayed by one of their own and he was given command of the Gokai Galleon and the Ranger Keys. 

He is cocky, self-assured and mostly unflappable.  As Gokai Red, he is determined to find the Greatest Treasure in the Galaxy which is located somewhere on Earth.

The first recruit Captain Marvelous brought on-board his new command was Joe Gibken, a swordsman who used to work for the evil Zangyack Empire (more on them later). After his mentor was betrayed and apparently killed, he rebelled and was rescued by his new Captain.

Joe is stoic, usually unemotional and is the team’s dual-wielding sword-master. He is Gokai Blue.

Luka Milfy grew up on a planet ravaged by Zangyack, living in poverty and trying to keeps a small group of survivors, including her younger sister safe. She was brought onto the crew because of her skills as a thief.

Though she seems obsessed with money an treasure, as Gokai Yellow, she is a valued member of team and specializes in disguise, infiltration and breaking into locked places.

Don “Doc” Dogoier is one of the most unlikely pirates but also one of the most valuable members of the crew. He is the team’s tech specialist, weapons designer, cook and cleaner. Without him, the Gokai Galleon would fall apart, the crew would eat garbage and the place would be a disaster,

He was basically press-ganged onto the crew and given the role of Gokai Green. 

The most out of place member though would be Ahim De Famille. She is a princess from a planet taken over and destroyed by the Zangyack and was rescued by the Gokaigers. She may not be the best fighter but her gentle nature and noble bearing makes her highly valuable for negotiations and situations that require a delicate touch or diplomacy.

She is Gokai Pink. She is best Pink. Ever.

The Gokaiger crew lives and travels on the Gokai Galleon, space faring pirate ship that also serves as the base of their main mecha, Gokai-Oh.

I love it!

As for their enemies, they are hunted by the evil Zangyack Empire, who controls almost all of the galaxy, except for Earth.

They once tried to conquer the Earth in what is known as the Legend War but all of the Super Sentai heroes of Earth gathered together and sacrificed their powers to repel them. These lost powers scattered across space and became the Ranger Keys, which are now in the hands of the Gokaigers.

The leader of the Earth invasion force is the son of the Zangyack Emperor, Commander Warz Gill.  He is egotistical, over confident and easily flustered by his own failures, which he likes to blame on his underlings. He is a buffoon.

This is a great show and one I highly recommend.  The only real faults could be said to be the focus on the fetch quest of gaining new powers, which occasionally interrupts major story arcs, but not often.  There are far more things I could say about the show but I do not want to spoil too much and things like the other villains and the sixth member of team are best discovered for yourself.

I hope this helps you decide to watch the show. It’s a very special entry in the franchise and not just a personal but also a fan favorite.