where do i get a free life

10

Wardrobe.

If you are upset, angry or uncomfortable with me over the clothes I choose to wear…

I am not the one who needs to change. But perhaps you need to reevaluate your feelings and why my personal style is contributing to your own dissatisfaction or discomfort.

Do not chastise me because I like to wear skirts and make up.
Do not rebuke my existence because I look damn good in a dress.
Do not reproach me with your concerns over my wardrobe because I do not get dressed for my day with you in mind.

You can berate me as much as you like, but I wont change.
There was a time when I had no choice but to conceal my true self to continue living alongside someone or multiple people. Thankfully, I am past that point in my life.

If you have yet to reach a point in life where you feel 100% free to be yourself, now is the time to figure out how you can change your life in a positive way that allows you such freedoms. For younger individuals, this is the hardest because all you can do is wait it out until you reach an age where your parents can no longer control you and society can’t stop you. I know what that is like, I have been there! Remember, I am only 22 years old! It wasn’t until about 3 years ago when I obtained such freedom for myself.

Never give up on yourself though.
Never forget the person you want to be when you finally get the chance to.
I sure didn’t.

Xoxo
-Elliott Alexzander

Tarot For When You’re Laying On Your Bed Wondering Where The Fuck You’re Going In Life

Card one - Where the fuck am I going in life? No but really, it’s okay to feel lost or stagnate sometimes but a prolonged sense of it can really make you lose your sense of self. Are you on the right path? Are you even on a path? Where are you? Only the cards can tell.


Card two - How do I get back on the right path? Feel free to adjust this question based on whatever you got for question one. Even if you’re on the right path you need to know how to get moving again. This is our card of movement, how to start making that change.


Cards three and four - What can I do to stay moving in the right direction? It can be hard sometimes to continue on the right path after you’ve found it. Life, mental and physical illnesses, work, etc. can get you down. That’s okay, feelings are meant to be embraced but you should have some tips to help you stay a bit more grounded in those situation.


 Card five - What’s something great about myself(or life if you prefer)? Chances are you aren’t feeling too hot about being you or your life. Why else would you also be laying in bed thinking this? You deserve a little love, embrace your good qualities. You are still valued and wonderful even if you are feeling lost.

anonymous asked:

Marichat "don't be fucking rude" prompt (your writing is great btw)

Thank you anon! I am glad you like my writing ^_^ (I should be writing more stories, but I am sniffly and finding doing long form hard so i am taking a break by doing drabbles. Hopefully it will clear my head enough to finish the chapter I wanted to get done today!) 


WARNING: Some strong language and suggestive themes! You have been warned.


“What are you staring at?” Marinette cried at last, whirling in her chair to face Chat Noir who was mere inches from her face. 

“hold still, I am trying to count your freckles,” he said completely unperturbed by either her close proximity or her glowering expression. 

“Have you ever heard of personal space?” she hissed, “Don’t be fucking rude!” 

Chat blinked but showed no other sign of being deterred by her wrath. “I can’t count your freckles accurately from across the room, now hold still.” 

Marinette groaned but did as he asked, figuring it was easier to just indulge his insanity and get him out of the way then try to argue with him. She had no idea what had lead to Chat Noir’s bizarre visit today, or his sudden unprecedented interest in her life, if his non-stop questions earlier were anything to go by. 

“Are you almost done,” she whined, trying not to think about why she was finding his closeness so unsettling. 

“Just about,” he grinned, and her heart gave a traitorous little thrill. He really was unfairly pretty. 

“You have 27 freckles across your nose,” Chat said leaning in even further until their noses bumped. “And just for the record princess,” he said his voice dropping to a sultry whisper, “I am not fucking rude. When I am fucking I am extremely accommodating,” and before she could move he darted forward, kissed the tip of her nose and hurriedly ran away, laughing. 

The next morning Marinette trudged blearily into class. Her night had been restless, in no small part to the flurry of daydreams brought on by Chat’s parting comment. Even her icy cold shower this morning had done little to stop her wandering mind or flushed skin. 

“Good morning my bestest best friend who I know far better than Adrien know’s Nino!” Alya crowed as she dropped down into her own seat. 

“Are you two still going on about that?” Marinette sighed, dropping her head against the desk and wondering if she could try sleeping through class, or if she ran the risk of subjecting herself to another Chat-infused dream session. 

“This is the last day of our epic battle,” Alya said with feigned shock at Marinette’s disinterest. “I am going to 50 Euro richer before class even starts. Where do you want to go for lunch?” 

“What if Adrien wins?” Marinette ask, cracking one eye open and looking up at her friend.

“Eh, he gets to pick my next 3 articles on the Ladyblog. But there is no way he is going to win. He would have to get my question right- doubtful- AND I would have to get his wrong, and there is no way Adrien knows anything about you that I don’t already know.”

“OK,” Marinette mumbled. Closing her eyes again. 

“Ah the man of the hour and his supposedly hertosexual life mate,” Alya cried. 

“We like to keep our love free from the tabloids thank you,” Marinette heard Nino say and Adrien let out a light laugh.  

“OK Agreste,” Alya said, “my final question, to see if you know my boyfriend as well as I do-”

“He does, you’re gonna lose babe.” 

“Shut up honey.” 

“Just giving you a head’s up.” 

“What,” Alya continued, “Is Nino’s favorite childhood ice cream flavor?” 

“Trick question- Nino didn’t have Ice cream till you took him to get some on your guys second date.” 

“Damnit! Still, you haven’t proven that you are the most observant person in this little circle, you still haven’t given me my question. Despite your impressive line of questioning thus far, I defy you to come up with something about Marinette that you know and I don’t.” 

Marinette was glad her face was plastered against the side of her desk to hide her flaming face. 

“OK,” Adrien said mischievously, “how many freckles does Marinette have across her nose?” 

Marinette’s eye shot open. 

“You don’t know the answer to that,” Alya said warily. 

“Just answer the question,” Adrien said smugly, “or do you admit defeat?” 

“19,” Alya said nervously. 

“Wrong, 27. Looks like I win.” 

Whatever response Alya was about to give was cut off by Marinette’s loud, piercing scream. 


Four Sentence Prompts: 

Warning- I will NOT be taking repeat prompts! Only one drabble per prompt! (See the list here: http://baneismydragon.tumblr.com/post/159474846531/reposting-so-i-can-edit )

Romance, Representation And You

So the last post I reblogged got some interesting comments I want to touch on, namely people stating that they don’t dislike Romance because it’s fluffy and feel good, but because it is often sexist, misogynistic, ableist, heteronormative and woefully lacking in diversity, which yes, absolutely, yes. Those are entirely valid criticisms of the genre—indeed I find them to be valid of any genre, whether it’s sci-fi, fantasy, young adult or otherwise. There is a shocking lack of diversity in our fiction and media—and not because people don’t want it or aren’t trying to make it, but because publishing houses and media can’t see the co-relation between what their marketing teams are telling them, and the actual reality that of course straight white stories are selling the best, of course it is, because you won’t sell anything else, that’s why there’s no sales numbers for anything else.

I worked in a romance publishing house for a good few years, I also worked for their erotica team, and do you know, not once did I ever come across a manuscript with a disabled person? Not a single one. There was also never a manuscript that featured a character with mental illness who wasn’t the villain, or whose issues couldn’t be Fixed With Love™(*vomit*). 

The few times a story featured non white characters, it was usually “The Best Friend Who Gives Sassy Real Advice”, or so horrifically racist that our modus operandi was to nuke it from the office servers rather than try and deal with it because how do you politely tell an author, hey, you’re a fetishistic piece of shit please find God and change the entirety of your story so we can print it, (Answer: you don’t there is no polite way to tell someone they are a  fetishistic piece of shit and you never want their work to darken your inbox ever again.) when you can instead say “Sorry, not what we’re looking for a the moment” and retreat to the relative safety of the slushpile where maybe, just maybe, a hidden gem awaits excavation.

And our publishing house prided itself on diversity because we had an LGBT section, and oh boy let me tell you I was so excited when I got moved over onto that side…only to realize, there’s no w/w fiction because “it doesn’t sell well” and 90% of the m/m fiction is being written by women for women and they fired the one gay author cause his work wasn’t “what was selling” and every bisexual character I ever encountered was either Actually Gay/Actually Straight, or surprise! The Evil Greedy Homewrecker who needs to pick a side, booo hiiiiss, grab your pitchforks and burn the witch.

And I remember, I remember looking to my senior editor who was also my friend at the time, a poly bisexual, mentally ill woman and saying “what the fuck Rebecca” (yes, her name was actually Becky) and she looked at me over our skype call and said “You want to keep your job? Deal with it.”

Because you see, Marketing reigns supreme, and Marketing doesn’t give a shit about people like you and me. It doesn’t care if the neurodivergent person wants to see people like them in fiction, it doesn’t care that people of color want to be more than just the friend/villain, they don’t care that there is more to LGBTQIA+ than the L and specifically the G, it doesn’t care if disabled people want to be represented as more than someone ele’s story arc prop. They don’t care they, don’t care, and do you know why so many publishing houses look down on indie publishing and self published authors and try to call them hacks? Because we don’t give a fuck that they don’t care and we’re doing what we want anyway.

Oh sure you get the usual “but the work is so unpolished, no one has vetted it, it’s just bad, this is why we need publishers to stop the crap from rising to the top”—and yet Fifty Shades of Grey still gets a multi-billion dollar production budget and to the top of the best seller list—do you see, where I am going with this? They’re not interested in selling the best they are just interested in selling, and we are living in a society that has a system designed specifically to a quite literally straight and narrow demographic. So of course XYZ stories sell well, of course they do, because that is where the vast majority of marketing goes, to make sure you buy into it. And Romance…Romance is a lucrative industry to be in if you can get the weight of that campaign behind you…but if you can’t? Well, not only do you have to compete with lack of funding and resources, but also the pervasive lie that because you’re not affiliated directly with X Publishing House or Y Agency, you are not good enough, and no one will want to read your story.

And that’s a bunch of baloney. It’s so much baloney you can slap it between two slices of bread and cover it in mustard because the whole thing is a ham.

Do you know what I would have loved growing up? (And still would) Stories about girls who liked people regardless of gender—and who wasn’t conflicted over it because people are people and gender is fluid and irrelevant to love. Stories about people with mental health issues, where the person is still loved and shown as functional, with their mental health issues, not despite. Stories about disabled and ill people who have fulfilling lives whose arc doesn’t revolve around being brave for simply existing or how much of a saint their families/loved ones are for putting up with them. And do you know what I get instead, even now as an adult who has worked in the industry that sells these stories? I get things like Fifty Shades of Domestic Abuse, and train wrecks like You Before Me where the death of the disabled person is seen as a romantic gesture of selflessness that sets the love interest free to fully live her life. HOW FUCKING FUCKED UP IS THAT. Oh you can argue with me all you want that wasn’t  Moyes intent when she was writing it, but it damn well was the end result.

Yes, Romance is lacking, and yes it needs revamped, it needs more cultural diversity, it needs more inclusion, it needs so many things—but it also needs for people to not want to not write for it because it’s “fluffy” and cheap, like somehow they are selling their souls away. 

I’ve got friends who have written amazing, diverse stories told from their point of view…but they won’t ever get them published because as soon as you mention self publishing or the Romance industry they turn their noses up. And they’re shooting themselves in the foot in doing so, because there ain’t no way a story about XYZ is going to make it in a sci-fi house, no matter who much tech you add in. On the flipside of that, I’ve also got a friend who has written about her experiences as a Black queer disabled woman and it’s filled with relationships and great life stuff and so funny…but she can’t get it published anywhere because she’s been explicitly made to feel like she doesn’t belong in the genre because her stories are too complex, they’re too different they’re too comedic…too…too…too (the list goes on). And that’s awful because Romance is a genre that is primarily about people and if you as a Romance house are telling me you can’t sell a story about people, boy are we well and truly fucked.

The biggest criticism of the Romance genre shouldn’t be that it’s too damn happy and therefore unrealistic and nothing but fluff. What’s unrealistic is the complete lack of diversity and inclusion in the genre that makes it so alienating that a huge part of our society immediately feels like they don’t belong. 

And that’s a bigger problem than fluff.

So great, yes fine, Romance isn’t for you, you can tell me all the time that you don’t like Romance and I will cheerfully talk to you about literally anything else. But don’t ever tell me you don’t like Romance because it’s simple and fluffy when there’s a whole wealth of actual problematic shit to dislike it for.

And to you, yes you, I’m talking to you. You with the idea in the back of your head and the worry that you’ll never be a Serious Author because all you want to write about is romance and people and angst and fluff and also thinking no one wants to read stories about people like you: take that idea and run with with it, learn from your experiences and keep doing it some more and maybe one day we’ll have the publishing industry we deserve that will acknowledge you. But until then: Rebel and Do It Anyway.

Binding safety things.
  • “I can bind as much as I like, I’m having top surgery soon so that’ll just get rid of any problems it causes-” nope. NOPE NOPE NOPE. Not only does soft tissue damage make surgery both more difficult and risky, binding too much, for too long, over even just a year or two can weaken muscles supporting your ribcage so when you stop binding after surgery, you’re at risk of things like hairline fractures- and worse, up to and including a couple horror stories that include punctured lungs. Do not use “but top surgery!” as an excuse to bind while sleeping, for more than 8-10 hours a day maximum, or 365 days a year without one single break. Not binding sucks- but we all gotta do things that suck for our health sometimes, grit your teeth and do not fuck up your lungs and ribcage.
  • Nonetheless, your risk assessment needs to be different if your timescale is less “five years til top surgery” and more “binding for the rest of my life”. I understand some women bind for reasons of gender presentation and such without plans to get surgey, plus of course there’s some AFAB trans people who either don’t want or can’t get top surgery who plan to bind indefinitely. Understand that this means you need to plan ahead for a lot of possible risks and complications that are less prominent for people using binding as a short-term gap, that the effects of very long-term binding are barely known and potentially severe, and that thirty years on, if you are still doing it, there are going to have been consequences for your body. This is NOT to say, “don’t do it”. Do it with a full, informed, adult understanding of what the risks are or might be, and be prepared to take those on. Keep a sharp eye on your body’s well being. Do it carefully. Be prepared for the risks, because yes, they exist. You can take them, that’s fine, but don’t pretend they aren’t real and serious.
  • Don’t wear a binder that is a size too small because the correctly sized one “shows too much”. Lung capacity is fucking important and you will crack a damn rib one of these days if you’re not careful. Do not overexert yourself in any binder; if it hurts or you feel faint or whatever then STOP, IMMEDIATELY. If you exercise in one, wear one at least a size up and throw baggy shirts on over it. Wear a velcro one if you can for working out so you can undo that shit ASAP if there’s an issue. If you go swimming in a binder, have someone spotting for you, make sure there’s a lifeguard at the pool, etc. You aren’t going to enjoy your wonderful transition very much if you, god forbid, wind up being in a serious accident because you’re suffocating yourself slowly.
  • You can bind safely. That is to say, you can bind while minimizing the risks as much as possible, til you reach a point where it’s reasonable for a well-informed, sensible person to weigh them up and take said risks. You cannot bind 100% consequence free. That’s all.
  • And look, just to get a bit tough-love for a second: “but if I don’t do all those things, my dysphoria is so bad I can’t cope” is something I fully, entirely sympathize with. It also means you gotta start working on management techniques so that ceases to be the case, NOT that you should just accept totally batshit levels of risk for the sake of your mental health. The solution to “my dysphoria is so bad that it destroys my life if I don’t bind in my sleep and wear it two sizes too tight” is not and should never be, “so I do it because it’s all right if I know accept the risk”. That’s not responsible, mature behaviour. It’s fully, entirely understandable. But you need, NEED to instead take the longer, more difficult path to finding healthy management techniques to improve your mental health and wellbeing so this is no longer the case, or else it’s going to bite you in the arse. You want to reach the end of your transition with the body you deserve, so you can finally feel right in it? Then look after it. Transition doesn’t give you a new body, it makes the one you’re in right now fit better, so look after the one you’re in.

° ✧ WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT PROMPTS.

triggers apply, mentions of death, murder, threats, sexuality and sexual/nsfw mentions. feel free to add/change pronouns.

❛ Anybody know you’re here? ❜
❛ Well, you see, I didn’t know where your office was. ❜
❛ In other words, the whole town knows you’re here! Get out! ❜
❛ You don’t know how hard it is being a woman looking the way I do. ❜
❛ You don’t know how hard it is being a man looking at a woman looking the way you do. ❜
❛ I’m not bad. I’m just drawn that way. ❜
❛ Don’t you realize you’re making a big mistake? ❜
❛ I didn’t kill anybody. I swear! ❜
❛ The whole thing’s a set up. A scam, a frame job. ❜
❛ My whole purpose in life is to make… people… laugh! ❜
❛ I’m out there risking my neck for you, and what are you doing? ❜
❛ Toons are supposed to make people laugh. ❜
❛ You don’t understand. Those people needed to laugh. ❜
❛ Then when they’re done laughing, they’ll call the cops. ❜
❛ A laugh can be a very powerful thing. ❜
❛ Why? Because you made him/her laugh? ❜
❛ Okay, nobody move! ❜
❛ You heard me, I said drop it! ❜
❛ I have to satisfy my sense of moral outrage. ❜
❛ I’d love to embrace you. ❜
❛ Put that gun down, you buck-toothed fool! ❜
❛ Give me another excuse to pump you full of lead. ❜
❛ So you thought you could get away with it, didn’t you? ❜
❛ Why, the real meaning of the word probably hits you like a ton of bricks. ❜
❛ We toons may act idiotic, but we’re not stupid. ❜
❛ You mean you could’ve taken your hand out of that cuff at any time? ❜
❛ No, not at any time, only when it was funny. ❜
❛ I would have been here right after you called, but I had to shake the weasels. ❜
❛ I want you to know I love you. ❜
❛ Is he/she always this funny, or only on days when he’s/she’s wanted for murder? ❜
❛ Can you guess what this is? ❜
❛ Freeway? What the hell’s a freeway? ❜
❛ Traffic jams will be a thing of the past. ❜
❛ Is that a rabbit in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? ❜
❛ Is this man removing evidence from the scene of the crime? ❜
❛ I see working for a toon has rubbed off on you. ❜
❛ What do I look like? A stenographer? ❜
❛ I’d say it was the booze talking. ❜
❛ Got a thing for rabbits, huh? ❜
❛ Search the place, boys, and leave no stone interned. ❜
❛ You think that’s funny? ❜
❛ No hard feelings, I hope. ❜
❛ You won’t think it’s funny when I stick that pen up your nose! ❜
❛ Look, the stain is gone. It’s disappearing ink. ❜
❛ The hand buzzer. Still our biggest seller. ❜
❛ So what happened, huh? ❜
❛ You can drop anything you want on his head, he’ll shake it off. ❜
❛ One too many refrigerators dropped on his head? ❜
❛ Don’t you appreciate the magnitude of that? ❜
❛ I’m surprised you’re not more cooperative. ❜
❛ Remember how they always thought there wasn’t a way to kill a toon? ❜
❛ That’s one dead shoe, eh, boss? ❜
❛ I would think you of all people would appreciate that. ❜
❛ I don’t know how many times we have to do this damn scene! ❜
❛ If you really needed money so bad, then why didn’t you come to me? ❜
❛ I’ve already got a stiff on my hands, thank you. ❜
❛ So I took a couple of dirty pictures, kill me. ❜
❛ Nose? That don’t rhyme with “walls.” ❜
❛ Seriously, what do you see in that guy/girl? ❜
❛ You need a heart, before you can have an attack. ❜
❛ Are you trying to give me a heart attack? ❜
❛ I can tell you now it ain’t gonna come cheap. ❜
❛ Question is, do you have the way? ❜
❛ Jumpin’ without a parachute? Kinda dangerous, ain’t it? ❜
❛ I don’t think you want it. ❜
❛ What the hell happened in here? ❜
❛ I’ve never seen a mess like this! ❜
❛ What do you call the middle of a song? ❜
❛ What do you think you’re doing, chump? ❜
❛ Don’t let me catch your peepin’ face around here again. Got it? ❜
❛ Stop that laughing. ❜
❛ You know what happens when you can’t stop laughing? ❜
❛ One of these days, you’re gonna die laughing. ❜
❛ We just want the rabbit. ❜
❛ What are we gonna do? ❜
❛ The best part is, they work for peanuts. ❜
❛ Work’s been kinda slow since cartoons went to color. ❜
❛ Long time, no see! ❜
❛ What are you doing here? ❜
❛ Remember you never saw me. ❜
❛ Boy, what is this, some kind of secret room? ❜
❛ That’s it. I’m calling the cops. ❜
❛ I come here for help and what do you do? ❜
❛ So long, and thanks for nothing. ❜
❛ Probably looking for a good place to stick a knife! ❜
❛ A laugh can be a very powerful thing. Why, sometimes in life, it’s the only weapon we have. ❜

Meaning of life
Have you ever felt locked down ?
And your face can’t help but frown
What is this strange voice I hear?
Where is everyone that has been dear ?
What else can I do than thinking
I’m on a ship and it’s sinking
I’m stuck in this world alone
I just want to find my home…

I see a light and lift up my head
I’m here , I can breath I’m not dead
I’m no longer alone I found friends
I almost thought here my life ends
But I believe in hope , I know I’m free
I will get out of this and you will see
All you have to do is believe
Get out of this nightmare now leave
You can do it , you’re not on your own
There are others like , they are your home
Best thing in the world are lovers
Everyday is a new day , nothing is over
Life goes on , it’s a new beginning
Find what you love, give your life a meaning
@cartoongirl9

Some Things Change. (Theo Raeken Imagine)

This is part two of Why Do You Keep Apologizing!

Okay, this is really long… I’m so sorry!

Requests are Open! (Just bear with me)

I hope you enjoy! Happy Valentine’s Day!

Originally posted by unconditionalloveandunicornspawn

Originally posted by filia-de-saturna

Habits change. 

It was the small things you noticed about Theo. His constant day dreaming and fear stricken expression he wore every time he was brought out of his day dream. His constant bickering with Scott and Stiles in the hallways and in classes. His negativity was not a result of his overly sarcastic personality, but because of the darkness in his heart.

But nevertheless, Theo did find himself attached to you. Whether he’d agree to it or not. He was protective. He did not want the one good thing in his life to be taken away, too. He’d constantly look for you whenever you two were separated.

In History, the one class he had with Scott and Stiles but not with you, he and Scott smelt the smoke before the fire alarms even went off. He immediately shot up from his chair, knowing that the smoke burned your lungs almost as bad as cursing molted your wings, and ran to the door, but got called back by the teacher. “You have to stay with the class, Mr. Raeken.” Theo huffed and rolled his shoulders back. 

As the class evacuated, he attempted to catch your scent but couldn’t with the smoke polluting the air. Theo grabbed Scott’s shoulder, making the alpha and his best friend turn to glare at the chimera. “What, Theo?” Scott snapped. 

“Look, I don’t care if I hate you or if you hate me. But (Y/N). She… she can’t breath in the smoke. I can’t catch her scent. Please, Scott.” Theo practically begged. Although Stiles had said hell to the no, Scott agreed not wanting an innocent life to be lost.

The two snuck back into the school and attempted to search for you. Eventually they found you in the cafeteria, the source of the fire, he figured that you were helping the lunch ladies evacuate, forgetting that you would suffocate in the smoke. “God, you’re such an angel… It’s literally going to kill you, (Y/N).” Theo whispered as he scooped up your small body and brought you outside.

As he passed the two outside, he nodded and muttered a “thank you.” He figured that you, being supernatural, might not want to be sent to the hospital so instead he kept you hidden in his truck until you regained consciousness. He watched as you slept, your head slumped to the side, resting on the window. “You’re beautiful.” He whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. 

And that’s when he knew that there was a slight possibility that he might actually have fallen for an angel. 


People change. 

You have been driving on a long road to get to the this stop, but it was worth it. You found it hard to show Theo the “right path” for he was so consumed by the darkness of his past. But it wasn’t impossible to get him to face the right direction, towards the light.

“If you’re an angel, you’re going to help that kid if I trip him, right?” Theo pondered, nodding over to Mason and Corey, who were both walking your way.

You tilted your head and began to protest, “please, don’t-” but it was too late, Theo stuck his leg out, tripping Mason.

You sprung into action, reaching out and getting a grip on the teen before he could completely fall on the floor. “Thanks.” He muttered, dusting himself off before taking Mason’s hand and walking off.

“That was graceful.” Theo complimented, a smirk forming on his face.

“And that was rude. You should apologize.” You said, crossing your arms. The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, wordlessly fighting for dominance. You ultimately losing to his stubbornness.

But as weeks flew by, Theo showed less aggression and plain out rudeness.

The two of you were leaned up against the lockers. His words were no longer snarky and challenging. Instead he spoke as though the two of you have been friends for ages.

His arms were crossed as his left shoulder leaned into his locker, his eyebrows raising at something you said about your older sister loving a human.

“Is it bad for an angel to love a non-angel?” He inquired, genuinely curious, wanting to know if his bubbling feelings could ever be reciprocated.

You shrugged, feeling your wings rub against your denim jacket. “It’s not bad, exactly. More like frowned upon. We’d have to give up our wings to be with them. It’s seen as turning your back against your family and God.”

“Good thing I’m an atheist.” Theo joked. His foot was slightly out, causing Liam, who was rushing past to meet with Hayden, to trip over. But Theo acted quickly, reaching over and balancing the beta. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean it. Honest.” You smiled at his improvement. Maybe you were rubbing off on him after all.

Theo’s fingers interlocked with yours, tugging you towards your next period. You knew it was a friendly gesture but you couldn’t help the heat rising to your face. “C’mon, (Y/N). Angels don’t skip class.” And then you felt your heart beat faster and the blush on your cheeks intensifying 


Feelings change. 

“My sister gave up her wings.” You informed Theo. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. You shared that your sister fell in love with a human but he never knew just how extreme she’d got be with him. 

He carried your books as the two of you walked side by side. To those passing by, you two looked more like a couple than an angel and her ward. “Would you ever do it?” He asked. You glanced over to him. “Give up your wings?” 

You shook your head. “Never. I love being an angel.” 

“Even if you truly loved a non-angel?” He questioned, his brows furrowing. 

“Angels aren’t selfish. We don’t give up our wings because of our own selfish interests. We shouldn’t want both.” You explained. 

“It’s okay to want something for yourself.” He muttered, feeling his heart break a bit as he shoved your books into your hands and walked off. You being left shaken and confused.

But he didn’t know that in your mind, you’ve considered it. You’ve considered the possibility of your wings leaving you, unburdening you. You’ve considered being with Theo, not because you have to but because you’d love to. In the months you’ve spent with each other, you knew one thing for certain. You love Theo Raeken.

You confided in your mother about your conflicted feelings. “I apologize if I disappoint you, mother. I just… I love him… I really do. And I know (Y/S/N) has disappointed you enough, but-”

“Beacon Hills has really taught my girls to bloom. You both found love here. I’d hate for our family and our values to get in the way of that. But (Y/N), love comes with a price. I think you know that. But when that love is as true as can be, a part of your past life as an angel shall remain with you.“ She smiled. You nodded. “So be free my little angel. Fly to where your heart leads you.” 

And that’s exactly what you did. 

“Theo!” You called out, knowing that he’d be in a clearing, past the bridge where they found his sister. You flied past the trees but not too high where you’d get caught. You enjoyed your last flight as an angel, but something told you it wasn’t your last. 

“What are you doing here?” He questioned, his guard up high like it once was. 

“I love you.” You confessed. “I love you, Theo Raeken.” 

“Finally…” Theo muttered as he pulled you close and into a kiss. “I love you, too…”

Some Things Change.” You sighed. “And whether it’s good or bad, I’ll accept change if it means I can be with you.” 

And then you felt your wings sink into your skin. It wasn’t painful, though it was a weird sensation. Your wings had engraved themselves as tattoos of angel wings, covering your shoulder blades and all of your back. You felt as if it wasn’t the last time you’d see those wings because although they were physically gone, you knew you would soar in the sky once more. You knew you didn’t completely give up being an angel just yet.

Originally posted by marvel-pandaz

(Oh and this is what I was attempting to describe but they aren’t the same wings.)

I respect the opinion of my elders, but just an open query about the charges brought against my generation:

For not working hard enough: where is the evidence. When we were younger you told us you started from a small job and climbed your way to the top. When we are flipping burgers it’s because we didn’t apply ourselves. When you did it, it was shouldering the future by suffering in the present. When we ask for the money to buy bread, it is shameful. When others went on strike in the name of labor conditions, it was heroic. When we ask for more, we never deserve it. So how did you get here? Did you never sit up and demand the world give you what was rightfully yours? How hard working is hard enough?

We are illerate, use slang instead of language, shun poetry: did I just imagine the “rad” bloom of the 70’s? Is it because you can’t catch our tongues in your hands? Is it because our poetry is now published beyond books, beyond the control of one voice, beyond you? That our language doesn’t need your approval to evolve? When you drew political pictures of us asking how to turn a book on, you laughed at our ignorance. When the tables turned, when we were shown to be the most literate and well-read generation on record, you scratched the mirror. You said it was our lazy nature. A body rotting. Because we read trash, or we read into things, or we write loudly and it bothers you. Why does it bother you?

School is too easy: What was it like going to school without being worried about a shooting? Did you ever cower like we have, like I did, like our friends, crying muffled in your hands because you love your parents and now have no time to tell them? What was it like, dear, in a world where my standardized testing scores would have broken your curve and I didn’t even get perfect. What part is the easy part. Is it the highest recorded level of anxiety? Is it the rising teenage suicide rates? Is it the eating disorders, body dismorphia, self harm, self destruction? Tell me, have you seen - there’s a show called “Are you Smarter Than A 5th Grader.” It’s very funny. In it, bright young kids show adults that what we’re learning didn’t even exist in common knowledge while they were in school. Tell me. If you were up against our 5th grade curriculum, who would win? No, I’m sure you’re fine. You learned it all in high school.

We want too many free things: What was it like to want for nothing? What was it like to have a certainty that hard work leads to a bright future. What was it like imagining being rich instead of imagining just being rich enough to eat good food. What was it like, not being worried that a broken leg would cost you an entire apartment? Do you know they hate us so much they would rather see us die than bring down the price of an EpiPen. And since I know you love the idea of us abusing the system, tell me, where do I go to expose the lie about my life-threatening allergy? How do I fake it, because I’d like to opt out of it, and while I’m at it my mental illness, and while I’m at it can you take my chronic pain please. And since I know that the answer is to go to school and get a degree so I can be worthy of not dying, just another question: are you aware fifty thousand dollars a year is equivalent to a house. I could buy a house instead of going to college. Since you’re good at this, while we’re talking, I have two siblings. Which of the three of us gets the money? Go on. Look at us. Choose. Who goes hungry?

We’re entitled: yes, please, give me a deed, give me land, give me better than winning the lottery. What I’m entitled to is life, liberty and the pursuit of profit, am I not? So where are any of the above? Where did the jobs go? Why do you jail people for small crimes but free the criminals? And my life? This life? I end where my body begins, I am cut off from the nation’s decisions about what I can put in or take out of me. And me? I’m safe because I’m white-passing. Don’t the bodies pile up? Aren’t we entitled to justice? Aren’t we entitled to an answer? A response from the government? More than just speeches about how riots won’t solve things? Aren’t we entitled to a fair trial? To freedom of speech? Was it not our common fathers who fought for these things?

We’re lazy: Where? Who has the money? I’ve been working since I was 12, am I just an anomaly? Or do you just ignore those who don’t fit your story? All those student-run engineering projects that are changing history. All those protests. The art world, shifting. All these adults who demand more - do they count as lazy or as entitled? What were you doing at our age? Did it really look all that different?

We don’t listen to real music, don’t like real art, are loud, are too busy partying: We changed and you didn’t keep up. Is that’s what’s so startling?

We are sucked up into the Internet, wouldn’t drop the phone if the apocalypse was happening: my phone has my family on the other end of it. Do you not save pictures from a burning building? Do you really care so little for others you’d stick to the old ways entirely instead of texting? Oh sure, yes, a letter is pretty, I love them. But just asking for a friend: What do I do in an emergency with only a pencil. And I don’t mean to downsize the problem because I mean it’s not like you took Polaroids of your friends at sunset - right? - and it’s definitely wrong of us to want memories of a really nice night, but, just curious, did you post that opinion on the Internet? Was seeing others on the Web what made you upset? Maybe - this is just a crazy idea that popped up into my head - you should go take a walk, go outside, disconnect.

We do everything different: Yes. Because we were raised on the cusp of the next great Renaissance. We are in somewhere new, a galaxy of expansion that doesn’t rely on you. That knows more than you do. That doesn’t function the way you expect it to. How rose-colored is the past to you? The place where you erase AIDS and drug abuse in an effort to tell us we are a terrible youth. Where you don’t talk about the marches that happened around you. How painted do you picture it, simply because you had to physically look in a book to learn something new? How do you turn your eyes to a world where war sits on our necks, our earth melts, our populations swell, our people starve, and we are powerless in it all - and say, “It’s your fault.”

It’s our fault. The housing market, somehow related to our obsessive need for safe spaces, I’m sure, because our dreams no longer lie in yards but rather something big enough for at least a bed, and hopefully with tasteful curtains, and you have no idea what a safe space is. The certain failure of the two-party political system, maybe somehow due to our political correctness - we are, after all, rude enough to never open doors for old ladies or just let you be racist - how we controlled the media, how our desires drove this. Our request for trigger warnings and correct pronouns is a burden, and I see that now, because our special snowflake syndrome really does hurt you as a person; while your ongoing use of torture in corrective therapy is only a problem if you’re actually looking. You’re so right about so many things. When you beat us to correct us, it’s your child and it’s your right; when it’s our bodies we ask to have rights over - well, what did we expect? It’s our fault. The crushing debt, the companies that own our government, the privatization of prisons, the unrightful searches, the human trafficking and abuse of sex workers, the gun violence, the pharmaceutical industries which control our doctor’s choices, the climate change you only just started to admit is happening, the extinction of species worldwide - we are responsible for both pollution and poaching, the lead in our water, the death in our streets. So what do you get from it? From dismissing us? From quitting on us before the race begins? From forgetting who exactly raised us kids?

Now, I was told that the problem is that we too often point to bigotry. That we hide behind pointing out your sexist comments instead of realizing the truth your words wrought. I was told we are so focused on our victories, of a world that rallied for marriage equality, for gender expression, for the safety of survivors, for a healing nation - we call out instead of calling on. So I’m calling on you, Generation X kids. Here’s your free one. No bigotry spoken of. So speak. Explain what exactly you mean.

I get it. We asked for a country. The land is borrowed from your children, they tell me.

Now why are you so afraid when we show up and start collecting?

Warning: very long caption. BUT I NEED TO TELL YOU THAT I HAD THE MOST AMAZING MORNING.
Woke up at 6:30, drove to Tahlia’s house (@rawganic_) and she took me to the coolest session with @fittahliapretty (such a beautiful soul) that left me feeling nothing but happiness and fulfillment.
The session consisted of a one hour yoga flow, delicious #raw #vegan breakfast in the park and a journaling session where we wrote down what we want to achieve this year and work out what is holding us back.
This made me realize how IMPORTANT and how GOOD it feels to write down on paper what you want and how you’re going to get it. Work out what is stressing you out, work out what you want to do more of and figure out what is holding you back from doing exactly that. You’re going to learn a lot more about yourself, I PROMISE.
After that Tahlia and I climbed this huge ass hill and I can’t describe how free and high on life I felt at this very moment. Then we went and got vegan pies and indulged in chocolate Cocowhip from @everythingvegan.
ALSO… Something I noticed: today felt SO MUCH LONGER because: 1) I woke up before sunrise; 2) I didn’t spent a second mindlessly scrolling through social media.
In the past few weeks there were so many times I caught myself doing absolutely nothing and then complaining that I don’t have enough time and stressing the hell out about that. If you don’t have enough time to do what you love, MAKE IT.
If you read all of that I applaud you. Now go and do what you’ve been wanting to do for a long time.


IG: @annietarasova

You have so many choices every single day. Millions of possibilities branching out into different destinations. When you get to a place where those choices are truly yours, you’ll find a freeing independence and happiness. That’s when you’ll be able to take ownership of your life and do the things you’ve dreamt. I am always striving to get to that point. To have the courage and motivation to make the decisions which will lead me to the best version of myself. I know I will get there eventually.

“youre lucky, you get disability benefits and insurance to help you financially! that free money that you dont have to work for!!”

lmao you mean the money that i have to fight constantly to get, that almost never pays fully for something?

or do you mean the types of money ill probably have to pay back at one point in my life because no money is free money?

oh wait, do you mean the money that i need because as a disabled person in a world where things i need to live are seen as accomodations and not necessities, so i have to have help paying for it, because it costs me thousands of dollars more to have a fraction of the normal, healthy life that you, an abled person, get for free?

get this right, disabled people dont get free money, they arent mooching off of anything or anyone

we just have to pay for things that youll never have to pay for, so we need money that you will never need, to live a life that youll never have to think about.

fuck off with this shit seriously.

A MAN WITHOUT

A MoonKnight / CaptainAmerica Love Story
Author: @winterstar95 (AO3) / Artist: @kurozawa46 (AO3)

“A phantom appears on the streets of LA, wielding a Captain American shield, Wolverine claws, and Spiderman webs. The police are after the vigilante hero, and Secretary Ross wants his head. In far off Wakanda, Steve Rogers decides he must intervene and stop the hero before someone gets hurt. Everyone warns him not to get involved. Steve’s a wanted man and not the hero all the world once looked upon as the paragon of bravery, courage, and valor. But he cannot ignore the possibility that someone - another person - might get hurt because of him or his inaction. Going to LA is a risk Steve is willing to take. It sets him on a collusion course with fate and with his former team mates. As the world around him unravels, and Steve begins to understand what it means to be a man without a team or a country, a mysterious man with torments of his own steps in and everything Steve knew changes.”

CHAPTER 1. (read on AO3)

“It’s not a good idea, in fact, I think it’s your worst idea yet,” Sam said as he leaned against the door frame. Steve threw a quick glance over his shoulder at his friend and only grimaced.

CHAPTER 2. (read on AO3)

“Good meal?”
His senses went on high alert. But when he looked up it was only a man – about Steve’s height but a little leaner in build.

CHAPTER 3. (read on AO3)

“You don’t know me,” Steve said and his hands dropped into his lap, useless but needy.

“I do. I know that you only wanted to do good, all of your life. I know that you set an example for the rest of us. That you make me want to do good, that this mission I’m on from a lost Egyptian god should be ludicrous for someone like me, a Jew with a family history that goes back to Nazi concentration camps. But you make me believe that even I – someone who lost their way and stumbled and fell – fell so far I can’t even confess it to you – that even I can do good. I know you, Captain. We all do.”

CHAPTER 4. (read on AO3)

“This disruption-.”

Marc stopped him. “My life has been a disruption all along. I’m not a conventional man, Steve. I haven’t led a life that is going from point A to point B in one direction. It’s taken me quite a while to get to where I am, wanting to do good. Part of the reason I’m here is because of you.”

CHAPTER 5. (read on AO3)

Every alarm bell in his damaged, split brain should have gone off and warned him away. But Marc had always been impetuous and rash. He enjoyed living wild and free. He loved skirting the edge of the cliff, running on the precipice of the road, banking too close to the curve. Heat radiated through the moment and if he didn’t close in, if he didn’t try for it, the moment would be smothered and die. It seemed so simple, so easy to do.

He leaned forward, clasping the hand in his own. Tilting his head ever so slightly, he watched and then closed his eyes and made that leap of faith. A leap that gathered all the suns and moons in the universe and brought their power to bear.

CHAPTER 6. (read on AO3)

As Buck brought the S-92 lower to the ship, Marc flung himself out of the side, his cape catching the wind as it was meant to do. It felt a lot like flying and he reveled in it for only a second before shooting his web toward the main smoke stack of the cargo ship. 

CHAPTER 7. (read on AO3)

“Okay, but we have to take our time,” Marc said and lowered himself on top of Steve who shuddered with such pleasure, that Marc returned the favor. “God, you’re a sin to be made again and again.”

Steve smiled in return and that set his blood to boil. He ravaged Steve’s neck as he squirmed beneath Marc. Even as Steve searched his body, his big hand touching just the right places, Marc explored and tasted. He teased and bit at Steve’s nipples, catching the nipple between his teeth and tugging just enough to stretch it and edge toward pain but still so much pleasure. 

CHAPTER 8. (read on AO3)

That didn’t matter because Marc’s Captain was in front of him, beside him. They would fight the good fight together, side by side with a team Marc could trust. For the first time, he knew acceptance and love.

“We’re nomads,” Sam said and nodded. “A team without a country.”


***

ABOUT “A MAN WITHOUT”

Author: @winterstar95 (AO3) / Artist: @kurozawa46 (AO3
A Collaboration for CaptainAmericaReverseBigBang2017 @capreversebb

✰ * º ❛ lovely little lonely ask meme ❜

‘  here’s to now and nothing else.  ’
‘  in this moment, i could die with you.  ’
‘  never felt like this before.  ’
‘  dizzy, drunk, and beautiful.  ’
‘  here’s to all this culture’s rules and your pretty things.  ’
‘  how dirty, wild, and juvenile.  ’
‘  we ain’t got no time for what tomorrow brings.  ’
‘  i never wanna be a distraction.  ’
‘  i feel okay all over, void of all composure.  ’
‘  i like the lips you kiss with.  ’
‘  your lips are bad behavior and i’m in danger.  ’
‘  i don’t have time for your feelings.  ’
‘  you’re insecure, but don’t be.  ’
‘  say soft, but don’t be gentle.  ’
‘  it’s altogether mental.  ’
‘  let’s go to a place where we can forget.  ’
‘  leaving’s overrated.  ’
‘  i wanna inhale you in small doses.  ’
‘  i wanna inhale you in small doses, but adore you like the roses.  ’
‘  you’re bad for me.  ’
‘  i’m a lush, i know you notice  ’
‘  what would you say if you could say everything you needed to, to the one you needed to?  ’
‘  you flash like a setting sun.  ’
‘  you come around, i come undone.  ’
‘  can’t find the sound under my tongue when i look at you.  ’
‘  i lose my voice when i look at you,  ’
‘  just another lovesick afternoon.  ’
‘  just yesterday, i couldn’t help but think of you.  ’
‘  you come around, i lose my brain.  ’
‘  i’ve been searching for the right words, but i can’t even find an echo.  ’
‘  don’t you let go.  ’
‘  there are only twenty-six letters i can use just to tell you i won’t let go.  ’
‘  you told me we were only two punch drunk souls tangled in the wind.  ’
‘  is the sadness everlasting?  ’
‘  it creeps on in to the calmness of yourself.  ’
‘  it creeps on in until it hurts like hell.  ’
‘  you know i never knew how much i was getting into.  ’
‘  i can’t say that i can make you feel complete or free from your worry.  ’
‘  babe, you’ll never be lonely.  ’
‘  don’t you understand? you’ll never be alone again.  ’
‘  do you remember the days we were golden?  ’
‘  for worse or for better.  ’
‘  we said forever, forever ago.  ’
‘  do you remember?  ’
‘  lets leave the lonesome heat behind for better weather.  ’
‘  always just where you are, not where you’ll always be.  ’
‘  so, wherever you are in the world, i want you to be there and only there.  ’
‘  please know that life would be shit without you.   ’
‘  i feel all sorts of good just thinking about you.  ’
‘  i genuinely hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for, even if you have to find it alone.  ’
‘  let’s take our time while it’s still ours to take ‘cause some things hardly change, but nothing ever stays the same.  ’
‘  let’s fall back in love.  ’
‘  let’s fall back in love with the world and who we are.  ’
‘  let’s do the things we never talked about, but never did before.  ’
‘  darling, don’t blink because you will.  ’
‘  and when you open up your eyes again, you may not recognize a friend.  ’
‘  it may be bittersweet ‘cause we’re no longer seventeen, but we’re still young.  ’
‘  dance with me in naivety and follow endlessly the sound of reverie.  ’
‘  the past is in the rear view and the future holds no weight.  ’
‘  we’ve got a lot, but what do we got to lose?  ’
‘  i’m losing track of time.  ’
‘  forget the hearts and all the flowers.  ’
‘  it’s tough to be anything these days, but i think i love time the most when i’m with you.  ’
‘  the truth doesn’t mean a thing.  ’
‘  don’t you get lost in the nostalgia.  ’
‘  it’s not too late.  ’
‘  the only thing i’m really sure of, i’m unsure of almost everything.  ’
‘  i’m looking up and looking forward.  ’
‘  there’s nothing back there for you or me.  ’
‘  so you say you are broken, beaten, used and mistreated. tired, shattered, bruised and battered.  ’
‘  i only wanna talk to you.  ’
‘  you see, yesterday i said tomorrow. i learned today tomorrow can’t be saved.  ’
‘  the less you know, the more.  ’
‘  i will speak in cursive about the way it was when days were young.  ’
‘  now the clock talks so loud, articulate and perfect, about the way it is.  ’
‘  we ain’t kids.  ’
‘  and did you know, i only wanna talk to you?  ’
‘  i remember feeling weightless in the deeper end and drowning in the fear again.  ’
‘  and the lovely little loneliness would hold me down under the sound of being found.  ’
‘  but then it all turned around.  ’
‘  dearly depressed and broken hearted…  ’
‘  i’d like to let you know that boys cry too.  ’
‘  don’t let them tell you how you’re feeling.  ’
‘  i wonder why nobody is asking you.  ’
‘  are you free or are you in sorrow?  ’
‘  are you free or are you being borrowed?  ’
‘  how do you feel?  ’
‘  what’s your condition?  ’
‘  you are alive, but are you living?  ’
‘  give me your voice and i’ll give it a listen.  ’
‘  are you complete or is something missing?  ’
‘  so tell me, do your hands shake? does your heart break?  ’
‘  whatever it is – whatever it isn’t – make sure that it’s real.  ’
‘  you’re not alone in how you’re feeling.  ’
‘  make sure it’s real, real, real.  ’

on advice for those with mental illness

so inb4 i get slapped with “we cant all be neurotypical KAREN” ill preface this with the fact that i have severe depression, generalized anxiety disorder, moderate to severe OCD (more along the hoarder spectrum), and ADHD. all diagnosed. i deal with childhood sexual trauma as well. my experience is not universal, but it is not in the slightest neurotypical.

so learning how to grow and start healing fucking sucks. it really does. at a certain point it gets easier to just stay in your downward spiral. i get it, i totally do. ive been there for over 10 years (im 21 at the time im making this) and its taken me years of therapy and personal work to get to where i am now. i would consider myself stable at best, but its leagues better than where i used to be. part of that is just being lucky with recent life events, but much of it is me actively working on my mental illness.

cognitive behavioral therapy helps a fuckton. part of that is exposure therapy. it starts with little things. FORCE urself to go outside sometimes. FORCE urself to let something be “clean enough” or “good enough.” you dont have to personally handwash dishes you want to use to know theyre clean. let something be imperect, but start small. FORCE urself to look into someones eyes when u talk to them, or at least look at their mouth. a lot of the early work is about breaking out of your habits, your spiral. and it is work, absolutely. i know executive disfunction and lack of spoons/energy very well. starting small and succeeding tells your brain that you CAN do it.

i also have impulsive, intrusive thoughts. that sort of this is common but for me, its nearly every second of the day. when you start to understand that these thoughts ARENT yours, that obsessions have a cause you can point to, it starts to get easier. often i get thoughts of screaming nasty, racist, homophobic, transphobic things and it used to terrify me!! i used to think that those thoughts defined me or were some sort of “secret personality” of who i actually am. theyre not. theyre just shitty things that you hear and see from other people and your brain KNOWS you dont like them. but things that you KNOW are wrong are very often subjects of intrusive thoughts, especially for OCD. these thoughts arent who i am, and even tho i have to fight to not let that impulse take over, its much easier when you know WHY things happen.

ive been in therapy for years and i only recently told my psychiatrist about my ocd spectrum symptoms. that shit happens. it can be hard to trust someone until youve known them for YEARS. i never even told anyone about that facet of my mental illness until about a month before i told him during a session. my parents dont even know yet (unless they still check out my blog in which case HEY MOM i have ocd but im working on it real good also sorry about all the furries ily)

i have control issues. pretty bad ones. ones where i feel the need to control every aspect of my own life and those of people close to me. ive learned how to talk to people to get what i want from them. ive spent years working on not acting on them. i give people free reign to do what they need to do and offer to help when i can. i make a point to feel the mood of a room and go along with it. i make a point to involve other people in teaching me abt things that they like. being supportive and patient is hard for me, but it makes other ppl feel welcome around me. its probably for an ultimate selfish reason (i feel good that people like me and feel safe around me) but who cares!!! everything in life is selfish. being alive and continuing to live is a selfish act. but its not bad.

its been commonly said that your initial thoughts dont define who you are, but what your words/actions end up being (barring certain mental illnesses that prevent that ofc). the moment my therapist told me that theres things in my life that i cannot control, that there doesnt HAVE to be a reason for everything, it kickstarted the best, healthiest moment of my life. and im definitely not saying that you NEED a therapist/psych to start healing. honestly, that shit he told
me is really simple in basic. but you need to learn how to reach out and ask for help. ask anybody you feel comfortable with for help. getting help does not make me weak, it means i have the capacity for growth.

HEALTHY coping mechanisms will overcome unhealthy ones. youve probably been learning and using healthy ways to cope since you were young and just didnt realize it. think about the way you currently deal with your illness and be proud of it! good and bad! youve survived, and youre still surviving! youre not lazy, or difficult, or a bad person; you just have much more work and effort to put in to do the seemingly basic things that neurotypicals do. you and i work so hard to get to the bare minimum that its exhausting. you have to keep pushing your limits, and i dont mean you have to start yoga (fuck that my brain doesnt slow down enough for that) or run every week (im not there yet either) but just start working on one thing. even if that one, tiny thing takes a month, guess the fuck what!! you did it! you improved, you grew, you started HEALING. the words grow and heal might seem a little cliche and overused, but thats exactly what it feels like.

drink more water, being hydrated makes you feel better. try to eat healthier (mashed potatoes are suuuper easy to make btw u dont even need exact proportions to make delicious tates that YOU made. hmu if u wanna know what i do), youll feel less lethargic over time. stand up a few minutes every 1-3 hours, youll be surprised how much it helps. yes, these sound like neurotypical points of advice, but im there with you. these things DO help. they dont cure you, but they can help expand the base of things you fine yourself able to do.

TL;DR for other ADHD folks: growing as a person is hard. it takes work, actually difficult work. start small. you can do it. eat a potato. thank you.

Honestly, I really love the essence of Lilith and what she represents. She’s seen to be a threat to others, and is rejected and shamed by others due to that… But with that rejection, she can either be powerful and free or spread the rejection she’s felt on a constant basis. Lilith is so powerful, honestly. When I think of Lilith, I think of a dark, black snake that is secretive, powerful, yet slippery from the grips of society. Even though people try their hardest to suppress Lilith, they can never get rid of her completely.

When you apply this to your chart, you have to ask yourself: Where in my life do I feel rejected? Where in my life do I feel powerful… but for some reason, I can’t show it because it’s too provocative? Where in my life do I feel secretly empowered? Where in my life do I harshly reject myself? Lilith, if it’s prominent in your chart, can answer those questions.

anonymous asked:

Do you have any good fluffy klance that you recommend?

Yall are keeping me busy xD but here we go!

Again, all of you can search through this list, its been filtered down to klance ^^

Theres also these works of mine: One, two, three, four, five. All are pretty much angst free, if there is any, its really light.


And, action! by staysharp

Summary: “Listen, where do you go to college?”“Why does a movie star want to know?”“So I can take you out for coffee as an apology.”(or alternatively, Keith receives a call not meant for him but he manages to get involved in the caller’s life in ways he never would have imagined)
WC: 106237 (17/17)
General Notes: laksfbgagah, keymashing is all i got on this fic, just read it 10/10

First Day of My Life by eso/cazzy

Summary: Lance has avoided asking about it all night, mostly because he’s pretty sure it’s weird to ask your friend if they’d be interested in cuddling in the same bed.
WC: 9445
General Notes: this fic is ridiculously fluffy, god these boys are awkward and lance is losing his mind, i love it. 9/10

Not That Bad by varelsen

Summary: “Am I really going to have to explain this to you?” “No, I’m totally fine with you shutting up right about now.” Hunk cups his hands around his mouth. “You. Are crushing. On Keith.”Or, a college AU featuring coffee shops, silly rivalries, motorcycles, arcade games, friendships, and lots of warm, fluffy feelings that are both confusing and delightful all at the same time.
WC: 67847 (12/12)
General Notes: the college university is just the best, bless. Lance is a dork, and Keith is just a ball of anxiety. like same keith same. 10/10

i bet you look good on the dancefloor by xShieru

Summary: “So like in ‘Step Up’?” Allura shrugs. “Now that you put it like that - yes. I guess it’s just like in 'Step Up’.” The smile that she sends Shiro’s way - followed by a shy wave, eugh - is sickening to say the least, and Lance still doesn’t believe in dance camps.-Lance McClain’s dancing career begins and ends with Keith.Keith just wants to find out what Lance’s deal is.
WC: 43291 (7/7)
General Notes: hahahah its literally the dance au that everyone knows about, and like a shit ton of fanart has been made for. its really great, like A+, lance again is a huge dork and Keith is mr moody and broody, 9/10

Take the Easel Way Out by legendarydesvender/svenationalist

Summary: Oh no, he’s hot, Lance thinks while he’s dying.(Pidge elbows Lance sharply a little while later. “You’re not dying, dumbass,” they whisper. “Pay attention, the pose started.”)***Written for klanceweek day 1, “Red/Blue”. Art class AU where Lance can’t focus because one of the new life drawing models is too attractive.
WC: 4094
General Note: in which we are all lance xD 10/10

Color Me Intrigued by dreamcp

Summary: Lance draws. Specifically, Lance draws Keith. A lot. Wonder why that is?
WC: 5235
General Notes: lance doodles and i just really love this, like its seriously one of my hcs that Lance just doodles in his down time. 10/10

Costumed Identities by Trashness

Summary: Lance and Keith are rival cosplayers, who only know each other by their online usernames. They are fiercely competitive, but are also desperately attracted to each other. You’d think they would just get together already, but there’s a couple of problems: 1. Keith crossplays, so Lance has absolutely no idea that Keith is a boy. 2. Both of them are idiots, and can’t seem to figure out that that hot cosplayer they like, is also that hot guy that they drool over every day at school.
WC: 41538 (3/3)
General Notes: i dont know much about cosplay, but like this is amazing. keith and lance are both idiots in love. 10/10

nothing’s quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts, thebrotherswinchester

Summary: Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street.
WC: 50370 (yes one chapter xD)
General Notes: tbh, i really love the tags on this fic: keith kogane; human disaster and lance mcclain; sunshine boi. like thats literally the fic. its really cute and i love it so much. 11/10

Secret Ingredients by Lynn1998

Summary: Lance lives a comfortable life in the outside mall nicknamed the streets of Voltron. He bakes for a living with his friend, Hunk, and enjoys the company of the other store owners near him. Life seems great and easy until some pretty boy with a mullet opens a bakery across the street from him.
WC: 48193
General Notes: my face hurt reading this fic. its great. like godbless. 9/10

Catching Feelings by th3blackcat

Summary: It’s easy to spot Lance. The college student always has his nose in a book, whether it’s for one of his classes, a class that he’s a TA for, or for fun. It isn’t until Keith, an engineering student who’s closer to him than he realizes, saves him from walking into traffic that he realizes that maybe finding solace in books isn’t the best way to get through life. Soon enough, the life he knew began to change and the more he learned about Keith, the more he learned about himself.
WC: 12338 (4/?)
General Notes: I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY BUT GO READ THIS PLEASE 100/10

Sleepy Rumbles and After Shower Warmth by BoyBitingDemon

Summary: Restless nights are hard for Lance, especially where going to sleep is concerned, so what better way to combat that energy than tinkering with a high tech blaster and a sleepy boyfriend?Or that time Keith got Lance to calm down and sleep without having to do anything at all except exist.
WC: 1056
General Notes: summary says it all and its hella cute 8/10.

free throw by breadpoetsociety

Summary: “Shiro, uh, Takashi Shirogane, pretty much changed my life. His skill was– is– unparalleled, and he’s my hero,” Lance smiled fondly at the bench before turning back, eyes roving the crowd again. “He introduced me to the greatest love of my life. And, actually, that’s not basketball. But his brother, Keith Kogane.”Keith’s eyes widened, and he turned bright red. But still, he smiled. He couldn’t help but to smile.
WC: 1673
General Notes: this is so fucking cute, basketball player lance, and cheerleader keith. thats all you gotta know. 10/10

Seeing these pictures makes me want to cry. I knew I’d gained weight in the past few months, but I think it was more than I thought. Not that I was much smaller than this.
Getting to where I want to be seems like an impossible, daunting goal, but I know that continuing to eat like shit, not logging my foods, and lacking a proper workout regime will only worsen this situation 👆

I wish that I had supportive people in my life, but I want the confidence, happiness and self love I’ve been lacking for over a decade because of how this body looks, so I have to do it alone.

This summer I’ll be away from these unsupportive people, so I will be able to break free from their junk food and lazy lifestyles.
I am strong, I am fit, I am healthy, but I could work so much harder for my goals than I am working right now.

Just Me, Coffee, & My Big Mouth

Originally posted by subcas

Originally posted by demondetoxmanual

Characters- Sam x Reader, Mary
Summary- You can’t leave it alone, so you have to say your piece. All you can do is hope she’ll listen, and that Sam won’t be too upset.
Word Count- 1,620
Warnings- mild cursing? Also kind of calling Mary out a little on her bs about “needing space”.
A/N- This is for Hazel & Dreamer’s 1k/2k ‘Sammy Says’ Writing Challenge! My prompt was “I mean, what if there’s something…not natural?” I’m sorry it’s a little late, ladies but I hope you enjoy!


You know you shouldn’t be here, and yet you are. If Sam knew, you were sure he’d tell you to leave it be. He’d tell you that it ‘doesn’t matter’. Like hell it matters, you think. You knew it mattered to him. To Dean, too. They were your broken little family and if you could do anything to fix it, you would.

That’s why you were in Oregon. Tracking the phone hadn’t been that hard- the tricky part was setting up the meeting in the old diner to look like coincidence. You angled yourself just right, right at the bar where you knew she’d sit and waited. It wasn’t long until she showed, blonde hair curled nicely and clothes not too unlike what you were wearing. You watched her out of the corner of your eye, her eyes tripping over your own figure before she beelined toward you. You act nonchalant, pushing yourself to act natural.

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