#Lucky boy

[becomingthatgirl111]

journal prompts you can use to improve your life

journaling is a really powerful habit that i love because it has helped me a lot in my transformation and healing process. it also offers us many benefits for our life. when we write down what we feel or what we want to achieve we are focusing and giving it much more clarity. through this magical practice, we can solve any type of situation or problem. It helps us to get rid of fears and anger. my favorite way is to ask myself questions that I can answer, this gives me more clarity and concentration. i recommend doing it on paper in fact i have my own notebook in which every day i carry out this wonderful practice.

✨ some of its benefits are:

helps reduce anxiety and depressive thoughts.

improves cognitive capacity, writing by hand activates many neural networks and, consequently, improves our cognitive capacity. In addition, it also emphasizes that this activity promotes prospective and working memory.

helps cultivate discipline

improves memory

it helps us to create habits moreover, writing on paper those "tasks" or habits that you want to integrate into your life, makes your brain catalog them as "important actions" and it is more likely that you fulfill them in the day. What happens is that your reticular active system (SAR) files them as actions that you must accomplish.

✨ journal prompts ideas

for the morning - have a great day and focus on the positive and what we want to accomplish today.

how do i want to feel today?

what should i focus on?

how do i need to act today to get closer to my best self?

what should i avoid?

what can i do to have a great day?

what would i like my day to be like?

today…(the things you will do, how you will feel)

today no…. (the things you want to avoid and not focus on)

for times of stress or anxiety.

how am i feeling?

what has caused me to feel this way?

have i felt this way on other occasions? is it a pattern i am repeating?

how would i like to feel?

what should i focus on?

what would make me feel good right now?

is there anything i can do right now to fix it?

how would i like to act the next time this situation happens?

how would my best version of me act in this situation?

is there anything I can do to make this better?

to become our best version

what would my best version look like?

what things should i change to get closer to my best version? (like thought patterns, habits…)

what can i do to get closer to becoming my best version?

what do i commit myself to every day to be closer to this version?

what would my desired life look like 6 months from now?

what would my desired life look like 1 year from now?

what are those thought patterns or limiting beliefs that prevent me from living my life the way i want?

what is it that makes me feel fearful or insecure? (make a list and next to it you can replace the negative affirmation with a positive one).

write down 5 positive affirmations of how you want your life to be from now on and commit to repeating them daily.

to focus on new goals or habits

what habits would i like to implement in my life from now on?

what habits do i need to remove from my life?

what would my desired routine look like?

what can i do to achieve this?

what would be my dream lifestyle?

what can i do to achieve it?

what are my goals?

how can i get closer to them?

do i feel capable?

if not, what is stopping me?

what can i do to change that thinking?

against negative thoughts

where does this thought come from?

how does it make me feel?

how would i like to feel about it?

what thoughts would i like to have?

from now on i commit myself to…(list of positive beliefs you will have from now on)

for the evening, to end your day on a high note and prepare for the next day.

3 things i am grateful for today

how did i feel today?

what can i improve tomorrow?

what should i focus on more tomorrow? (e.g. goals)

how would i like to feel today?

these are just a few examples, you can use them if they help you or invent your own, the important thing is that they help you feel better or whatever you want to achieve at that moment.

it is important to write every day, even if you feel good, write how your day was, what you want to improve, what you can do to make it better, anything! but this habit is very powerful and will improve your quality of life a lot.

[americaisdead]

albuquerque, new mexico. december 2023

© tag christof

[hannahssimblr]

“Clóda,” one stone. 

“Clóda,” another. 

“Fuck sake,” I murmur to myself, then throw a third, bigger one, which smacks off her window so loudly that I’m briefly paralysed with fear that it has broken the glass. Thankfully it hasn’t. She comes out onto the balcony.

“There you are,” she says quietly, peering down at me in her garden as I drop my handful of stones and wipe the dirt on my thighs. 

“Yeah, here I am. This is a bit Shakespearean isn’t it?” 

“Huh?”

“Like, you know, 'but soft, what light through yonder window breaks…. Defy thy father, refuse thy name', et cetera,” I pause before clarifying, “Romeo and Juliet, no?”

“Oh, I did The Merchant of Venice for my Junior Cert.”

“I thought you’d have still gotten the reference.”

She leans over the balcony to point to a precarious looking trellis against the wall, “If you climb up that thing you’ll be able to reach me.”

“Right,” I say, and press my foot against the flimsy timber to test my weight, “You know I’m like, nearly thirteen stone?” 

“You can try.”

“And if I break it?”

“Hmm, try not to,” she suggests. 

“Right,” I brace myself by slotting my fingers into a gap between some brick facade on the side of the house and I haul myself onto the trellis, and it groans but doesn’t give. “I’m good, I think I’m good.”

From there it’s not so bad. I nimbly move up the wall, grab hold of the sun room gutters and grab a hold of the balcony railings, where I find myself thrilled in the way a child is, having climbed somewhere he is not supposed to climb, the king of the castle overlooking his vast land, though I can’t really see much in the dark countryside, save a few car headlights in the distance, the lighthouse flashing over the bay. 

“Um, here,” Clóda hisses, and I realise I have briefly forgotten my objective, but the rest is easy, I just swing myself over the railing and I’m up. 

“Nice that you’ve a balcony,” I comment, “I don't know many other people who have one of these.”

“We built this house a few years ago, and for some reason I wanted a balcony in my room, I don’t know, I was like, ten, and it was a stupid idea because it’s mostly too cold out here to even make use of.” 

“Useful now though, huh?” 

She tucks her hair behind her ears and bats her eyelashes at me, “yeah I suppose it is.”

She pushes the door open and we creep into her room where the only light is from the glow of the television screen in the corner. It’s clean, very clean with no clutter or clothes lying around, which always freaks me out for reasons that I cannot explain. The idea that a person would have the interest or discipline to keep their bedroom clean is odd. If a person's bedroom is a mirror to the inside of their mind, then the lack of chaos in hers is foreign and unrelatable. 

While she switches on a pink fringed bedside light I throw myself down on the neatly tucked duvet just so that I can mess it up a little bit, to mark my territory like some kind of wild dog let loose in a palace. I peer at her CD collection and mess that up too by pulling one out and showing it to her, “Jesse McCartney, huh? You a fan?”

She goes pink and grabs it out of my hand, “Yeah I used to be, I dunno, not so much anymore, I don’t know why I still have that.”

I grab another, “Who are the Jonas Brothers?” 

“Oh, they’re-”

“That guy in the middle has a pretty wild haircut, would you fancy me with that?”

“No,” she giggles and takes that CD off me too, then slots them carefully back where they were, “I have some silly stuff, I probably shouldn’t have it all out.”

“Nah, well, look, you have some great stuff here, how ‘bout this? Black Holes and Revelations? I love this album, you know I saw Muse live last year.”

The mattress sinks as she sits next to me, “Really? Was it when they came to Ireland?”

“Nah it was in the states.”

Her eyes flash with intrigue, “like, America?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“That’s so cool.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, that you just, like, go to America and stuff. I don’t know anybody who’s gone to America yet, and I want to go so badly.”

I shrug, “well you should, then.”

“How often do you go?”

“Not often, I was there last year and then before that…” I try to remember, “I think I was maybe twelve. It takes a long time to get to where I’m going, you know, from here you can only get to New York and then you have to get a connecting flight and all of that,” thinking about the ordeal of it exhausts me, but Clóda is leaning forward in fascination, as hearing the words ‘New York’ come out of my mouth has sent a thrill through her. 

“What do you go for?”

“Just to visit family and stuff.”

“You’ve family there?”

“Of course, did you not know that my dad is American?”

She frowns, “Well you sound a little bit American but I thought… I don’t know, really, I thought you were putting it on or something.”

“What, like, for attention?”

“I don’t know,” she shakes her head, impatient, “where do you go?”

“Well… I’ve some family in California and some in New Mexico, which is like, a state in the southwest, kinda wedged between Texas and California, if you can imagine that on a map,” I leave out poor Arizona just to make it easier on her, because nobody here knows what the hell a New Mexico, (‘no, no not Mexico, New Mexico’) is so it’s best to keep it concise. 

Clóda is nodding vigorously, “California, like, LA.”

“Kind of. Like, my dad comes from a place called San Bernardino, which is-” I take her wrist and trace a line on the soft skin of her inner arm, “-to the east of LA, say, an hour or two away, depending on the traffic, yeah? And then his family, like his aunts and uncles and their parents, who we used to visit sometimes, they’re living in a place way up north,” I run a gentle trail all the way up to the sleeve of her t-shirt, “to the very tip top of the Sacramento valley in this rugged, gold rush town…” I lift my eyes to her and she’s staring at my hand, following the motion of my finger as I skim the tip of it over her shoulder and across the taut skin of her collarbone. I prepare myself to say more sexy things about the Sacramento river and the rolling hills and the central valley and whatever else I usually bang on about whenever someone asks, but she looks into my eyes and says: “Is there an Abercrombie where you go?”

“Huh?”

“Abercrombie and Fitch.”

I frown, “Yeah?”

“Oh, wow.” She pushes me onto my back and lays on top of me, gazing down at me with fervid glitter in her eyes, “If you go back to America this year, could you buy me something from there?”

I search in her eyes for some sign that she’s joking and determine that she isn’t. She really wants me to do that. “Yep, sure,” I say.

“Ah, that’d be amazing. You know the way they have those bags too? The ones with the black and white pictures of the guys' bodies on them? Well there was a girl in my class who…”

And I zone out and I stop listening to her as she talks about laminating the bags and carrying school books in them, and I wonder if she will even notice the glazed over look in my eyes as I let my eyes unfocus and stare into the middle distance between her and her pastel pink walls and ask myself some serious questions. 

Do I like her?

She’s pretty though.

Sure, she’s pretty but is she fun? 

She likes Muse.

She’s not even very nice though, is she? She’s said a few weird things in the past.

Yeah but I’ve had sex with her now.

I can’t really stop talking to her or anything, can I? That’d mean I’m a dickhead. 

But would I rather be a dickhead or be miserable?

Maybe both outcomes will make me miserable. Maybe I’m just pre-programmed to be a miserable person. Or am I just cursed?

I zone back in for a moment, “...and then Mr. Brennan confiscated all of them, and there was this whole thing where the parents council…” What is happening? 

“Uh huh,” I say, “Uh huh… uh huh, what? That’s crazy,” God she is really pretty though, the kind of pretty that’s hard to find, and it’s not like there’s anyone else around, is there? It’d be awkward to stop seeing each other now with two whole weeks left of the summer. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[xen-10]

EVERYTHING BY EVERYONE GRAHHHH PICO DAY PICO D AY I LOVE PICO DAY

[strawbubbysugar]

In an airport and imagined a silly I’d like to share and I totally didn’t decide to share it because I’ve been up for 24 hours and have an ear infection. Anyways. Y/ngineer has to take the DCA on a plane and there’s a long scene where they make sure the DCA knows all the rules and won’t get into any trouble then when they actually reach tsa they get delayed for 30 minutes because the tsa worker keeps pulling a cartoonish amount of knives from y/n’s bag because they forgot they left those in there. Based on a true story (I had three knives in various pockets and bags going through tsa last year because I ALWAYS carry three knives and forgor)

-Lucky Boy (with an ear infection no think anymore yikes yipers zoo is scoob maybe the altitude changes of the plane will Fix Me)

[baddiesofluxury]

She In Her Mood

[cookie-waffle-art-and-stuff]

You better say happy Birthday to Lucky Boy right now

[itsrheasgirl]

The love I have for Barry is almost as much as the love I have for his mother. 💜🐶

[eesttm]

[misterlemonzmen]

04-15-24 | MisterLemonzMen.tumblr.com/archive

[knightscanfeeltoo]

Overprotective Soldier and Average Boy because they are still too adorable together...

[hannahssimblr]

The sunlight dapples over the grass beneath the linden tree, and I lie there with Clóda and watch clouds drift through blue gaps in the foliage. The air is fragrant with the scent of the clusters of blooms overhead and there is barely a sound, so far we are no from roads and traffic that only the cows in the adjacent field create any noise, and the rustling of the breeze through grass and the hedgerows, the chirping of the birds. 

“This is nice,” Clóda sighs with her head cushioned by the grass, “It's peaceful.”

“Yeah I like coming here.”

“It’s so perfect. How did you know about this spot?”

“Well, I guess I just cycle around a lot in my free time and explore.”

“On your own?”

“Of course.”

She considers this, “But isn’t it boring?”

I smile, “No, never. I’m the best fun to be around.”

She reaches over and punches me lightly in the bicep, “God, you’re so full of yourself, did you know that?”

“Do you mind it?”

“A bit, but you’re good looking so you get away with it.”

I glance down at her, the dappled light creating interesting patterns on her skin, “Hm, I’m good looking, am I?”

“Obviously. For God’s sake, you’re the hottest boy on the beach and you already know it. I’ve told you before.”

“Yeah I just wanted to hear you saying it again.”

She bursts out laughing and shakes her head. “Oh my God, like.”

“What?” I’m grinning now, trying to catch her eye as she tilts her face away from me, “Do you hate that about me? Do you hate that I know it?”

“You know most boys wouldn’t get away with being like this.”

“But I do?”

“Mm.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! God. You could probably do anything at all and every girl in the village would still fancy you, do you know that?”

Mhm,” I thread my hand into her silky blonde hair and kiss the corner of her mouth. She sighs, a fluttery feminine sigh that turns the insides of me to jelly. She softens as I push her gently onto the ground beneath me and kiss her slowly and deeply with my hand on the patch of sun-warmed skin between the hem of her vest and waistband of her shorts. As I slip my tongue into her mouth I gently stroke the taut skin of her ribs with my thumb, then, once I’m sure I’m in the clear, I slide my hand all the way under her top and hold her boob. It’s above the bra, but it’s fine, it’s enough to make me want to punch the air even though I will obviously not be doing that while she is still underneath me. 

She sighs again, this gorgeous, involuntary sound and puts her hand over mine as if to show me that she doesn’t want me to stop touching her, but I stop anyway, I pull back and roll onto my back to cool off because I am only human and my tennis shorts are made of the most unforgiving type of nylon available. 

“Other boys aren’t like you,” she says in wonderment, and I glance at her again, her mouth wet from mine, “I think I’ve just realised that every kiss I’ve had up until now has been awful.”

“Were they?”

“Irish boys are terrible kissers.”

“Well, I wouldn't know anything about that.”

“Have you kissed a lot of girls?”

I laugh awkwardly. How I hate questions like this, questions about what I’ve done or what I haven’t done and who I’ve done it with, as though it’s anything less than a way to be judged, or make the asker feel insecure about their own experiences, when really, I wish more than anything to just kiss a girl or touch her without the presence of other girls in her head. a comparison to those who have come before like those kisses of the past still cling to my aura like spirits when really, they’re banished already. I rarely think of them anymore, and I wish Clóda wouldn't either.

“No,” I lie, because the real answer is that I’ve lost count and I wouldn’t be able to tell her even if I wanted to, “Not many at all.”

“What about other things? Have you, you know…” 

I leap up to hold her wrists and pin her gently to the ground again, “What about you, huh? Miss ‘I’ve done almost everything’? Why don’t you tell me?”

“I have!” She says defensively, “I just… don’t like to talk about it.”

“So why should I?”

“Because you’re a boy, you’re supposed to be proud.”

“But not girls?”

“No, come on, you know it’s different.”

I bend to kiss her jaw, “I guess.”

“I don’t want to be some… slut.”

“You aren’t.”

“I know you might be used to that, you know, all those girls in Dublin, you know we’ve all heard stories about the things that happen in mixed schools, what everyone gets up to.”

“Girls in mixed schools in Dublin aren’t sluts either.”

“Well I have a cousin up there and she says that a girl in fifth year got pregnant last year.” I don’t really like the way that Clóda’s eyes are gleaming with delight over this piece of odious gossip. “Can you imagine? I heard she was getting off with loads of different lads…”

I let her go and sit up on my own, “Well, that’s sad for her.”

Clóda hesitates. “Yeah but she obviously brought it upon herself, like you don’t just get pregnant at seventeen without being-”

“I think it’d happen less if there was basic sex education and access to contraceptives,” this is Jen talking, not me. She’s chewed my ear off enough times about this stuff. Jen, who won’t tolerate a bad word said about a fellow girl, Jen, who understands the parts of the system that are broken so much better than I do, and I’m surprised to find myself rattling it off like this, because it means that somewhere along the way I must have really listened to what she was saying. And believed in it.

“Well, I was just saying,” Clóda pivots, “It was just a story I heard is all. I hope that she’ll be alright.”

“Yeah same, I hope she has support.”

“Totally. I think it’d be so hard to have a baby and all when you’re still at school, God, I can’t even imagine.”

Our conversation lapses into silence, and I shut my eyes and listen to the birds singing and the bubbling of a stream not far from here. I’ve been swimming there before. The water is clean and beautiful, but I don’t feel like taking Clóda there today. 

Next to me she is moving around, unzipping and rummaging through her bag. A moment later she shakes me, “Are you sleeping?”

“No, I was resting.”

“Can I take a photo of you?” 

I peel my eyes open and she is wielding a metallic pink digital camera, “of me?”

“Of us, together.”

“If you want.”

“Just because I feel like this is a nice moment,” I agree, and she nestles down next to me in the grass and holds the camera at arm's length, taking about a dozen photos of us in as many poses as she can orchestrate.

“Now kiss me,” she says finally, and it feels a bit embarrassing but I do it anyway because I’m not bothered to argue. Then she lies there and scrolls through all of the photos and talks about which are her favourites, and it is as I am squinting at the little screen that I hear footsteps through the grass. I look up, and someone is hiking through the field in our direction. 

“Oh God,” I mutter.

Liam from the Surf Shack is here, for some completely perplexing reason. “What’s up, Turner?” He says with that big Goofy The Dog grin that he has.

I struggle onto my elbows, “just Jude is alright, thanks.”

“I can’t call you Turner?” “No, sorry.”

He comes to a stop right nearby, looming over us with his hands in his worn out cargo shorts, his blonde curls sticking up in every direction, “Hi Clóda,” He says, and she doesn’t answer him. 

I shield my eyes from the sun and peer at him from under my hand, “Um, what are you doing here?”

“I live up there,” he gestures vaguely across the fields, “this is my shortcut usually, whenever my dad is working late and he can’t drive me home, I like to walk.”

“It’s a long walk from the beach.”

“Not really! And I love to stretch the auld legs, sure you know yourself.”

I don’t know why he talks like that; like a man of seventy eight in the back of a country pub but I’ve always kind of felt like Liam is both impossibly old and impossibly young all at the same time. I feel guilty for being awkward, actually, but everything about being around Liam makes me feel this exact combination of guilt and discomfort, especially since he’s oblivious of the fact that he is in fact not good friends with all of the teenagers on the beach, and nobody is man enough to tell him as much, so we all just go on living this charade. 

“Yeah,” I say, “I know what you mean. It’s nice to get out and walk sometimes.”

“I’m back later though,” He goes on, “I’m just going home now to have a shower and whatnot, see I was out on the waves all day with the surfboard, you know? Good waves today, big waves. I’m heading back in later then for the bingo night at the pub. That’s at eight if you two wanted to come.”

I hesitate, “Bingo? Well-”

“Grand prizes and all. I think there’s a voucher for the butcher in there anyway, some local strawberry jam, lovely, and I think a handbag for the ladies,” He grins at Clóda as though he believes somehow that this applies to her specifically, but she is refusing to look at him. 

“Yeah man, we’ll come if we can.”

“Ah, great stuff,” He rocks back and forth on his heels during the following awkward pause, “I like your new haircut,” he says. “Real cool.”

“Do you? I just did it because I was bored.”

“You think I should cut my hair? Might be handy for the summer, for keeping me head cool and all that.”

“If you want to, I guess.” 

“Yeah! Yeah maybe. We’ll see now. You never know, when you come to bingo this evening you might see me with a matching ‘do!” He winks.

God, this is excruciating. “Totally. Well, I guess we might see you there. Maybe not but, um, who knows.”

“Well, if I see ya I’ll save you a seat at my table.”

“Thanks, Liam.”

“Enjoy, now!” He says, and I don’t really know what he means by that, whether he means that Clóda and I should enjoy each other or the scenery or a third, hidden option, but it doesn’t matter because he is finally leaving, marching across the fields toward home. 

“Oh my God,” Clóda says acidly once he’s out of earshot. “I didn’t know that he knew you.”

“Yeah Liam’s been here forever, I see him every summer, he’s, um, hard to miss.”

“He’s in the boys' school up the road from ours and he’s the worst. We all hate him.”

This sours my guts, “Okay, well, he’s not that bad. He’s just a bit innocent, I think he means well.”

“No, oh my god. He fancied my friend for ages and we were all freaked out. He bought her flowers.” She says this as though buying flowers is the equivalent of doing a shit in her coat pocket, but I suppose that I kind of know what she’s trying to say. 

“Yeah it’s a bit uncomfortable when you get a gift from someone you don’t like.”

“Yeah, especially him. Like, if it was you or something it’d be different, obviously.”

“Would it, yeah.” I say flatly.

“Yeah I mean obviously because you’re fine and you have friends, he’s just…” She doesn’t even have words for what he is, just a disgusted expression like she’s discovered a slug in her flip flop.

“Okay well, I guess I don’t know what it’s like to be a girl who Liam fancies, so I can’t really give any input,” I try to push feelings of incredible shame and disappointment to the side, because maybe what she’s saying is fair. I really don’t know what it’s like to be a teen girl, or how it feels to find Liam waiting outside my school with a bouquet of flowers. Who am I to question the things that she’s saying or how it feels to be in that situation?

“Anyway, let’s take more photos,” she says, brushing the whole thing off as Liam distantly hops a fence and disappears into the trees. I concede, and she hooks her arm around my neck to pull me back onto the soft grass with her. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[askfazbearfrights]

Wh-where?! Where is lucky boy!!!

Eleanor: Heavens if we know-

((OOC: In my au he’s not fully sentient, rather feeds off of what people want to hear

[henriquecontaoficial]

Hard Mode

Do you think can able to finish this bingo?

[strawbubbysugar]

Lucky little boy here slightly regretting committing to the bit of being lucky little boy and not sure why I said ANYTHING I said in my previous anon. Anyways. More coherently this time I really love this fic and will be drawing fan art soon which means I will have to either come clean about who I am or just pretend to be a different guy. Anyways. So for colorblindness to make them not able to see the like writing- does that mean it's about the same value as their skin color? Because like- the way color clindness works is you can still tell the difference between value just not color? (Like how saturated/light and dark) I am overthinking this I am an overthinking little boy now.

hehehe hi lucky boy! Aaah Im so excited to see fanart I cant wait!!! :D Colourblindness in this universe works a bit differently than colourblindness in the real world! In this universe, the specific pigments missing in your eyes that usually see colour are also responsible for showing you the things nobody else can see! ie) soulmate related markings & visuals. This means that being some variation of red/green or other kind of colourblind still allows you the ability to faintly see the marks, whereas full colourblindness (like with the Y/N) means its entirely invisible to you!

[cookie-waffle]