#I feel silly af but i have to be on the other platforms for work constantly and this was the last space for fandom-me and now it's destroye

[deepperplexity]

Tumblr has always been my favourite fandom place, social media site, hangout/safe space, etc. Not anymore. Now I have none after the changes making this site a headache to be on. Tumblr was the last accessible, none-overwhelming site left and now it's ruined...

Let me know where you're hanging out for fandom love and sharing that's not: Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Tiktok, X, Threads (and not Wattpad, AO3, Deviantart, Pinterest, Youtube either).

Is there even any space left? Is there anywhere to go that isn't overwhelming af the moment you just opened it up?

[rreeaahh]

We are both filthy now | R. A. B.

Third chapter of "One way ticket" | Ch. 1 / Ch. 2

READ THE AUTHOR NOTE, THANK YOU.

taglist> @my-beloved-fandoms

pair> regulus black x lestrange! reader (slytherin)

summary> a birthday party means, for most people, a way to celebrate your existence - for purebloods, however, is a good way to spent time together with their master. regulus and y/n are not fond of the event, but no matter the traumatic experience they both go trough, they are still enemies - and y/n should've know that.

word count> 4.5k (wtf)

warnings> some type of angst; slow burn af; family toxicity; female discrimination; description of getting the dark mark; regulus hitting reader's hand; not proofread!

a/n> hi m'loves<3 do not forget that the tag list is open, feel free to ask to be added! im sorry for the long wait, it was one tricky chapter to write and from now on im gonna stop hunting the perfection, ill just enjoy writing. im more than happy to see all the notification from you on this series, and im beyond grateful - ill love to read your reaction, it makes me incredibly happy and helps me write. any comment is more than welcomed<3 any reblog helps this series to get to more people and it only takes a minute to do so. thank u for reading, ily all<3

Dear Y/N,

I hope my letter finds you well – your cousin’s pathetic owl is one lazy bird, let me tell you, but Rodolphus seems to be quite fond of it, and won’t let me get a new one.

Anyway, I write to you in hope that you’ll make me the pleasure to attend my birthday next weekend – I already spoke with Rodolphus and your father and they assured me you’ll come, but I still think it’s better to write to you personally.

We’ll also have a little meeting, besides the party itself, so I’m sure you’ll find it rather educative than a silly simple ball – do not worry, I know you tend to get anxious when surrounded by people you don’t know that well, but my cousin Regulus is coming too! I’m sure you two young purebloods will have all the fun you need.

Don’t worry writing me back, just come along with Regulus back from Hogwarts. Your presence if the only gift I need.

                                                                                                      Lots of hugs,

                                                                                                                                    Bellatrix L.

Y/N puts the letter on her desk and grabs the other envelope – this one also has her family’s wax seal, the L and the raven on top of it sending her chills on her spine.

            Y/N,

Don’t even think of not attending Bellatrix’ party. You cannot let this family down. Your cousin, Rabastan, will wait for you on the Platform 9 ¾, since me and Rodolphus have a lot of work to do for the meeting. Saturday morning, no later than 10 A.M. The meeting will be at our house.

                                                                                        Don’t disappoint me.

                                                                                                                        Cyrus Lestrange

She scoffs and lets the paper fall from her fingers. She was only a child when her cousin, Rodolphus, married Bellatrix, Regulus’ cousin. They were the youngest at that party so all the adults expected them to spent time together. Truth is, however, that Regulus was shy and quiet and only stayed by her side, listening to all of her questions and never responding back. After the wedding, when her father seemed to be so pleased with little Regulus, with his manners and his obedient nature, Y/N decided that she hated Regulus Black. He was just a little prick, and she decided that she’ll be better than him – always.

As her roommates are deep asleep, Y/N stays at her desk and watches the two letters. She grabs again the one from her father and watches how the flame of the candle on her desk dances on it, the paper getting warmer and warmer, until it’s lit on fire. She hates to keep her father’s letters – it’s like she’d want to ever see them again.

With the burning paper still between her fingers, she gets out of her dorm and walk on the dark corridor of the Slytherin Girls’ Wing and goes to the Common Room, where the fire seems to be burning with green flames. The Black Lake is silent behind the large windows, only the water’s movement being heard. She throws the letter in the chimney and smiles at the sight of the fire eating up her father’s words. It’s like she’s watching him get eaten up by the flames.

“It’s late, Lestrange.”

Y/N jumps on her feet and gets a grip of her night robes. The light green material covers her body now that she’s tugging her fingers into it. From the dark green sofa, Regulus Black watches her with a bored expression. He was reading a book and in front of him, on the small black table, is a cup filled with tea, she could guess.

“Always staying in the shadows, like a rat,” Y/N mutters and walks to him, staying on the couch in front of him. While she sits down, she lets the robe fall from her shoulder, exposing the skin. She’s dressed in a dark purple pajama set, made out of silk, and the little string of her tank top falls with the robe. Regulus seems to notice the bare skin just exposed and he gets his eyes to look at her face fast, before she could sense his gaze. He feels… disgusted.

“Always speaking like you own the whole place,” he talks back and smirks, “when we both know it’s nothing like that.” His voice is flat – no matter his facial expressions, Regulus Black always had a boring voice when he’d talk to her.

Y/N just watches him for a second. He’s still in his Quidditch equipment, even if the Slytherin team came back from practice a few hours ago. His hair is messy, his eyes are circled by a dark color, in comparison with his light skin, and he looks tired.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” she lets the question escape her lips without even thinking.

“I could ask you the same thing, if I really cared,” he says and grabs his cup, drinking slowly from it.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Black,” Y/N laughs and puts her hands over her chest. Regulus notices that, too. “I’m sure you got an owl from Bellatrix.”

“Yes, Bella wrote me about her birthday. Unfortunately, if you’re telling me about it, it means she wrote to you, too,” he says in a quiet voice, letting out the air in his lungs.

“She’s part of my family, too, Black,” Y/N says and surprises herself – she never gave that much importance to the family relations. She only had herself, at the end of the day, no matter how much her father would scold her for being an absent member of the House of Lestrange.

Her father never really showed her love – he was meant to be her father, but he was just a kind of legal tutor who raised her and was responsible for her well-being, and her cousins looked down on her – she was just a silly girl, meant only to bear children and get more powerful connections for her family. Her uncle and her aunt were distant, and maybe that was better than giving her reasons to hate them, like the rest did.

“Please, do not remind me – I still can’t get over that.” Regulus seems annoyed, bored, tired of her presence. And, yet, he stands there, face to face with her, watching each other – studying each other with such attention like they’re looking for a weak point.

“Why are you such a hypocrite, Regulus?” Y/N suddenly asks. He just smiles in the corner of his mouth, grabs his cup of tea and gets up from the sofa.

She feels him getting closer to her and in a second his breathing is hitting her face. “Don’t act like I’m the only one putting an act on, Miss Little Perfect,” he says amused.

Her brows drop. The skin on her forehead wrinkles and her eyes watch his, wanting to see behind them – they are empty. “I know you look up to me, Regulus, but there’s no need to remind me,” now she’s the one to smirk, and he’s the one to frown.

“Please,” he scoffs, “I wouldn’t look up to a pathetic orphan even if you’d be hanging out from the ceiling,” he mutters and gets back up on his feet, looking down to her. Regulus is not the tallest boy Y/N knows, but that position gives him a more decent posture.

“That orphan is better than you,” she whispers. “That’s why your momma always prays the ground I walk on, right?” she laughs and she can sense his body getting alarmed by her words. “My dad just wanted an heir, someone to get his name far – but Walburga wants more than that, right? Now that Sirius, your disappointment of a brother, left, she only has you, but she doesn’t seem to be fulfilled,” the air leaves her lungs when Regulus drops the cup of tea and gets on top of her. The liquid spills on the stone floor.

His hands grab her bare shoulders, his leg is between her hips and he presses her body into the couch. Her back is arched into the plush material of the sofa and her eyes widen at the proximity. His jaw is tightened and his breathing is deep while Regulus watches her face with a spark into his eyes. “Do not, ever again in your filthy, pathetic, good for nothing life, talk about my family,” he mumbles and his grip only gets tighter – his nails digs into the skin of her shoulders like he wants to rip it off.

Y/N shoves him away and quickly gets up from the couch. Regulus is on the floor, right into the tea puddle he made, and he seems to be caught with his guard off. “Do not, ever again in your pathetic, sad, good for nothing life, call me an orphan – I have a family, Black. The blood in my veins is just as pure as yours, and my name is just as important as yours.”

And she leaves him there, into the Common Room, to take a bath into his own mess. She needs to go back to sleep – tomorrow she has to go back home and get ready for a birthday party.

The whole night she tried to forget Regulus’ hands onto her skin – her shoulders felt like burning, like they got marked by his touch. She tried not to think about the anger in her soul the whole ride back to London, when she was forced to be in the same wagon with Regulus – apparently, they both wanted to travel into the Prefects’ cabin. At least, they both kept their mouths shut and didn’t even looked at each other.

She didn’t have to have a very warm welcoming back home – Rabastan waited for her at the station and kept his eyes on the road the whole time. He only asked about other Slytherin kids in her year and some older ones – he wanted to know if she was behaving well enough towards them. Once she got to enter the big mansion she called ‘home’, there was chaos – all the house elves were running left and right with platters, candles, flowers in their hands and all of them stopped to look at her and welcome her mechanically. She just got up to her room and closed the door behind her. When she dropped on her bed, there was silence – there was no longer Regulus Black, or Cyrus Lestrange or any other dumb man who made her angry.

Once she woke up, she started to get ready for the gathering she was forced to attempt. She got dressed in a dark grey dress, elegant enough not to make her father a fool and yet, simple enough not to make Bellatrix feel left out – it was her birthday, after all.

“There you are,” says her father as she gets out of her bedroom. “I thought you’re still asleep.”

“I was getting ready.”

Cyrus looks her up and down in a judgmental way – he points to her neck. “Make sure the chain is visible, nothing else.”

Y/N forces a smile and a hand travels to the gold flower at her neck. “Yes, father.” He gives her his elbow and the two of them go down, where the elves decorated the whole floor with black and purple roses and white candles. There’s a long table near a wall, right at the fireplace, where are plates with food and glasses of expensive champagne.

“Here,” Cyrus whispers and gives Y/N a red box, and before she could question his action Bellatrix is right in front of her, laughing happily.

“Y/N! I’m so glad to see you, how are you?”

Bellatrix Lestrange, nee Black, is a very… bipolar witch. Once, she’s loud, smiley, in a good mood, and then she acts like the Devil himself. Y/N could never figure out why her cousin, Rodolphus, wanted to marry her – there were plenty of purebloods who wished to be married to him, but all his attention was on Bellatrix ever since they were in school together, despite the fact that she didn’t show any kind of interest in him during those years. Now, Rodolphus would do anything Bellatrix asks without blinking twice.

“Happy birthday, Bellatrix,” Y/N smiles and hugs her in a soft manner. While giving her the small box, she can see her cousin behind his wife, watching them carefully.

“I told you there was no need for gifts,” Bellatrix says and gives Rodolphus the box to take care of it. “I assume you just got down here,” she continues and grabs her hand, getting her away from her father – he doesn’t seem concerned about that. Cyrus always said that Bellatrix was a good wife and that Y/N had a lot to learn from her. What he did not know is that Y/N really wanted to learn a lot from Bellatrix – she wanted to know more about the power a witch could hold.

“Yes,” she said and looked around her own house. It was full of wizards, all of them being purebloods and talking to each other with a clear superiority in their voice. “I hope I’m not late to the party.”

Bellatrix scoffs. “The true party begins only when he gets here,” she smirks and Y/N freezes, knowing who she’s talking about. Tom Riddle was certainly not her favorite person, no matter how much he convinced her father that she will be a good daughter for him.

“Wonderful,” she manages to say and walks beside Bellatrix to greet her guests. She smiles and greets Bellatrix’ parents and gets a deep breath when her aunt and uncle come to wish her a happy birthday.

“Y/N, how are you, dear?” Walburga asks and kisses her both cheeks. Bellatrix seems busy talking to her uncle about the upcoming meeting, while Regulus sits behind them and only listen. “How is school?”

“It’s good, wonderful, even,” she smiles and Walburga laughs happily. “I’m working on some essays for Potions and Transfiguration, maybe they’ll be published after I finish school.”

“Did you hear, Regulus? Y/N plans to publish some essays after graduation,” she scolds her son and now his attention is on them. He only smiles to his mother and she goes on with the talking. Neither of them seems to be truly focused on what she’s saying – they look at each other like they’d snap each other’s neck if they could.

“Regulus, why don’t you invite Y/N to dance?” Bellatrix pops between them and her aunt claps her hands satisfied with her proposal. “You know how much joy it brings me to see you two together, Reggie,” she continues and puts her arm around his shoulders. He looks at his cousin with doubt in his gaze – she made them dance together at her wedding, too, like they were some monkeys to entertain the adults.

With a silent scoff, he forced a smile in his cousin’s direction and looked shortly to his mother, who only seemed to tell him the same thing with her eyes. “Shall we dance together, Y/N?” he asks and gives her his pale hand.

No matter how much she’d like to hit it, getting it away from her, she grabs it lightly and smiles. “With pleasure,” she mutters and the adults all clap their hands and smile in their direction as they go to the center of the room, where other people are dancing slowly.

Bellatrix flicks her wand and the room is now filled with a more vibrant music – they smile to each other and Y/N’s skin is burning under her dress where Regulus’ hands touch her. He cups her hand into his and the other one rests on her back, bringing her closer to his body. She has a hand on his shoulder and they both move synchronically to the rhythm.

“You disgust me,” he whispers into her ear, sending shivers all over her spine.

A big smile appears on her rosy lips and she looks behind him, where her father is beside Orion and Cygnus Black – they all had firewhiskey glasses in hand and talked with serious expressions on their faces.

“The feeling is mutual, my dear Regulus,” she mumbles and steps on his foot, careful to put the heel right into his toe.

“Then, you could’ve save us both and deny Bellatrix’ stupid wish.”

“On her birthday?” she scoffs. “Yeah, right, you tell her no, I like to be alive.”

Regulus lets a small chuckle out and before she could look at him, he spins her away for a second. When her body is back into his arms, her vision is blurry. “You better keep your mouth shut during the meeting,” he says in a cold tone.

“Why, Reggie?” she mocks the tone Bellatrix used. “Scared the Dark Lord will see more potential in me than in you?” She’s joking. On Merlin’s beard, she’s only trying to piss him off.

“Tonight is my night and you better not do anything to steal it from me,” he spits the words into her ear. Her skin becomes ice cold and all her blood runs faster into her veins because of the way he presses his fingers into her back. “I warn you, Y/N, stay in your place,” he mumbles and when the music changes, he lets go of her and smiles, before going away.

After some hours, the chaos in her house begins to cool down – the guests start leaving until there are only the usual people. They all sit at the long table, talking about some things that happened in the Muggleworld and how unacceptable they were – for someone who said they despised the muggles, they sure talked a lot about them. The conversation dies when the chair at the end of the table is occupied by the tall, dark haired wizard. They all rise from their sits and greet him with joy.

“It’s good to see you too, my dear friends,” Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort says and he shakes her father’s hand. Her lungs take the air in with great difficult, given the fact that there’s only a sit between the dark wizard and her. “I assume I need to apologize to Bellatrix,” he speaks and looks to his left, where the witch smiles from one ear to another. “I did not bring any gift with me, Bella,” he explains.

“You are my greatest gift, My Lord,” she says and from her left, Rodolphus and Rabastan just nod their heads. “Your presence gives us hope for a better future for us, the right titled wizards,” she continues and everyone agrees.

Bellatrix is one of the most loyal followers the Dark Lord has besides Cyrus Lestrange and the rest of his friends from when they were in Hogwarts. He saw the potential in her, just like he saw it in Y/N.

“Then tell me, which is the reason of this meeting?” Voldemort asks and looks at every face at the table.

It was not Y/N’s greatest pleasure to sit at that table from time to time – her father thought it was good for her future to assist those meetings, but they were incredibly boring. There were many parents of her housemates and from other kids from school, but not even a single person her age – that until Bellatrix brought Regulus to join her. Apparently, he was quite a fan of that man because of his cousin’s stories.

“We think it’s the time to welcome another wizard between us, as an official member, my Lord,” Lucius Malfoy speaks and his voice is just as annoying as ever.

“Oh, really?” Voldemort smiles. “And who might that be, Lucius?”

“My cousin, my Lord,” Bellatrix says and points to Regulus. “Regulus is one of the most dedicated wizards to your plans,” she continues and the air leaves Y/N’s lungs.

Looking over the table to Regulus, she could see Walburga smiling proudly while he just looks to Tom Riddle. “My Lord,” he says, “I swear I’ll serve you with every power I have.”

“Then come closer, young Regulus,” the dark wizard says and plays with his wand between his fingers. The boy gets up on his feet. From his right, Cyrus Lestrange clears his throat. “Yes, Cyrus?”

“My Lord,” he begins, “I was not aware that the Death Eaters were open to new members.”

“We always have free spots for the one who wish to serve our believes,” comes his explanation.

“In that case, I’m sure you’ll agree with me that Y/N is just as worthy of getting the mark as young Regulus is.”

Her heart stops beating. What did he just say?

“Right, Y/N?” his father touches her back, forcing her to look at him. His eyes are desperate. There is no way, in his opinion, that his only child will not be recognized as a worthy follower of Lord Voldemort.

All eyes are on her. She can feel them. However, she does not care about them – the only ones that matter are her father’s, and the one from across the table who looked down at her.

“Yes, My Lord,” she says that quietly that she barely hears her own voice. Her father pats her back and goes back to Voldemort. Y/N can’t gather the courage to look at Regulus.

“You said she was worthy from the first day you saw her, My Lord,” Cyrus says. “You said she will be a powerful witch, with a great future – how is she supposed to be powerful if not under your command?”

Voldemort smiles pleased. “You’re right, my old friend. Come, child, let me get a better look of you.” Her father looks at her and orders her to do as asked just with his eyes. Do not disappoint me, hesays with his burning gaze.

Mechanically, Y/N is on her feet and walks behind her father, in front of the sick looking wizard. His hands are cold, like he’s dead, when he touches her jaw. He looks at her like she’s some kind of animal that needs to be inspected.

“Are you willing to follow my orders, whenever you are needed, child?”

There’s a knot in her stomach. She wants to say no. She wants to leave that house and never come back. She’s scared.

“Yes,” is the only answer she can give in return.

“Very well,” Tom Riddle smirks satisfied and gestures to Regulus to come closer too. They are now next to each other. She can hear his breathing from her left and her knees are about to go numb. “Who wants to go first?”

Before she can say anything, Regulus already has his shirt lifted from his left arm and brings it closer to the man. Y/N can hear the soft scoff of his father.

“You need to swear to always serve me, boy,” Voldemort demands, the tip of his wand pressed into Regulus’ arm.

“I swear, My Lord. Whenever you’ll call for me, I’ll be there, ready to do everything I’m capable of for you,” Regulus speaks.

With a big grin on his face, Voldemort begins to press the wand deeper into the skin, until Regulus grabs his arm with his free hand. From under his skin is visible a dark smoke that lingers there, running like it’s chasing his blood. His nose is twitching from the possible pain, but besides that, his expression is blank. When the wand is lifted, the Dark Mark is on his white skin. There is silence, like the rest would wait for him to scream. His parents have a proud expression on their faces as Regulus watches the crowd with a blank, serious stare.

“Your turn, Y/N” Voldemort says after a few seconds and puts his hand out there to grab her arm. She lifts the sleeve of her dress and looks at her father – Cyrus Lestrange watches her with a demanding manner, like he’s forcing her to go closer to Voldemort. Which she does.

“I always knew you’d be a great witch, child,” he says with a proud tone in his voice. He wanted her to be his weapon. “Say you’ll serve me without question, Y/N. Let the others know that from today, you’ll become one of the most powerful followers of mine.”

“I do, My Lord,” is the only thing she says like she’s hypnotized – her body doesn’t listen to her commands, it acts on its own.

The wand is cold against her skin, but as soon as Voldemort presses it harder into her arm, a burning sensation hits her entire being – she needs to grab her arm in order not to get it away from the unspoken spell. The black smoke feels like venom and she wants to scream from the bottom of her soul. Instead, she just bites the flesh inside her mouth, the taste of blood blooming from her cheek. When the wand is lifted and the mark is done on her arm, too, there’s silence again – and when there’s no screaming, all the Death Eaters gets up and start to applause them, to congratulate them.

“That’s the best birthday ever!” Bellatrix laughs maniacal and jumps from a foot to another.

She still has her left arm in her right hand, looking at the black drawing on her skin. She’s too afraid to touch it, like it could burn her fingers. Two arms wrap around her in the noise and she’s hugged by her father. Cyrus Lestrange hugs his daughter, and a single tear rolls down on her cheek.

“Good job, Y/N,” he says in her ear. “Now you’ll show everyone what you’re made of.”

She gets slightly away from him and she can feel the vomit sensation grow in her stomach. While everyone clink glasses of champagne and laughs with joy, she excuses herself and leave the dining hall.

She could not see Regulus in the crowd. She needs to see him to be sure it was all real. And she finds him on the corridor near the bathroom, at a balcony with a view to her garden. His shoulders are moving up and down and his breathing is accelerated. If she didn’t know any better, she wouldn’t guess he was… crying. She stepped closer to him slowly and put her hand on his back.

“Regulus…” she said softly and tears started to form into her eyes, too. What have they done?

“You couldn’t contain yourself, right?” he screams and turns around to face her. “You got to be the center of the attention tonight, too,” his voice is full of hate, which she ignores when she sees his wet blood-shot eyes. Her hand tries to touch his shoulder, wishing to show him… empathy?

“Regulus…” she mumbles again and her voice is hurt. Maybe they are in this together; she just needs to explain everything.

“Don’t put your filthy hands on me!” he says and slaps her hand away.

Y/N doesn’t know what hurt more – the slap, the burning feeling in her arm or the fact that she thought that maybe, just maybe, Regulus was willing to show her kindness then, when it was clear that neither of them was feeling good with their actions.

She looks at his hand – the one he slapped hers with – and at his arm. His left arm.

“We are both filthy now,” she says with despair and turns around, leaving him alone.

[princesspastarave]

all i’m looking for (from you.)

if i have learned anything it’s that you do not need to put yourself in danger for “character development.” your life does not need to be ruined for you to grow and bleed. you can surround yourself with positive stability and still learn and feel deeper than you ever could in the familiarity of the chaos and that’s all i want you to do with me.

i am not here to hurt you but i also have bills to pay and am really fucking scared of the lengths i’ve had to go through to convince others of the safe space i can hold for them before so i do not have time to keep proving this to you. do NOT put me through your hell in attempts to get me to break myself or you “for your plot” I’M TIRED !!!!!!!

it’s easy for me to show you the past versions of myself because i want to get to know and care for as many versions of you as i can. i share my day so you’ll do the same. but it’s really hard for me to do that when you don’t give me much to work on. however i learned the lesson of if they want to go let them go YEARS ago so i promise if you can’t share any authentic space with me someone else will i don’t want you to worry about me.

if you say you need space i will do my best to give you that. i really like you which means i want you to get everything you’ve ever wanted but i’ve been in therapy since i was 15 years old and i work really hard physically/financially/mentally every day to pick up the mess i was trapped in for years.

if you want a crazy girl to hurt you or chase after you or a forever thing or some casual body i’m gonna say go get it !! they’re out there and i promise you you’ll find whatever you need

i’m rooting for you because before you are who i think you are you are or who i think you could be you’re who i know you are which is my friend and as your friend i’m here to support you at whatever stage you’re in :>

i don’t think anyone is ever asking too much i think they always ask the wrong people

an alcoholic of many years asking a fresh 20 year old who just had her first glass of wine to essentially be a sponsor / lifeline.

a no feelings idgaf type asking a raised-catholic only child diagnosed with giving af disorder to be a casual one of the girlies.

a bare minimum bummer asking a post on a platform watch us grow and make silly fancams / date vlogs for us to be hidden away on their rebound like a shameful little secret.

a jaded soul on their last love ready to settle down asking to build a forever life with a girl who moves wherever she finds love.

whoever you are wherever you go i’m always gonna think you are deserving of everything you ask for. but i’m not who you think you are or what i know i look like so if i don’t live up to your ideal i’m gonna let you go.

right now i’m in a place where i can always be a friend and a silly girl in your phone. i would love to “complete my rep era” as it were but being perceived in real life and as a physical present human being takes a lot out of me and i don’t know how to make it not but i really like you so i’m figuring it out i promise !

i like you so bad but i’m really scared and you can put two and two together don’t make me say why i have issues about my body being perceived and people raising their voice at me and being seen in real life out loud ok you are a big boy you are very smart and intuitive and have pisces placements like me you should know :(

please don’t take my silences or shaking or outbursts too personally i promise it’s not your fault and i’m always doing everything i can to stop it !!!!!

i want to let myself be okay. and i want you to feel with me at the end of the day. it can be anything. whether it’s anger or hurt or hope or love or loneliness, through the screen or in real life. it can be yours or mine or the story we make together. as safely as it is for both of us. if you let me i want to be right there for you and heal and feel and sit with whatever you think you’re going through alone. because i’m not allowed to ask for more. i learned the hard way if they want to go let them go. so if you want to go i’ll let you go. and should our time ever come to a halt i want us both to be safe and happy and healthy all the way through.

and that’s all i’m ever looking for from you.

[writingbrainrot]

Hey. Allow me to introduce myself

Member in a system (i dislike roles but i'd technically be a reluctant host)

Neurodiverse af, disabled af and qpoc af

Body is 25*

I need a body double to start writing again ;__;

We prefer discord cus pluralkit but also just easier to have all communication in one place

We suck at replying on other platforms

If you are 22-30 and want to write together and also talk about blorbos and you're accepting of someone saying "hey saying that hurts me, could you not?" And capable of saying it back when you're hurt then lesgo 👉😊👉

(Aka im ok with people making honest mistakes but not wanting to fix them and grow, that just doesn't work with where i am in life atm)

If you identify as conservative, right-wing, anarchist or communist (USSR definition, not US's weird definition that just means empathy=communist) person then please do not message me. Biological family are survivors of the genocides done by soviet so let's just spare us all the pain and not interact/gen

What we write if that's important:

We're self-published and write as diverse stories as possible, in whatever genre we feel like (the main one tends to be slice of life though) that are meant to be accessible to people currently experiencing brainfog aka what we needed and still need/lh

Potential cons of knowing us/dealbreakers depending on who you are:

•Strongly opinionated on the opinions we have solidified based on the best info we can access. Examples:

"don't be a dick, if you are being one, fix that" or "human rights are not up for negotiation" or "genocide bad regardless of who it is done on" (surprised how often i have to state these/gen) but also ones that seem silly and yet i feel strongly about like "having problematic faves". Loving barbie/disney/veggietales while wholly rejecting the companies. Trying to see things in a more nuanced way etc etc

•i'm both spiritual and scientific

•body eats meat cus traditions and health

•may disappear from time to time for a few days up to a week cus crashes happen despite our best efforts

•c-ptsd but like.... i think that's a given on this site/lh

•We're also not good people. Not the worst but not good people, we're just people.

•so many special interests, obscene amount because of above c-ptsd/masking

•oh also if you're drawn to talk to me but currently think you're NT.... you may discover you relate to me a bit too much and realise you were less NT and more ND than you thought. Many a friends have discovered their diagnoses solely by us sharing our symptoms so like, if you don't want a/another diagnosis, steer clear?/lh

•learning to unmask so we get more and more "blunt" every week

•we also like to talk, v social and we will penguin pebble because sending things to friends is fun ^__^

•when triggered, our communication dramatically gets worse and more frantic (i think this is normal but at this point i'm not sure anymore)

Fave quotes:

"Let the world we dream about be the one we live in now"

"What would you take from a burning building?

Anyone can answer that, the fire"

"I feel weak

You've never looked stronger"

"Tu fui, ego eris"

"Fortuna favet fortibus"

[gracifleur]

my brain these days is the consistency of mashed potatoes so most activity is gonna be when the dash is dead af for my timezone so expect replies in the middle of the night like some ghost or smthin anyways i wanna like also chat quick af on two points

i added in my pinned post that i use legacy editor. until tumble hard forces all blog to use the new/beta editor that is what i am using. im too old & tired for editor vs editor trim post style small text vs small small text arguments day in & day out on the dash or in priv chats between pals. everyone is selfish & will use the editor they want & format how they want bc it’s their blog & they are to do as they please. i am no different. if this bothers you then unfollow or drop interaction i mean this with no hard feelings, no malice, no negative like im being as monotone about this as one can with text on screen: i dont care, i dont mind. do whatever you need for your comfort & piece of mind & ill do the same for me. if i keep seeing guilt trippy posts on the dash about this subject ima hard block. im just here to write silly fictional people ive stop caring about how tumblr hates writers & its own platform & wants to destroy the UI that works & replace it with a mobile on desktop version to compete with other social media. the end !

i semi mentioned this in a tag on my shaymin sideblog but considering my two sideblogs are canon characters im putting a hard boundary that if you don’t follow shea & show like zero interest in her vs my two canon muses on those sideblogs im gonna hard block bc im not gonna have all my hard work on my original character ignored bc its easier or more preferred to interact w/ canons. this is not something that has been an issue yet i’m just being upfront about this now so that i can point to this post on occasion like look buddy we drink oc respect juice here. esp since one of those muses on the sideblogs is inseparable from the divergent lore ive created for shea that rules on this blog. that’s it.

again, none of this is negative it’s just blunt. autistic monotone sounds mean, but the vibes are good here & i plan to keep them good. but boundaries are important to enforce even with flowers in hand u kno. anyway have a banana milk on me friends. i bought too many.

[j-g-day]

Your Mandatory RTO Policy Is Illogical and Harmful

First, a note.

This is intended for those organizations who espouse the importance of DEI initiatives, of modernization, of work-life balance, and of progressive work policies. If your organization doesn’t fall into that list, or if you’re in a field where working onsite is a necessity for your job, this does not pertain to you. There are always exceptions.

If, however, you’re an executive, a business owner, or a board member within an organization that claims to care about employee wellbeing and diversity, equity, and inclusion, and if you insist on a return to office (RTO), then this is very much for you.

You may find yourself arguing that we need to return to the office for one or more of the following reasons:

It increases collaboration

It increases productivity

It strengthens workplace relationships

You get the “water cooler” conversations

Here’s the thing: the first three of those four arguments have mixed research. It’s easy to focus in on the pieces of research that support your point of view; confirmation bias is alive and well among all of us, myself included. To that end, I won’t say that it’s completely incorrect to make the first three statements; however, it’s silly to state that it is always, or even mostly, true.

The last argument, as many millennials and Gen Zers can tell you, is just as easily accomplished online. We grew up in the age of chat rooms, AIM, and social media. We’re familiar and comfortable with building online connections; many of us have close friends that we met through social media or some other online platform. It’s not imperative to be in person for these connections to develop, much as some who read this would like to pretend it is. We have slack, teams, zoom — the list goes on. The want for in-person connection with coworkers isn’t necessarily mutual. Incidentally, when was the last time anyone actually had a meaningful or innovative conversation at a water cooler?

Aside from the unfounded arguments that typically punctuate RTO policies, they’re also incredibly harmful for myriad groups of individuals.

Black, Indigenous, and PoC employees need a break.

Numerous BIPOC writers have already written about this at length, and they are all far more informed, both from personal and professional experience, than I, a white individual, will ever be. To that end, here are several articles for your learning:

Black employees will thrive with remote work — it’s anti-racist

BIPOC employees fight to continue remote work. Here’s why

I’m Black. Remote Work Has Been Great for My Mental Health.

Why Hybrid, Remote & Flexible Work Appeals Even More to BIPOC Employees

Why Many Women of Color Don’t Want to Return to the Office

Women, people of color happier working from home

The Psychological Safety of Black Employees

It’s ableist AF.

This should really be self-evident. Look at your office. Is it really completely ADA compliant? Is a wheelchair user able to move about the entire office freely and without issue? Are all of the desks adjustable so employees can change the height as they need? Does your office ensure that neurodivergent employees feel fully comfortable in their environment, whatever that may mean for them?

Employees with disabilities have been requesting remote work options since long before the pandemic hit. It’s nothing new for them, and it’s not just because a pandemic happened to impact our entire world. Why, though?

It’s simple, really. We all have very specific needs and accommodations that an office space is highly unlikely to meet, especially when there is more than one person with a disability in an office. To put into perspective, there are now roughly 42.5 million Americans, or 13 percent of the population, that have a disability. That means more than 1 in 10 employees in your workplace likely have (or have had) at least one disability. There are many of us who have several; comorbidities are, frustratingly, a common occurrence.

I can definitively say I’ve never worked in an office setting where every accommodation I might need for my body and my mind were available; that’d be a lot to expect, after all. But I can find everything I need in the safety of my own home, and I don’t have coworkers asking me why I’m doubled over in pain or why I’m not eating lunch with them at that new restaurant. And I’m not alone in this experience.

As one of the three cofounders of a disability employee resource group (ERG), I’ve met so many other individuals across our place of work that also live with a disability (or two, or three) or care for someone with a disability. It is already exhausting having to go through life with a disability; we’re asking for the bare minimum from employers when we say we need flexible working options.

LGBTQIA+ Folx Are Tired of Masking.

Believe it or not, we do bring our whole selves to work. That includes who we love. Speak with an individual who’s queer, and they’ll likely have a story or two about feeling uncomfortable at work — that they were or are afraid to bring up their identity as a queer person, even in passing. This is especially so for those who are of the older generations. Until recently, it was technically legal to discriminate against a queer individual in the workplace.

I’m bisexual. It’s not something that comes up in daily conversation, especially at work. I’m lucky in that my partner is a cisgender man. I can very easily pass as heterosexual if and when I need to, and that allows me a certain comfort that others don’t necessarily have access to. When we arrive at work, we do not know who’s against us outside of work. We don’t know who opposed, or continues to oppose, marriage equality. We don’t know who believes trans people deserve less respect. We don’t know who we can trust. Because of that, many individuals of the LGBTQIA+ spectrum find it easier — and safer — to mask, or to assume an affectation so they can get through the workday. Data from 2014 shows that this number was as high as 53 percent.

When we’re able to work from home, we have more ability to decide who we want to come out to. For individuals who are trans, this is even more important. It’s given them space to rediscover their selves and to feel safe in their place of work.

Parents are juggling two (or more) jobs.

This is a section where, at least currently, I have no lived experience and therefore am providing a list of resources from parents about their desire for flexible working arrangements. A few common themes have emerged, however, across articles and social posts: more flexibility to handle childcare, less strain on finances, and more time to bond with family.

Married to the job no more: Craving flexibility, parents are quitting to get it

How Parents Feel About Remote and Hybrid Work Being Here to Stay

Fully Remote Work Is Better than Hybrid Work for Parents

Why Hybrid Models Level the Playing Field for Working Parents

Women want remote work, too.

We, as women, face numerous issues at work that men typically don’t. I can tell you firsthand that in the past ten or so years of working, I’ve had more incidents than I can count of sexual harassment by different male coworkers and managers. I’ve also unfortunately faced workplace bullying from a few women in managerial positions over the years — it felt like these woman, though thankfully few in number, had some level of internalized misogyny that resulted in their lashing out at more inexperienced female employees. And I’m not alone in these experiences of sexual harassment or bullying.

This isn’t to say that women are the only ones who experience these issues; individuals of any gender can and do have these experiences. Women, however, are more likely than men to undergo this treatment — and have it happen to them much more frequently.

I’d also be remiss if I didn’t speak about the physical, mental, and emotional stress women go through due to our menstrual cycles. Whether it’s awful period pains, endometriosis, or the dreaded menopausal transition, we’re sometimes handling pain that to others would be unbearable — all while going to work and acting like we’re not wanting to scream.

We need a break. We need a space to feel safe from those who would try to harm us. Many of us have had those “crying in the bathroom stall at work” moments, and we’re tired of it. These issues aren’t just going to go away overnight, so at the very least, give us a reprieve.

Working from home can be more ecofriendly.

Your job to reduce your carbon footprint is not done just because you drive a Prius to work. Honestly, that’s the bare minimum. Employees who work from home typically have a smaller carbon footprint than those who commute. According to a recent study by Cornell and Microsoft, it can be up to 54 percent lower than their commuting peers. We don’t all have access to sustainable transport options, either. While some of us live in cities where public transportation is semi-functional, 45 percent of our country doesn’t have access to public transportation.

A note for those who will, inevitably, argue.

First and foremost, the groups about whom I’ve written are not monoliths. They are groups of individuals who all have diverse opinions and experiences, and this includes how they view returning to the office. Some thrive in an office space and love to be around their coworkers. Some are perfectly content with returning to the office either full-time or on a hybrid schedule. There’s nothing wrong at all with that.

What is unacceptable, however, is forcing all employees to return to the office simply because an executive or a board insists on it. RTO mandates say nothing about employees’ productivity or diligence and everything about these executives. Those in positions of power who are adamant in their stance that returning to the office is required have the need to maintain control over their employees, are unable to adapt to change or to see another perspective, and/or are benefiting from the commercial real estate industry — I really can think of no other reason, try as I might.

If you’re going to require employees return to the office, regardless of if it’s five days a week or two, you must have a rational thought behind it. Otherwise, you’re going to run out of candidates. Plenty of other workplaces have embraced this new world, and they’re seeing a massive flow of incoming applications because of it.

So, ditch the mandatory RTO policy. Embrace flexibility. Because we the employees are ready for it.

I originally published this writing on Medium. Follow me there today.

[silentauroriamthereal]

Thank you so much for your reply about Irene! I suppose I've tried to make sense of the situation within the fiction of the story, but you're right, if you look from the perspective of bad writing it stops being so confusing. Writing morally corrupt and entitled women in some misguided attempt at empowering feminism is something I've definitely noticed and it is infuriating (I'm still seething over Molly slapping Sherlock, and the way everyone else treated him in that episode tbh). 1/3(sorry 😅)

2/3 There is a disturbing trend of people who are supposed to look out for Sherlock making him pay for his rudeness/carelessness with violence or insults. I hate it, because when Sherlock missteps he gets told off (sometimes he deserves it and sometimes he's right but everyone else is being too stupid to notice), especially by John, so as time goes on all the additional jabs at his character stop feeling like banter and more like open animosity.

3/3 Speaking of bad writing, I think it's ludicrous that Sherlock is capable of making the mistakes he does throughout the show but he was able to predict which therapist John would go to, Mrs Hudson kidnapping him, etc down to the hour, probably that John would put him in the hospital too and bring his cane as a nice parting gift. I also think it was ooc for this Sherlock not to realise the killer in ASIP was a cabbie like he does in the pilot. Silly me, I thought what made him human was love. Hey, sorry this is so late in coming! Things have just been super busy lately! Yes, I completely agree with everything you've said here. Just to be super clear, it's not that I think that Moffat or Gatiss are bad writers, per se, but they're lazy af and entitled af. Gatiss once sneered at someone asking a question about unresolved plot threads as us wanting "pablum", when what we the fandom have actually requested is, simply, quality work. Finished work. Work that doesn't leave gaping holes. I firmly believe that they're capable of writing work that meets that description, but they're smarmy and self-satisfied and are too busy scoffing at the very people who gave them the platform that they have to actually listen when we point out that something is half-baked. I could rant for a very long time about their view of what feminism looks like, but I won't do it again today. I fully agree about their inconsistent treatment of Sherlock. Either he's a super-human intellectually, or else he's so stupid that literally everyone else in his universe is said to be smarter than he is. He's the only person who ever needs to face a consequence for his actions - and not only that, but also the actions of OTHER people, like how Vivian Norbury's choice to pull a trigger and Mary Morstan's choice to somehow jump in front of Norbury's bullet were in any way done because Sherlock Holmes controls everyone and everything around him. What an incredibly stupid suggestion. I'll also just point out that attributing the agency and decisions of two women to a man is incredibly misogynistic, even if I loathe one of those women. Mary's actions were her own, and they were all very bad and she never once had to face a consequence or even pretend to be sorry for them. John also has a lot of shit to answer for (THE MORGUE SCENE, ANYONE!!!!), for going back to Mary (WTAF) after she shot Sherlock in the heart, on purpose, with the specific intent of preventing John from making an informed choice about her. Again, I could go on and on and on. Sherlock is the only person who has to face punishment, and man, do they love to punish him. I think I just had a breakthrough realization that Molly slapping Sherlock is their Mary Sue. Wow. Lol.

[astraeusx]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !!

NAME:    erika

PRONOUNS:  she/her

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION:  discord first, tumblr ims secondary. 

NAME OF MUSE(S): astraeus/aster! my other oc is atticus king, and he’s on an unspoken hiatus rn while i get out my jaguar brainworms lol. (lion man vs panther man FIGHT.)

RP EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): time 2 feel old. my first memory of rping was when i was in third grade on neopets dot com. im gonna be twenty-six this year. jfc.

PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED:  neopets, email, skype, aim messenger (jfc i feel old), anatheria (did i even spell that right?? another Pet Place that a neopets friend rly liked but we had a nasty falling out and i never touched that again and that was late middle school early high school), tumblr, discord... forums galore as well. mostly email up until tumblr/discord happened.

BEST EXPERIENCE: i LOVE many of my tumblr rps and i miss having an active dash comm thing rolling, but funnily my happiest memory is when i was a kid writing on neopets. i rped the happy mask salesman in this super silly crossover fandom rp and he was like a goofy off-kilter father figure dicking around with these other charas. it was ur typical middle school silliness of OMG ROLFZ RAINBOWZ xDDD and the last memory i have of just. rly not caring how my writing was perceived or what i wrote, just whatever was super fun and to go for it.

RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS:  vague blogging, guilt tripping, a belief that we need to communicate constantly to write/be friends. i will stop talking for days, sometimes weeks, but will generally try to always reach out. i do not expect this of other ppl--reply when u want, exist when u want, idc!! we all got lives!!  likewise, when ppl get obsessive over shipping, upset when ships don’t work out, have an unhealthy expectation of both the relationship of muns and characters... pls im too old.

FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT:  first two Always, third im honestly embarrassed to write smut nowadays. my teenage hormonal horny phase has long passed and now im more into emotional bonding tethered to physical (hand holding, cuddling, tame shit) than sexual. my muses are horny af but i am horny for some Deep Emotional Connections.

PLOTS OR MEMES:  both. i am a winging it kind of gal but i do like spit balling until there is some sort of base idea and then running with it as far as i can.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES:  every reply i try to keep short ends up long. every reply i try to make long ends up short. life is suffering.

BEST TIME TO WRITE:  the moment the brain activates and until it gives up on me. the latter happens often. the former not so much. but im hoping with summer around the corner i will be more eager to write with classes temporarily out!!

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S):  they have my bisexual agenda, and i like to force my particular wants in writing down their throats. i.e. they WILL hold a hand at some point they do NOT have a choice.

tagged: @eternasci​ MY QUEEN... oh and synnie i guess tagging: take this and @ me pls my brain is slowly withering

[bigscaryyanderewriter]

Since you're doing for steven universe, may i ask for some good yandere diamond trio? Or if you dont do more than one, then just spinel.

I am gay af for big women and like... Don't get much bigger than the diamonds, enjoyed writing this. Hope you like it.

1.7k words

TW: Yandere Themes, Dehumanization

-------------

Earth was all you knew, it was your home. Nothing had ever happened to make you think there would ever be anything other place for you. That was until you met a large blue woman. A diamond.

You sat, legs swinging as you sat on a rock near the large crystal platform that had been sitting there since before you ever were thought of probably. It was a peaceful place, birds quietly chirping before you. Tears streaming silently. The meadow had the crystal platform and the large remnants of some odd structure.

Your place of solace and the soft stream were the only things here to comfort you. This place was more home to you than the house where your sisters would lock you out, mock you, make you out at naive and small due to your youth. It hurt so much. You were going to runaway you thought.

A bag was packed, you would escape. Leave and go away from this torment. Though now, you sat there and knew you had nowhere to go. Until a beam of light filled the clearing, coming from the sky and making you nearly fall. 

The thing you saw as your heart thudded within your chest. A large blue woman. Her features tired and stressed as she took a few steps to the ruin and stared down. Her arms crossed in front of her as she seemed to be in thought, mourning over something. She was rounded, seeming like a blue hill in a way...

You heard her quietly sighing, face in her hands as you knew that face. It was the face your older sister had made when looking at the old pictures of your parents and when the bills were too much, when she needed help.

When she needed help and comforted, told it was all going to work out. You slowly crept over, your voice near silent as you reached out, putting a hand on her skirt bottom as you spoke.

"I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am… I know it must hurt. Are you okay?" You looked up as she looked down, seeming shocked and disturbed by you as she looked back to the ruin. 

A shaky sigh leaving her as she scoffed. "I'm more than fine. I don't need your comfort, you're nothing but a little organic lifeform… You can't even begin to understand what I feel." 

"Perhaps I do, being organic… We don't live forever, so we experience things like aging and death often. I know what it is like to lose someone you care for and to have those you love become… Not how you remember. Foreign to you. We change much faster and more turbulently than you would think." You said in away loud enough for her to hear, but not yelling. 

She looked down, reaching for you even as you were startled. Her hand lifting you to her face as she looked at you. "Young human, you are odd. I didn't know that you creatures had any idea of grief or loss." 

"We… We do. Some more than others will ever know. We all have to experience it and there is not always someone to help." You explain as you tentatively put a hand to her cheek in a way to comfortingly pet her. 

It seemed to take her back a bit as she looked to the side. A small pearl girl at her side looked up as she looked over at you, seeming a bit shocked too. "You do then. Little human… This world is changing for the better. A boy, Steven, is changing it and the universe for the better. You have not been touched by the changes, I know that it is still… Hard here for you. It may not change soon. Please, come with me, we need someone like you. Someone to share love with, to care for. Someone to care for us, as hard as it is to admit." She sighed and looked at you, her tears rolling down as you joined her, a smile breaking on your face. 

"I understand that so well. You remind me of my sister… She cared, but I don't think she does anymore. Maybe I should come with you. I don't even know what your name is though." You murmur and as you sit in her palm, smiling.

She smiled back as she said, "I am Blue Diamond… We would never stop caring for you. Ever. I promise you this. The others are sure to love you, I am sure of it." 

Her thumb pressed into your cheek as you laughed a bit, hugging onto her. She seemed to be for than pleased by the cuddly interactions as she gave you a beautiful laugh in return, turning as she carried you with her to the crystal platform and whisked you away.

The whooshing of the portal and the light made you squeal a bit as you were taken to a hub of portals, a ship waiting. A blue arm. It was wrist upwards as she carried you as you messed with her sleeves.  She warned you, "Be careful now, little one. You're very small and quite high up."

You weren't paying attention to the crinkle of her eyes in joy as you walked along her arm, climbing to her shoulder and sitting there as when you both entered the ship. You were so small… So fragile, but sweet and silly. It was fun for the big diamond to watch you play about and expectantly look back at her with those eyes as you smiled when she waved for you to continue. 

She started a call in the middle though, motioning you to hide as she talked with a large yellow woman and an even larger white woman. "I have a pleasant surprise for both of you when I come back to homeworld, please be present for the reveal. I believe you both will be quite excited because I very much am." 

You blushed as she said this, knowing she had to be speaking of you. The smile in her voice, she seemed near giddy. 

The trip seemed over before you knew it as Blue pulled you up into her arms, cradling you like a baby. It made you squirm with a bit of discomfort, but she hushed you as she hid you in her long sleeves. "Stop moving about, I want you to be a surprise for the other two. They'll be so happy to meet you. I know it." 

Blue walked with you in her sleeves, your head popping out just enough for you to get air. She learned humans do need air from Steven! How well she was doing in remembering things about humans. Though, she wasn't sure how she would introduce you. She was uncertain of how Yellow and White would react. Everything had calmed so much since the loosening of their grip on their planets. 

The doors opened before her as she was announced by her pearl… Her movements as she walked into the room were slow. 

You shoved your head back beneath the sleeve as you heard a slightly harsher voice speak. It made you get a bit scared at first. "Blue, what did you have that you needed to show us? I mean, if it isn't something amazing, I will be quite disappointed." The voice chuckled.

"Yes, Blue, dear. It was rather sudden, even if things have slowed quite a bit for all of us." A second voice said, a bit higher and it maybe your heart beat faster. Like you were in the presence of power. It was intimidating.

"With that in mind, I have made a decision and would like to introduce you to our newest acquisition… She is silly and so sweet, small…" She slowly pulled her sleeve back as you turned your head to look at the two other, sitting up with your hands flat on Blue as you moved to sit on your knees… Well, you took an educated guess and figured that they were also diamonds. 

"Hello, Diamonds!" You wave with both hands, a shy smile on your face before you are being held out in the cupped hands of Blue. 

"A human? Is this because of Steven, because this one is not anything like Steven." Yellow diamond said rather factually.

"Oh no, she isn't like Steven exactly.. She is in some ways, but she needs to have us. We need someone. To care for, for us, to make things happier and more whole. You know what I am talking about." She said as Yellow blushed and looked aside. White leaned forward to examine you. Your hand reached out to touch her nose as she was so close.

"Hello?" You tilted your head, but she seemed to find it quite silly as she laughed out.

"I suppose I was quite close, yeah? Haha." She pulled away and looked to Yellow.

"You know, perhaps we could try this out. I mean, we can always send her to Earth with Steven and his little Crystal Gems if it is not working well. She'll be cared for there, but I say we keep her." She scoops you from Blue and holds you out to Yellow with a grin, you were getting a bit worried from all this being forced about. Especially if they grip you too hard on accident at some point. 

Yellow looked at you and you piped up, "How big of a commitment am I? I mean, given how small you all think I am." 

This made her freeze before laughing, "Yes, I suppose you are quite small. How hard could it possibly be!" She smiled as she put her hand under her chin. "Oh, this human is a funny one. We should definitely keep them."

"Is it decided then?" Blue asked the two and they glanced between each other, sharing nods. 

"Yes, I believe it is." White said with finality, "We'll keep the human, but we'll have to ask Steven for tips on human care." 

You had a twist in your gut… This foreign place, aliens… They didn't seem to view you as equal even, just a sweet pet. Maybe it was your imagination, but something was off. You were almost certain that going home was not an option though and you wanted to feel safe. They seemed to be very safe and they wanted you desperately enough to agree so quickly. 

The thing is that you were going to be staying if they had any say in it, already attached to the perfect idea of their new human companion. A sweet pet. A sweet, little pet to entertain them.

[mesmeret]

Femlux: The Rise and Fall of E-Girl Hux

Inspired by a tweet from starsshine77  Fem!Kylo and Fem!Hux with catfishing, internet trolling, Diva Hux, and crybaby Kylo.

Still thinking of e-girl troll Hux. She has a vid of her wearing novelty vampire teeth and chewing on strawberries. She looks all innocent despite posing in her dark corner set up wearing a blood soaked dress. The caption says "i wuv vegans uwu save the earth!"

She composes these videos wanting to shock and confuse as many people as possible. She loves the high.

Kylo knew her in the K-8 private school they went to. Kylo had been in awe of the snooty older girl. When Kylo got her first laptop, she started following Hux's descent into trolling and performative arts. Hux would talk on her blog about how much she loved going to school wearing a normie flesh suit and then shedding it after school.

When Hux went to college for her MBA, she wasn't very active online. Kylo was dismayed but kept checking her blog. When Kylo is 19, Hux posts that she's starting a makeup and fashion channel. Kylo is startled to see that all of Hux's old internet presence is gone. Kylo was glad she saved all of the photos to a hard drive to prove that those years existed.

Kylo is Hux's first subscriber. She's so embarrassed thinking Hux is going to show up and confront her about it. But nothing happens.

Kylo works at a cafe while going to community college while Hux is making herself look like a living doll. The 24 yo doesn't say much about her life. Just off hand comments like:

"This mascara really stays on when you cry in the toilets at work."

"Sometimes you have to wear a mask around men."

"I hate the New York stench. So I use this perfume."

Kylo's pillows get two spurts of the perfume each week.

It's around this time Kylo realizes she's in love. She feels silly that she hadn't noticed it earlier, but she's always been slow.

Hux posts a video about once every two weeks. Kylo watches and studies each one voraciously. Hux slowly goes back to her cynical, dark self. Kylo missed it dearly while others find it disturbing.

Hux offers livestreams and Kylo rearranges her work schedule to attend with an alternate account. In Kylo's rush, she chose a very fit male torso as her profile pic.

The livestream is a shit show. Chat is accusing Hux of things while Hux slings insults at them. The service ends the stream and bans Hux.

Hux's next yt video does not mention the stream at all. She's chipper and cheeky as she does a clothes haul. Kylo is in awe. If she was in Hux's position, she'd have to be institutionalized for severe depression. Instead Hux is beaming at the camera saying the day's date and how much she loves this day. Kylo wonders why and goes down a rabbit hole to discover Mr. Hux passed away last year due to a heart attack.

Kylo uses her alt account and DMs Hux that she loves her smile. Kylo stares at the screen in shock that she sent the message. But she did.

Two hours later, Hux writes back with 'I give you something to smile about, fuckwad.'

Kylo types lightning fast before fully comprehending Hux's words, 'Oh yes please do.'

A couple minutes later, 'For real?'

Kylo bites her lip, 'Please.'

They fall into a weird pattern of Kylo complementing Hux and Hux replying in insults.

As Kylo turns 21, Hux becomes an overnight sensation on a viral platform. Kylo is wrapping up her accounting bachelors degree and nearly fails her midterms due to watching Hux's daily vids.

Their routine takes another turn when Hux starts sending Kylo photos of outfits. Hux would rarely wear the ones Kylo picked.

After a stressful day, Kylo is thrilled to see Hux wearing the checkered bra peaking out of a tight black body suit. 'Thank you. You made my day.'

Hux responds with a puke emoji and a very suggestive pic of the body suit unzipped. Her pale belly glowed. Kylo wrote back, 'My whole year is made. Beautiful. Thank you.'

Hux doesn't reply until next week.

Hux becomes a global phenomenon. Kylo is worried. She catches herself wanting to type 'are you okay?' But doesn't feel like it's her place.

Then the joke that got out of hand happens the next year.

Kylo's alternate account became a true catfish in order to be a top tier patron of Hux.

Kylo declines the video chat perks but wants the bathwater.

------

Hux's life sucks. She's never been happy. Never even had the chance to recognize it, really. She liked things but would get bored or hurt sooner than later.

It was weird that some girl from her hometown became her number one fan. Hux had no idea until a year into talking with Kylo in her DMs. She was stupidly catching feelings for this supposed guy who was nothing but supportive and kind to her. She wanted to know who he was, but he was very shy and declined to answer.

She had been partying after big sale with the sales team when she bumped into a guy that recognized her from the internet. He simpered at how amazingly scary she was. Intrigued, she got to know that he worked at a background company. She offered to use him if he gave her the info on this Kylo Ren guy.

It was nice to vent her frustrations of being catfished on the guy. Mitch was his name? She never saw him again since the morning after.

But she couldn't confront the weird goth girl from her hometown. Hux liked the compliments too much. They kept her going.

And as her corporate job found out her internet life along with the rest of the world, she needed Kylo desperately.

The suggestive photo was a shot in the dark. She had no idea if Kylo saw her as a gal pal or a /gal pal/. Hux returned to their hometown to see Kylo from a far after the Beautiful comment. Hux was stunned to see how tall Kylo is.

Kylo's social media only had two photos of herself. One of her at High school graduation and another of her tagged in her mom's second marriage. The former photo was her at a distance walking up to receive her diploma and the other was her sitting uncomfortably.

Hux couldn't enter the cafe. Kylo's snaggle tooth smile as two kids ordered something made Hux feel like the Grinch. She turned around and stomped back to her rental car feeling like an idiot.

It lessened when she got her first brand deal the next day. Money is one hell of an aphrodisiac.

Then the bathwater...

...and Kylo pouring it down her ample cleavage. The water shimmered down the sloping belly with the filter Kylo was using. It joined the rest of the frothy bathwater. Hux was bummed Kylo's mound was hidden below the surface.

'Now that's some bathwater I could drink for days.'

She smirked at Kylo's reply: 'I am so sorry for lying to you all this time. I didn't know it would ever get this far. Please don't hate me!'

'Sweetie, I just told you I'd drink your bathwater. I like you. You're sexy af.'

'Oh. Uh, thanks. You, too.'

'I knew who you were for a while.'

'Oh! Wow. Would you prefer if I was a guy?'

'No. Never.'

Hux frowned as twenty minutes went by, 'You good?'

'Yeah, I was crying. You're so special to me.'

Hux felt flushed instead of her usual reaction of 'Oh, get over it.' Kylo was genuine.

As Hux's businesses crumbled due to a volley of harassment and misconceptions, she knew she had a golden parachute. She cut her hair to a severe pixie cut after finalizing her business arrangements. She packed up her condo the next day and put it on the market the following day.

She rented a car on the fourth day and drove back to her hometown with her favorite clothes. Kylo was unaware of what she was up to and was sending sweet words of encouragement three times a day.

Hux pulls into Kylo's apartment complex feeling dead tired. But she wants this moment to be truly special. So she changes into an outfit that Kylo loved. Her strawberry school girl outfit, her orange tabby cat ears, and her pink faux fur coat. Her feet hurt too much for heels and she wants to enjoy Kylo's extra height. She grabs two of her suitcases and heads up to Kylo's apartment. Taking a deep breath, she knocks.

Kylo answers the door in a sports bra and pj pants. She stares at Hux dumbfounded before squeaking a hello. Hux sighs, "If you don't hug me in the next-"

Kylo pulls her into a hug and Hux hums appreciating their height difference. Kylo's chest feels just right against her own and Kylo's hands are so big!

"Wait a minute... why do you smell like my old perfume?"

Kylo blushes, "I, um... been following you for a while?"

Hux nods slowly before getting her voice back, "Well, now you won't need to follow me. I'm moving in."

Kylo pulls away trying to form words for a moment, "Really?!"

"Deadly," Hux gestures at her suitcases. "I've got four more in the car."

Kylo turns away but can't hide the sobs. Hux feels a wave of discomfort and has no idea what to do.

"I, uh, will get my things?"

Kylo looks over her shoulder, "Y-yeah, I'll go clean things up for you in the guest room."

Hux's stomach drops but Kylo hadn't rejected her completely.

When she has all six suitcases and two boxes of shoes in the living room, Kylo is crying silently while making pasta. "You can put your stuff in the room to the left. I'm making cheesy pasta for dinner. That works for you?"

Hux almost objected but remembered she doesn't have to maintain her skin anymore, "Sounds good."

She moves her clothes and sees the guest bed is a twin with Wonder Woman sheets. The primary colors are bold. Not at all Hux's aesthetic. But she wasn't going to complain. Instead she threw her pink coat over the coverlet. She went back to the kitchen area where Kylo was still crying.

"Allergies?" Hux asked.

"No. You're here and it's so amazing. Wow," Kylo sighs taking Hux in. Her nose and cheeks were exactly what Hux and all the other e-girls were trying to achieve. "You're here."

"For good. Had to liquidate everything. No more internet for me," Hux threw her hands up.

Kylo blinked, "Are you in danger? I, um, saw what those guys tried to do..."

Hux shook her head, "Nah, I'm gonna go by my real mother's surname and get used to people calling me Armie."

Kylo nods and pours pasta into the boiling water. Hux moves closer, "Like my hair?"

Kylo startles but nods, "Can I touch?"

Hux nods back and removes the cat ears. Kylo smiles shyly as she runs her hand through Hux's short hair. Hux mumbles, "Sorry you weren't able to feel it when it was long."

Kylo blushed, "It makes your cheek bones amazing."

Hux wants to blurt out 'Kiss them! Kiss me!' But Kylo is already awkwardly kissing her. Hux has to tilt her head up slightly and takes advantage of her balance slip to hold onto Kylo's broad hips. Kylo kisses her slowly, gently but commanding. Hux has to follow. There's no wiggle room like with everyone else. She started shifting her hips feeling arousal burn deep. Kylo pulls away with a satisfied sigh before stirring the pasta. Hux bit her lip. She wasn't going to scream. Her stomach was perking up after the long day of packing and driving.

Kylo wordlessly guided them to the couch with two heaping bowls of cheesy pasta. Kylo kissed her forehead before whispering, "Water okay?"

Hux nodded and watched Kylo's backside jiggle slightly with each step.

They kissed each other good night two hours later. Kylo tried to give Hux the wi-fi pw but Hux declined. She had gotten rid of her phone, iPad, and laptop. Kylo had squeezed her hand and told her things would get better.

Hux believed her. Especially when they ended up in Kylo's bed the next night. They hadn't done anything more than cuddling and kissing before falling asleep. The next day, Hux's new accounts were open with the money she was able to move from her past. She could've easily lived the rest of her life on the money. But Kylo's CPA study books caught her eye. She had a MBA with a focus on finances. When Kylo came home that day, Hux announced they were going to be accountants together. Her money could be put towards their business rent. Kylo cried for an hour before she could speak in clear sentences. Hux petted her hair while watching TV.

"That would be pretty fucking awesome, Hux," Kylo whispers.

Hux smiles, "I know."

Kylo sits up and wipes her face before kissing Hux, "Does mean you'll have to interact with people and be on the internet."

Hux shrugs, "Numbers are concise aside from human error."

Kylo's smile grows, "Fucking nerd."

Hux giggles, "Yes, fuck this nerd."

[recalibr8]

The mEtOHd in my madness

I’d been out with my teen lads on a Friday. We got off the train and there was a young, crumpled woman sat on the platform, fat tears splashing into a puddle of sick on her trench coated lap. I offered her some tissues; I’m a mum, it come with the membership card. After a few sorries she asked “where did you stop?”. It took us a while to realise she meant, ‘where are we?’ She was out by 2 stations which on the face of it wasn’t bad. We pointed her onto the next train, gave her a mint (gold membership benefits) and my youngest shouted “take care of yourself” as we trudged up the platform. We agreed it was probably work drinks getting out of bounds and she’d be ok now she had tissues. But I kept thinking, “where did you stop?”. Where did I stop? Because I’m now AF af.

AF af. That’s alcohol free and doing pretty darn ruddy brilliant. Three months ago I upgraded my BrewDog to NannyState, went Becks Blue and am thinking in an offhand way about brewing Kombucha. I’ve teamed this up with going plasticlite, veganish and kimchi curious. So far, so middle class virtual signalling. But where did I stop?

I’ve been drinking since I was 5. I’d adorably finish up the beer in my parents’ guests glasses and well, kept going. Not in a Drew, Carrie or Liza rehab by 13 sense but I think I’ve probably had my fair share. I’m well aware that I knew, know and don’t know but suspect people who I love who have significant alcohol use problems and this is blog is in no way trying to say my needs are greater than theirs. I know a lot of highly creative endeavours and friendships were found in a gin bottle but also unforgivable abuses. And I know friends whose acts are based around the camaraderie of drinking. And I’d never tell anyone what they *should* do. But like all ex anybodies, I’m annoying about my sobriety journey right now. Bear with me.

But it’s not just me though. I see booze everywhere. For a dose related lethal toxin that’s very effective marketing. There’s a giant ad on Toots Broadway station entreating me to Go Bottomless and every other Facebook ad is for a spirit that promises to make evenings round the back of Catford Lidl magical. And many of these are aimed at women. A recent industry survey found ‘only’ 17% of women drank beer and this needed sorting out. Look out for more lady drinking adverts, they’re coming.

But I wasn’t alcoholic. Was I? Are you? You’re only an alcoholic if you have one more drink than you doctor. I’m

a doctor ... so let’s take a look.

*I’m really low on the alcoholic check list*

I’ve never drank alcohol in the morning, blacked out, been told by others I have a problem, had to apologise...

Ah, I have had to apologise once or twice. Nothing major, just ‘sorry, I was a bit wobbly/silly/rude/loud/insulting/gave you my shoes as a gift’. I once lost my credit and oyster card at the bar of a immersive theatre event though. I don’t know how I got home. I had to find the site manager the next day and he definitely had other things to do. Not long after my bag was stolen in SoHo because I was distracted. Not sure how I got home then either. Friends put me in an Uber after my MA showcase because I wasn’t walking very straight. Or being very nice. So I definitely remember getting home then.

These were all Thursdays or weekends. I’ve always been careful not to have any chance of affecting my work. But yeah, how clear headed was I for my family, myself? And much of this was stress drinking after a week of being a clever doctor. Just loosened up the joints a bit. Particularly if your slightly socially awkward. But I wasn’t a drunk, no. Maybe just a binge drinker. And that’s ok, isn’t it?

*Hangovers are just a thing*.

With only drinking at the end of the week, I was careful not to be hungover at work. But I had a Friday at home hangover where I didn’t get out of bed for the day. I claimed I’d been poisoned. I’d just had one too many Jaegerbombs. I vomited in the taxi. I’ve vomited in several taxis. That’s not a good look at any age. Hangovers are a funny meme, a cartoon of a dog in sunglasses, office banter. It’s your liver crying and your brain folding it’s arms in judgment. It’s not bad wine, it’s bad choices.

*Get kids used to drinking. Like the French. Then they won’t binge*.

My 13 year old buys old vodka bottles from charity shops. Wearing a furry hat, his comedy drunk Russian is not bad I used to have the deepest voice of my friends at 14 so it was my job to buy the booze for house parties. My mother always told me drink a pint of milk before you go out to soak up the booze. At 14. I had a few sexual assaults along the way but if I blame myself that’s victim blaming and I don’t want to be a bad feminist on top of everything. Med school in the 80’s/90’s was all over the drink. Freshers’ week was a booze insurance test. The circle line pub crawl, the Clint Eastwood Appreciation Society, the Med School pub crawl...end at Barts because Smithfield’s liscence meant you’d keep going all night.

*Booze always cheers you up*.

I’ve got to confess, my life has got a lot quieter. I’m going out much less, I leave early, I’m not champagne Charlie any more. I’m always, well, me. My dad was a depressed alcoholic, so was his dad (he ran a tobacconist and offie so that didn’t help) and his dad before him. And I have depression and PTSD. My moods are now not so high, but they are also not so low. This is very strange. I’m hoping this is a good thing. I’ve heard it is. This, this is the mEtOHd in my madness. The mood stabilisation. That’s the plan.

*Being a doctor is just one of those boozey jobs*

Fun quiz! Who do you think drinks the most? Enough to have a problem. Oooh, were good at guessing this in ED. Writers must be bad, farmers, journalists! yes, they’re always drunk, private invsestigators (?), airline pilots (like my dad, I saw what those guys put away). Ok...it’s.

Lawyers - reporting 33% with problematic drinking

Construction workers- 16.5%

Miners -17.5%

Then it’s Healthcare workers, especially doctors (oh no). A. 2012 study of American surgeons published in JAMA Surgery found 15.4 percent had an alcohol use disorder. Female surgeons (25.6 percent) were more likely than male surgeons (13.9 percent) to exhibit symptoms of alcohol addiction. Healthcare professionals in general it’s 10%

https://www.drugrehab.com/addiction/common-professions/

Performing artists and writers - 11.5%

Catering/hospitality -11%

So no pilots then? I think there’s something they’re not telling us or things are much better since the 80’s. 


 A 1998 study of junior doctors in Newcastle-upon-Tyne reported that:

* 60% exceeded the recommended safe limits for alcohol consumption

* 36% of males and 20% of females used cannabis 

The Sick Doctors Trust says “Since our working lives are spent helping others, it is easy to push aside our own problems, in addition to which, denial is quite common in medical staff. This is not deliberate, but a part of the whole illness of addiction. That addiction is a chronic illness which therefore requires treatment as for any other condition, is now well-established but there is still a tendency to feel that it is a sign of weakness, and that maybe things aren't 'that bad'.’

That some individuals are more prone to developing addiction is generally agreed. There is no single determining factor, but usually a combination of biological, psychosocial and environmental factors - a mixture of nature and nurture. There is now much evidence implicating dysfunction in the Dopamine transmitter system & it’s involvement in craving. There is also evidence to suggest that the effect alcohol has on an individual’s brain is genetically determined. A family history is present in many alcoholics- those having direct family affected being more at risk...

*Its a family affair*

I went to Adult Children of Alcoholics once. It wasn’t for me but what they said made total sense. I take responsibility for everyone, I’m primed for betrayal and disaster and I totally thrive in emotional drama. My dad wasn’t a nice drunk. He made my mum drink when pregnant ‘to keep him company’. She in turn gave babies a tot of brandy to keep them quiet as a stewardess and I can’t imagine my permanently shouting parents wouldn’t have liked us to be quiet babies too. So I’ve got pre and postnatal form. But I don’t have to fix them now. Particularly dad. It’s quite hard to fix dead people.

https://adultchildren.org/

*Booze: the solution AND cause of all of life’s difficulties*

Sick Doctors again “ Alcohol is the commonest substance of abuse in all doctors. Drinking will surprisingly continue despite negative consequences such as job difficulties, relationship breakdowns, financial problems, loss of driving licence; the alcoholic is driven by an irrational compulsion to continue, and frequently results in despair to the point of suicide. Fortunately, the depression associated with active alcoholism often abates when sober.”

http://sick-doctors-trust.co.uk/page/addiction

*I’m not an alcoholic*

and you probably aren’t either. But you might have problematic drinking. I did a survey as part of an UCLH research project. You can too. I lied a bit on it and still came out drinking more than 97% of women my age. Now an icon opens up on my phone every day to that says ‘DRINK LESS’. I stopped leaving my phone on meetings tables.

Drink Less. by Robert West

https://apps.apple.com/gb/app/drink-less/id1020579244

If you are thinking about getting help for problematic drinking or any other addictions including workaholism or have any burnout symptoms for more than 3 weeks, you can of course get staff support and occupational health. But/And there is the amazing NHS Practitioner Health Programme where doctors with any addictions are supported https://php.nhs.uk/ DocHealth is another equally good programme https://www.dochealth.org.uk/. I used the latter when it was MedNet.

So, do I feel amazing? Had I got amazing skin, lost weight, feel energised and hopeful. Urg, not really. I feel a bit scared actually. I’ve lost my social crutch and I’ve stopped going out. I’m worried I’m boring and people will think I’m weird. But....I can get up earlier to walk the dog, I’m moderately less tired and although I’m not skipping down the road happy, the depressive moment I had in spring could have been a lot worse. I think that’s actually amazing. And that’s why I’m doing this. I want to face the world honestly and openly. I want to enjoy my kids before they leave home which is frighteningly soon and weirdly, I want to know my liver replaced itself in a year so I’m literally a new person (don’t google Theseus’ Boat Paradox, life is complicated enough). Oddly compelling, that. So where did I stop? I stopped here. In a weird waiting room in my head. But with the promise of a new adventure through the next door.

But don’t stop doing you, babes. Keep telling me your booze bantz. They are hilarious. Any story that starts or ends with Baileys is only going one way. This clearly isn’t a lecture. Most people can do moderation. And do could I, mostly. And it’s the mostly that’s not good enough. Not for me. Not any more.

Online support - https://www.facebook.com/groups/joinclubsoda/?ref=share

Samaritans- https://www.samaritans.org/

BMA wellbeing including 24 hour support - https://www.bma.org.uk/advice/work-life-support/your-wellbeing

Tea and Empathy for doctors’ online support - https://www.facebook.com/groups/1215686978446877/?ref=share

Al Anon for children of alcoholics https://adultchildren.org/

https://www.alcoholics-anonymous.org.uk/

Dedicated to my husband who gave up the wine w*nker 6 years ago without any of this mid life crisis fuss. But I gave up meat and caffeine first so I still win.

[helkingsley]

Motivation and Writing.

So it’s February and I told myself I'd have a novel by now. SURPRISE I do! It's not perfect and probably needs to be set on fire but it's there. I have the bones. I have the skeleton of something amazing and I am just kinda in shock.

The new goal for February is 2 novellas ( ~25,000K words) and editing of said novel. I've found that a novel a month is crazy ambitious and I am just not in a place to do that. But this new goal is a bit more manageable. Will I do it? I don't know but I feel so accomplished and so...blessed I guess that I actually took the time to write a novel. So I've comprised a list of things that kinda kept me motivated even when I felt like writing or my goals were silly ( and my god were there a lot of days)

1. WRITE ANYWAY.

Even when I felt like every word I typed was just trash, I wrote. Even when I felt like I couldn't make it in this career path, that everyone who had ever told me I would fail, meet rejection, never make it were right, I wrote or I edited or a plotted out things or worked on my platform. I did something that was a small step toward my goal. Toward my dream. 

It fucking sucked.

Every day I spent kind the beginning feeling silly about this dream I have, but then I'd complete a small little task like write 1500 words. And suddenly--well not suddenly but gradually over the day-- things would kinda click into place. I'd feel better about where I stood or my "talent" ( i hate saying I have talent because honestly, I have busted ass to get to this point in life, to be able to write how and why I do, talent has nothing to do with it.)

2. TAKE A BREAK. 

After I met my goals ( usually about 2-3) I would take a break. No more than 20 mins. And always doing something productive in other ways. Clean house, go for a walk, feed the dogs. Something to just give my mind a break from what I was working on. Of course this also happens after working my actual day job, but still, the principle applies. I would give myself some time away from whatever it was I was chipping away at so I didn't become overwhelmed and overworked. Something that, I personally, have learned I do quite often at work, or when I was in school.

3. DON'T SKIP SCENES/CHAPTERS

I'm so guilty of this. I bounce around a lot when I feel stuck. I write scenes and chapters that I'm more willing to write then try to slog through a scene just to get to one I want to write. This is good. And this is bad.

The Good part is I'm still writing when I do this. Still moving on toward my goal. The Bad. part is I still have to go back and slog through that scene. And It's tedious. And it's boring. And I normally write utter crap when I do it. But I do it because it has to get done.

I've found that recently if I just write the crap scene I can us the scene I'm so ready to write as motivation. Just '600 more words and you can write that scene' or  'finish this paragraph and you'll get to the good shit.' It's like...a mini reward for something I was already doing in the first place? 

4. TALK ABOUT IT

I find I get a lot of renewed motivation when I talk about my work with someone? But that's not always an option. So I talk about it with myself. I pitch myself the idea. A bit silly I know but for years I went on writing without a support system. Without someone there to tell me what I was doing was great, or to hear my ideas when I wanted to share them with others. I had my mother, who has always been as supportive as she can be? ( she doesn't quite understand it but she tries.) But that wasn't the same as having someone excited to see me excited. So I talked my self through the idea, pitching it to myself in a way that made it sound exciting. This is harder than it sounds, and yeah felt like: well duh I like this idea I'm writing it. But eventually, it was that mentality that got me writing. I like the idea, I'm passionate about this idea, no one could ever read this and I'd still be jazzed af. 

Now that I have a few, and I mean few as in like two, people who support me in this choice, I talk to them about it. I tell them, bits and pieces of the story or a scene that makes me excited and I get the same excitement return. I go to write with a new fever. It's a small thing but knowing someone is excited to hear/read my work makes me want to do it all the more. It keeps me from feeling bogged down or as if I'm wasting my time. I dream big, I know I can bite off a lot more than I can possibly chew by myself, but I do it anyway and to know that someone ( even if it's just me, with a lot of spite filling me up) believes in me is a great motivational tool.

5. REMEMBER WHY YOU’RE DOING IT

Whenever I felt so discouraged, I took a few minutes just to myself. I personally found that reflecting on my life and why I started writing in the first place, a little deep breathing exercise I learned in high school, would help a lot. This has been a dream of mine since I was 8? Maybe 9. I knew this was what I wanted to be, sure I had other options-- CSI ( can't handle dead bodies), Ballerina ( sadly I'm too tall ),  Baker, etc etc--I always came back to writing. It was the one thing that while I was going through difficult times in my life that helped. Writing stories that were, honestly quite awful if I look back on them, a device for me to escape. Even for just a while.

I love words. I love stringing them together in a way that in new, unfounded and flowy. I love chopping them up. Cropping them, clipping them. Breaking writing rules.  Everything about language and its patterns, its grammar. 

I love storytelling because it sparks the imagination. It's like a movie in your head. It's a chance to be someone or something you're not without ever really having to leave my bed and get dressed. 

Getting back to that feeling, ignoring my doubt of if this is going to sell or even do well in general, of what it felt like the first time I wrote. To remember I'm writing for myself. Not for others. It was a huge tool in keeping me motivated over the last month and even now 4 days into the second.

This might not be the case for you, perhaps you write for another reason. But remember that while you set off on your journey is a BIG thing. And can ultimately keep you going, provide a lot of motivation.

Not all of these will work for everyone, but these are just some things in my personal experience that work. That helped me get through a month of grueling writing and doubt and wondering if perhaps I'm not made for this at all. But here I am February and doing it all over again.

Good luck! and Happy Writing

[fashiontrendin-blog]

11 People on Their Private Obsessions

http://fashion-trendin.com/11-people-on-their-private-obsessions/

11 People on Their Private Obsessions

I watched a Netflix documentary about minimalism a few months ago and keep recalling one particular scene. The doc’s main subjects, Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus, are minimalism maximalists: they own just a few, necessary items of clothes; their homes are bare. No decorations. No knickknacks. No “stuff.” They don’t need a ton of things to be happy, and they travel America to spread the gospel of living without excess. As someone who stores sweaters in the oven and had to lobby with a professional closet cleaner to let me keep my box of costumes “just in case,” the concept was refreshing — it seemed freeing. But it also seemed impossible. I wanted to know what you’re supposed to do with all the impractical, space-taking, no-value, dust-collecting stuff that you love, that means something.

Millburn and Nicodemus get that question a lot, they explain about halfway through. They share an anecdote of a book collector who takes joy in their library, who likes to loan friends old books, find new ones, browse through dog-eared pages at whim; and the book collector wants to know whether or not, in order to convert to minimalism, they have to get rid of their collection. The minimalists’ answer is simple: keep it. That which fills you with joy and happiness, they reason, no matter how much space it takes up or how useful it is, is not excess. It’s not just “stuff.” It’s a part of you.

In what started as a pitch to celebrate Fandom Month, I asked members of the team to bring in their obsessions, which quickly translated into something more: their not-just-stuff — that which they collect and cherish, individual items that are important to them for various symbolic reasons. Matt, our Head of Operations, has held on to a pair of sky-high patent leather platform stilettos because they represent a pivotal change in his perspective. Nikki, our Director of Ad Operations and Product, brought in medals from all the half marathons she’s completed. Scroll down to see the things that matter most to them, and then, in the comments, tell us (or better yet, show us) your most important “stuff.”

Ashley, Social Media Editor

What do you collect? I collect U2 stuff. I brought in a few records (I don’t have a record player), some concert tees, and a wristband from a time I saw them live. I have a giant framed poster in my bedroom but I wasn’t sure how to get it across the city for this shoot.

What made you start this collection? How long has this collection been growing? I’ve been a huge fan of U2 since my freshman year of high school. My first items from around that time (though not pictured here) were an Achtung Baby CD and the book U2 by U2. They both currently live in my childhood bedroom.

Would you ever sell it? No way.

What do you need strangers to know about your U2 stuff? U2 gets a lot of inexplicable hate and I just love them so much and I need strangers to know that it’s okay to like whatever music you like. Britney Spears and U2 and whatever else aren’t guilty pleasures, they’re just good.

What does this collection say about you? It says I know great stuff when I hear it.

Have a good story about any of it? The SNL wristband is from last December, when I got a friend to get me into the show. It has no value to anyone else, but to me it’s something I wore the night The Edge and I touched elbows “by accident” and I teared up.

Amelia, Head of Creative

What did you bring in? Vampire Weekend’s debut album, Vampire Weekend, in record form.

Why is it special to you? It reminds me of a few very, very specific moments in my life. One in particular is the first time I heard the album, from start to finish. I think it was summer 2008, since the album came out in January that year. So many things happened in that short half hour that I feel like I could write a whole book around it. I have a few other albums from around that same time period that I feel the same way about, but I have no idea where those CDs are.

Would you ever sell the record? Sure, although I’d feel guilty because the record’s in bad shape. I’m not attached to the physical record — just the album itself. ~*It’s a metaphor, man.*~

What does this record say about you? That I am a very bad record owner? Also that I used to spend a lot of time at Urban Outfitters (because I own a Vampire Weekend record and was probably like “buying this is the coolest thing I have ever done.”). Also that I am unequivocally stuck in 2008, musically, and forever will be.

Crystal, Operations Manager

What did you bring in? A Halle Berry-as-Jinx-in-007-Barbie

What made you buy this doll? Representation has always mattered to me, and seeing Black dolls, especially one that depicts a character in a mainstream film like Bond, was so awesome that I couldn’t leave it behind.

Are you strict about who can/can’t “play” the Jinx doll? I don’t believe in “look, don’t touch.” I invest in these sorts of silly things so they can be enjoyed by everyone, not just me.

Would you ever sell it? No, it’s more sentimental value than anything else!

What do you need strangers to know about it? I know, the idea of Barbie is problematic, and I get that (and agree), but this doll is more about the kick-ass character and less about the body politics, for me.

What does it say about you? It really speaks to the duality of who I am, now that I’m thinking of it. I like to think that I’m Woke AF, but I also own a Barbie Doll. That about sums it up.

Haley, Digital Editor

What do you collect? I enjoy small animal figurines and have amassed a small army of them completely by accident. Not all of them are pictured here, but these were the ones I could find when I was late to work. They’re curiously scattered around my house.

What made you start this collection of animals? I’m easily charmed by cute things. I hesitate to call it a collection because there’s been no intentionality in its creation, but maybe that makes it all the more legit! I just love objects that look like creatures and I wish everything I owned had ears, eyes and a tail.

How long has this collection been growing? I think the first one was Helen the frog, pictured above. I found her in Chinatown in San Francisco in 2012 on what I used to call “my trinket hunts.” She’s followed me everywhere since, usually finding a home on my desk among my other treasures. Occasionally I will drop Helen on other people’s desks at Man Repeller when they’re feeling down. Her presence helps.

What does it say about you? I love animals so much and am quick to anthropomorphize. I think some part of me truly believes in the aliveness of certain inanimate objects. I find comfort in surrounding myself by a little family of cute things. That sounds so creepy, but I just think it makes life more charming.

Have a good story about any of them? The white seal you see is called a Squishie — you can buy them in bulk on Amazon. When I first bought them and had them shipped to the MR office, Amelia freaked out because she had just ordered one the week before. We ordered more as a group, and everyone at the office had one on their desk. When we started posting them on Instagram, people started asking where they were from and buying them too. It was a Squishie moment. A couple months later, my SF friend told me he shipped me a present for no reason. It was a box of Squishies. He had no idea I knew what they were. Guess it’s been a Squishie kind of year; we need them right now.

Harling, Fashion Editor

What do you collect? I brought in my collection of mini bags, which was amassed not so much as a byproduct of intentionally “collecting” them, but more so organically, as a result of my great affinity for the way carrying them makes me feel (like a stylish giant).

What made you start this collection? After I purchased my first mini bag two years ago and realized it was the perfect size combination of aesthetically pleasing (they’re adorable) and functionally utilitarian (they hold the perfect amount of stuff), it was full speed ahead.

There’s no storage in NYC — where do you keep all of it? This is a great question — one I’ve been struggling with given my bedroom itself is nearly as small as a mini bag. For a while, I stored them all around my room in various nooks and crannies (on top of my radiator, in between stacks of jeans, inside bigger bags), but that system proved to be problematic because I frequently forgot where I put them (that’s the thing about small bags — they’re tiny enough they can get lost, even in the tiniest of New York apartments). Now I keep them together in a giant basket underneath my shelves.

Would you ever sell any of it? I don’t know. This sounds weird, but each one has a different personality, so they kind of feel like my friends. I’m pretty attached to them.

Imani, Editorial Intern

What do you collect? I collect postcards from places I visit and museums/galleries.

What made you start this collection? I started collecting postcards when I came to college — so it’s been roughly four years now — because it was a really simple and cheap way to decorate. It’s become something much more sentimental; now my walls are covered with little memories.

Would you ever sell them? I don’t think anyone is interested in purchasing my collection, but maybe for the right price…? It depends on the postcard.

What does this collection say about you? I think my postcards are like puzzle pieces of who I am, as corny as that sounds. They are physical and visual artifacts of the experiences I’ve had and the emotions I’ve felt at different moments of my life.

Have a good story about any of them? One of my favorite postcards, an image of a bullfighter’s butt in hot pink hot pants that I got in Cordoba, went missing! I got it during my last full day in Spain when I went back to visit in August (I spent a semester in Madrid during the Spring semester of 2017). I was so devastated that it was gone that I tried to convince a friend in Spain to try and find me another just like it. A day later, I found it tucked in the notebook I brought with me on my trip for safe keeping.

Louisiana, Visual Assistant

What do you collect? MUGS!

What made you start this collection? I think it started when I was about 15? 16? I bought a Polish pottery mug and got hooked. I like ceramics and I use mugs every single day, so the collection grew from there.

There’s no storage in NYC — where do you keep all of it? Thankfully I live alone so all my kitchen cabinet space is for me and my mugs.

Would you ever sell any of it? Maybe! There are a few I don’t *love.*

What do you need strangers to know about it? I try and get one every time I go on a trip!

What does it say about you? That I love beverages, which is true! What’s also true is that I probably always have seven half-full mugs around my apartment at all times.

Have a good story about any of them? Two very nice ladies at Waffle House gave me mugs (one regular, one holiday edition!) after I asked if I could have them. GOTTA LOVE THE SOUTH.

Do you have a policy about using them or who else gets to drink out of them? I have a ranking of which mugs I love the most, so I save my highest ranking ones for myself and then let others use those lower on the rank. Hehe.

Matt, Head of Operations

What did you bring in? A pair of size 15 black platform patent leather pumps.

How long have you had them and what made you keep them? I’ve had them for four years. Aside from their timeless and classic nature, they were the first pair of heels I ever owned and a gift from a good friend who had them custom-made via a human named Blondie.

Who is/isn’t allowed to touch these shoes? All are welcome to experience their glory.

Would you ever sell them? No — they’re sentimental!

What do you need strangers to know about them? While on the surface they are just a beautiful pair of shoes sized for a large-footed individual, they represent a pretty pivotal moment for me in terms of opening my mind to sartorially expressing myself beyond the bounds of traditional gendered clothing.

What do these heels say about you? That I am confident in my balancing abilities and love living on the edge. (Also that I’m not afraid of a sprained ankle?)

Have a good story about any of them? Less of a story and more of a newfound appreciation for every sorority girl I went to college with.

Nikki, Director of Ad Operations & Product

What do you collect? Medals from races that I’ve completed

When did you start this collection and what made you keep going? I did my first half marathon in 2008. I was so happy that I saved the medal and the bib from it. After that, I just started saving all of them and never stopped!

There’s no storage in NYC — where do you keep all of it? Thankfully, I have a ton of closet space. I hang them on a hook tucked behind a dresser in my closet.

Would you ever sell any of your medals? I don’t think anyone would buy one, but I want to hold onto these forever.

What do you need strangers to know about your collection? There’s an accompanying Google spreadsheet with the date, race type (run, cycling, tri), distance and results for all of my races.

Have a crazy story about any of them? One year I tried to do a half marathon every month. I got up to 10 and then a few storms wrecked my streak.

Patty, Head of Partnerships

What do you collect? Letters between my grandparents during their first year of marriage while my grandpa was in the service overseas and my grandma was pregnant with my dad.

What made you start this collection? I love letters. Reading them, writing them, receiving them, reading books with letters IN them. My aunt found these and, because of my letter obsession, gave them to me for safekeeping. I treasure them (and her, thank you Aunt Mary!).

In addition to these letters, I have most letters that anyone has ever written me: letters from my parents and brothers when I went away to college, love letters from past boyfriends, letters and postcards from friends. There are some meaningful letters that I’ve lost along the way, and I do miss them.

There’s no storage in NYC — where do you keep all of it? Um, in my apartment with no digital back up. I know, I know, working on it.

Would you ever sell any of it? How dare you.

What do you need strangers to know about it? That my grandma had the most beautiful handwriting in the entire universe, and she was a lefty!

What does your collection of letters say about you? Words matter to me. And I need to back up my shit more regularly.

Have a good story about any of the letters? There is one letter in there that my grandma wrote while she and my grandfather were dating. She was in college in Kansas, he in Indiana (her brother was his roommate). My favorite bit: “Tony, I got the lead in the play! I was so excited when I found out that I could scarcely think. It is really a tremendous part and will be quite a challenge. Thank you so much for your prayers. They really help.” I MEAN C’MON.

Starling, Social Media Intern

What do you collect? Star jewelry!

What made you start this collection? At first, it was accidental. I received a lot of gold jewelry as gifts. Then I started to realize that wearing the items when I started a new class or new job helped people remember my name.

How long has this collection been growing? I had a terrible nickel allergy growing up, so once the allergy faded and I was allowed to get my ears pierced, it was a BIG DEAL. I bought my first star earrings at the pharmacy in Canada where my sister and I got our ears pierced together.

Would you ever sell any of it? Nope.

What do you need strangers to know about it? My name isn’t STERLING. Or Sterlene. Or Charlene. Or Sternum (yes, I got that written on a Starbucks cup once).

What does your collection say about you? When I first learned to write my name, I was desperate to perfect my criss-cross star abilities. I knew I wanted to write my name with an actual star in it. It’s been my legal signature on my passports and every legal document. My sister Rein wrote her name with a raindrop on the ‘i’, my sister K’s name is just one letter long, and my sister Willow used to doodle a willow tree out of the ‘l’s, so name imagery was a big thing in my fam.

Have a good story about any of your stars? I wore the dangling star earrings (from Madewell) to my first day at Man Repeller, and so far I haven’t been called Sterling once!

Photos by Louisiana Mei Gelpi.