too many things in my brain

me: okay so i have to catch up on writing this multi chapter fic but im also doing this one shot on the side, and i also started this fic for a complete other ship and there are these six old ones im working on simultaneously but im also making a comic, and preparing this other multi chapter fic thing so im very busy and i dont need any new projec-

my brain: okay so i have this cool idea and all you have to do is-

I can’t turn my ADHD off. 

That’s pretty significant. It means that even when I seem ’all there,’ there’s a chance I’ll be gone within a matter of minutes. 

Even when I look like I’m sitting still, I still have ADHD. 

Even when I look like I’m paying attention, I still have ADHD. 

My brain is always, always, always buzzing. There will always be too many thoughts all at once. I will never truly sleep well. I will never be as socially capable as NT kids. There are some things that will never be true for me, and I’m learning to be okay with that. 

I can’t turn my ADHD off. 

Dear Clique,

There is this very specific feeling I got when I first started listening to twenty one pilots. 

An understanding of what Tyler went through. A connection with Josh when I found out he struggled with the same anxious feelings as me. A deep stirring in my mind that brought me to think and create. 

When I first heard their music, forests sprouted in my mind. Acres of hidden land I didn’t know I had. Stars I hadn’t counted, rivers I hadn’t crossed. But now I think the trees are dying. The stars are silent. The rivers are running dry.

And I see this drought spreading. Suddenly the jungles of minds we possess are worried about other things: where is Tyler? Why isn’t Josh in a relationship? Why didn’t I win tickets? why don’t I have more followers? why are the big accounts more popular? why isn’t everything going according to plan?

We are turning to love the very thing we accused twenty one pilots of gaining in the first place: popularity. Suddenly creating isn’t enough. We want more numbers, more information, more opportunities. More, more, more, more.

And so, our forests are wilting. And I am just another writer among a thousand. Just another teenager with too many words in my brain. But I beg you this: grow your forests. Return to what you first found when you started listening to this band. Strip away the numbers, strip away the fame, strip away the drama, and return to the reason why you came in the first place.

There is something very special in this music, and we cannot lose that.

I-/

Was It A Sign?

Well, maybe. Maybe not. Here are some little things that may help you figure out if it was really a grand message or not! The more of these you have, the more likely it is.

🦉It’s unusual. Let’s say you saw a deer. Sweet! That’s cool, but if you live in a wooded area and deer are really common, it’s really not that profound. It could be a message, or it could just be a deer.

🦉You asked for a sign. If you asked the universe or a certain deity for a sign, perhaps this is the follow through! For this type of thing, it’s usually good to ask for something specific enough that you couldn’t expect it every day, but not so much that it’s impossible. (My go to is a rose or a purple feather.) That way, you know that X thing is your sign without worrying too hard about it!

🦉It felt… different. Maybe the event isn’t terribly wild on its own, but it just really hit you, or the feeling was incredibly profound. Especially after doing research, and seeing how many things are symbols, your brain will make connections really quickly. That means sometimes we make something out of nothing. A strong emotional response is a good sign of a sign.

🦉It immediately felt like a sign. Let’s say you see a rainbow, and it’s really pretty. You enjoy it for a few minutes then go back inside. Later, you think, “Hm, that could have been a sign.” Maybe. But it also could be your brain going hey, I know things associated with rainbows! (In my opinion, this is the most important one. I feel like if you have to wonder if it was a sign, it wasn’t a sign. You might not know what it’s a sign of, but you will know it’s a sign. That’s just my UPG, though.)

🦉Any post-research lines up. If you get a neat vision and run the details through Google, you may find details that line up with certain lore. Maybe you knew this before, maybe not. If you didn’t, and connections keep happening with surprising accuracy, it’s a pretty good indicator!

🦉Think of why you want it to be a sign, if you do. There’s a big narrative that everybody involved in magic, Paganism, etc. is constantly having these profound religious experiences. This simply isn’t true. There’s no shame in wanting a story to share, or to feel special, or to “fit in” by getting signs from the universe. Sometimes we want signs for the sake of receiving signs, so if you’re trying to manufacture them by pulling on every little thing, you’re distracting yourself from enjoying the world exactly how it is. Don’t worry about signs and enjoy yourself. Animals and rainbows and all that are still pretty great even if every little thing doesn’t have a personal meaning.

thefierceotaku  asked:

How does adhd affect you? If you don't mind me asking. My friend he adhd and I want to be there for him.

Pretty much in the ways you’d expect tbh–

  • Focusing on anything I’m not at-that-moment interested in is practically impossible.
  • ^Especially if it’s reading large paragraphs of text, even if I am interested in the topic that kinda focus is hard.
  • I have little to no perception of time 9 times outta 10.
  • Talking to authority figures or about myself generally is not a fun time due to RSD.
  • On focus again– on worse days I won’t be able to read/process the words I’m looking at on a page if someone’s talking in the room.
  • More recently, the nonverbal bouts I’ve mentioned due to brain overload for one reason or another.
  • My brain goes a mile a minute in a very roundabout and seemingly disconnected ways, so sometimes in conversation I’ll blurt out apparently totally unrelated things that I actually got to logically, just way too fast;
  • My memory is terrible - like, good lord.
  • It can be hard for me to focus on conversations / for people to get my attention if I see something interesting.
  • Sensory overload– personally I got it whenever I used to go to church, for example, ‘cause there were so many sounds and sights and smells and you have to stay still and quiet throughout it but my brain was just freaking out internally the whole time. But anywhere with a lot of sensory things going on can set it off.
  • Kind of sensory overload related (??)– sometimes my meter for conversation will hit rock bottom by the end of the day but somebody will still wanna talk and I’ll just be there flailing on the spot both physically and mentally ‘cause processing any more interactions just hurts.
  • Stimming: it’s not something I realize much until I think about it, but for example; personally, at work I feel weird without my lanyard cause I’m used to the weight of it and tend to play with the keychains on it or pop my nametag in my mouth while I’m walking around – idk it’s kind of a grounding thing – kinda like those totem things in Inception, haha.

there’s probably stuff I’ve forgotten tbh (like I said; memory problems, lmao) but that list looks long enough – all these things obviously differ in intensity from person to person, but hopefully that gives ya some insight on what might be up for if ever your pal seems a bit off at all

(Y’all feel free to reblog this too btw, might help spread some understanding)

So I was feeling really down because motivating myself to write has been super hard recently (even though I still love writing- IDK my brain is weird) but my bae @edendaphne suggested I do this amazing thing where I literally write the first thing that pops into my head- no punctuation- just a stream of consciousness.

It actually cheered me up and I feel a lot better so I encourage it! FYI this was my “Stream of Conscious”

“The Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack is fuckin LIT and I really cant wait for the next movie but like seriously there are too many superhero movies nowadays and marvel can’t write a villain to save their lives unless its Loki and I get Loki is totally bae and stuff but like there’s more to life than Tom Hiddleston and I can’t believe I just wrote that sentence I feel like the Hiddleston fangirls are going to descend like the mist in Silent Hill and murder me where I sit I am terrified.”

Intoxicated

Jughead x reader

In which the reader gets drunk after an argument with Jughead, and he has to look after her.

Warnings: drinking

*requested*


“You will fail this class if you don’t get your grade up, do you understand that?” My teacher asked me, and I rubbed my face, feeling a headache coming on.

“Yes, I understand. I’ll try harder.” I told him. He excused me and I traipsed through the hallway, running through the seemingly endless list of things I had to do. I had signed up for too many advanced classes and extra curriculars, and I was swamped.

I had to talk to two other teachers and catch up on a project, before I could finally go and meet my boyfriend, and hopefully get something to eat. Unfortunately, this did not go to plan. I knew as soon as I walked into the room that Jughead was angry with me. He saw me enter and was immediately on his feet and walking towards me, seething. I stopped in my tracks and desperately tried to rack my brains for whatever I had done.

“Where were you?” He demanded, and I floundered under his gaze, combing through my calendar in my mind to remember what I had missed. I stuttered, and he shook his head disbelievingly. “You don’t even remember what you missed, do you?” He asked. I opened my mouth, but the answer didn’t come to me.

“Um… Was it…” I started helplessly, but couldn’t finish. He looked away from me.

“You know what, it doesn’t matter.” He began to turn away from me, but I desperately ran around him, blocking his exit.

“No, Jughead, please… I’m sorry, I’ve been so caught up in my work. Just tell me what it was, please.” I begged him, holding my hands out to stop him from leaving. He sighed.

“My presentation. You were going to practice it with me before the lesson.”

My stomach dropped as I remembered. Jughead had been so nervous for it, and had only calmed down when I promised to rehearse it with him and help him. I closed my eyes, hitting myself for forgetting something so important to him.

“Jug, I am so-“

“I had to do it without you, Y/N. You promised you’d help me.” He said angrily.

“I know, I know I did. I had to talk to my teachers and I just got caught up.” I tried to explain myself.

‘Yeah you said.” He snapped. “Look, you’re my girlfriend, and I only trusted you to practice it with me. I needed you, and you weren’t there.” My breath caught in my throat at his words. He was right.

“Jughead…” I started, but didn’t know what to say.

“Whatever.” He muttered, pushing past me. “See you.” And with that he was gone. I stared at the space he had left, berating myself. I sighed, picking my bag up and walking to my next lesson. All through the class, I reprimanded myself over and over, wishing I had done today differently.

After school, I saw him leaving and wanted to catch up with him, but I had to go to a tutoring session. I watched helplessly as he walked away from me again, wondering how I would make it up to him.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how I could have done things differently. I could have set an alarm on my phone, or just been more organized, and Jughead and I would probably be together right now. The stress of the argument with Jughead and my workload, as well as my general anxiety built up when I got home, and I had to forget, so I took a bottle from my parent’s cupboard and started drinking. I didn’t know what it was, but it burnt my throat, made my eyes water, and worked quickly.

I grew flustered and warm, the alcohol and my thoughts overwhelming me, and so I walked into my dark backyard, letting the cold air float over me. I sat on the icy stone steps of my garden and tried to drink my reality away as the sky darkened. It didn’t take a lot of alcohol for me to start crying. I raised my hand to my forehead, clenching my teeth. How could I have done this to Jughead? He had been there for me so many times, and I let him down. I continued drinking, drowning in my guilt and misery. My self-deprecation reached a climax as I vividly replayed the day’s events in my head, Jughead’s words running over and over in my head.

You promised

I needed you and you weren’t there

You weren’t there

You weren’t there

You weren’t there

The late-night air grew freezing, but the hot liquid inside my body made me unaware of my numb appendages and chattering teeth. That was until my trembling fingers failed to properly grasp the neck of the bottle, and it slipped out of my grasp and onto the dark stone. It shattered violently and glass flew everywhere, startling me and snapping me out of my thoughts. I opened my mouth, my eyes wide at the amber liquid spreading out across the steps. I felt a sharp pain in my hand and looked down to find a small piece of glass caught in my skin, with a trail of blood leaking out. I pulled it out without thinking, ignoring the pain as I struggled to stand. I needed to talk to him. I needed to apologise. I jumped up and ran up the steps, stumbling when I reached the top. My head felt hollow and I think my hand was still bleeding but I couldn’t tell. Find Jughead.

I found myself at the drive in, where I knew he’d be. I blundered towards the door of the screening room. I was sober enough to know that I was drunk, but my thoughts weren’t clear.

I knocked anxiously on the door, leaning against the wall and feeling utterly desperate. After a few moments, the door swung open and there Jughead was, in all his glory. His hair was a mess and he was in sweatpants, his feet bare and his eyes tired. As I soon as I saw him, the floodgates opened. In my intoxicated state I began desperately rambling and crying at the same time.

“Jughead, oh my god, I had to find you, because- because I need to talk to you. I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot, and I hate myself and I don’t even know what time it is, but I messed up and I have to fix it.” Hot tears were streaming down my face, and I was struggling to take breaths between what I was saying. His eyes were wide, and he opened his mouth to say something but I couldn’t stop talking. “I was so, so stupid to forget about your thing, your presentation, I wish I hadn’t done that, and I just really need you to listen to me and I need you to forgive me. I’m an idiot, and I hate myself but I need you.” I stopped talking and continued crying, vaguely aware that most of what I had just said had been unintelligible.

“Okay, okay.” Jughead’s calm voice broke through my stupor as he grabbed my arms and pulled me inside. He pushed me gently onto his bed and kneeled in front of me. I tried to calm myself down but I couldn’t seem to slow my breathing.

“Are you drunk?” He asked me in a deliberate way, as if he already very well that I was. I didn’t answer but just stared at the floor, my breaths uneven. He sighed, standing up and moving around the small room. He came back with a glass of water and put it in my hand, making sure my fingers were tightly grasped around it before he let go.

“Hey, what happened to your hand?” He caught my hand gently and brought it towards him, studying the cut and frowning. He looked up at me, but I just shrugged helplessly, unable to answer him. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I’ll get something for that, just… drink this.” He sounded disappointed, and I was reminded of how much he was supposed to hate me at that moment. I threw back the water, downing it in the hopes that it would stop how I was feeling. I set the empty glass down and put my head in my hands, feeling sick and dizzy all of a sudden.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how I had let Jughead down, and tears began to slip down my face again, my whole body shaking. I heard him exhale as he sat down next to me on the single bed.

“Y/N.” I screwed my eyes shut, trying to shut him, and everything else I was feeling out. “Y/N.” He said louder, and I looked up at him, sniffing. He held up what looked like a bandage. “Give me your hand.”

I held my arm towards him and he delicately took my hand in his own. I watched him as he cleaned it, but he didn’t look up at me once, keeping his eyes on what he was doing. I didn’t even wince as he poured alcohol on it, the burning sensation nothing compared to the pain in my head. He finished, gently pressing a bandage onto the cut and making sure it was stuck down properly before finally looking up at me. I left my hand in his as he stared at me, his light eyes studying my face before meeting mine. I took a deep breath, determined to make him hear me this time.

“Jughead.” I tried to force the whirlwind of thoughts in my head into coherent sentences. “I am so sorry.” My lip shook and tears built in my eyes again. “I let you down, and I have no excuse. You… you needed me and I wasn’t there.” A tear slipped from my eye and rolled down my cheek. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” I looked him in the eye, trying to get across how serious I was. There was quiet for a moment as he looked at me, nodding his head ever so slightly. He was still holding my injured hand, and started lightly rubbing my knuckles with his thumb as he smiled tenderly at me.

“It’s okay.” He whispered, and I took a sharp breath in. I briefly wondered if I had misheard him.

“Are you sure?” I asked unsurely, my eyes wide. He chuckled quietly.

“I’m sure.” An emotional smile spread across my face at his words, and I gripped his hand tightly as tears continued to run down my face. I desperately attempted to wipe them away with my other hand, but to no avail. He shook his head at me, smiling.

“Come here.” He murmured, moving his hand from mine to reach for me. He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, his hand on the back of my neck. I put my hands on his chest and relished the feeling of being close to him. When we separated, I leant into him automatically and he put his arm around me. He shifted his body along the small bed, leaning back and bringing me with him so we were lying down, me against his chest. We lay silently as I listened to his heartbeat and tried to calm myself down. He began softly playing with my fingers, being careful to avoid my wound.

“What did you do to yourself, hm?” His lips ghosted my forehead as he whispered the question to himself. “I never wanted this.” I closed my eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry.” His chest vibrated underneath me slightly as he laughed softly, and it brought an instinctive sleepy smile to my face.

“I think you’ve said that enough for one night.” My face was pressed against his body in the quiet room, and I felt my senses numb as my head grew heavy and my breathing slowed. He might’ve said something else after that, but I wouldn’t have known, as I slipped into a drunken, emotionally-exhausted sleep. I knew I would feel like death in the morning, but it didn’t matter. I had him, and I wasn’t going to let him go again.


a sad drunk

aaaa this was fun to write (it’s really bad though sorry)

btw in this imagine Jughead is still living at the drive in, because I thought it worked better than Archie’s house 

I can’t believe I’m making a post defending Even again but welp here we go

I am so tired of seeing posts attacking Even about what may or may not have happened at Bakka, and about how he may or may not have kept things hidden from Isak.

Even is a very private character. We know this. There is a lot about himself that he keeps inside, even from the people he loves. I don’t doubt that he still hides a lot from Isak, because deep down, he is still very scared of losing him. Even deflects a lot of questions about himself away; tries to charm his way out of answering them. This doesn’t mean he’s a player. This doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. This means he’s a very scared and insecure person; more so, I think, than Isak. And yes, he’s a little more secure in himself now. Yes, he’s happy with Isak. But that doesn’t immediately mean those thoughts Even had about himself, his illness and whatever happened at Bakka, go away overnight. Or, really, in four months. That type of deeply ingrained “this person will leave me” mentality takes years to undo and actually, nearly always stays in the back of a person’s head, no matter how happy they are in their current relationship. 

Also, we don’t know whether or not Isak knows about what happened at Bakka. There’s a chance Isak does know. There’s a chance Even told him. We don’t know.

I don’t want to really talk about the whole “what if Even was with Mikael and cheated him with Sonja?? Once a cheat, always a cheat!” thing. But I will say this: surprise! Doing something bad does not make you a bad person, and situations are complicated. Cheating is horrible, yes, and Even should have broken up with Sonja before he and Isak shared their first kiss. But does that make him a terrible person?? No!! His relationship with Sonja was in tatters; we know this. We also know she was controlling. We also know she knew about his bipolar disorder and that Even most likely felt like he couldn’t leave her, seeing as she’d supported him through everything and, as I’ve said, was controlling.

In an ideal world, yes, Even would have broken up with her before him and Isak got together. But he didn’t. What he did do, though, was break up with Sonja immediately after his weekend with Isak and told her about Isak. This is not what someone who is a serial cheater would do; he didn’t string her along, play her, lie to her. He was honest. He broke things off. And yes, he briefly reconnected with her, but that was only after Isak made his comments about mentally ill people. Of course he would run back to a place of safety after hearing something like that. 

I really, really doubt Even and Mikael dated. The clip we have of the two of them at Bakka showed a friendship, to me, more than anything else. I didn’t really get a hint of anything more between the two of them, but who knows, maybe I’ll be proven wrong. There is so much we don’t know, but hating on Even over stuff we don’t know is stupid. 

I doubt that Julie would take a character who is bisexual and bipolar - two things that people consistently and wrongfully associate with ‘playing’ and ‘cheating’ - and reinforce those negative stereotypes even more.

I hope people have a little more brains than to force Even into those stereotypes too.

Dear brain,

Could you pretty please focus on writing one story at a time?

I get it, you’ve got a lot of ideas but like … finish one before moving on to the next, maybe? That’d be super.

kthxbai

Feel free to read just the phrases in bold to get a glance of the main ideas!

-Find a valuable reason for why you want to wake up at a certain time- I’ve found that no matter how many alarms I’d set, or how far I’d place my phone so that I would have to stand up and reach for it, I would still go back to bed or even worse, not even stand up to turn the alarm off. By giving yourself a good solid reason to why you are “sacrificing” more hours of sleep, it may be easier for you to be more consistent with the sleeping patterns you want to follow. 

 -Sleep the amount of hours you need to function- no matter how many valuable reasons you have to wake up, if you don’t get a good night sleep, or sleep for just 4 hours, you may be able to wake up, but your brain will be in “zombie mode”. Try going to sleep preferably at around the same time at night, so that you get used to the fact that when that time comes around you should be in bed, doing something relaxing. 

-Have a set night routine- in conection with the previous tip, having a set night routine will set you in the right mood to rest better. Maybe take a bath, brush your teeth, apply moisturizer, have some tea, and do anything that you specially enjoy and relaxes you. This way you might fall asleep quicker, having a better quality rest. 

-Have a notebook near your bed- this tip has worked wonders for me when there are too many things crossing my mind which prevent me from sleeping. For instance, things that I have to do the next day, things I didn’t do that day, things I forgot and remembered just when I was about to fall asleep, etc. So having a notebook or piece of paper near you, will be beneficial for you as you’ll be able to write down all those thoughts (which could be any, such as fears, exciting upcomig events), pulling them out of your brain. This works for me also, because when I wake up in the morning I’m able to read what I’ve written the previous night and get excited (if I’ve written something I’m expecting), motivated (if I read the list if things I want to cross out), or willing to face my fears if it is something I’m dealing with.

-Enjoy your morning routine- have something special you can do every single day to make your mornings more enjoyable. Maybe have a warm shower, prepare a nice breakfast, watch an episode of your favourite show or do anything that will put a smile in your face. 

-Remind yourself that it will be worth it in the long run- if the first tip isn’t quite working, try thinking in the long run, and how eventually keeping a consistent early waking pattern will benefit you in terms of further productivity, better understanding of a certain topic, etc. Nevertheless, always keep in mind that not waking up early one, two, three days, does not mean you are a failure of will not prevent you from reaching your desired goal. 

-Sleep with your blinds open if the sun rises early in the morning- this is very helpful as your body may naturally get used to waking up earlier just by the sunlight coming through the window.

-Have a calming alarm which gradually starts to rise its volume- this will help you wake up in a better mood. Also, I’ve found that if I wake up with the sound of an anoying beeping alarm, my heart speeds up automatically, and that is something I don´t find very pleasant. The bedtime option in Iphones is really good, but there are plenty of apps in the AppStore and PlayStore as well.

-Find a buddy who is willing to wake up early with you- this is a very good one if you know of someone else who is trying to early rise like you. You can agree that both of you will check up on each other at a certain time and if one of you doesn’t reply, then that person owes the other one a breakfast or whatever they choose. Make it fun, kind of like a competition. Also, this will give you some sort of sense of achievement if you “win” at one point!

-Go gradual in terms of setting your alarm- if you are used to waking up at 8am, setting your alarm for the next day at 5am may not be a realistic expectation, or an easy one to be consistent with. So, try to go step by step, and in a lapse of maybe two weeks, create a schedule to try to wake up 15 or 20 minutes earlier every 2 or 3 days, and see how your body reacts to it, and how well it adapts. If you find that its not that hard to wake up 20 minutes earlier, maybe speed the process up until you reach your desired waking up time.

Hope you find some of these tips useful, have a wonderful week! 

                                                                                                  -TheLawStudy

When I met you in the summer -Part 2

Summary: Working as a bartender in a five star hotel while a rich and famous family is staying over for a month, and one of their sons, Bucky, happens to have an eye for you, is a dream right? Right? Wrong!

Chapter 2: Power

Fandom: Marvel

Y/N: your name

Warnings: heavy mentions of rape, cursing.

Part 1

A/N: Thank you so much everyone for all your support!! You are seriously the best followers and people ever!!! I really hope you enjoy this series, and please let me know what you think!

Originally posted by b-n-a-o

Previously:

I clean up the bar for the thousand time and look around me. The morning shift will soon be over and I will be free to go anywhere I want for two hours. I really can’t wait. Scott has closed the pool for anyone but our special family, so it’s been the longest and most boring morning of my life. In ten minutes I’ll be free. Most of my coworkers have already started to pack, so I put the cocktail mixer on its place and check all the alcoholic drinks to leave as soon as possible. Soon I’ll be free…

“Y/N…” I raise my head and see Scott on the door.

“Any problem?”

“Kind of yeah… For you.”

“They didn’t like my cocktail?”

“They did. It’s just… Bucky wants you to stay during lunch break and give him a massage.”

Are you kidding me?


Y/N’s POV:

Yeah… in case you haven’t realized yet, there’s no way I’m giving Mr I-think-I-can-have-it-all a massage. My contract didn’t mention me having to give massages to spoiled rich kids. I would have told that to Scott if he wasn’t looking so serious, but I have no problem telling Barnes to fuck off… of breaking a vodka bottle on his face, for that matter.

I busy myself sorting out alcoholic drinks and pretending I don’t see Scott’s disapproving face until, for the second time today, a very unwanted voice forces me out of my task.

“So, where is my massage?” Bucky says, a smug smile on his face I see reflected on the cocktail maker.

I don’t even bother to turn around, I’m not going to put up with him. “Oh! I think I saw it a while ago. It was heading to fuck-you island. Would you like to follow?”

“Yes.” he replies with a dirty tone.

Keep reading

Coffee

Note: Hi Everyone. I wrote a Thing. Many thanks to @mulder-fight-him and @kateyes224 for encouraging me to write it and for making it not suck. As this is the first Thing I’ve written in over a year, I’d appreciate any feedback. Except the feedback of “You suck, this sucks, never write again.” My brain tells me that every time I write a Thing, I don’t need you telling me that too. :-) 



She is a coffee connoisseur. Dripped from a contraband coffeemaker in a dorm room during an all-nighter to try to understand biochemistry. Gulped without tasting, still scalding hot, as she ran between patients. Sipped from a mug that warmed her hands as her eyes twinkled at her lover in his parents’ cabin after an unsuccessful ice fishing expedition.

And then…Styrofoam cups in police stations, ranging from barely palatable to resembling raw sewage. Fuel just to keep up with her brilliant partner and his spooky leaps of logic. Picked up from gas stations and drive thrus, as they ran from case to case. Chipped mugs in diners with free refills, as they tried to find enough motivation to chase down endless dead ends on the search for the one lead that would answer the question, slay the monster, save the day. Pots made in a dingy basement office and then ignored as their arguments about the merits of the case energized them more fully than any caffeine could, where winning meant they would stay in the musty dark room but losing meant traipsing through fields in the rain and chasing Bigfoot. She’d never admit it, but she there were times when she preferred it when she lost, because losing meant a new chance to share a secret world with this man, one no outsider would ever understand.

She had opinions on the quality of coffee around the country. She could tell whether she’d have heartburn from it with just a sniff of the air as she walked into the convenience store – often before the bell on the door had stopped chiming. She knew which chains refilled their carafes regularly and would request stops there.

One convenience store in Utah had no coffee, the Mormon cashier saying that caffeine was against his religion, but could he interest her in a coke instead? Mulder had laughed as she had ranted about ignorance, the comparative levels of caffeine in cola versus coffee, her First Amendment rights, and the heartburn caused by the carbonation for the next 50 miles.

But she didn’t remember the taste of the most important cups of coffee in her life.

The mug she left half finished at her mother’s kitchen table after scattering her father’s ashes, claiming a work emergency so she could make a quick escape because she couldn’t handle expecting her father to join them any second, complaining that they hadn’t saved him any, stealing sips from her mother’s cup as they talked and he waited for a refill to brew.

The disposable cup Mulder had pressed into her fist in a Minneapolis field office, giving a statement as she tried to regain her professionalism after losing her composure in front of 20 agents.

The pots she made in her mother’s kitchen, drifting on autopilot after they had buried her sister. That day, she tried a bag of “Tranquil Moments” herbal tea Melissa had left in the cupboard and had once tried to make her drink because it “isn’t healthy for you to be running around nonstop, Dana, you need a chance to breathe too.”

The cup a week after her first round of chemo, which tasted like metal covered in dirt. She had spat it back into the mug and thrown up in the kitchen sink. For months afterwards, she’d silently accepted every cup Mulder offered her, but threw it out as soon as his back was turned.

The coffee breaks she’d shared with Mulder while they were stuck on Kersh’s fertilizer duty, walking down the street to the hipster coffee shop with the twenty year old whose facial hair changed weekly. After one particularly awful session in the AD’s office, Mulder had asked for an application, and the barista laughed, assuming he was joking. She was only half sure he wasn’t.

A thermos full of Irish coffee as they propped themselves against the chain link backstop of an abandoned baseball diamond, talking about everything and nothing, still feeling the heat of his body pressed against her back and wondering if she should have turned around and kissed him when she had the chance.

The slow brews she’d shared with Mulder on lazy Sunday mornings, the taste chased from her tongue by Mulder’s slow kisses.

The ones she’d refused while pregnant and nursing, the lack of sleep and caffeine adding a dream-like state to the months, so that when she looked back at that time, it took on an otherworldly sheen. (It didn’t help that any explanation of those two years sounded absurdist to any outside observer – “My partner was abducted by aliens, returned dead, buried for three months and then exhumed because he wasn’t dead, just in stasis.” “Even though I had no ova due to experiments conducted on me against my will by a shadow government, I had a baby who was considered the greatest single threat to an alien invasion and consequently was in constant danger until I gave him up for adoption.”)

The cup that sat on her mother’s table as she tried desperately to explain herself, (“I don’t think I’ll ever understand,” her mother had responded tearfully), her own tears blurring her vision as her mother kissed her grandson goodbye for the last time.

The rushed caffeine fixes on the run, cups she picked up at 5AM in truck stops, wearing a hoodie that covered hair dyed blond, brown, black, and even for a little while back to red, while Mulder hid in a run-down motel room. She couldn’t remember the taste of anything during those months, fear chasing all the flavor away.

And then, once again, gulping scalding servings down between patients, children this time, as she saved other people’s babies because she was unable to care for her own.

Impromptu coffee dates with Mulder, him sipping his morning coffee with bleary eyes and bed head, her drinking a cup of decaf before bed, smelling of antiseptic soap and latex, fighting sleep because she hadn’t seen him in three days and she missed him.

The cup she made all alone in his kitchen (no longer hers, all her belongings packed up and in the back of her car), leaving the pot mostly full so he’d have something to drink when he ambled out of his lair, washing the mug so it wouldn’t sit in the sink for days before walking out the door.

Then one day, the coffee pot ignored once again in the basement as they discussed cases, tentatively at first as they tried to regain their footing, then found themselves and each other again. One morning, as she dropped her briefcase off in her area, looking at his desk in his office, she wondered if she hadn’t found herself back in the same endless circle. Then Mulder had shaken her out of her musings with a hand on her shoulder and a discolored mug as an offering. Their fingers touched and she realized that they aren’t circling back to the start but traveling onwards together.

The coffee Mulder made as she tried to arrange her mother’s funeral, untouched in the carafe as she thought about her reuniting with Ahab and Missy, and jealously wishing that she’d be with them soon (but only for a moment before pushing the forbidden thought out of her mind).

And then, one night, the specialty coffees Mulder brought to her apartment, sitting untouched on her kitchen counter as they fell into bed together again. She made a fresh pot for him the next morning.

maladaptive daydreaming…. isn’t just making up cute scenarios on long car rides… it’s stopping to do whatever you are doing because your brain just had an idea and then walking around the house, throwing a pen around, thinking until your mom gets annoyed with you

and, boy, does my mom get so annoyed because i just can’t stop pacing. sometimes i have to actually run back and forth because my it just stimulates my thoughts. how many times has she just shouted at me to stop. i calm down for a moment, then i’m up and running around five minutes later… again.  moving vehicles give me peace because the car or train or whatever is doing the movement for me. and i really need to move

i just go into this whole another world and i can’t really stop it. i can’t really spend a moment without thinking what this and that character would do in this and that situation. i can’t process my feelings without projecting them to some made-up person. sometimes i have to mimic the gestures of the character i’m thinking about. sometimes it happens in the middle of the street. sometimes people might stare.

and i can’t stop running around or carrying small things, like pencils. 

and it’s not awesome at all. it annoys the heck out of people around me (expect maybe my brother). i always have to explain to my friends why i suddenly jump up from my chair and run across the room. i do it without realizing it. and it is really hard to explain. and falling asleep is also tough since every ten minutes and seem to sprint out of my bed because my brain gets excited about a made-up scenario.

thinks of all time i waste just… fucking daydreaming.

if you call yourself a maladaptive daydreamer for thinking about fictional characters much… well, knock yourself out, but think for a moment how bad it can be for others. and this thing is not taken seriously at all. my mom definitely doesn’t. 

anyone who’s experiencing this, writing might help. too bad i have too many thoughts and can’t write them all down. and new scenarios surface every day.

Okay, so I finally got my hands on the VLD comics, and I came across this part in the 4th issue. I’m sure this has been addressed before but…

(I took out the text cause it didn’t make sense out of context anyway…)

So now I know I have a really wild, like too wild imagination but this is just hit me, like… PINING RED???

LIKE HOLY HECK, THE HC GEARS ARE ROLLING IN MY HEAD SO CRAZY RIGHT NOW!

1. There’s that HC that Red and Blue love each other too – which I like a lot – so I don’t really know how sentient robot lions do the thing, but just imagine them being cuddly and pressing their noses together and just be cute and affectionate (gay) robot lions, like awww :’) And now just imagine that they have to hide this because their current paladins are oblivious toddlers who can’t get past the flirting-with-teasing-and-childish-bickering level, cause you know, they’re just like a pair of kindergarteners.

Like seriously guys, grow up. And seriously, someone please draw Red and Blue snuggling up when they think no one sees them, but eventually Lance and Keef catch them, or maybe the others too, or whatever you can come up with, there’s so much that can be done with this, and I’m dead. (Also I hope someone has already done this before and I can find it.)


2. The lions are just like their paladins, so Red is actually pining after Blue, in which case my heart is aching for Red, and I like the first one much better. Like it’s enough to see Keef’s wtf tender faces when he looks at Lance sometimes or when he talks to him and no one sees he’s making that face… I can’t handle the same thing with Red too, it’s just too much for my heart. :’)


Now that I got this out of my system, I will go on reading the comics, and think of giant robot cats being in love with each other and I’ll die. Bye.

An Ocean Away - Part Seven

Lin x Reader

Word Count- 1,837

Warnings- Teeny tiny bit of swearing. Hospital setting from the start. 

A/N- Sooooooooo…this is it. I can’t begin to describe how thankful I am that you guys have not only read the nonsense that comes out of my brain but actually enjoyed it too! This series will be special to me as it was the first thing I’d written and published but I’m deep in the fic hole now and happy that you’re all here with me!

I dedicate this final part of An Ocean Away to my lil peach @iputmyselfintothenarrative , I love you doll! And to @daniela-fromthesalon , she was my first friend on here, and she’s just perfection. @yayhamletnonstop made my life with her amazing comments recently, you are incredible!

@the-and-peggy @the-best-of-the-geeks @yayhamletnonstop @chloehamiltonn

There are so many people that have messaged me along with this series and have told me that they have enjoyed it, so I hope this final part makes up for the heartbreak in the last one. 
I love you all!

Part One/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five/Part Six/Part Seven

Keep reading

hadas-the-unseelie  asked:

Hey tumblr mom, bit of a loaded question here, but what are your thoughts on minors consuming and making erotica, especially within fandom?

When I was 14 I had three separate dummy email accounts so I could access NSFW 18+ fanzines. I was a determined little shit. I never published anything because I was too insecure, but I was writing it in my own time. Even if I didn’t quite know how things worked, I was interested in exploring various different things, from as many safe aspects as possible, and fanfic was a safe way of doing that for me. 

I realize now I was writing what I wanted my first sexual experiences to be, as opposed to what they actually were. The things my teenage brain penned were remarkably different.. It was a vital part of escape from my then boyfriend(s) who were all, with hindsight, human dumpster fires.

While I don’t condone minors interacting in spaces not specifically intended for them (ie when something is clearly labelled 18+) I think no matter what we do, there will always be people who are under the age of 18, who engage in this kind of media. Just like how there will always be teenagers who engage in sexual activities no matter how hard the purity brigade pushes those rings. All we can hope for in that regard is to have a well educated youth with ready access to contraception and health screening. (It’s such a culture shock living here compared to back home, it really is. I used to walk into the family planning clinic, some days before school and I mean high school, and they were, well, not enthused that I was having sex at the age that I was, but they were happy to help me stay protected and safe and kept me well informed.)

The problems arise when you have interaction between them and adults. For me that was always my biggest issue. I was on those fansites to explore my own thoughts and feelings regarding XYZ in a safe( r) manner than what was available to me offline. And while I didn’t mind cultivating friendships with some people, especially if I liked their writing, it was when those same adults treated me as an adult, even after I admitted to being a minor, that was when I felt unsafe. At the time I put it down to “well I joined this group, this is on me” but with the hindsight of an adult now, no. If you find out someone in your fangroup is a minor, you modify your behavior. You don’t engage in the same way you would another adult. Which is my main concern for minors engaging in adult spheres of fandom.

So to answer what is an extremely difficult question: I don’t really know. I know it happens and it will happen regardless, my own misspent youth is testament to that. But I think how we handle it is what matters. Adult creators in fandom who are creating erotica, should be tagging their content as such. It needs to be obvious, and it needs to be made very clear that the content is aimed with only adults in mind. If a minor still chooses to click on it…well, not much you can do about that.

This isn’t a blanket statement or like, a hard and fast rule, it’s just me reminiscing on my own personal experiences on growing up in fandom. I do sometimes wonder if Ao3 should have an 18+ filter, but again I am not sure how you would effectively regulate that. And I’m sure brighter minds than mine have tried.

anonymous asked:

how do i become more confident in my writing? i tend to feel very insecure about it and i hate it

Hey, ‘nonnie! So this is a great question because I know a lot of people struggle with this, myself included. Even with about six years of roleplay under my belt, I am still self-conscious about what I write and the words I use. However, I do have a few tips that can hopefully ease your discomfort!

For starters, I know that there are many reasons as to why someone would feel insecure about their writing, however, there are also several different confident boosters or small things that I do to even improve my writing!

  • If having proper grammar is something you tend to struggle with, there are a lot of helpful sites you can utilize for free. For starters, one of the methods that I prefer to use is Grammarly. This is a very cool Google Chrome add-on and it will process what you write. It’s a spell-check type of tool that is very helpful when it comes to punctuation, spelling, or word usage. Other useful sites for that type of stuff can be found in the following: jspell, online-spellcheck, and spellchecker
  • Vocabulary can be a tricky thing to get a handle on, especially if English is not your first language. All of that is understandable and I’m sure you’re roleplay partners understand that if they know it’s not your native language. In my case, English is my first language but I missed about three years of school so academically, this is where I fall short. It shows in my writing because my word usage can often be considered mediocre. When this happens, I tend to gravitate towards a thesaurus to find words more suitable. There is also a plethora of resources that are on tumblr that you can use in order to achieve better phrasing and a more eloquent sentence in general. Here, here, and here is a great post that gives you alternate word choices.
  • If you’re anything like me, you tend to write things that you know about to avoid this insecurity. But at the same time, you want to write about things you have yet to experience in order to learn — and that’s the key word. If you’re writing about a topic of a subject you may be unclear about, it’s best to do your research. Not only does it aid you from preventing potentially embarrassing mistakes, but it allows you to get the most out of what you’re writing. 
  • This happens to me a lot —you’re sitting at your computer, trying to think of something to write but you’re rendered useless to that process. A lot of times, people sit there, wracking their brain for a solution, staring at a blank page, and forcing a reply that you aren’t content with. When you do this, not only does it feed into your insecurity, but you stop yourself before you even get the chance to possibly come up with anything. In these situations, it’s okay to take a break from the computer and rest your brain. Sometimes all you need are those five minutes of watching a TV show for you to come up with some sort of inspiration. If taking a break does not seem like something you can do, then try to play some music or soothing rain noises to add ambiance. In times of trouble, this website has saved my butt from giving up too quickly. Along with these things, looking at muse blogs can serve a great purpose for you. Bonus: listening to slam poetry can sometimes get your brain working really well!
  • Stop comparing yourself. You do it, I do it, everyone does it and some point. However, comparing yourself to someone else can be very harmful in many ways. Not only does it feed you negative feelings such as “why can’t I write like that?” or “why is my writing so bad?”, but it also stumps you. Doing this can prevent your growth as a writer and hold you back. It’s okay to compliment another writer or admire the words they use, but comparing yourself to them is a dangerous game. My old Literature teacher always told me that everyone’s perspective is different, therefore, no one’s writing will be a carbon copy of another person’s. You naturally will have your own way of writing that is different than everyone else’s.
  • Don’t apologize. A lot of times, people tend to say things like “sorry this reply sucks” in a very casual way it can be damaging. When you say this, you are the only person getting in the way of success. Don’t even tag your reply with something like that because it most likely isn’t true because it’s a subjective statement. Don’t allow yourself to feed into your own insecurities because this is how they can potentially control you. 
  • If you’ve been denied an acceptance from a group, just remember, I have to. I’ve had my application denied multiple times before and it sucks. However, this is something that can come in handy. Asking the admin why you weren’t accepted can be a huge step towards becoming a better and more confident writer. getting constructive feedback is important and it is your job as the writer to accept this and take it all into account. It doesn’t mean you have to hold onto every word for dear life, you just have to listen. 
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anonymous asked:

hiiii!! before i request something i just wanted to say y'all are doing the lord's work lmao thank you sm for all your recs! i check this blog every day in search of new fics & it hasn't disappointed yet :) anyways, i'm taking the sat tomorrow (I"M SO NERVOUS) and i was wondering if you could rec some of your favorite fluffy, domestic stucky/avengers fics so my brain can chill a little bit?

yes of course! best of luck with the sat!

he’s got a heart made out of stone by darth_stitch

In which Tony Stark makes one too many cracks about Steve Rogers’ “Russian boyfriend” and Bucky sets him straight about his actual ethnicity. Or - the one where two Stupidly Adorable and Mischievous Nonagenarians may or may not be trolling the hell out of the Avengers.

The Bucky Barnes Guide to Household Management by CryptoHomoRocker 

“Steve doesn’t even notice at first, is the thing.”

Or: Steve is unobservant, Bucky learns to be good at things that aren’t killing people, and knitting happens.

(Written for starlight_sugar, who requested “domesticity, and also knitting.”)

Relax by ShowMeAHero

Bucky remembers a detail of his past over breakfast, and nobody can handle it.

Shyest by biblionerd07

SHIELD discovers that HYDRA took a DNA sample from Captain America and a DNA sample from the Winter Soldier and tried to breed a perfect supersoldier. Steve and Bucky suddenly find themselves the parents of a three-year-old boy who won’t speak.

Steve Rogers’ Dad Face and Other Common Hazards (and it’s series) by AggressiveWhenStartled

Today, Peter was honest-to-god going to see Captain America himself up close, in person, and not from a rooftop or tiny crevice like a creepy stalker fanboy.

Even better, he was going to watch Steve Rogers make history by soldiering his beleaguered way through the most intensely awkward and honestly ridiculous press conference in the history of ever– jaw thrust out and spine ramrod straight. Trying hard to be polite and respectful in the face of adversity.

While a bunch of assholes with cameras and microphones shouted at him about Iron Man’s adolescent dick.

The Mercury Signs Texting

Aries: To the point. Occasionally excessive exclamation points!!!!!!!

Taurus: for some reason tHEY GET REALLY EXCITED AND ARE LIKE KJEUEWHOFHEKFGEIUF but most times they’re realistic and practical when they text

Gemini: tHeRe iS nO sAyInG wHaT yOu’Re gOiNg tO gEt SOMETIMES THEY’RE REALLY EXCITED IN ALL CAPS and other times they’re like omg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and sometimes they just feeling like talking in fluent emoji. whichever you get that day, you’re going to be entertained. lots of excessive things. they never are understated with their communication.

Cancer: Very soft. Even when they’re laughing, they don’t make a big deal out of it, just a simple lol. They almost seem quiet when they’re texting, as if every word is meaningful. They express the words that they feel, and their texting style could fluctuate with their mood, but mostly it stays on the understated side.

Leo: Pretty straightforward! Lots of exclamation points, but not excessive! BUT IF YOU GET THEM ON A DRAMATIC RANT YOU ARE GOING TO BE THERE FOR A WHILE BECAUSE THEY WILL MAKE IT SEEM LIKE THE WORLD IS ENDING

Virgo: Very supportive towards you, and very practical! A lot of times they’ll be analyzing something and go on and on for an entire novel…they’ll be like “omg I don’t know what to do because it could go this way but it could also go that way and idk my brain is just exploding with all these details help!!!” They get overwhelmed if you send them too many texts at once, because they need to process o n e  t h i n g  a t  a  t i m e.

Libra: lots of smiley faces :) they want you to think they’re being nice at all times. very cute texter!!!! not too over-the-top, but not too understated. they want to make you happy with the things they say and the way they say it - they want to avoid rocking the boat.

Scorpio: Ha. It’s like they text with a smirk on their face. But they would never send the smirk face emoji, because that would reveal what they’re thinking. Lots of short, obscure sentences ending in a period. You’re left to guess what they’re thinking, because they sure won’t tell you.

Sagittarius: Exclamation!!!!!! Points!!!!!! THEY’RE SO HAPPY!!!! AND EXCITED!!!!! Not very wordy at all. They like to be short and sweet, but always silly!

Capricorn: They’re all business. Efficiency is their priority with communication. They text to work out practicalities. They’re almost as sarcastic as Scorpio. Making puns or other clever uses of language is their favorite activity.

Aquarius: they DON’T mAkE sense HALF tHe time. spacey, spacey, spacey. can ramble on and on for hours. they’ll either send a novel, or won’t reply at all.

Pisces: So so so caring!!!! <3 They usually send long texts that make you feel special. They can be bad with getting back to people, because they often genuinely forget - their head is in the clouds. They text in a very abstract, floaty way, and so their language might lack logic or structure. But, they will make you feel as if everything they text to you is showering you in rainbows and kisses.