#I should write this. when I have the energy/time.

[ellecdc]

Hiiiiii! I love your work sm!

I was wondering you would please be able to write something where the reader has a lot of restless energy and only feels calm around James?

It could be just James any pairing with James that you feel like! Thank you so much for filling the world with your beautiful stories! <3

soooooo I asked Liz first before I did this, but I've changed the pairing a bit in hopes that it would help combat my writers block - it's taken me longer to complete but I hope I've done the request justice even if it's not with our sweet Jamie <3 <3

Sirius Black x Potter!reader who feels like she's too much

CW: a little bit of misogyny/internalized misogyny, hyperactivity/trouble focusing

You’d recited the eleventh step of brewing the felix felicis potion silently in your head when you realised you were being called upon in class. 

“Miss. Potter.” Professor McGonagall called out, causing your head to snap to attention from where you’d been gazing out the window. “Are the birds outside more interesting than my lecture of Transfiguration?”

Yes.

“No, Professor.” You answered quickly as a few students around you snickered.

“Then I should expect your attention to be at the front of the class, Miss. Potter.”

“Yes, Professor.” You mumbled quietly as you sank into your chair, pinning your gaze to the board in front of you as you zoned out.

It wasn’t McGonagall’s fault; but Transfiguration was boring, at least to you.

Discussing the ‘intricate spell work and wand movements’ required to transfigure a button into a butterfly was childs play when one was already an animagus. You could probably [and may very well] produce butterflies in your sleep.

But she didn’t know that, she couldn’t know that.

So now, your knee was bouncing underneath your desk and your brain wasn’t fairing much better.

Sitting here and listening to McGonagall drone on about stuff you already knew couldn’t hold your attention, and it wasn’t long before you were eavesdropping on the two Ravenclaws gossiping behind you.

“I thought she was seeing the older Black?”

“She is, but that’s what he said!”

“I think he’s lying.”

“Honestly, I don’t believe 75% of the things to come out of Lockharts mouth.” 

Oh yeah, there had been a rumour that you had 'snogged Gilderoy Lockhart’ in a broom closet last week. 

You and Sirius had laughed and laughed about that. 

James didn’t find it nearly as funny though and charmed Gilderoy’s hair Gryffindor red for 48 hours. 

That was pretty intricate charm work now that you were thinking about it - you’ll have to ask your brother to teach it to you.

Perhaps some of the wand work would look similar to Transfiguration spells so McGonagall wouldn’t know you’re not paying attention.

Shit. You weren’t paying attention. 

You moved your eyes back to McGonagall who was still droning on about…well, Transfiguration, likely, though she had her eyes trained on you.

Dammit. You’d been caught. 

Your brain had been working in overdrive to keep your eyes glued to the professor that by the time class had ended, you realised you had been clenching your fists so hard that you’d created crescent shape indents in the palm of your hands. 

“Miss. Potter, a word?”

Oh, Godric. 

You heard a few classmates snicker again as you moved towards the professor with your tail tucked between your legs.

“It appears I had a difficult time capturing your attention today?” She asked; eyes and tone holding her same intensity, but a small uptilt in the corner of her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I assure you it’s not you; I just-”

“You’re a bright girl, Y/N, and I am quite aware that this level of Transfiguration may very well be below your level of capabilities, but I cannot allow you to set a precedent for daydreaming in my class. I have a reputation to uphold, afterall.”

“Yes, Professor.” You agreed readily. 

“Just try to daydream less obviously, okay Miss. Potter?” She offered you gently with a soft smirk. 

“Of course, Professor. I’m sorry, thank you.” You sputtered before you were rushing out of the room with what felt like a furious blush at being so clearly transparent in your restlessness.

Professor McGonagall was being patient with you but you doubted she understood you at all; you doubted she’d ever been anything but the dutiful, attentive witch that she is today. Her knee probably ever bounced under the table, her nail beds were probably never shredded, she probably never had to be called on in class because her mind was so clearly elsewhere. 

A sense of shame surged through you at that; you weren’t doing enough yet you were still too much. 

You knew James had a similar experience to you but it was different for him.

It was different because he was the enthusiastic, charismatic Gryffindor quidditch captain who exuded joy and excitement.

It was different because boys were supposed to be energetic and boisterous. 

“You need to sit still, behta’; this is not lady like.” Your auntie had scolded you as you and James raced around cousin Aparna’s wedding ceremony. 

You had been having fun - both you and James - before then. Neither of you understood why the fun had to stop, least of all why it was okay for James but not for you.

It set a precedent. 

It coloured every area of your life growing up; laugh, but not as loudly as James. Joke, but not as often as James. Shine, but not as bright as James.

And despite all of that, you never blamed him; he never discouraged you from being anyone but yourself. 

You loved that about James, though, he seemed to have enough love for everybody, even if they had a hard time loving themselves. 

You wish you could be more like that.

Be more like James, but not as much as James.

Fuck, this was exhausting. 

You hadn’t realised how fast your mind had been racing until you were standing outside of the boys dormitory in Gryffindor tower chewing aggressively on your lips as you picked away the skin of your nail beds. 

You shouldn’t bother them; you were too much.

Too much, too much, too much. 

They already had James to deal with; James was enough.

He was a lot, but not like you.

He was a lot, but never too much. 

And he was there first; he was their friend first.

And maybe Sirius was having a good day? Maybe he’d been having a good day and then you’d be showing up and ruining it.

Ruining it by being too much.

No, you shouldn’t be here. Perhaps you should leave.

But you couldn’t bring your legs to move fast enough before the door was being yanked open and Peter nearly crashed into you. 

“Whoa, Y/N. I’m sorry! Merlin, you scared me.” 

“I’m sorry, Pete.” You offered quickly. “I was just leaving.”

“Oh, hey bug!” James called from the room, leaning over on his bed so he could see you around Peter’s frame. 

“Hey Jamie.” You called quietly, acquiescing to Peter’s extended arm as he invited you into the room. 

Sirius sat up at the sound of your arrival, putting his book beside him on his bed while he smiled at you.

His smile faltered a tad when he saw the state of you, however.

You shouldn’t be here.

“Hey gorgeous.” Sirius offered softly. “How was your day?”

You looked over at Remus who was looking at you sympathetically, and James who was looking at you worriedly. 

“It was okay, how about yours?”

“Better now that you’re here.” He responded salaciously, offering you a wink when you visibly flushed at the attention.

“Prongs, why don’t we go see what Lily’s up to?” Remus offered pointedly, standing to gather his homework and nudging James in the side. 

“Great idea! I’ve been wanting to try out this new charm I learned that turns everything around us the colour of her hair. It’s so gorgeous - her hair, that is - don’t you think? I’ve never seen anything like it, Moony. I want everything I own to be that same shade of auburn. Would I look good wearing auburn? You know what, don’t answer that; I don’t want to know. I was also thinking-” James’ voice trailed off as Remus and Peter shared a knowing look behind James’ back and followed him out the dormitory door before closing it behind them.

You turned back to see Sirius looking at you intently; his expression so soft that you weren’t sure any of his friends had seen the likes of it before.

“Can I have a hug?” Sirius asked, opening his arms in invitation which you readily accepted.

You had barely dropped your book bag before you were all but cradled in Sirius’ arms; the tension immediately oozing out of your bones as you melted into him. 

“Was today a Too Much day?” He asked as he pushed some hairs away from your face before moving his thumb to pull your bottom lip out from between your teeth.

“I was Too Much today.” You corrected, immediately embarrassed at the stinging in your eyes and sinuses.

Sirius quickly tsked in disapproval as he placed his free hand between your hands; his other which was supporting your weight sitting on your elbow as his thumb rubbed circles against your joint. “You’re never too much, my love.” 

You let out a heavy sigh as you turned your face towards his chest, bringing his hand up towards your mouth as you fiddled with the various rings on his finger.

“You know that, right?” He asked at your silence, pressing a gentle ‘boop’ with his finger to your chin. “You know you’re not too much?”

“I was too much in Transfiguration. I was too much for McGonagall.” 

“Did she say that to you?”

“It appears I had a difficult time capturing your attention today?” “I cannot allow you to set a precedent for daydreaming in my class. I have a reputation to uphold, afterall.” “Just try to daydream less obviously, okay Miss. Potter?”

“No…” You admitted quietly, brushing the pads of Sirius’ fingers against your lips as you thought back to class. 

“No.” Sirius agreed; knowing that had been true before he’d even asked. “Because if there was anyone who was Too Much for McGonagall, it’d be me.” 

You chuckled then, finally bringing your eyes to meet Sirius’ striking grey one’s as he looked down at you. 

“You’re not too much, baby; you’re perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” You countered.

“You’re a liar.”

You shook your head as you removed one of your hands from Sirius’ to place it on his jaw, relishing in the contented sigh that escaped his lips as he leaned into your touch.

“Perfect.” You reiterated.

He smiled and looked to be fighting against an eye roll before leaning down to press a kiss to your hairline. 

“We’re perfect for each other, yeah?” He conceded.

“Yeah.” You agreed readily.

“And girlfriend or not, I will fight you for the title of McGonagall’s Too Much, got it? I’ve put years of blood, sweat, and tears into that honour and I will not let you take that from me.”

You let out a boisterous laugh as you took a deep stretch, feeling the last tendrils of tension seep from your body before turning back towards Sirius. “Fine, but I want to keep the title of Flitwick’s Too Much.”

“Deal.”

“Great.” You smiled.

“Perfect.” Sirius whispered.

Yes… yes he was.

[chukys-mouthguard]

23. “Just when I think you couldn’t make me go even weaker in the knees, you go and say stuff like that. Do you want me to collapse? Maybe melt into a puddle too while I’m at it?”

luke with his gf

Prompt: “Just when I think you couldn’t make me go even weaker in the knees, you go and say stuff like that. Do you want me to collapse? Maybe melt into a puddle too while I’m at it?”

Note: i feel like Luke is so hard for me to read that i had to do research before writing this 😂 like Jack and Quinn give off energy and vibes that are easy for me to read, Luke is literally the opposite, so hopefully i did him justice for my first time writing with him

“Oh my gosh, what a day!”

With a sigh you fell back onto the couch, Luke softly chuckling at you as he unpacked the takeout you’d ordered from your favorite Chinese restaurant.

“Yeah, it was really fun. Can’t wait to see how many hearts break when photos end up online of Jack and his girlfriend out there.”

Joining Luke in the kitchen you searched for your takeout container while he handed you a plate. “Yeah, Jack is gonna be Mr. Heartbreaker for a few days. The girls will get over it I’m sure.”

The two of you taking your food over to the living room, this becoming a routine you’d shared in your relationship for a few months now. Every couple weeks you’d order takeout, trying to be mindful of both of your diets, though Luke’s claims it should be a weekly tradition. The two of you’d sit on the floor around the coffee table and talk for hours while eating dinner.

It was one thing you’d never gotten tired of. Loving the opportunity to enjoy the moments together just the two of you. Always having stories to talk about, especially when Jack and Luke were on the same team. He took every chance to chirp his brother he could.

“Did you see Lazar at family skate today?”

Immediately smiling as you thought back to Lazar on the ice with his wife and son, your heart melting at the thought of it. “Yes, oh my god he is so freaking cute. And Curtis seemed just over the moon getting to share that moment with him.”

Luke nodded as he dragged his fork through his food.

“It sort of makes me excited for the day that I’ll have that, well I mean, we I guess. Not just me.”

Your cheek flushing red at his words, leaving you speechless as he looked away embarrassed. “What??”

He nervously asked as you’d yet to say anything back to him.

“Just when I think you couldn’t make me go even weaker in the knees, you go and say stuff like that. Do you want me to collapse? Maybe melt into a puddle too while I’m at it?”

Luke just smiling as his cheeks grew red. He wasn’t the type to be overly emotional, leaving that role to you. But he’d felt comfortable enough to say what was on his mind.

He be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about the future with you, though only having been together a few years, he felt like it had been your whole lives. And judging by the blush on your cheeks and the smile on your face, it seemed like you weren’t opposed to the idea.

“Well, I don’t know. Just seeing guys have moments like that, can’t help but think about it happening to me you know?”

Nodding your head you couldn’t stop smiling, loving this side of Luke where he wasn’t afraid to be open and honest. Letting his guard down a bit and showing some emotion.

Moving to his side you curled up under his arm, wrapping your arms around him as he offered you a bite of his food.

“I love the idea of us having a moment like that one day.” Tilting your head up you gave him a kiss on the cheek as he smiled. “You, me, and our little girl skating around the ice.”

“Oh, you were thinking girl? Interesting, I thought boy.”

Luke shrugged as he stood up, walking to take the empty food containers to the kitchen.

“Well, looks like we are just gonna have to try for one of each then huh?”

Your eyes going wide as you stared at him, Luke just laughing while he cleaned up. “One of each? Oh my gosh, we don’t even have one kid yet and you’re already talking about multiple?”

Luke smirked at you from behind the door of the fridge as he put away the leftovers, enjoying how flustered the conversation had made you.

“It’s never too early to get started, or at least get some practice!”

[writingescapades]

Most Precious Friend

Playing around with writing ambiguous relationships.

Aventurine x Bodyguard reader

NO. NO. NO. NO. NO!

Aventurine ran through the long corridors of the shambled building. An eyesore. Ignored. A perfect storage place for missing people. This is where he would have been, should have been. It was his mission, his mistake.

Aventurine slammed open doors, each one producing only a growing dread within his stomach. His heart was erratic, and he almost wished he didn’t find what he was looking for. There were no guards posted because perpetrators only came with one purpose and victims only left in one condition. Silence. It was too silent. Still the young manager stormed through the building, hoping that his noise would stir some life, somewhere.

And then he found a lump on a dirty floor. The lump didn’t start at the sound of the door opening. Trepidation padded Aventurine’s footsteps as he slowly made his way to the lump. He couldn’t even tell if it was breathing. With shaking hands he reached out to feel the lump. Cold. His hand moved towards the wrist. Faint. So, so faint. But the heartbeat was there, and Aventurine shuddered out a sigh. He couldn’t cry now. Later. When he was given permission. Right now, he had no rights to wail.

Steeling himself, he slowly turned the lump over, to see the familiar face once more. You were caked in dried blood, bruises, burns, and bites. Your skin was swollen and raw. Aventurine could smell the dirt and infection wafting off of you. He was so scared to touch you, to lift you, for fear of putting you in pain once more. So he called the medical team that was on standby outside. Watching, as they lifted you onto the stretcher, Aventurine didn’t know what was worse, your silence or your screams.

He didn’t remember how he made it back to the hospital but came to when an IPC doctor asked to speak with him.

“Under relationship it says bodyguard”.

Aventurine hummed noncommitantly.

“They have a lot of injuries”.

He wondered when he would be able to see you, to beg for forgiveness. No. That was too much to ask for. How do you forgive someone after being tortured in their place?

“It’s just,” the doctor sighed. “In our experience, no one cares about the bodyguard”.

She hated such conversations. It was so much more efficient when there were only understandings. But since this bodyguard was brought in by the infamous IPC manager, she thought she would double check.

“I just want to see, if we still have an understanding”.

She watched as the IPC manager turned his head. He still had his sunglasses on making him seem distant to the whole event. He could care less about this conversation. Probably just wants a clean report and bill for administration reasons.

“The only understanding I have is that you are a doctor, and you have a patient”.

The doctor froze at the icy tone. She watched as the man before her lifted his sunglasses. Trash.

Aventurine gave a sinister smile. “One more thing, friend, if they don’t make it,” his voice dropped, “I’ll rip this hospital to shreds so fast you won’t be able to piece yourself back together in time for your death”.

Delivering his warning, the IPC manager dropped his glasses back on, tucked his hands into his pockets and sauntered out the door. It was so much easier to threaten when they hated you.

You almost didn’t want to open your eyes. It was way too bright, and you were way too tired. Besides, you didn’t know if you had it in you to endure more pain. You didn’t dare move, conserving your energy for when they came again. You hand felt clenched, and it buzzed irritatingly. It was strangely warm too. Probably a new injury. Mustering the courage to glance at what new misery your torturers induced, you brought your eyes towards your left hand. There was another hand. A familiar hand interlaced tightly within yours bringing you down to reality. He was alive. Your eyes softened despite the frown on your face.

“Putting yourself in danger to protect me defeats the point of my existence. I’m the bodyguard, remember?”

“Did you know,” Aventurine whispered, “that no one cares for the bodyguard”.

You nodded. It was the staple of your training. Live in the shadows, die in the shadows.

“Then why,” Aventurine’s hands tightened around yours, turning his knuckles white, “were you targeted?”

Observant, he always cut to the point around you. It was his mission, but just as he was closing in, his target got alerted and put traps in the cage. Your intel informed you immediately, but you had no time to plan with Aventurine. You had to act fast to buy Aventurine time.

“I might have,” you broke off and scoffed. You didn’t think you would survive and have to tell Aventurine the truth!

“I might have insinuated something along the lines of hurting me would cause you more misery than any corporal pain. He was a fool to believe it would work”.

 Aventurine brought your hand up to his lips and delivered soft, feathery kisses.

“An utter fool,” he remarked.

“So tell me IPC manager, why is your bodyguard still alive?”

“Because” Aventurine drew your hand to his heart. “I am a fool and you are my most precious friend”.

[meichenxi]

Language learning: slow learning versus toxic productivity

Or: the process in crisis

Five years ago, all of the productivity advice I read (and gave out) as a successful self-learner of many different languages had one basic premise: that I was not doing enough, and that I could always be doing more.

Several burnouts later, running headlong from one mental illness into another, I'd like to invite you to entertain the exact opposite idea: there is a limit to what you can do. I have run face-first into mine on multiple occasions, and burnt out. At many points I've stopped learning the language at all. Most importantly, I've learnt to be distrustful of the very premise that all of the so-called productivity or optimisation advice is based on.

More is not always more.

Listen to a podcast in the target language whilst you exercise. Exercise to give yourself more energy to learn your target language. Talk to yourself in the shower in your target language. Do Anki whilst eating breakfast. Listen to Glossika whilst walking to work. Change your phone settings to your target language. Bullet journal. Manage your time. Make friends in your target language. Control your time. Write a diary. There's always enough time. These are all things I have done myself and recommended others do, to increase exposure to the language, to increase productivity.

Productivity? What productivity? What, exactly, is it that we are producing? I am producing sentences and words but - for who? Who is listening? Nobody's here, in my room, at 7am on a Sunday. If productivity were just speaking or writing, I'd be productive in my native language too, by virtue of speaking out loud. Or conversely, in language learning circles, should we measure it in terms of input? How many hours did you spend listening to Chinese yesterday? What about today? Is there anything you do in your life, in your daily life, that you could optimise? You're wasting time. There's time here, for those that want it. If you want to get ahead, to be successful, to be a good language learner, you have to know how to use that time. Go online, and debate over which tools are the best; watch your videos. What exactly is it that is being produced?

Productivity is a measuring tool for concrete output: the productivity of a field means how much crop it can yield per harvest. The productivity of a factory is how many mobile phone chargers it can bring to market per year. There are direct and measurable ways to increase this sort of productivity. But what is productivity when it comes to knowledge work? Cal Newport's work, The Minimalists, Essentialism: they all run into the same problem, which is that nobody seems to know what 'productivity' for knowledge workers means at all. You can look at a factory line and see which parts need greasing up, figuratively or literally: it is very difficult, on the other hand, to look at the work of a self-contained writer and tell her where she is going 'wrong'. (And by 'wrong', I mean - slow.) And language learning is an even more particular subset of that particular subset of work.

You could judge a novelists' productivity two ways: by the 'busyness' of her daily writing routine, or the amount of novels she produces. But what exactly is being produced when we learn a language? What is the end product?

In some ways, language learning as a hobby is even more playful than traditionally thought of arts and crafts. (By 'play' I mean something which is done for its own sake, and which is pleasurable, and which may yield next to no monetary reward.) We might think of the poet as sitting on a tree and dangling his feet in the river, a vision of artful indolence, but at the end of the day there is output - a poem. A knitter has a jumper. A potter has a pot. But language learning doesn't follow this [work] + [time] = [tangible output] structure. We can't even use the second metric of 'productivity' to measure it at all. Something is being done, of course - I can learn to speak Greek, and speak it markedly better after two months than one - but my point is you can't look at a day's work and say, this is exactly how much I learnt. Learning is not memorisation in the short term - it's receiving input, and practicing how to wield and use a structure. It doesn't happen over the course of a ten-minute podcast.

Learning happens - encoding happens - when the brain is doing other things. In other words, much like every creative process, you need downtime. You need rest, and sleep, and fun, and brightness and joy in your life. You might 'remember' a bunch of words on Anki, but you need to sleep before you can review them again: that's the whole point.

There is a much wider problem here, a culture of goals and optimising your life and glowing up, and to be honest, I find it disturbing. I think that for a very long time my language learning metrics were a stand-in, a relic, for the kinds of unhealthy and obsessively perfectionist thinking that gave me an eating disorder. How many of us truly believe - genuinely, with every inch of our heart - that we are better people if we 'better' ourselves? Learn more. Exercise more. Study more. How do you feel about yourself at the end of a day, exhausted, because you've completed day 75/100? Do you feel better about yourself because you've achieved? I'm guessing that you do.

For many people - including for myself - this wider culture has spilled over into their hobbies. Hobbies like language learning in particular are a target for this because they are so easily quantifiable - and we are encouraged, if we want to succeed, to quantify them. How else will we know how to improve?

Over the last few years, after burning out, after living off grid and without wifi and doing extreme minimalism and a lot of other lifestyle experiments to try and understand why modern life is so fucking hard, it's become clear that most systems of 'productivity' measure 'optimisation' by getting the most done in a day, but they don't stop to question whether you should be doing those things at all.

They don't stop to ask: what matters? They don't stop to ask: why am I trying to write a novel, finish my dissertation, pursue a romantic relationship, get healthy, learn ice-skating, learn to cook, look after my aging parents, and learn guitar at the same time? They don't ask: how do I prioritise, and where do I find silence? They ask: how do I cram more time in the day? They don't ask: how do I slow time down? They don't ask: how can I know what matters, if I never give myself space to think?

In other words: 'productivity' in language learning is measured by 'busy-work', by how much you can see from the surface.

You can't measure how well the learning is going, exactly, but you can measure how many hours a day you show up and grind. Whether or not that struggle is the best use of your time, or whether you're spending the time on things that will truly bring you value and quality, is a different question altogether.

And it's not one most 'productivity culture' will ever ask.

There will be things in your language learning journey that, to borrow from self-help terminology, no longer serve you. Habits and relics and resources and mindsets that worked for you once, or no longer did. Those books that are too advanced that you feel like you 'should' be able to read. That textbook that's been sitting beside your bed for a year. That habit of scrolling social media in your target language that was helpful when you were at a more intermediate level, but does little for you now that you're advanced.

Take stock of these. Simplify. Do less, but do it better. Productivity culture never stops to ask: what can I do without? It always asks, instead: how can I do more? But maybe - just maybe - the way to do more is to focus on fewer things, but do them well.

Multi-tasking isn't multi-tasking, but switching quickly between different focuses of attention. The average American owns 300,000 things, and watches television for 4-5 hours a day. On average, if you are distracted, it takes you 20 minutes to reach the same level of deep focus: but the average American office worker opens an email within six seconds of receiving it. Are you any better with your phone? How much time do you spend there? If you meditate, that's wonderful, but do you have any time to let yourself think? To walk and to understand how to feel? I don't want to sound like a boomer, but: can you name the birds? Do you live in a place, not just a room?

Stop trying to be 'productive'. Do less. Do it well.

I am now facing a wall in my learning of Chinese, and I'm still not sure how to get around it. The reason for this is because so much of the advice I gave others around language learning, and so much of the advice I found online, is focused on this sort of optimisation. But I no longer want to be listening to something, to be watching something, every second of every day. I have a partner to love and a house to appreciate and I want to spend time, humming and pleasant, alone with my thoughts, and it's summer, dear diary, and I don't want to stay indoors. Routines can keep you afloat, but they can also drown you. Do something different. Do something new. Do something that is not productive, that produces nothing, idle away, walk to work without music and perhaps when you sit down to your language learning that evening, you'll be filled with a renewed vigour and love for it. Do it because you love it, not because you scheduled it in your calendar.

A lesson, related, from my martial arts teacher. He said:

If you are tired, do not train. If you do not train, rest. 'Rest' does not mean go on your phone.

The same principle applies here. If you are tired of learning, which you may well be, rest. Not going on your phone, not watching Netflix. I mean taking a walk and sitting under the tree and looking at the patterning of the sky. I mean lying with your dog and absently scratching his tummy. If you're tired, and you have the luxury to stop - stop. Let yourself be tired. Don't drink caffeine. Sleep.

Last year, I was able to write 340,000 words of fiction because I focused on one thing: writing my book. Apart from things that I literally needed to do to survive and maintain my health and relationships around me, I didn't set a single other to-do. My daily list looked like: write for three hours. Not a word limit. Not exercise, though I ended up doing that, not learning a language. I imagine that if I had tried to focus on Chinese at the same time that I wouldn't have achieved anywhere near half the result. I still learnt Chinese, a very decent amount - I went to China and Taiwan for three months in total! - but I did it because I wanted to, of a whim, on a Sunday, something fun. It wasn't a must, or anything I was forcing myself to do. Many days I didn't do any Chinese at all. It was so immensely freeing to be able to think, at 11am: I'm finished for today. Even when I was at work, because I knew I was just there to pay the rent, I felt serene. Stressed on a day-to-day level, certainly, because all work is stressful, but - there wasn't any striving. I just did the best I could. And that was enough.

I am writing this, now, as I come out of my first ever information-overload burnout. I've burnt out, but I've never experienced one of these before: even looking at a book, at a phone, physically hurt my eyes. I couldn't bear to listen to people speak and would lock myself away in my room. I physically felt I could not talk, and had to take extensive time off work. Even looking at a pen and a blank page was too much; listening to podcasts was too much; reading the instructions for dinner was too much too. The only way I could heal was by doing absolutely nothing at all. That period shocked me deeply, because it showed me how absolutely dependent I was on having some input of information all of the time. No wonder I was tired.

I know, now, that there are lots of movements built around this same idea, by frustrated learners all over the world: the growing realisation that metrics and Excel and polylogger and tracking tracking tracking can't be the only way to learn. That a list of the number of books you've read in one year is hardly indicative of how well you understood those books, and what you learned from them. You've read 20 books this year already - good job. When do you think about them? What time do you spend on reflection? Why did you choose those books? Which chapters, and which characters, hit you the hardest? Why?

Minimalism, deep work, 'monk mode', essentialism, every writer's dream to run away and write in a cabin in the woods, slow learning, Buddhism, Stoicism, Marie Kondo-ism, the art of less, project 333, my no-buy-year, slow fashion, slow food, slow travel:

What all of these philosophies have in common is the idea that doing things deliberately ('mindfully') means 1) doing things slowly, 2) doing things well, and 3) doing things one at a time.

I am now at a place in my life where I understand the value of time alone with my thoughts. I don't want to listen to podcasts every minute of the waking day, because I need time to think about them. I need time to let the ideas for my novel grow in the dark. Nothing can be heard in noise; so make space for silence. I am a member of the real, living, breathing world, and that means I cannot devote 8 hours a day to Chinese television shows like I could when I was 20. I have to call my father. I have to do the dishes. I want to flex my creative muscles in other ways. Alternatively - I no longer believe that my worth is tied up inherently with how well I do my hobbies.

You're just some guy. There's freedom in that. You, my friend - you suck <3

Let yourself be bad. Let yourself be mediocre. Let yourself 'slide backwards' or regress, because all that means is that you're putting focus somewhere else. It'll come back. It always does.

I'm no longer comfortable, therefore, with the way that the language learning community tackles productivity. Please don't misunderstand; a lot of us have time spare that we could use to do things 'better' for us. I know. But I just believe now that getting rid of things, like the time you spend on your phone, is going to be more helpful in the long run than trying to force yourself into some gruelling, achievement-centric regime that collapses from within after two months of struggle and self-flagellation.

The other realisation I have had is just how much happier I am spending more time being alive, really alive, and less time in front of a screen. For a language like German or Gaelic that's much easier, because you can study with books, but with Chinese you always have to study to some extent with audios, flashcards, computers. Especially if - like me - you can read novels without a dictionary, but cannot handwrite even your Chinese name. So where next?

I don't have any answers. I'm not sure how to pair the two things together, to be honest, because almost all of my language learning has traditionally made use of technology. It's all been goal-orientated, systems-orientated, and despite the fact that I've failed at using these systems every day for years, despite the fact that Anki has NEVER worked for me, despite the fact that I have spent hundreds if not thousands of pounds on courses here, there, a wealth of overwhelm and five thousand words saved on Pleco, did I read that right? Five thousand. No wonder I'm stressed.

Regardless of happiness, it's much easier to achieve a state of deep focus and work when you're not online. After my period of information burnout, I feel actual physical pain from the weight of choices online. It's exhausting. I'm watching a Chinese show, but I want to go on tumblr. I'm on tumblr, but I feel guilty for not watching the Chinese show. I'm constantly torn between doing this and that, never fully committing to anything, seeing a post by Lindie Botes and thinking, damn, she's good. I should be better. But I don't want to compare myself to her. Do you know what? She is good. I admire her immensely. But I don't want to judge my self-worth by some imagined scale of productivity anymore - and, the more time passes, the more I'm not sure what 'productivity' in the context of language learning even means.

Try slow, focused, deep learning. You might just find it works.

There's something refreshing, almost counter-cultural, anti-capitalist, anti-consumerist, anti-rat-race, about this thought. Slow learning. I think there's an answer here, somewhere. It's a problem I've been dancing around for a while; and do you remember how you learnt your first foreign language? For me, it was on the floor, absolutely absorbed in German comic books, flicking through the dictionary furiously and scribbling things down in a notebook. I only had one book, and one dictionary, and one grammar book. I want to go back to that sort of simplicity. There was joy in that.

One again: I don't have any answers. I don't know exactly what direction this blog is going to go in, as I wrestle with these sorts of meta-problems. I'd love to hear your thoughts. And for now, if there's one thing I'd like you to take away from this long and frankly absurdly rambling post (thank you for bearing with me!) it's an alternative answer for the question I get so often, about what you can do to learn the language when you're tired, because:

Yes, you could watch reality TV shows in Chinese, or you could give yourself permission to be human. You could rest.

Thanks guys. Meichenxi out <3

[brainmuncher]

A mis-text-derstanding

After a long night of patrolling around Amity, Danny damn near collapsed onto his bed. His back ached from a stray ectoblast and his eyes felt heavier than a mountain. Technus had done something to the technology around the town. At random a piece of technology would suddenly go rogue with a virus the ghost implemented. The virus would make the item try to capture anyone in the vicinity using any means necessary. So Danny had been doing regular patrols around town to catch anyone who needed help.

That also means that his sleeping time had been radically reduced. Without even the energy to lift his head, Danny patted around for his phone. Once he finally found the device he hefted himself on his side with a groan. It was a new phone since he was the first casualty in Technus’ plan. Thankfully, Sam had given him another so his parents wouldn’t try to make him one. (Who knows what kind of ‘anti-ghost’ protection they would’ve put on it.)

Tucker had promised that he was working on fixing the virus going around. Hopefully, he had some kind of good news to share. As soon as Danny went to message him he realized he hadn’t downloaded their chat app to the new phone. With a sigh he knew that he would just have to use normal texting but with careful codewords.

Putting in Tucker's number with a yawn, Danny sent the first message.

‘It’s your undead bro. The night out tonight was killer. Any news on the techie progress?’

Danny smashed his face into his bed with a sigh after hitting send. Knowing Tucker he was probably face first in his laptop and won’t notice the message for a bit. He could probably just close his eyes and…

Before he could even consider taking a nap there was a generic jingle from the phone. He should really get to fixing that. Tuck deserves a much better ringtone than some bells.

‘Nothing noteworthy yet. It's harder to crack than normal but nothing I can't handle. Do you need me to take over for tomorrow?’

‘Also why aren't you using our chat?’

Danny squinted at the screen with a slight frown. It had been a while since Sam or Tucker tried to go out in his place. They learned pretty quickly that it made Danny way too anxious to have them out there without him. Something about not being there to protect them if they got over their heads made Danny’s chest ache. 

And of course, Tucker noticed that he wasn’t using the app he made. It was a bit glitchy at times, but what tech wasn’t when it came to Danny? Not only was it secure, but it became an easier way for them to establish a timeline for filing. Jazz had been the one who realized that they didn’t have steady information on not just the rouges but the events of the fights. It became a staple to write out what happened and what went wrong after hearing her lecture about it.

‘Don’t have it on this phone yet. And you know how I feel about you being out there.’

Danny watched the screen for a bit, waiting to see if Tucker would reply immediately again. His mom probably caught him on his computer all day and was forcing him to separate himself from it for a while. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Ms. Foley to do.

‘Yeah yeah, Mr. Possessive. Do you need me to walk you through how to get it again?’

Snorting at the pun, Danny easily replied. If Tucker was feeling sassy enough to joke about that, then he would push some buttons back. It was a simple banter that they sometimes fell into.

‘You know how I get with technology. I’m more likely to break something. Especially since this phone is so new. Whatever happened to flip phones?’

Danny snickered to himself at the message. Tucker had an ongoing war between new and old technology. While he loved his PDA he also admired some of the top-of-the-line devices. It was like the past and the future mixed in his friend's room. He would gush about the new devices but also gush about the older ones that still had functions that the newer ones lost. But flip phones? That was the only technology he knew that Tucker hated. It was the worst of both worlds for him. He’d been so excited when Danny’s flip phone was bricked by Technus’ virus.

‘I’m going to ignore that you said that.’

‘Also there’s going to be trouble in the park near you tomorrow. I’m already planning on going. Do you want in?’

Scooting up from his lounged position, Danny started to write back his reply.

‘Of course, I’ll be there. Don’t need you to go in alone and join the dead. Unusual for him to leave his plans there though. That’ll be fun to write in the report.’

The image of Jazz reading about that brought a smile to Danny’s face. She always found it interesting when one of the ghosts would change a long-time behavior. The fact that Technus was able to keep this rather on the down low would guarantee her interest. He was always one to blatantly announce his plans to the world to hear. Even though it’s a bit of a pain that he’s learning to keep things to himself it would peak Jazz’s curiosity, which made it bearable.

‘It is weird. And don’t remind me about the report. I still have the one from last week to write and I don’t want to do it.’

That made Danny laugh to himself a little. Last week the lunch lady tried to embrace the Ultra-Recyclo Vegetarian life. In the overflow of food, Tucker had gotten trapped in veggies. He was visibly green from having to eat some to escape. Sam had been excited about it at first before she saw how much food was being wasted. She ended up getting attacked for trying to explain the damage overconsumption and food waste could bring.

‘You looked like you wanted to vomit afterward. Well, at least we are prepared this time. We don’t always get that chance.’

Danny stretched out his stubborn limbs, feeling himself try to sink into the darkness. He’d have to end the conversation sooner rather than later. At this rate, he wouldn’t have a choice on whether he was taking a nap or not. At the familiar sound of bells, he looked back down at the conversation.

‘Unfortunately. Well, I’ll be finished by the time we meet at the park. I know you usually like to sleep after a long night.’

The reply made Danny’s core feel fuzzy with happiness. Tucker always knows him so well. He doesn’t know what he did to get such a fantastic best friend. It was at times like these that Danny knew he was so glad that they were in this together. With two of his best friends at his side, it made being a vigilante so much easier to bear. 

‘Thanks. Remember that not just the dead get to sleep. Don’t push yourself. Goodnight.’

With that, Danny felt comfortable with setting his phone down to get changed into pajamas. It ached on his back to take off his shirt, but Jazz would be disappointed in the morning if he didn’t. She always got that pinched look on her face when he didn’t take care of himself to her standards. Her standards weren’t exactly high up either so it made him feel extra upset when he missed the mark.

Being careful to not lie on his back, Danny got back into his bed. He curled himself into the blankets with a small smile. One last chime of bells rang out in the room, probably from Tucker saying goodnight back. Picking up his phone, he opened up the lock screen and looked at his messages.

Instead of a goodnight, his stomach dropped as he realized a different number messaged him. A very familiar number.

‘Hey dude! I know you had to get a new phone so this is me. Not only did I figure out how it’s spreading, I think I finally found a way to get rid of the virus.’

Practically throwing himself off the bed, Danny got to his feet. Both his back and his mind screamed at him as he looked over the message. He tapped back to the one he’d just been replying to, finding his heart stopping at the string of numbers. One of the area code numbers was a six instead of a nine. He’d been messaging a stranger this entire time.

Looking back at the messages he convinced himself that it was fine. He was vague enough to not be recognized. It wasn’t like this person was from Amity. They won’t recognize the correlation between him and Phantom. Surely the other person wouldn’t take his words at face value. 

Worst comes to worst he can have Tucker take over his phone for a bit and make sure the other person can’t find out who he is. He hadn’t bought the phone or had it under his name in any way, so they could only find out from the conversation alone.

Breathing out a breath of air he kissed his night of sleep goodbye.

‘I’ll be over in a sec Tuck. I think I just made a mistake.’

[writingquestionsanswered]

I've got young kids, work full time, went back to school to get my degree and my spouse is also in a degree program. Finding the time to write feels impossible. There's no way I can write daily.

I feel like maybe my dream to be an author is out of reach. When should you really ask yourself if you truly want to be an author? Forget an author.. do you really want to be a writer? 

Author Dream Feels Out of Reach

You've come to the right place. ♥

First, I want to tell you that what you're feeling right now is totally normal. So, so many of us go through it. I promise you're in good company.

Second, I submit that this isn't really about whether or not you want to be a writer/author. You wouldn't be here if some part of you didn't want to be a writer/author... you wouldn't be reaching for a dream you didn't have...

Third, I further submit that rather than questioning your intentions, you may just need to consider what you want to get out of writing, what your goals would be as an author, and then create realistic goals to help you get there. That's where I come in...

1 - I'm here to tell you that you don't have to write every day. I spent a long, long, embarrassingly long time parroting back the traditional "advice" that one must write every single day in order to be a successful writer and reach your author dreams. Head, meet desk! In the intervening years, I've learned that writing every day simply isn't realistic for the vast majority of people. Why? Because we're not all independently wealthy bachelors who retired in our 40s, who spend our days fishing and our evenings partying with our eccentric creative friends, and then burning the midnight oil on our latest manuscript while we sip brandy and puff on a fine cigar. If only! (minus the cigar part... yuck...) Instead, we're members of family units, friend groups, and communities. We're parents and grandparents and guardians and caregivers. We're students, we have jobs and roles and responsibilities. We're anxious, tired, and stretched so unbelievably thin. The world is falling down around us. And it's... a lot...

2 - But... that's why we write... ALL OF THAT, I say, gesturing broadly at everything, is why we write. We write to tell the stories of the eccentric brandy-sipping writers, the stressed-out-stretched-thin-parents, the overworked-and-underpaid teachers, the exhausted caregivers who feel their dreams slipping between their fingers, and still hopeful dreamers who cling to the stars with the dust of the crumbling world in their eyes. We write to tell their stories, and we write to give them stories. We write because the world needs our stories. ALL of them. The good, the bad, the clean, the spicy, the angsty, the swoony, the cringey, the comforting, the excessively long, the absurdly short, the plainly written, the purple prosey... all of it matters. All of it serves a purpose.

3 - So, why did you start writing in the first place? You don't have to answer this for me, just for yourself... many of us would answer by saying things like, "because I have story ideas that demand to be written," or "because it's something I do for fun and escape, it's self-care," or "because I love to explore human stories." Getting to the heart of why you write, outside of any goals or future plans, can help ground you in the storm.

4 - What are your author goals? Now, if time, energy, and other considerations were no object... if you could spend as much time writing as you wanted and there were no obstacles to any author goal you had, and no limit to achieving your dreams, what would your author goals be? Do you want to share your stories on Wattpad or a similar platform? If so, do you have any goals related to views/reads/comments, and how often you hope to post a new story? If you want to pursue traditional publishing, are you happy being reasonably popular within your niche, or do you want to be a big time best-seller with your books made into movies? If you want to be an indie author, is there a certain number of books you want to get out each year? Is there a certain number of sales you want to hit for each book? A certain income level you want to aim for? Figuring out exactly what your goals are is important if you want to map a reasonable path toward getting there.

5 - What's a reasonable path to get there? Imagine "reasonable" lit up with lights here, because it's so, so important. Really, the biggest reason writers get overwhelmed and give up is because we have unreasonable expectations and are trying to meet arbitrary goals that sound great, but are just not possible to meet. If you can only muster maybe three hours to write on a good week, and you can write 26 words a minute on a good writing session, if your goal is to write 10,000 words per week, guess what... that's more than TWICE the number of words it's even possible for you to write in a good week, so you're going to fall far, far short most weeks. It's an unrealistic goal.

If you're averaging roughly 11,000 words per month and your goal is to write a novel in six months and have it revised, edited, and published (or revised, edited, and sent off with queries), guess what... your manuscript is sitting at 66,000 words at the six month mark without a single second for revision, editing, or anything else. Once again, it's an unrealistic goal.

One of the best ways to figure out a realistic goal is to take an honest look at your schedule. My favorite way to do this is by the month, using a calendar I can write on. Now, I'll go through and cross out all the days I know I won't be able to write... like, maybe I never write on Sundays because they're too busy, so I cross those off. Maybe I'm going on vacation for four days mid-month, and I know I won't write the day before or after, so I cross those six days off, too. My days tend to fall apart if I have an appointment or other unusual event, so I will usually block off those days as well. Finally, I know I will probably lose at least three days a month to not feeling well or having to attend to a family member who isn't feeling well, and another three days to run-of-the-mill nonsense, so I'll cross off the last six days in the calendar. What I'm left with is a reasonable estimate for the number of days I'll be able to write that month.

Now, let's say I'm left with 17 potential writing days. And let's say I'm fairly certain I'll be able to commit about twenty to thirty minutes to writing on each of those days. And... let's say I know I generally write about 26 words per minute during the average writing session. Twenty minutes across 17 days is 340 total minutes, times 26 wpm, nets me about 8,840 words for the month... and that's not frickin' bad! In fact, at that rate you could potentially have a first draft done in six to eight months! And that's in just twenty minutes a day three or four times a week.

It isn't about time spent, it's about setting reasonable goals.

If you create reasonable goals that you can actually meet, you start building forward momentum. You're not exhausted from fighting with your schedule and failing to squeeze writing in on days when it isn't possible. You're not beaten down from disappointing yourself over and over again. You're actually getting somewhere, and you're excited about it!

So, that's it. Before you get all philosophical about whether or not you really want to be an author or want to be a writer... before you start tossing your dreams out the window or feeling like your dreams are out of reach, try this. Be realistic. Be patient with yourself. Take support where you can get it. And don't be afraid to fiercely guard whatever writing time you do have.

I'm here for support, and there a million wonderful writing communities out there filled with other supportive writers if you have some time to look for them and spend some time getting to know them.

All the best! You've got this... TRULY! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[makingspiritualityreal]

Sleeping Beauty - Why the Moon and the Feminine Debilitate in Vishakha Nakshatra

For the best understanding of my writing, I recommend that you watch the movie in question, even if you see it after having read my post I’m sure your experience will leave you enriched and with a greater sense of understanding of Vishakha Nakshatra energies.

Vishakha Nakshatra traditionally debilitates the Moon in the 4th pada of Scorpio if you use traditional Lahiri Ayanamsa. I don’t, as anyone who reads me knows about my endorsement of the Mula Galactic Center Ayanamsa, which places the entirety of Vishakha in Scorpio in our times, and I believe I can show you how this theme carries through the entirety of the Moon in this Nakshatra.

It is important to understand, that the struggle described here concerns women in particular. The reason why it’s so prominent in female charts, is that this Nakshatra's ruler is Jupiter and men are naturally more inclined to carry Jupiterian energy more gracefully, while women are fundamentally at odds with it. Men are designed to withstand pressure to protect the feminine, as it increases their Masculine polarity through giving them "a tough hide" over time. Women's Lunar energies however, react to being subjected to this energy with trauma, that they compensate heavily for to survive.

To an extent, the struggles described here can be relatable if you have any of your big 3 in Vishakha Nakshatra, but even with prominent Vishakha energy in your chart, the experience is not quite the same as having your Moon there, and your Sun there can actually become a positive placement over time. The Sun is born in Vishakha Nakshatra and this combo can turn out auspiciously due to the natural synergy of Solar energies in a female chart.

Let’s begin by describing the feminine qualities of planets - Venus and the Moon. The Moon is nurturing, adaptable, giving, caring, receptive, reciprocal. Venus is receptive but discerning, making her also a natural receiver and refiner, a strategic taker, who lays down and relaxes, while taking in only what’s best, ultimately spending oneself on what is worthy of one’s admiration. It is also a conqueror of the finest things, but it is never defensive, as it represents the sentiment of pride.

These feminine principles in theory should represent the apex of female behavior through those qualities. A woman is supposed to be proud, relaxed, discerning and freely respond to her environment. Her garden is supposed to grow and expand, nurture and be nurtured. And those qualities all fail in Vishakha Nakshatra due to its fundamental giving nature and Jupiter rulership, making it the gardener, not the object of worship.

Jupiter is giving and tolerant, Venus is taking and critical. The Moon adapts and attaches to its environment, Jupiter absorbs negativity from others to provide relief. What do we get as a result of this combo? A woman who can’t function in her basic feminine principle without a massive struggle.

Our Moon Nakshatra is what our earliest environment raised us to adapt to through our nurturing female figures. It is what we fundamentally have burned into our psyche and what we emulate as women. When your Moon as a woman is in Vishakha Nakshatra, you fundamentally have adapted to endlessly giving passes to other people as a result of your upbringing. You can see an example of that in the film, where Sleeping Beauty’s Mother calls her to get money out of her, despite her daughter struggling for basic survival financially. You can also see Sleeping Beauty working several jobs to carry that load and to fulfill everyone’s expectations of her, while they don’t treat her well and are never grateful for any of her sacrifices. Sleeping Beauty is willing to sacrifice all of her basic needs, just to satisfy a mother who drains her. As a result of such a conditioning, she grows into a pathological people pleaser, who can’t say no, even to her own detriment, and ends up putting herself in uncomfortable situations over and over, thinking that making a demand or advocating for her own well being is going to result in a punishment from her environment. We see this in the scene where she needs to rent a new apartment and ends up picking the first building on the flier, just to make things easier for the real estate agent, even though she can’t afford it and doesn’t enjoy it.

What is a Woman? A creature of delight and senses. Comfortable, open, giving, splendorous, cherished and protected. It radiates caring to others, because it feels effortlessly cared for. It expands, because it caries within so much comfort and abundance. But when the Moon is in Vishakha Nakshatra it gets none of those things. Instead, the feminine is neglected, spending itself for everyone else.

You can see that throughout the film as everyone, men and women, treats Sleeping Beauty instrumentally, to the point of subjecting her to a horrifying final experience of laying directly with death for the sake of someone else’s relief, someone avoiding responsibility for their own life and using the Vishakha woman for self gratification.

What is the tale of a Sleeping Beauty? A tale of a selective woman, patiently waiting forever if necessary, until the Prince with enough courage proves himself by rescuing her and showing initiative, and then promising to care for her for the rest of her days. Yet in the movie version, no prince is found and instead men use Sleeping Beauty to feel cared for, objectifying her and erasing her identity, which eventually leads her to snap. There is no Jupiterian Prince coming to save the Moon in Vishakha woman.

The Moon in Vishakha Nakshatra promises such a scenario in a woman’s chart, sentencing her to a very difficult fate.

There is a reason this Nakshatra is of an Out Caste. After suffering so much on the hands of so many people, Vishakha doesn’t really want to be part of them, finally embracing one’s freedom and individuality. And for that it is condemned, discarded and casted out the moment people can’t use it as their desired object. They only had any semblance of acceptance in slave roles to begin with, and that cannot be sustained, for the Moon is a Royal planet, of a "Queenly" nature according to Jyotish classics. A Royal planet will not accept a submissive role, Vishakha Nakshatra doesn’t want to offer natural, effortless splendor, so a Vishakha Moon becomes the queen of the wilderness, the queen of the outcasts and the downtrodden.

We don't see a continuation of this scenario in the movie, but if you follow Emily Browning's career she stars in roles, where a fight for her own freedom and agency leads to her own demise, as her feminine energy is oppressed for all attempts at self expression. This Nakshatra is the only one classified as Rakshasa, Demonic, among others of Jupiter rulership due to the struggles one must endure here just for the sake of their basic life. The sister Nakshatra of Punarvasu is of a Deva, Angelic nature, preoccupied with creativity and higher ideas, attracting a certain amount of divine sovereignty and protection. Purva Bhadrapada is of a Manushya, human temperament making them expert social climbers and using status and collective themes to buffer Jupiterian energies, despite that Nakshatra being such a testing point. But it is the Vishakha Nakshatra that is the rawest point of the Jupiterian soul, enduring the most negativity and hardship.

With the Moon in Vishakha, a woman's inner Queen needs to go through literal Hell to earn the right to live.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

I wrote this a while ago but I fell back onto it while I was warming up on writing and decided to revise it and post it on ao3!

Ao3 link

Eddie skimmed the books on the shelf in front of him, there was no use in trying to find one he was interested in. He would forget about it somewhere in his room anyway and choose one of the Lord of the Rings books to read again. Instead, he lets himself wander through his thoughts, lost in some random DnD scenario he had made up that involved him fighting a group of dragons. Letting his body go on autopilot as his fingers gently brush the spines of every book in his reach mindlessly. He furrowed his eyebrows as he made a mental note to include this scenario in one of his campaigns later. He was sure the boys would enjoy it, especially Gareth, who had anger issues and loved releasing some of that energy onto a fictional dragon.

He should be in gym class, but he isn’t. The consequences of skipping were far better than those of actually showing up. The last time he went (over a month ago now) he ended up walking out with a chipped tooth and black eye. And he can’t forget about the bruised ego. That hurt worse than being hit in the face. Physical Pain he could handle, but his poor innocent ego could not handle the abuse.

Walking at the end of one aisle, he carefully turns and moves himself into the next. He prepares to loop through the next aisle but nearly jumps out of his skin when he almost falls over another person sitting down with their back pressed to the shelf.

A croak-like noise comes out of the back of his throat as he nearly tumbles face-first into the carpet. He stumbles forward a bit and catches his balance on the shelf to the left of him. His heart races as he secretly prays to everything holy that he didn’t somehow knock the entire shelf over. That would be his luck and land him in an infinite amount of after-school detention.

“Jesus H Christ.” He spits out, a hand pressed against his chest as he dramatically breathes heavier than normal purposely putting on a show for whoever nearly killed him. Turning around to face the culprit he jumps back again startled.

Sitting, pretty pathetically Eddie would say, was a beat-up Steve Harrington. Who looked like a horror movie had a crossover with reality. His eyes, or singular eye, were glossed over and wide as he started stuttering over his words.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip you up like that.” Steve visibly cringes at his words, as if he was also aware he seemed pathetic. If that's not the case, Eddie would assume Steve had been cringing at his words slurring together. That was the only logical answer as there was no way Steve Harrington was cringing at him.

“Eh- it’s alright. Not the first time a king has tried taking me out.” He grins, before faltering a bit as he remembers that the other wouldn’t understand that he was referencing DnD and not something gay. But for all, Eddie knew Steve probably correlated Dnd with weird faggots anyway.

He begins to walk away, wanting the awkward interaction to be over so that he can move on and cringe at the whole situation on a random night in the future. But he can’t help but be a bit nosy as his eyes glance down at the book in Steve’s lap. It probably had been open at one point, but it was now closed and Eddie is secretly thankful he can read upside down.

“Head injuries huh?” He points out. “Didn’t take you for a reader King Steve.” He drags the other’s name out a bit longer than he has to as he crosses his arms over his chest and cocks a hip out. He has an unreadable smile, his teeth showing in a weak attempt at being somewhat civil with the other, but he still wanted to have his guard up just in case.

He didn’t personally enjoy talking with asshole jocks, but what he did like was to know some things. He liked having some lore for the people around him for backup reasons aka blackmail.

“I’m not.” Steve snorts as he lifts the book. “Just trying to do some research, I don’t know if you have eyes but my face is pretty smashed in right now.” He retorts back with a little bit of sass. Eddie notes how his words slur like he is drunk. Eddie could spot a drunk anywhere and Steve Harrington seemed a hundred percent sober and fully aware of his surroundings. (Besides the possibility of tripping someone up by sitting on the corner of a damn shelf but that is beside the point)

Furrowing his eyebrows, just a bit concerned he doesn’t let up the banter. He purposely forces his eyelids open with one hand and jokingly presses a fingertip against his eye before pulling back. Blinking the tears out of his slightly agitated right eye he brings two thumbs up and comments, “We are in the clear I, Eddie Munson, let the record show, have eyeballs.” He grins dramatically.

“Want a gold star for that poncho.” Steve snorts not wasting a second to retort in response to the other as he shakes his head amused. His body tenses up a bit as he goes pale for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut with shaky breaths as his fists tighten around the book he is holding.

“Yes I do in fact want a gold star-” Eddie mumbles out gently, face scrunching up a bit more worried now as he moves his crossed arms off his chest and takes a few steps closer to the other.

“Hey Harrington, you alright? You don’t seem like your typical charming self.” He comments as he hesitates for a moment before he crouches down. He makes sure to leave a few inches between the two of them, far enough to not be to close but close enough to catch the other if he slumped over.

Steve gives a weak nod of his head before he adjusts himself. “Yeah- just moved my head too much. Happens sometimes you know?” He chuckles gently. Eddie did not know what he meant, didn't know how to respond, and when he didn't know how to react he normally shot off an awkward quip or two.

“Oh thank god, you were looking a little green. I Was worried you were about to hulk out on me buddy.” Eddie jokes a little, trying to lighten the mood a bit. He then lifts his hand and runs one of his rings against the bottom of his lip (a nervous tic of his) before glancing back down at the book.

“Find anything good in there, or are you just holding it for show?” Eddie asks gently, trying to come off a bit more teasing rather than concerned. The longer he stayed around this guy the more he was convinced that he needed to get the book read ASAP.

Steve snorts again, sounding a bit stressed as he nearly shakes his head no again but stops himself before making that mistake again. “No, couldn’t even make it through the first page without wanting to throw up.” He groans as he quickly adds. “Not because I don’t want to read it, it’s just the words won’t sit still and it hurts my eyes which then hurts my head.” He groans as he opens his eyes back up fully and looks down at the book with a little huff. Where Eddie was crouched he could see the other boy's eyes watering.

“Could always get a nerd to do your homework for you,” Eddie jokes, slightly hinting towards Wheeler. “Heard that girlfriend of yours had a decent brain on her, she seems like the type to understand that you’ll need help.” He tilts his head to the side as he looks at the other.

Steve makes a noise that Eddie can’t even place, it sounds like the mixture of a laugh and a snort combined. “Can’t, I’m pretty sure she cheated on me with Byers and wants nothing to do with me now. And I don’t want to feel any more stupid around her.” He mumbles the last sentence out.

Eddie looks a bit surprised, he hadn’t taken Mrs Priss to be a cheater. He furrows his eyebrows again in thought. “If you give me a twenty I’ll read that book for you and try answering any questions you have.” He spits it out before he can fully think about it. He was an impulsive person who didn't like seeing people struggle what could he say?

But Eddie didn’t want to seem completely like a sweetheart to the other as he still had doubts about the other. Plus he had to keep up the image he had going on or people wouldn’t take him seriously during deals around here. And he didn’t want to ruin said image by helping Steve Harrington of all people.

Steve squints his good eye at Eddie suspiciously, “I’ll pay you a hundred if you don’t mention this to anybody else.” Good, at least Eddie wasn't the only skeptic here.

Even though he was very skeptical Eddie still felt a little shitty for doing this but an image had to be kept and money had to be made somehow.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Harrington.” His grin isn’t fully authentic as he takes the book from the other before he does a playful salute and stands up fully. he hesitates for a moment longer tempted to ask the other if he needs help from the nurse but Eddie decides he is already giving enough charity as is and begins back on his path of slaying dragons and saving damsels in distress.

[trivialbob]

I have not felt like writing lately. Anyway, I'm still around.

Last night Sheila and I played in a Crokinole tournament at the brewery. We finished in 2nd place. There were only four teams. 1st and 2nd place finishers got gift cards to the brewery.

Sheila's favorite brewery dog was there. His person was also in the Crokinole tournament. This dog is a young Minnie Aussie, similar in color to Oliver but with 42 times the energy Oliver has. Sheila gave that dog some treats when she saw it (she always brings dog treats to the brewery, even if we don't bring a dog of our own). After those treats the dog kept making vertical leaps close to five feet in the air, clamoring for Sheila's attention. It's much more amusing than barking. Yes, he got more treats.

I got new glasses at Costco last week. The eye clinic I usually buy from is fine, but I thought I'd try something different. The prices were good. I purchased clear glasses and sunglasses, both with progressive prescription lenses. The sunglasses are awesome. The clear ones, which should have the identical prescription, seem off to me. I can't even describe accurately what exactly is wrong. I see fine, but it's like the lenses have dirty spots (but they don't). I wore the sunglasses indoors the other day just to prove to myself that they were different (better) than the clear ones. Maybe I'll have Costco send them back to the shop to verify the prescription.

I didn't feel like writing the last few days because I've been immersed in something at work. I love this particular project, but it leaves me no time to be on my phone or personal laptop during the day. You know though, that's a good thing. I don't understand how a few of you with full time jobs can post several times a day, every day. My workdays have been flying by.

Staying off my laptop all day has cleared my head too. I can't even get interested in a former president's and a president's son's felony convictions and the endless comparisons and war-gaming going on by professional and armchair political analysts and pundits. I'm just as interested in America's Got Talent, a show I've never watched.

[loverdotpng]

I'm such a sucker for him bc roses are my favorite flower.. and I have a weakness for dorky flamboyant men x//x

[chimerahyperfix]

Being frozen in time definitely does something to you. Physically it cages you. Mentally it throws you into the longest dream you could ever have. It's not comfortable-- far from it in fact-- but you've grown to look forwards to it, when you loose. It's better than being mashed to dark paste at least.

You're frozen right now, in fact. Waiting in silence for time to loop back. Stuck with your thoughts and a vauge feeling of a dream. The house is around you and you're moving through it. Empty rooms and endless hallways, curling and twisting in ways that make them feel alive despite the lack of any living thing that isn't you. No sad monsters, no frozen bodies, no dark stains. There doesn't seem to be an exit.

The dreams you have when frozen seem to correlate to how you're doing emotionally. Most of them have been lost to time, like most things in your life now. Dreams, wounds, emotional bonds; everything is turning back with you, and that’s started to do something to you, because now you can predict the actions of those around you with quite a bit of accuracy. You can recall little bits of things, but the further back you go is just static. There was a bunch of dumb things that you can’t piece back together anymore, there were times with those you love, there was endless rage flowing through your very being, and there was this. The desperation. The empty halls of the very House you’ve worked so hard to protect.

You want out.

You've kept count of how many times you've been frozen. How many times you've died. How many loops. 61 is the counter and it's far, far too many times to relive the same day over again. You grew tired of the monotony by the tenth go around. Twenty five felt like a stab wound. Forty, like you were being split in two. Big 6-0 felt like drowning. You don't feel real anymore.

But that's fine! You can still see the good in this, if you stretch your imagination like taffy, as far as it'll go. It's better to be just you, just one person, than everyone else! You can live with the weight of the country on your shoulders for a bit longer, if only to keep it off of Euphrasie's. You’re doing this for her! For everyone. You can do it for a bit longer. You just need to find the King’s weakness, or something. Make a more powerful potion, or scrap together the materials to make a second craft bomb, or, or something! You’ll find it soon enough. You’re smart! You can do this!

You have to.

You turn down the hallway. Find yourself on an entirely different floor. Just as much of a ghost town. Just ice and cold and tiredness, your breath forming clouds in the air. That’s fine. This is just a dream or something, anyway. You’ll wake back up at your desk any time, with the looming vials of all sorts of toxic stuff you keep drinking that you crabbing neglected to put away because you didn’t think time would crabbing loop, because realistically, WHY would you assume that would happen? Preposterous! Ignore the burning feeling in your throat and the smell of sugar and push on. Wait for it to start all over again.

Because it has to be you, doesn’t it? You wished for this, or something. You don’t remember. It was a long time ago. It has to be you, because only you have the power. It HAS to be you, because who else would it be? Euphie? She’s already got enough on her hands. Mirabelle? You’d rather die. It’s better you do this than the ones you love.

It has to be you.

it has to be you it has to be you it has to be you it has to be you it has to be you it has to be you it has to be you it has to be

It's sucks, having to be the one to do it. Your limit was a long time ago.

You can't do this forever.

[cxpperhead]

Those cute cheekbones? Wrong. That's where his venom glands are located.

[icewindandboringhorror]

a boye whom'st loves to attack paper balls

[raplinesmoon]

a brief note:

i’m not usually very eloquent with my words, so if this is rough and i say something wrong or offensive, please forgive me, it’s been hard to piece together the right words. if there’s spelling errors, this is not proofread, and I’m sorry.

I’ve always maintained that writing and this blog is a safe space for me, a place to escape from the real world when I need it. but right now, what’s going on in the world isn’t something I can escape from. it’s robbed me of my sleep and my sanity. and honestly, writing and kpop just don’t even seem like valid enough escapes anymore, even though I feel immensely privileged to have these escapes in the first place. I feel numb. but it’s not even about me or this blog or any wips I have.

if you have five minutes to scroll through my blog, or any other kpop blog on Tumblr, I urge you to take another five minutes out of your day and learn about what’s going on in Gaza right now. do your own research, and uplift voices that aren’t being heard.

the beauty of being here is being able to connect with so many people far away, across the country or even across the world. if we can use our energy to celebrate our groups and our faves, we can also do the reverse.

life as we know it is being uprooted for so many people, the least we can do is be cognizant of that, to give some of our energy to mourn their losses and grieve alongside them. even better yet, we can hope alongside them that this reality doesn’t have to endure, that more innocent lives will not be lost.

if you get nothing else from this, I’ll leave you with this — if you’ve also been like me, feeling completely scared and horrified by what’s been unfolding, i see you. i feel your pain, and if you’re grieving, i feel your loss. i ask you to remember those on the other side of this who have a right to be even more scared and even more horrified, and who deserve your attention. the world is a complex and hard to understand place, but at the same time, it’s not. it’s brutal and violent. Please remember, that far beyond and political or religious debates, foreign economic and social policy, etc, when oppressors and bullies square off, and when people are power hungry, innocent lives are always in the middle of it. and that should be something that none of us are willing to be okay with.

if you want to stop reading here, that’s totally okay, otherwise check the tags to listen to me ramble on

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 14: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should relax by spending his afternoon shopping ..

~

He trots down the mossy cobblestone walkway, gazing around in awe as he approaches the central hub of the small city. Tiny shops and stalls and carts are woven through the few clusters of taller buildings, with a modest crowd bustling back and forth between them. Despite much of the land being cleared for structures and pathways, it's still lush with greenery wherever it can be, every blank stone wall or street corner dotted with trailing vines and flowering fruit trees.

After spending a good 25 minutes trying to orient himself at the city map directory, he finally finds his way onto one of the primary shopping streets, eager to spend the afternoon lazily strolling about, trying to ignore his physical aches and just take in all the sights as he hunts for interesting items....

...A few hours (and multiple snack breaks) later, the streets begin to glow with a hazy warmth as lanterns are lit, marking the nearing sunset. Possibly because of the fight yesterday, he's felt shakier, more easily startled than usual, and suddenly realizes an urgent need to be safely inside his room at the inn before nightfall. He wanted to stay out longer, see the lights and the crowds, fascinating scenes of city nightlife he's never been exposed to before.. but, his nerves are impossible to ignore.

Begrudgingly preparing to slink off towards the inn in a sweaty anxious panic, he stops in the doorway, resolving to at LEAST buy himself ONE nice item before he leaves. He doesn't have much money, sure, but it'd be a shame to simply look around all day and not get anything. All travelers need to collect their souvenirs, right? But.. What should he get?

-

-

Additional Information (feel free to skip this part, it's just extra context for people who are interested lol)

just for record (in case it influences what people think he should buy), this is the adventurer's current inventory contents:

small journal + pencil to document his travels (and a few colored pencils for sketching plants or doodling)

a basic travel guide booklet

a simple map of the area

a small glass lantern case you can put candles in

fire starting materials

basic matches

first aid kid (a few bandages, simple antibacterial balm, some dried herbs that can be used for minor issues like stomach aches or nausea)

one metal cup, one metal bowl/plate thing, one metal fork/spoon, a cooking knife, and one metal pot for cooking over the fire

a basic toiletry bag (toothbrush, herbal mixture toothpaste type thing, bar of soap, one towel, a rag, a few disposable paper napkins, moisturizing oil, hair brush, a tiny cracked mirror)

three bottles of various spice mixes for flavoring the plain/bland food he usually forages on the road (+ plain salt)

a glass jar of berries

a container of plain dried oats

a container of dried beans

half a loaf of stale bread

one carrot he found

a bag of dried fruit

about 15 coins (maybe equivalent to $45 USD in our world money lol)

a basic fishing kit (simple lures, hooks, string)

two containers of canned fish just as a back up in case he ever can't find fresher food for the cat

a cheesy fairytale romance novel about people going on a grand heroic journey, to help give him inspiration to continue on his own travels and be the ultimate Super Cool Adventurer Hero

an old folded up letter from his family

a fabric pouch of cool shiny rocks + other trinkets he's collected

one change of underwear, one change of socks, + winter gloves

foldable saw

some twine/string

a basic sewing kit (2 needles, one spool of thread, a thimble)

lawyer's business card (from boat party)

lawyer's fancy expensive giant scarf (also from party)

1 lunchbox of vegetable dumplings (from Innkeeper)

2 canteens of water

a small dagger for cutting rope, vines, multipurpose anything

a little tin of mint & rose flavored candies for when his mouth gets dry

a box of cubed dried chicken as cat treats

a box of fancy tea

one large rope

a roll of fabrics (one thick blanket for padding when sleeping on the ground, some basic tent fabric to make shelter from, a few spare fabric scraps, 2 cloth napkin/towel things, two cloth sacks for extra carrying capacity if needed)

1 pouch of dried meat

5 candles

Innkeeper's hand-drawn map to her brother's hideout

and of course, the Mysterious Egg in a little wooden box

the adventurer's current main quest: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

[stinkrascal]

everyone has such a unique simstyle. like i feel like if someone on simblr took pictures of 100 peoples sims and put them all side by side without saying whose sim belongs to who, id still be able to guess a bunch of peoples sims based on their style alone. i love that!!