too many things in my brain

I screwed up my first year of high school. To some people, it doesn’t look like it. But with a combination of mental illness, not amazing friends and a lack of discipline, I’m glad I barely remember that. But that screw up of a year taught me more than any high school teacher could. Now let me share these things with you. Just a warning, this will most likely be a chaotic rambling of everything in my head.

Mental illness is a legitimate thing do not accuse someone of lying about their mental illness. Don’t do it. You can blame a lot of things on how you were young and stupid, but the question is, are you still being what you call ‘young and stupid’? Now is that a good thing or a bad thing? Learn to laugh at yourself. You do that by putting yourself in weird situations. Walking around the city in a onesie and bright pink vans was a great time. It made me more comfortable in my skin. Own yourself. Simplicity is beautiful. Trust me. You don’t need to get smashed at a party when you’re underage to have fun, trust me on this, I’ve seen way too many incredible people screw up such a great part of their lives by getting smashed at parties and doing drugs when they’re barely 13. Don’t. Beauty isn’t everything, you’ve got a brain. Use it. Such a unique mind shouldn’t go to waste due to societal expectations. You’ve got a heart that’ll melt even the coldest of minds. Find your escape. Books, music, painting, whatever. The world can be overbearing, don’t let it get to you.

Put your all into everything. Don’t half arse anything. If you think you’ve done enough, do it three more times. Check out three more websites. Go through your flashcards three more times. Three is a magical number. What do you enjoy? Okay good, do it often. Who cares if you can’t exactly put it on your resume. Sexuality is a thing, respect other people’s and don’t be ashamed of yours. Do things, but for the right reason. Don’t do a certain co curricular only because it’ll look good on your resume, do it because you enjoy it. Don’t stop doing something because you think other people are better than you. Maybe they are, but that doesn’t mean you can’t improve.

You’re going to change. You’ll never be the same person again. And that’s not a bad thing. But always remember, your mind is a compass pointing you to your final destination. And your final destination is the place where you draw your final breath. And you can ignore it all you want, but you’re going to die at some point. So stop wasting today being someone who you don’t want to be or not growing into the person you want to be, because life is dynamic. To the point where it will end but we have no idea when.

—  I found this in notes, I wrote this a year ago and it still stands.
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.

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.


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)

Strength of Spirit- Part 2

Dean Winchester walks into your laundromat looking very much like your next one night stand. Instead, tragedy strikes, and you end up in the middle of a nightmare, with only Dean (and his brother Sam) to help you navigate it.

Part 1

Summary of Part 2: Dean gets you to safety. You find out what he really does for a living.

Warning: none for this chapter

Word Count: 1850ish

A/N: It’s been a while since I’ve done a series that wasn’t just smut. I’m hoping we’ll all have some fun with it! XOXO

Your whole body was numb as you moved, not feeling the steps beneath your feet as Dean pulled you down the stairs of your apartment building and out onto the street. He didn’t let go of your hand until he dumped you in the passenger seat of a car.

That’s when the panic set in.

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nothingtoseeherejustmovealong  asked:

Random ask: Facial Hair. What would cause Derek to shave his face clean? What could cause Stiles to grow facial hair? What would be each's reaction to the change in each other? I have my own thoughts, but I'd like to hear yours.

Oh, interesting… I’m really curious about your thoughts on this actually, because this isn’t something I’ve particularly thought about and I’m not sure I have a good answer for you.

For Stiles, I think all that would take is a few days too many on a research binge, or maybe finals week during college. Something that would pull his focus from general day to day upkeep, brain on bigger things, more important things, than keeping up with what his face looks like. It’s not so much a problem in high school but as he gets older and his body moves beyond producing peach fuzz once a week or so, it becomes inevitable that Derek walks in to discover a tired looking Stiles, face covered with patchy looking dark scruff, every couple months or so.

And, because I love my Sterek with some banter and snark, Derek would inevitably tease him for it, lift his brows and toss out some dry insult he’s barely even paying attention to as he says it because he’s so totally lost on this boy and Stiles looks beautiful like this. Alright, objectively terrible but… beautiful, because this patchwork scruff is just a sign of Stiles’ incredible mind working: how focused he is, how deeply he cares about whatever the hell’s swallowed up his focus: schoolwork, a pack problem… hell, even one of those internet games about wizards and goblins he falls into for days straight sometimes.

And Stiles will grumble and shave and feel a hell of a lot better afterward, but Derek can’t help being a little too fond of that damn, scraggly mess of a beard whenever it appears. (The pack signals that out as a sure sign he’s hopelessly in love because facial hair is absolutely not Stiles’ friend.)

As for Derek… we’ve seen him go through so many phases of facial hair in the show –– beardless and babyfaced in season one, that beautiful s2 stubble, building up into a full beard by the time he left. That makes me feel like Derek doesn’t have a particular preference and that –– like Hoechlin –– he just doesn’t like dealing with shaving. (Although… I might come back to this later. I have a pinging half-thought about his beard being a physical sign of him relaxing into himself and being more comfortable with his life and his body, but it doesn’t entirely make sense to me yet so I’ll have to think about it for a bit.) So I think he definitely prefers the beard, wouldn’t want to put in the effort into being clean shaven unless he had to. Unless he got something out of it.

So maybe if Stiles and Derek were seeing each other secretly, and Derek wanted to kiss down Stiles’ body without beard burn giving them away. Or! Oh, poor sunburned Stiles, after a badly planned beach day, skin soothed down with aloe but still aching and all Derek wants to do, tight and panging in his chest, is press gentle kisses across that hot skin, distract Stiles from the itching  ache of it, but his beard will just irritate Stiles more so he sighs and disappears into the bathroom (Stiles whining from the bed because “where did you go, you’re supposed to be taking care of the fragile human when he’s in pain, here”) and comes back out ten minutes later with his face shaved clean.

And Stiles would gape up at him from the bed, all blotchy pink skin and lips parted in shock, until: “holy shit, you look like a sixteen year old’s wet dream.” And then, when Derek’s brows just crawl up skeptically: “Mine, I mean, back when I was, because back then you looked like––” waving his hand out vaguely toward Derek. “And not that every look isn’t a good look for you, but why the sudden urge to experiment? Aren’t you supposed to be––”

“Kissing you better?” Derek cuts in, and Stiles shuts up because oh. Oh. And as much as he definitely looks forward to the scruff coming back in a few days, he doesn’t think he’s ever been quite as in love with Derek as he is now, knowing that he’d shaved off his beard just because he couldn’t stand the thought of not pressing soothing kisses over Stiles’ tender skin.

Three in the AM’s

Overview: Not all of us are morning people.

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam

Word Count: 984

Warnings: morning grumpiness and murderous thoughts + one swear word

A/N: This was written for @ravengirl94‘s 1.5K Challenge. Congrats on all of your lovely followers, my dear. Thanks to @wheresthekillswitch & @hannahindie for reading my late night ramblings and laughing alongside me ;) My prompt was: Did you just…hiss at me?

Coffee. Mug. Hands. Now.

My brain sent foggy, yet firm directions to my feet as I practically slid out of my bed like a slinky with one too many kinks. If I’d had the energy, I would have groaned. But the four words my brain had given me was the only thing I could focus on, and they played like a steady drumbeat with each slow shuffle of my fuzzy socked feet down the long hall to the kitchen.

My deadweight of a hand flipped the light switch on instinct as I plodded in.

Mistake! MISTAKE! Abort! Mayday!

I practically threw the upper half of my body against the wall until some part of me connected with the small switch and my eyes were saved from being burned out by the blinding fluorescent beams of death. In the blessed dark once more, I navigated by memory to the cupboard and groggily fumbled with the bag of coffee and my favorite mug, setting them both on the counter and pausing for a few long seconds trying to remember what to do next.

Coffee filter. Water. Scoop. Brew. Pour.

I gently patted my forehead in thanks and set my mind to autopilot to complete the mundane tasks. A few minutes later I was settled down at the kitchen table with my hot mug of coffee while I internally cursed both of the Winchester brothers.

Oh, let’s leave for the hunt by sunrise. Oh, let’s actually leave a couple of hours before sunrise. Oh, because we need to avoid the cops thanks to Dean’s last “incident.” Oh, don’t be late, Y/N. Oh, could you make us coffee since it’s your turn, Y/N?

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Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

I feel like I’ve been posting too many fluffy things in the past couple days, and I’d just like to remind everybody of the black hole that my soul is. Please enjoy.

ao3 |

Summary: Dick’s just had brain surgery and Bruce is alive. It’s everything that Dick had hoped for.

Whatever pain medication Dick’s on, he thinks that maybe it should be a little stronger. Or a lot stronger. Anything, really, to push away the pounding ache in his head that’s taken over any and all rational thoughts.

For some reason, Dick decides to open his eyes. It’s a mistake.

The light is blinding, and it pierces straight to his brain, amplifying the pain. He groans and lets his eyelids flutter shut again, hoping that it will be enough to dampen the pain enough to make him feel like he’ll survive the night.

“Dick?” a voice whispers, and Dick knows that voice. He knows it like he knows how to perform a quadruple flip. Maybe even better. And despite past experience, Dick opens his eyes again and squints over at the man sitting in the chair at his bedside. Guilty eyes peer down at him, and a hand holds Dick’s own carefully, like if it grips too tight Dick will shatter into a million pieces.

(But Dick thinks that maybe he’s already shattered, because he doesn’t feel all that much like himself anymore, so the hand is more than welcome to hold his as tight as it wants. Especially if it’s this hand.)

Dick closes his eyes again and slumps into the pillows underneath his head. He’s lying on his side in his bedroom, and he’s exhausted. He can’t think of why at the moment, but he knows he’s not the least bit surprised at his own state. He probably did something completely stupid again, knowing him, and when Damian finds out—if he hasn’t already—Dick’s going to get those angry eyes thrown at him again.

He doesn’t think he can handle Damian’s angry eyes when the guilty ones keeping watch over him now are already bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Dick,” the voice says again lowly, and Dick can’t help it when he screws up his face against the emotions welling up inside his chest. They come out in a hitched sob, and Dick can’t stop it. He can’t. A warm hand runs through his hair, hushing him softly. “I know it hurts, but you’re going to be okay.”

It hurts so bad, but Dick doesn’t think it’s just the pain in his head. He thinks that maybe the pain in his chest has something to do with this, too, and it’s nothing physical. It’s an ache that comes solely from seeing that face at his bedside once again like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t been dead for almost a year.

“Bruce,” Dick sobs, squeezing Bruce’s hand to the best of his ability. It’s not very tight, and Dick isn’t sure how to make it tighter, but Bruce squeezes back, and that’s all Dick really needs right now. Dick says thickly, “I thought you were dead.”

“I know,” Bruce tells him. He sounds calm.

Dick opens his eyes a third time, desperate to match Bruce’s tone to an expression, and when he does see Bruce’s blurry face again, it’s all wrong. There’s a twist to Bruce’s features that betrays his voice, and—god. It looks like Bruce is grieving Dick before he’s even gone. There’s guilt and anger and fear all mixed up in that face, in those eyes, and Dick has a hard time not reaching up his other arm to grab Bruce’s shirt and shaking some sense into him.

But Dick is tired. He’s just had brain surgery, he remembers. Damian isn’t dead. Dick isn’t dead. And Bruce—Bruce isn’t dead, either.

Nobody’s dead, so why does Bruce look like he’s just lost his entire world again? Dick doesn’t know, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever figure it out.

When Dick wakes up again, Bruce is gone. Instead, Damian is sitting in Bruce’s abandoned chair, brow furrowed as his pencil moves along the page of his sketchbook. He’s concentrating hard, Dick can tell, and Dick takes the few moments that Damian doesn’t notice he’s awake to just watch him.

There’s a breath of relief in his lungs that he’s desperate to let out, but there’s something missing. Dick doesn’t know whether it’s the brain surgery or his own mixed up emotions that are in the way of letting him identify it, though.

Bruce. Bruce had been here. Where is Bruce now? Why would he leave?

“Richard,” Damian says, watching him with careful dark eyes over his sketchbook. Dick meets them with his own bright blue, and they just look at each other for a long silent moment. Finally Damian sighs, and it’s long-suffering, and he says, “You’ve been unconscious for the past fourteen hours, only occasionally waking up to mumble incoherently.”

The way Damian says it, it sounds like a report Robin is giving to Batman, and Dick can’t help the upward quirk of his lips. It falls almost immediately, though, and Dick whispers, “Bruce?”

Damian hesitates. There’s something in his eyes, just like there had been something in Bruce’s the last time Dick remembers being awake. But this—this is more anger than guilt, and Dick doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Father is downstairs with Drake and Pennyworth,” Damian finally offers, but it’s reluctant, and his words are tinged with bitterness. At Dick’s uncomprehending stare, Damian looks away, towards the floor. “I told him he wasn’t allowed to sit in here anymore.”

“Damian,” Dick croaks, and he’s tired, but this is more important than sleeping. Understanding Damian is always more important. “Why?”

Damian’s eyes meet Dick’s again, and the anger blazes. “He’s grieving over you, Richard, and that’s something I cannot stand for. You’re not—” Damian cuts off and looks away again. When he speaks again, it’s so quiet Dick almost misses it. “You’re not going to die, and I will not tolerate the way he’s acting like you are.”

Dick blinks against his emotions again, but the urge to hold Damian in his arms right here and now is too strong, so Dick shakily reaches a hand for Damian. The ten-year-old grabs onto it immediately, and scowls as he lays it back down on the bed.

“Idiot,” Damian breathes, but he doesn’t let go of Dick’s hand. Not for a long time.

Well, that’s just fine for Dick.

Bruce is back.

Somehow he’s managed not to wake up the boy dozing in the chair by Dick’s bedside, but Dick knows that the moment Bruce touches Damian, there will be hell to pay. So they’re all lucky when Bruce leaves Damian alone and decides to sit on the edge of the bed instead.

Dick tracks Bruce’s movement through the dark room, and he only relaxes when gentle fingers card through his hair.

“Go to sleep,” Bruce tells him.

“You’re not dead,” Dick says instead of obeying, because when has Dick Grayson ever actively followed an order from Bruce that didn’t involve a life or death situation. And besides, this is important. “You’re alive.”

“I’m alive,” Bruce agrees.

“I’m not dead, either,” Dick says, but it comes out as more of a question than a statement. With the amount of pain radiating through his head, he’s not all that sure he is still alive, despite what Damian had said before.

Bruce takes longer to answer this time, his eyes impossibly sad as he gazes down at Dick. But eventually, he sighs and says, “No, you’re not dead. You’re alive, Dick.”

And Dick—he’s been holding back these feelings for much too long. His chest tightens, his eyes burn, and he closes his eyes against the tears. It’s been a long time since he’d felt Bruce’s fingers running through his hair, since he’d heard Bruce’s voice, since he’d seen Bruce’s face, and he’s so unbelievably relieved. He’s exhausted, but he’s happy that, yes, they’re both alive.

“I missed you,” Dick chokes out.

Bruce is silent for a long time, so long that Dick’s eyes are drooping closed again and he’s drifting off before he hears the words, “Go to sleep, Dick. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And honestly, that’s one of the only things Dick has wished for in the last nine months. He decides to believe Bruce this time. They’re both alive. Bruce will be there.

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.


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. 

Sterek au: Stiles’ college internship has him working with Deputy!Hale. And they get a little help from Derek’s nephew. 

Happy birthday, obriensnipples! <3<3


Stiles gets to the station late as usual. Deputy Hale is waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest , looking stern and irritated. Stiles groans. Of course it had to be Deputy Stickler-For-The-Rules waiting for him instead of his dad. He could probably convince his dad to pretend he was here on time. Maybe bribe him with some hamburger. Yeah, yeah, he’s a terrible person, he knows this.

“Where’s Dad?” Stiles asks, looking around.

“Busy,” Derek replies. “You’re late.”

“Yeah, traffic and not speeding and being a lawful citizen kind of thing,” Stiles says with a wave of his hand. “Does he want me to wait for him or something?”

“You’re not working with him,” Derek says. He drops his arms and walks over to wall to grab the keys to one of the department SUVS.

“You? I’m doing my internship with you?” Stiles starts to panic. This is bad for so many reasons. Sure, Derek Hale is smoking hot, especially in his too tight uniform pants, but Stiles barely notices that anymore. Mainly because he’s pretty sure Derek is an alien who is going to eat his brain for fun. Derek has that look about him. Plus, the dude is like a robot who hates fun. He’s a robot alien who wants to kill Stiles in his sleep.

Derek heaves a long-suffering sigh as he slips the aviators on his face. “Unfortunately.”

“Hey!” Stiles exclaims, bristling.

“I have better things to do other than babysit the sheriff’s son,” Derek says as Stiles follows him out.

“You’re not babysitting me!” Stiles exclaims. “This is my senior internship. It’s a big deal. I’m serious about this.” It’s the last major thing Stiles has between him and his degree.

“So serious,” Derek mocks. “Serious people are often late.”

“You couldn’t, I don’t know, forget about that on my week one report?”

“Not a chance,” Derek says as he walks around to the driver’s side.

“I’d have been on time if I’d known I’d be working for Deputy Asshole,” Stiles mutters.

“What was that?” Derek asks.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Stiles grumbles as he pulls the seatbelt around him.

“Sixty hours,” Derek says. “Can’t wait.”


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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.”

Demon Politics 101

Last week, I was at the library, and did 5 hours worth of research on Japanese folklore and youkai, because writing. Fast forward to today. First day of class, you’d think I’d be too busy to write fanfiction? Guess what I fucking did. Here’s a snippet of ANOTHER WIP, strike me down.

(Yamato is a Kodama, basically like a dryad. He’s a spirit that inhabits a tree. Sakura is an empath getting a crash course on conflicts. General warning for tree puns and excessive worldbuilding.)

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amoralamusement  asked:

Hello, I always enjoy the work on this Tumblr. It's informative, interesting, and satisfying. Anyway, being an Ne dom like yourself, do you have any tips to not be overwhelmed by Ne a.k.a. How to Train Your Ne? I admit there are times when the ideas are buzzing and I yearn for stimulation then I become drained to the point of being physically tired.

Good timing, since I was just reading about Si-grips last night and realizing I basically live in one six months out of the year. :P

I’m not sure exactly what you mean, so I’ll cover all the bases I can think of.

There’s pretty much four stages in my life:

Ne-dom Extraordinaire: this is when you are the unbeatable monarch in your field, when you are on such a roll that not only do you finish your project ahead of the damn deadline, you went ahead and did sixteen other magnificent things that day too, just because your brain was on such a rush of SO MANY IDEAS. For example: you felt good about finishing your essay, so you wrote six movie reviews, four e-mails, 26 blog posts, and worked on your book to boot. And then you went to bed with a smile on your face because damn, I’m so fine.

Ne-dom Uninspired: this is when you feel “meh.” Not awesomesauce, not the lowest of the low, just plain MEH. Meh for a Ne-dom equals: semi-bored, semi-uninspired, semi-annoyed about it. Now, a sane person on this day goes and watches 24 episodes of ALIAS in a row to chill. Me, I FORCE myself to be ‘creative.’ And because I’m generally good at what I do, it comes out fine. Not knock your socks off stupendous, not awful, not even average, just fine. But it feels like dragging my brain through a cheese grater and I go to bed mad that my Ne-brain was lazy as hell today. Like, it’s supposed to be AMAZING all the time!!! What’s up with this?!

Ne-dom Bored-as-Hell: generally, this happens when your life is stagnant, or you are stuck on the same god-awful project for weeks, or your friends have not spoken to you in days, and you are so bored you can hardly stand it, but NOTHING appeals to you. You crave something, but don’t know what it is. You drag yourself through the work / school day like a fish on dry land, you scope the depths of depression, you maybe force yourself to do stuff, but it’s a clear indication that your Ne is STARVING TO DEATH. You must feed it. How? That’s up to you. Get in the car and drive. Go hang out with someone. Start learning something new. Read a book that you know you’ll hate, and blow your own mind by loving it. Try something totally, radically different.

Don’t be like me, and dye your hair purple and cut into a punk rock style. Although, God knows I looked adorable.

Ne-dom Work-a-Holic: also known as tunnel vision, also known as inferior Si grip, also known as the perfect way to make yourself exhausted at the end of the day. Picture a nice normal Ne being a freight train barreling through a tunnel at 976 miles per hour. Now picture a peasant maiden (or peasant lad, if that’s you’re thing) running out onto the tracks, and holding it in place for about 15 hours. It grinds to a halt, its wheels start to smoke, and the peasant maiden/lad is inching forward at, oh, about 6 miles per hour. Fast by her standards, slow by yours. Now imagine that’s what happens to your Ne, when you develop tunnel vision. All that power, going nowhere fast. Imagine the tremendous energy that just ground to a halt. The creeping subconscious despair of the engineer. You are both the peasant maiden/lad and the freight train. See the problem? You are ripping yourself apart. How’s that peasant maiden/lad going to feel at the end of the day?

Yup. Exhausted.

Now, what if that peasant maiden does this day after day for about a week?

Exhausted. Mental exhaustion, from holding back the train, forcing Ne to stay on one topic, or focus on “boring” things for days on end. Where’s the fun? Where’s the zany? Where’s the sarcasm and jokes and random connections? Hello, inferior Si. Obsessive compulsive, aren’t you? Fixated. BAD.

How to Train Your Ne:

1) Give yourself permission to stick to one idea for awhile.

I get it. You will have thousands of great ideas in a single lifetime, or maybe even a week. If you follow all of them right now, you will never finish anything. Do what I do: think about them, ponder them, don’t let them get too developed, and write down the ones you want to hold onto, put them in a jar, and… walk away with the biggest, shiniest, most exciting idea you just had. The others will keep. Let them stew in their juices. Focus on THIS IDEA.

2) Reward yourself for finishing things.

If you want to accomplish something, give your Ne what it wants – a challenge, and a reward. I used to motivate myself through “boring” tasks by setting time deadlines and writing like a bat out of hell, or dividing the task up into separate shorter parts that I can cross off after I do them. That shows me I am making progress. Right now, I’m sitting next to a half-crossed-off list of chapters in my book, which I am proof-reading / editing. Each time a pink line goes through someone’s name, I know I’m THIS MUCH CLOSER to finishing. THIS MUCH CLOSER to starting a NEW project. THIS MUCH CLOSER TO THAT PIECE OF CHOCOLATE I PROMISED MYSELF.


3) Accept that you cannot be at 110% all the time.

This may be hard for you to hear, but you’re a normal human being. You need sleep. You need rest. You need food. You need days off, and dates, and to go places, and be with people, and do things other than your job or your school or writing or whatever it is that occupies 90% of your time. Those normal things that a sensor can do without much fuss, wear you out. Tedious details wear you out. Planning wears you out. Keeping track of things wears you out. The temptation when this happens is to under-estimate what you, as a low Si, needs – which is a break. You tend to way overestimate what you can do in a single week, and sometimes you get way too much on your plate… so, if you know about things in advance that are going to “drain” your Ne, because it requires other, lower functions to be heavily used in your stack, plan to limit your interaction with those functions in excess of your responsibilities.

In other words, if you (me) have to do a bunch of tedious line-editing at work, it is not a good idea for me to come home and do… a bunch of tedious line-editing on my novel at the same time. That’s all Te/Si stuff.

Ne-stuff is… new ideas, new people, new philosophies, reading things that excite your mind and imagination and help you see things in a different way, or watching something new, or going somewhere where you can just be yourself. Your Ne cannot run on full power all the time, especially when you’re trying to hold back the freight train – so give yourself permission to take time off.

4) Pace yourself.

This piggybacks on the above, but as a Ne-dom, you way over-estimate how much you can do physically. Things like going places, driving for hours, being in crowds, walking long distances, etc., are tiring to someone with minimal sensing. Ne-doms need down time, to process their experiences. You are an introverted extrovert. Remember that, and give yourself down time. Try not to be out and about 24/7. But don’t stay home all the time either. That’s a cesspool of Ne-draining boredom waiting to happen.

5) Either do it right now or write it down.

My usual pattern is: get a good thought about 10pm. Then springboard into another idea. Then zip over that way for more ideas. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, telling myself to go to sleep, while thinking about everything I should talk about, investigate, or do in the morning. By morning, of course, either the ideas are all gone or I have lost any motivation to do them. Some of my best work is from dropping everything and doing it RIGHT NOW. Strike while the iron is hot, my dander is up, whatever. Some of my best short stories or articles came from getting up at 5am and pounding the keyboard. So, do it NOW… or write it down. If you write it down, you won’t have to try and remember it (also a chore for Ne).

The best things you can do for your Ne are the following:

  • Accept that this is who I am, and it’s okay.
  • Realize that mundane or tedious tasks drain your Ne
  • Let your mind wander
  • Give yourself permission to fantasize
  • Reward periods of the mundane with fun activities
  • Never let a week go by without planning something ‘fun’
  • Stimulate yourself with constant NEW things (books, movies, music)
  • Read a wide variety of things on a continual basis
  • Give yourself challenges and deadlines to beat
  • Make sure they are SHORT-TERM (you cannot stay too long)
  • Always have something in the immediate future to look forward to

Hope that helps.

(This week on tumblr has been DULL. Is it just me or is it dead?! Thank God for a new Doctor Who tomorrow! I need me some NEW Capaldi + Bill Potts. I totally want to be her best friend and hang out in space and eat blue cubes together.)

- ENFP Mod

cralmaia-loves-to-dream  asked:

Conversation between INFJ, INTJ and INTP (sarcasm and witty insults included)

INTP: You know, guys? I’ve been reading a lot on MBTI since you introduced me to the topic.

INFJ: I officially welcome you.

INTP: And now I understand so many things that didn’t make much sense before.

INFJ: Well that’s so cool?

INTJ: Like which things?

INTP: Now I know why high Fe/Fi users confuse me so much.

INFJ: *Is starting to see where this is leading*.

INTJ (interested): And why is that.

INTP: Our minds work very differently.

INFJ (relieved): Yea, indeed.

INTP: And I’ve come to the conclusion that people who get upset are extremely rude.

INTJ: *super amused*.

INFJ: …What?

INTP: Yes. I’ve been struggling all these years for being too blunt and upsetting people. But it’s not my fault! :D It’s their brains that work very weirdly.

INTJ: *laughing a lot*.

INFJ: No, no, no!

INTP: It’s not even my problem :D!

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! 


you are never far from my thoughts
the way the tide is drawn to the shore
the way glass hugs light
the way breath in body creates rhythm
held close without effort, without consciousness;
present by fact of existence.
—  from present // zia cole
The Morrígan

Pairing: Finn Balor x Reader

A/N: As someone whose interest lies mainly in the fantasy genre, I thought it was finally time to play around with the Demon King… Sort of hoping to make this into a little series, sort of waiting to see how it goes  

Summary: One time, an angel fell in love with the Devil; it was absolute chaos. But it was nothing compared to the ruination created by a dance shared between a Demon King and the Queen of Phantoms.

“In the very depths of Hell, do not demons love one another?” - Anne Rice 

If you think every love story ends with a joyous ride off into the sunset, think again. 

Some end in flames. Not the passionate kind one would expect from the burning sensation of love; but rather, the kind that blisters your skin and leaves you screaming until your lungs burst. These stories of love come from those who want to watch the world burn; the people who will stand, hand in hand, in the wisps of oranges, reds, and blue, that swirl around their bodies, and glitter in their destructive eyes. 

There’s one love story like this that would entice the Devil himself. 

And it did; because late at night, when all the little demons have gone to their beds, they beg and plead for their father to give them a story, and while the girls beg for one of a passion, the boys crave one filled with blood; and the only story their father found compromise in, was the story about a lifetime where a King of Demons extended his hand to the Queen of Phantoms. 

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Dan x Reader - Dan's Wave Sounds

“y/n? You’re still awake?” Dan’s voice asked sleepily and I mentally scolded myself. He probably heard me whispering to myself. It was nearly 2AM and I was still up with thoughts flooding my mind. This rarely happened, but on the occasion it did, I just for the life of me could not go to sleep. Worries, hopes, fears, anxieties and anything else my busy brain could possibly come up with. There was also the crippling fear that I could just mess everything up and I just ugh; I just want to sleep.
“Yeah, barely though.” I lied and pretended to yawn hoping he’d be too sleepy notice. I could deal with making myself suffer, but Dan’s sake didn’t deserve this.
“Oh okay.” He murmurs and rolling his head over.
After that, my mind continued into another crazy frenzy. I was maybe kind of stressed out and worried, so many things have been going wrong and nothing to plan. My brain would not shut up about all the bad things and if not bad, then all the others things that needed handling. I was stressing myself out yet I couldn’t even do anything, oh how I hate this.
“Go to freaking sleep y/n. Just go to sleep.” I told my worried mind frustratingly.
“Are you alright?” His soft natural voice with trickled with concern and I just shook my head, sighing disappointingly. Shoot, I said that out loud. Dan’s tall body curled right back over even closer to me.
“Sorry, I just can’t sleep.” I said exhaustedly but my thoughts still wouldn’t calm themselves.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Should’ve have told me.” He frowned as he pulled me closer to him into a hug, making me smile. He kissed my forehead softly and I sighed. At least if I had be wide awake, Dan was right beside me. His body was cool and breaths calmed, his soft hair was half straight and hair curly from the way he slept. I could feel his smooth cheek against my own, and I turned my lips over to his mouth.
“It’s okay, I didn’t want to bother you.” I said quietly after our kiss.
Sighing peacefully in his arms as we spooned, we were both both content with each other’s presence.
“You know how you like listening to water to go to sleep sometimes? Because you said it’s relaxing and soothing.” Dan’s voice asked suggestively and I nodded. I remember that memory clearly, me lying there with a waves playlist while Dan stared at me in confusion.
“Mhhmmm, it’s nice.” I chirped feeling his breath against my neck.
Dan then kissed my neck before his lips made their way back to my cheek.
A moment of nothingness followed where it just our breaths. He began to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, his fingers were gentle and demeanor loving, as he proceeded to do something completely unexpected.
“Swwhhisshhhh–shhh-swwishh—” Dan’s voice quietly murmurs as I turn my face towards him, confused.
“What are you doing?” I say in a hilarious awe at my dork of a boyfriend.
“Shhh… it’s the ocean.” His voice says deeply due to the time of night it is.
“Whoooshhh-woosh,” his mouth continues to intimate wave sounds. There are breaths acting as clashing, gentle sounds ending in “sh”, followed along with my laughs.
“Drip-drop-click-click-clock-click-clock,” is what his sound changes to and just cringe with a big smile.
“What, is that supposed to be? Rain?” I giggle throwing my head back even more amused than before and Dan nods.
“Whoooshh–swisshhh-wooooOOsh-oh, oh, the waves are back! pshhhh—splash–oh no y/n they’re splashing all over us!” His face has the purest smile along with the kindest eyes that are lit through the dark. The breeze of his blowing breath, acting as the wind, reached my ears and tickled causing me to giggle.
“Oh no!” I roll my eyes and begin to play along whilst smiling like a little child.
“Drip-drop-drip-drop… now it’s raining too,” Dan says with false worry pretending to shake me.
I scoff and just totally lose it and laugh completely. This is what was happening right now, that this was happening right now because Dan wanted it to. He’s literally making water noises for me to sleep, how incredibly sweet yet odd and just completely hilarious could he be.
“What are you laughing so hard at?”
Dan asked looking at me and my dorky grin. Dan was willing to replicate ocean noises just to distract me so I could sleep.
“You and your wave sounds.” I say pecking him on the cheek.
“They’re great aren’t they? ” Dan states curiously with eagerness.
I nod, “Yes, incredible.”
I lay back flat in my bed and hope I can finally rest, but to my surprise the sound returns continues once again and I just put my hands to my face and cringe laughing quietly.
“Whooosh—wooo-swish.” He teases nipping at my ear and I finally turn bring myself to view his shadowed face.
Drawing my mouth closer to his and title gently, our lips collide smoothly as his thumb rubs circles on my hip.
“I love you. Thank you for being my ocean.” I say and he nods reassuringly.
“I love you, and I will be always be your ocean.” Dan says with a smirk while I try not to blush; it’s unsuccessful.
“Aw thanks. Even at 2 in the morning.” I say as I lay my head back into my pillow, filled with ease and joy. Dan chuckles at my statment and wraps his arm around me before continuing with he sounds once more. They were even more gentle and soothing because it was Dan offering his ocean sounds.
As he held me in his arms, I peacefully floated away into a relaxing sleep. There was no more stress since those were carried away by the ocean. There was only love and happiness brought to me my ocean, Dan Howell. He knew exactly what to do when my mind needed soothing and he did it delightfully. I giggle at the thought of it and wonder how I could’ve gotten so lucky?
Before I entirely drifted away in my pleasant and blissful slumber, there was a tender whisper spoken by Dan.
“You’re resting now, but I love you goodnight.”