#because as one myself it’s something I’ve grown attatched to

[mother-ofthe-universedraws]

Hill I will die on: Backupsmore is actually a really good collage.

My headcannon is that it specializes in focusing on students of poor income and learning disabilities. Fiddleford is there because they’re probably the only school in the area that was willing to give him services for his anxiety disorder. The reason everyone thinks it’s a bad school is because everyone looks at that college through an ablest lens cause it was the 60s/70s, and also the school had a budget of like, twelve dollars.

[bucky-iss-bae]

Never Hold Back (Peter Hale x Reader)

Requested by Anon - Okay so this request I kind of got attatched to because I am constantly being told to ‘Shh’ when talking about something I’m passionate about, I’ve leart to keep things to myself, but when I got this come through i had to write it straight away. Its 3am, I have work in the morning but I accidently wrote 2000 words lmao. 

The Request: Reader throughout life has been told she's annoying and talks to much, and one day she's talking about something and Peter kind of snaps at her, so she stops talking but it breaks Peter's heart when she explains she understands.

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Peter Hale x Reader

Warnings: Self Doubt 

Word Count: 2000ish (oops) 

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Being someone with such a big personality, so much passion and love was sometimes both a blessing and a curse. But growing up, timelessly being told to ‘shh’ when talking about something you cared about, something you got a bit too excited for, something that you were passionate often made you want to stop talking.

It was an endless cycle, getting comfortable to talk freely to then be told to be quiet. Your parents growing up, although they listened, there was always that being told to be quiet, to stop talking. Siblings constantly telling you that you talking so much was annoying. Teachers and Peers the same. Getting called out on in class for the smallest whisper knocked you down.

Small constant comments knocked you down, it was horrible. But it’s always been there in your chest, the excitement you get with certain topics, if you know something, you want to share this. If you’re happy about something you want to share it, almost immediately regretting it because people have a habit of shitting on a good mood.

When working you learnt how to almost control the fact that you talked all the time, you had to be careful of what you said and to whom you said it to. You sometimes feel like you should’ve gone into something like sales because apparently, they’re all good talkers, but you weren’t you just liked to talk, loved to express happiness and passion on certain subject. For example, your favourite film was something you could just talk about all the time, it was something you got so excited about, something you loved to analyse and dig deeper about.

You found the people in your life that you could talk about anything to, it was amazing knowing that the pack that you surrounded yourself with loved to hear you talk, built up your confidence again. But the after effects of growing up, constantly being told that whenever you spoke about something you’re passionate about was annoying, being told every single day to ‘shh’, oh be quiet, or even those not listening to you and you saying something that made you so happy for you to be met with silence after. That always stuck with you, and that still stops you from pouring your heart out. But the sad thing is, sometimes it doesn’t, and sometimes you’re taken back to that horrible feeling you grew up trying to get rid of.

It was late and you were at the loft, everyone met up here every now and then, and although you weren’t any supernatural of any kind, you had that nurturing side of you that became the pack mom. The reason why you were still sat there was because a re-run of your favourite tv show was on, only yourself and Peter were there.

Peter was a weird one. He was quiet unless being dramatic, but he knew everything about everyone. Although he was quite a bit older than you are, he didn’t always seem it. You had grown a liking towards him, one that you couldn’t quite control, it became a problem. It meant around him you wanted to be yourself, you wanted to be the person that you love to be, you wanted to talk to him, tell him about your day, tell him about the good and bad that happened at work. He became someone that you wanted to show yourself to the most, but you always tried to hold back. Until you couldn’t.

Sat watching TV was surprisingly relaxing although you were supposed to be on your way home, a day that just tore you apart, it was the small things that made you happy.

“I just love this” you started to gush, “Like I haven’t watched this in so long, and it was literally my favourite let me tell you, and it’s like whenever I watch it for the first time in a long time, all the feelings just come back, and all the excitement and ugh, I love it” You grinned smiling at the TV,

You heard Peter mumbling something under his breath, “Do you ever shut up?” He growled out.

You stopped for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest, not expecting him to come out with that. Do I ever shut up? You felt your chest constrict slightly, do you ever shut up? Do you? Do you annoy people that much that everyone just has a habit of telling you to shut up?

“Um… I’m just…” your voice cracked slightly, betraying you, why did this one comment have to take you over the edge, the one comment given to you by the person you do want to spend all your time to, and the person you do always want to talk to. You would think after second guessing your whole life when to talk that you would know better, “I’m going now” You whispered untucking yourself off the couch and refusing to face him, he would see the tears pooling in your eyes, he would have something to break your heart ever further. Because although it’s the small things that make you happy, it’s also the small things that can break you in half.

You got up with your things and quickly walked out,

“Y/N, Y/N” Peter called behind you, shock clear in his voice.

He didn’t expect for you to get this upset, he just wanted to create distance between the two of you, wanted you to hate him the same way everyone else did. Not treat him with the kindness and generosity that you do. The type that makes you deserve the world.

You ignored Peter and started making your way downstairs to get to your car. He missed the lift, but his speed let him get down there quicker, standing outside the lift,

“I’m sorry for hurting you like that Y/N, I didn’t mean it”

“It’s okay Peter” You shrugged giving him a tight smile although the tear stains on your cheek broke his heart in two, “I’m used to it. I should’ve known better”

You walked past him and unlocked your car as he chased after you, “Used to it, what to you mean… Y/N, what do you mean used to it?”

He tried to shut your car door before you could get in but was too busy thinking about why she would be used to that sort of behaviour. This is Peter, he’s a prick, he wants everyone to know he’s a prick, but he wants you to know he’s a prick. But why would anyone else treat someone so good like this.

He went around and got into the passenger side, “Hey, hey, I’m sorry” he said grabbing your chin to make your look at him,

He saw the look in your eyes, the heartbroken look, the red rimmed eyes, and the tears on your cheek, he wiped a few away with his thumb, “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you Y/N, I would never mean to hurt you”

You shook your head, “Peter don’t you get it. I’m used to it. I should be at least. So I don’t know why you saying that hurt. But my whole life, my whole life being told to be quiet, to stop talking, to not being listened to, to be told that I’m annoying whenever I get excited about anything. I should be used to it, so hearing it from one extra person makes me realise Peter that I need to reign it in”

It broke his heart to hear that, to hear that you had people constantly talking bad to you just because of talking.

“Are you kidding me Y/N? You treat everyone with so much love and respect, why would anyone ever treat you with less?”

“You tell me Peter?”

“Well… I treat everyone the way they treat me aside from you. I done that because you treat me with so much kindness, none of which I deserve, I don’t get why you don’t resent me like everyone else, why you treat me differently. I want you to hate me Y/N, because I’m getting too close to you”

You couldn’t help but scoff at that, “Peter, yeah I treat everyone with respect and kindess because everyone deserves it. But come on. This is me, everyone knows I talk to much”

“You talk to much? Sweetheart, I am the king of talking too much. Everyone knows I love the sound of my own voice, and you should to, I know I do”

“Yeah, Peter, look at you, why would anyone tell you to be quiet, why would anyone call you annoying. You would rip their throat out”

“I’m not sure if you’re aware Y/N, but all the pack call me is annoying. But forget about me for a second, I just, I didn’t mean to tell you to shut up, or to stop talking. If it were up to me I would listen to you talk forever, god I could never get sick of your voice. But I needed to find a way to push you away, for you to hate me”

You shook your head at that, “I could never hate you Peter” You whispered, “And I promise, I’m fine”

“No you’re not. You need to know that I mean what I’m saying right now. You need to know that I see the look you have in your eyes when you talk about anything that makes you happy. The shine that you have when you talk about your favourite food, when you talk about something funny that happened in your day, or a new song, or ever like upstairs, talking about your favourite TV show, I could sit here and just listen to your beautiful voice go on and on, because you are not annoying Y/N.

You’re the person that treats me like I mean something, you’re the person that makes me come to these pack meetings just to hear your voice, to see your face. You’re the person that is so smart that I could listen to what you learnt and the theories you’ve come up with because they’re right most of the time. You’re the person that I always hear and listen to, when no one else does. I love your voice, I love everything about you, and I hate that I’m not compatible with you to show this to you every single day, because you need to know your worth sweetheart.

You need to know that every time that someone has told you to shh, that they should be the ones to shut up, that you should stand tall, and not ever let anyone put you down, not someone like me, not anyone ever. Because you’re too good for this world and too good for me no matter how much I want you. But I need you to know how perfect you are, and how you should allow yourself to talk, all the time”

You stared in awe as he spoke to you with so much sincerity in his eyes, his hands cupping your face. The nicest words that anyone had ever spoken to you, yet you still had doubt, the voices in the back of your head.

“You don’t mean that Peter, why would you want someone annoying like me?”

He let out a small chuckle at that, “Don’t you get it Y/N, it’s these qualities that you deem imperfect that make you perfect. You’re not annoying, and to me you never will be. Instead you’re just this ball of perfection that is too good for the world. And I just love that about you Y/N”

“You mean it?” you whispered, different tears reaching your eyes this time,

He smiled and nodded, “Why do you think I stuck around for huh? It wasn’t for anyone else except you”

With him saying that you didn’t think before leaning forward kissing him.

You took him by slight surprise, but he was quick to deepen the kiss. Quick to pull you closer.

“Fuck, if I knew you felt the same…” He whispered, “I’m so sorry for making you cry, but I promise you that I will do my best to make it up to you”

“As long as you’re not unnecessarily mean to me again, I’ll take you up on that offer”

“God no, if I knew you wanted this, I never would’ve tried to push you away. I never would’ve been the Peter that everyone else knows.”

You chuckled at that, shocked at how quickly the events had changed, hearing Peter say everything you’ve ever needed someone to say to you, having the man who never shares his feelings, his emotions or thoughts pour his heart out to you for you meant more than both of you could ever realise.

He felt bad at how he hurt you, he hated the emotional pain you had gone through. All he wants to do is fix that and show how much he loves you, how much he cares, and how much he loves to listen to you talk, because he wants to listen to you. All day every day. Listen to you sing and talk and to share his own confidence to build yours entirely up because god knows you deserve it.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, any more requests send my wayyyy (I promise I am good at writing and do make sense, I’m just tired and got a lil excited for this lol) 

[slashercatz]

Disclaimer *serious* dicussion of gender identity

TW: Gender Dysphoria, Depression, Mental Illness, Homophobia? Transphobia?

I'm putting this on tumblr since i don't personally know anyone on this platform and it's both personal and anonymous. If you don't want to hear about dysphoria and only follow for the Loki stuff than I suggest you scroll down

I have always been considered one of those "weird" kids who was "different." I would never be like kids my age and my dad always said I was special in one of those ways that meant he didn't understand me but he was still nice about it. I would always find something and grow incredibly attatched to it, to the point where it was part of my identity. For example, when I was a kid it was The Lion King, I watched it every night and memorized all the lines and songs. I would run around on all fours pretending to be a lion and roll in the grass and mud. This isn't considered typical girl behaviour so my parents always just found it amusing.

Being raised as a girl, I used to think everything was so simple. I had a life planned out for myself all organized like I always did things with kids and a husband and I would have a job or something. I'm not straight as it turns out though, and I definietly don't want kids. But that isn't all, I don't even know if I'm a girl anymore. I still connect with things girls expirience and will understand completely, but at the same time I've always felt a disconnect. This isn't like those "not like other girl" stuff though because I legitimately don't know if I am a girl at all. I always hung out with boys and they would be my best friend, at the time I'd told myself I did that because I had crushes on them but now looking back it was just real friendship. I'm envious of how guys can playfight and mess around and I really wanted that when I was younger but of course it would have been awkward as a girl. Sometimes I just wish I was born a boy, or at least half a boy.

Other days I'm proud of being a girl and don't understand what I was thinking. With my depression that I got genetically because bipolar disorder runs in my family, these weren't helping. This has been something I've been struggling with a lot, and I have a new kind of obsession. When I watched the Thor movies I really connected with Loki. Not in a way that is "he's so hot" but I empathized and saw myself in him. The outcast and othered person. I always found that when i connected with a character i didn't want to see anything sexual to do with them which might mean something or not. Anyways. When I discovered that he was genderfluid in the comics and mythology I was totally thrilled and loved it, as well as his pansexuality. I embraced that side of myself and begun watching queer shows like the new She Ra Reboot which I adored. My mom understood this part while my dad said I should wait till i delcare myself anything because i might be confused. -_-

Loki as a character spoke to me and really helped me through my depression as I realized I was not alone. Other characters that I'd grown attatched to were there but never on this level. Now, I've begun to hate my own name though. I confessed to my mother that I was not sure what my gender was but I did it at a time where she must have been overwhelmed and seemed tired. She just said that her friend went through a phase where she wanted to be a boy and turned out to just be a lesbian so I should probably just wait and it will pase. I understood her point but this really hurt me. I'm not out yet to my friends either as a bisexual let alone maybe somewhere in the trans umbrella but the thought that it was a phase made me really confused.

On one hand I loved being a girl sometimes and wanted to show sexist people they were wrong but on the other hand sometimes I really hated it and felt more like a guy. I suspected I was nonbinary or genderfluid or something along that bracket and even wondered if I should think of a name. I don't know what name I would do because I still call myself my given name and it seems like it would be hard to undo that thought process. The only thing that called out to me was the name Loki, but I don't know how much of that is me being in a phase or actually discovering something about myself.

To those who made it this far, thank you and i hope you have a good night. If you have any advice or want to share your own expiriences I would be happy to hear it.

[gwasgy]

Okay. So. Here’s an elaborate multiple days of brainstorming ideas as they come PracticalMagicnatural AU nonsense. Thank you.

- Bobby and Rufus would be the Aunts and they'd be bffs not siblings and would have Vibes but it would be... hm. This is not a Bufus story is what I'm saying.

- the Curse would be on the men and for the women they love of course (classic fridging :/)

- this works for Bobby, (Rufus,) John, and Sam. (Supernatural is bad)

- so this is where it's kind of. Hm. Bc Sally and Gillian are not one to one for either boy. Where Sally and Gillian BOTH have identities separating family and magic (family business), these ideas are inseparable for the brothers.

- alsooo dean and sam to BE dean and sam they would've had to be "raised" by john until they were at least near-grown, even if they had a home base at Bobby's house.

- John still kills himself with grief MAYBE but it's like /later/ and more through self destruction and revenge and alcoholism, leaving the boys to live their later teenage/early twenties in the Bufus household

- Azazel is the one killing all the Wives in this curse. And if they use The Resurrection Spell to bring them back, he is possessing them

- hmmmmmmmmm they need to still be hunters I think buuut what if. They also did witchcraft.

- Dean would cast the love summoning spell, making it so that he uses angel descriptors unwittingly or on purpose because he doesnt think angels are real and therefore cannot exist for him to fall in love with and kill (bc the curse)

- it would be fun and very cringe fail embarrassing for Dean if sometimes he thought about His Angel and accidentally occasionally prayed to Cas

- Anna could show up and be Dean's red herring

- Dean could be in an About to Die situation and think, as a joke or whatever, "fuck. I never even got to meet that hot angel chick that's in love with me," and Cas shows up (with wings bc hot), saves him, *handprints*, then leaves

- OR. There's a blinding light and screeching noise and Dean blacks out and wakes up with a handprint safe and sound

- Cas and The Guy From Practical Magic That's A Cop both bend the rules of their superiors for their person easily and pliantly. except for the initial pushback. Hm.

----

- it's weird bc in practical magic there's this whole vibe of I'm Done With Magic And You're Dragging Me Back Into This And Ruining My Life but sammy had gone away and rejected The Life THEN found the woman he loves and THEN tried to resurrect her mayyybeeeee wait wait wait it wouldn’t be Jess bc she isn’t evilll...

- DEAN would be the one with a bad boyfriend that they accidentally kill and have to resurrect... hmmmmm

- maybe it's like a Boy Best Friend of dean's like maybe he is on a hunt with Benny and he accidentally chops his damn head off and tries to resurrect him to cover it up

- and that fucks up something in the afterlife and Cas is sent to Fix The Problem of whatever the fuck happened to this guy's soul when they did this

----

- it's wonderful to think of the PTA mom shenanigans Dean and Sam could get into but I don't think that Dean would have any sort of kid in this besides maybe jack?

- I mean, it could be that Ben is still around and he was with Lisa but never Loved Her on principal, and left in time so the curse didn't fuck her up, but they're still friends and he will still pick Ben up from school sometimes

- I don't see how the phone tree could work into it but I don't think that it's necessary bc sam and dean and cas's version of this story does not and can not revolve around them being outsiders in their own community but overcoming it and accepting who you are and integrating into the community through girl power and witch magic

- BUT. the potential of sammy being possessed is yeah. It’s extremely. Yeah.

- They could have a nice bonding moment of I'm never gonna leave you you can do this like from Swan Song. Like Sally joining Gilly in the broom circle to help her while she’s being exorcised

- their brotherly bond is NOTHING like Sally and Gillian's, though. Like YES. they would no doubt help bury the body, but they aren't giggling about their love life under the covers together. They simply are not that type of girl

- also I guess there wouldn't be the tension of You're Ruining My Life That I've Constructed Just By Being Here between them.

- WELL.

- Dean WOULD say something shitty about cleaning up Sam's messes though. He is just that type of guy

----

- Dean can definitely be the one chopping and hacking at the rose bush and cas would DEFINITELY get distracted and heal him in the middle of his conversation with him

- Dean oh dean he and his close Boy Best Friends could totally fuck with the curse. Like-

- Dean: Oh my good friend Benny he’s the first person ive really allowed myself to get attatched to in a while but that’s fine! he can't die because i don't love or like him like that because he's a guy! Haha, I'm not gay! We are just guys being dudes just two bros hanging out :)

Benny: *dies anyway*

Dean: FUCK

- Sammy would totally make that new age witchy herbal shop that Sally had! that would be so fun. Also ft. periphery what the fuck is up with those people type locals

- maybe Rowena shows up still and Crowley is also there hmmmmm and Rowena teaches Sam magic stuff and it gets him to make the supernatural a part of his life again without having to do any hunting hmmmmmmm or it's just another tool in his arsenal and he just always deserves to have magic powers

- the supernatural ladies could work in the shop :) like Meg and Rowena and Ruby anndddd Alya :) Ava? The psychic hunger games MVP girl

- or all the kids work at that shop!! I miss those dang kids. Max, the twins, death lesbian, Jake, electric guy, and all them :)

- Rowena is like a witchy shop owner up in town that buys Sam's wares to sell in the city #CareerWoman #GirlBoss

- Jody and Donna can also hang out I guess. Since we're at Bobby's place

----

- Dean casts the love summoning spell after either Regular Heartbreak with Cassie, his first love, when he was 15 or whatever, OR after the behated Boy Best Friend death. Hmmmmmm

- it makes more sense for the story for dean to have someone die on him and apply to the curse. But I don't wanna kill Benny ):

- well I don't think he was ever In Love with Crowley or Benny like he was with Cassie (or even Lisa)

- when he was 15 or 14 and John was still around but had left him at the Bufus household he got hold of that love summoning spell and made sure it was impossible so he would never experience heartache again. He does so while crying teenagishly and 11 year old sam is like. Why the fuck are you summoning this weird monster girl to fall in love with you

- and Dean is like no no this kind of monster doesn't exist. Anyway they'd have glowing blue eyes and they're as big as a building and and they hear me whenever I call no matter far away

- Sam: that...... sounds like an angel, dean.

Dean, having already done the spell: WHAT. NO. NO IT'S NOT IT IS SO NOT LIKE AN ANGEL. ANGELS AREN'T REAL

- Cas in Heaven, a bunch of flower petals swirling around him: what the fuck is that. That's weird

- Cas like 13 years later when he sees a cajun zombie vampire demon: okay I'm already getting weird prayers from some guy down there I'm just gonna check that out

- by the time Cas gets down there they've killed it again and buried it and hmm

- It's weird because it's the opposite of Practical Magic here bc Cas is the one that needs to be believed about something supernatural BY dean

----

- what if they accidentally kill JOHN instead of a hot bf. Dean kills John bc John tries to kill Sam, and they panickedly try to resurrect him immediately

- yeah yeah yeah yeah and John, possessed by Azazel, gets killed again while still being possessed and is buried underground. There can still be a rose bush and frogs and whatnot

- I doon't know why Bobby and Rufus would just leave the brothers in their house if John was alive until then?

- Alright John's been missing for like 5 years and the boys have just been living there and assumed he's dead. Then he comes for Sammy bc Sam is Turning Evil or whatever and John's a huge loser about it

- so Bufus is like "you guys are acting insane and you aren't telling us what's wrong so we’re just going to leave and you're going to sort it out yourself." Like the aunts

- then, when cas shows up to track down the weird resurrected demon-possessed serial killer abomination Dean and Cas are EMBARRASSING like completely totally absolutely embarrassing cringe fail love where they can't talk normal with eachother and Cas keeps getting too close and staring but Dean forgets to tell him to back off or anything and he just stammers uselessly through thin dumb lies

- there aren't any children there to comically thwart Sam's plans to get rid of Castiel as he is investigating Dean and Sam but it could end similarly

- where Cas finds Sam making a small angel banishing symbol and is like "okay. You guys aren't to be trusted and you're doing something evil (and i don't understand what’s happening to me when i’m around Dean). I'm just straight up going to leave then" and boom he's gone

- the fight Sally and Gillian have right before Gillian gets possessed can play out pretty damn similarly with Sam and Dean, but it's a LOT different too

- like it's their DAD not some random serial killer bf. You can't choose your dingdang dad! So the part of "I cant keep cleaning up your messes" WHOSE MESSES who even says that to who whose mess could this even be

----

- Sam has a girlfriend that dies from the curse and it’s bc of being caught in the crossfire when Hunter Bullshit Happens. The Women of the Winchesters’ way. So he moves back specifically to get back into hunting and witchcraft to BREAK the curse hmmmmm.

- Much like Sally with Michael’s death. “I don't care what he comes back as. As long he comes back. Please do this for me. Please? Please? Please? Please?” :(

- I think Dean is an Of Course I’m Not Going To Fall In Love kinda character, like younger Sally before Michael. very pessimistic very self depreciating. He only confides his deepest darkest desires (to be loved simply and openly without fear of the Curse taking anyone. To be held and to take care of someone who will appreciate it) in his fakey fake pretend prayers to his imaginary angel (this turns out to be very cringe fail embarrassing when Cas shows up)

- Cas holds onto these prayers like Hallet (the cop from movie) does with Sally’s letter to Gillian, not knowing or understanding why he’s so fixated on them and why he can’t stop reading them/playing them back/listening in

- John… maybe he was pulling a Gordon and was killing all the psychic kids and was eventually going to have to kill Sam, and Cas was for some reason Put On The Case as an angel or was Allowed to Interfere or whatever bc it was fudging up God’s Plan

- and that’s how Cas justified being so fixated and taking notes on Dean’s prayers, like Hallet did with the letter. It was a good lead. It was about their father, and Sam seemed to be having psychic tendencies or whatever that could turn dangerous

----

- Okay okayokayokay so Sally and Gillian’s story is them escaping the ostracization they feel from the people in their physical regional community. The Owen’s family has always been outsiders, even before the curse came into being. They are persecuted for being witches (and sleeping around and being sexy).

- the sisters try to escape this either by just LEAVING: going to a place they can be themself without shame, or assimilating and abandoning a part of themself so that they can stay.

- the Winchester brothers are, I guess, ostracized by the hunting community because they are kept away from it and moved around a lot in the show. Okay okay okay okay okaywaitwaitwait

- Okay so the Winchesters feel alienated from both civilians and the hunting community, and they both eventually choose to do similar things to Sally and Gilly..! Sam LEAVES and assimilates, while Dean stays and just accepts his role his father gave him.

- Gilly and Sam LEAVE, while Dean and Sally STAY. Gillian and Dean embrace what makes them Different, while Sally and Sam reject it in favor of Being Normal

- The witchcraft/hunting thing especially doesn’t mesh well here though because Hunting is KILLING it’s literally murdering sentient beings. It’s war propaganda it’s desensitizing you to Even Though The Enemy Is Capable Of Good Individually They Are, As A Group, Evil And Should Be Slaughtered.

- Witchcraft in Practical Magic is just… a way of life that’s considered outside the accepted norms of society. It’s being openly queer, it’s being from a different country of origin, it’s being non-christian religious in a small town. Accepting witchcraft doesn’t have any moral good or badness, it’s just with or without the consequences of being “out” in your area. While accepting Hunting as a lifestyle is to accept putting yourself in bodily danger doing morally ambiguous/BAD things to protect people you can’t relate to or find a community in. Hmmmmmmmmmm

----

- Sam and Sally both have natural talents/instincts but don't want to use it in favor of being "normal"

-

[carnation-damnation]

So, 2019, huh? On a scale from 2016-2019, 2019 was worse than ‘18, but not as bad as 2017. Still sucked ass, though. However! I can say that throughout the decade, I was never stabbed!!! Which is definitely a plus.

Hit the read-more for the reasons why I chose what I chose for each month, and 2019 in art!

I wanted to dedicate this year of my art towards making finished, fully-coloured pieces. It’s been something that I’ve been struggling with for the past few years, and something I still think I can improve on!!!

January -

My first, really, quality finished piece, an art trade with @vaaloirr of her character, Alex. I especially wanted to showcase THIS piece as the first, because, honestly? Valerie has really done alot for me in 2018-19, even if she doesn’t know it!!! So, mini letter to you, Vaal!!!

Valerie, I first discovered you because of the Gasterblaster!AU when I saw 1nky promote your werewolf!frisk blog. Werewolves have ALWAYS been something that I really loved, especially as a kid, but I lost touch with it because I thought it was embarassing of me to like. (When it’s like??? Totally not)

YOUR au is what really got me back into werewolves, and loving undertale even more. I fucking adore how much Frisk has gone through and grown over the years, and you’ve been such an inspiration for me to start RoF, especially!!!! Crazy right?! Which is my whole fucking pride and joy!!! I feel like I’ve known these characters my entire life!! You, along with my boyfriend @meat-junkie have so far been my most engaging audience, and have really driven me to evolve my characters and story throughout the year. Like, fuck. (I’m crying a little writing this)

You’ve also been such a huge inspiration to me in coping with the fact that I’m autistic, because it’s something I was struggling with, too! Valerie you’re literally like the older sister I’ve always wanted, you’re so good ;w; Love you, sis.

February -

This month was kinda rocky for me. I don’t want to go too too into it, but it was the same month I had a breakup with someone of 3 years, and it kinda fucked me up emotionally during that time. This was probably when I really started coping with Nathanael, lmao. Just a good fucking boy!!! Look at him

March -

A redraw of a verrrry old Renaicus picture (not that old...it’s from a year prior oajasojaso)

Renaicus himself has been the character that I believe has evolved the MOST throughout RoF, not just in design. Hell, he used to be the antagonist of RoF!!! Like fuck!! it’s nuts!!! Renaicus used to be mean, jealous, skinny as all hell, and.,,,white. It’s hard to imagine that he used to be white, god. Looking at old art of him, I can hardly call them the same character!! They’re too different. old renaicus is like one of those sims that’s a complete duplication of your own aojsaosa

Renaicus is good, boy, I love him.

April -

One of my absolute favourite pieces of the year, actually!!! This was really when I started to get into doing linework, and I really just fucking love the result. Luci looks excellent, I love that enby lesbian

May -

Oh boy, religious trauma and homophobia!!!

2019 was really the year I started to really,,,get attatched, to Nath, in particular. Everyone says that their oc’s have a little bit of themselves in them, but, for nath and i??? Like,,,I put 2/3′s of myself in him this year. This was another piece I’m super proud of, and also another redraw! I really struggled with religion this past decade especially, and it was good to use Nath as my punching bag (asjosajoaoj terrible)

June -

,,,Listen

Honestly??? This whole fucking piece was kind of an omage to my boyfriend, who is, as they say, a DILF connoiseur and someone who I think has (somewhat) excellent taste in fictional men. George? One of those men. I REALLLLLLLY love how my boyfriend draws, ok? The fuckem,,, colours. Those neons. I go fucking APEHSIT. GOD. This was REALLY the time I started experimenting with colour and shading and different types of clothes and all that jazz. I couldn’t think of anyone better to showcase for June than everyone’s favourite plague doctor demon dilf. (aa)

July - (My birth month!!)

Hoo!! Not gonna lie, mid-summer is really where I get kinda laggy with art. I was struggling with some,,,other stuff that I don’t really wanna get into for personal reasons, and so it was just a kinda bum month. BUt FUCK if I’m not gonna draw GAY MEN being GAY and PLEASANT

August -

PLAGUE DOCTOR CLUB PLAGUE DOCTOR CLUB!!!

This was the month plague doctor club started >:3!!!

I’d like to say that this point in the year was really when I started getting closer to my Tumblr gang ( @artnerd1123 @anonymousfandomtrash @deviltufts​ and Vaal!!!) Like, this whole year was when we got close, but FUCK, aUGUST WAS NUTS

I’d live for plague doctor club... *mickey mouse voice) I’d live fow it...

September -

AH FUCK UNDERTALE YOU’RE IN FOR A LONG FUCKING TREAT WITH THIS ONE FOLKS

god, what do I say about this gotdamnn game??? shit!!! A fucking insane game with fucking amazing canonical queer rep with a fucking amazing story, AAAA

GOD, THE STORY

Undertale?? full of fucking trauma that I could relate the shit out of, like, a

(Hey toby? Can chara and asriel just be happy? thanks)

Damn it, Undertale’s the game of the fucking decade. Fight me. Undertale had such a cultural impact and changed so many lives, I’ll never be able to let it go. Can’t wait for what Deltarune brings!!!

October -

S p o o k y time

October!!! Heck!!

October was about the peak of when I tried to do a plot thing with RoF... (which i scrapped the majority of aojasosajosa, it was weird, uneeded,)

This was around the time I reaLLLY saw how much i was projecting onto Nath, and how it came to the point where it got super unhealthy for me. (Ever dissociate? Wish I never fucking did, thanks OJSOASJO)

The end of 2019 was really where I started to cope with some OOOOLLLLD trauma that I had repressed into my mind (until it decided to come the fuck back up AJOASJOSA)

The end of october was really when I started to change things around in RoF’s story and make it way better than it’s ever been! This is also one of the better fully-shaded and lineworked pieces!!! Linework is icky :(

November -

AAAAAAAAA IT’S MY FAVOURITE PIEEECE AAAA

Fucking. Shit. Colours. I love shading with red. and neons. god. I’m . I’m sorryI really don’t have much to say I just love this one so much

December -

I’d like to think that this piece is the kind of, goodbye, as it were, to my projecting of Nath. I really related to him (still do!) but it was time for me to fix things with his backstory and make him less of a punching bag and more of,,,a character I didn’t feel so bad about. But, religious trauma is religious trauma, and DAMN IT if I’m not gonna end the year with some catholic imagery (I wasnt even catholic, lmao)

SO, UH, YEAH???

this happened

this was a year

Sorry I don’t know how to format (No wonder I always got bad grades on MLA-styled essays)

This year??? Shit for life, but fuck, was it great for art.

Thanks for the whole year, Tumblr. It’s been,,,somethin.

How do I end posts like these? Well, I guess I just did

OH

Happy new year

here’s to a new decade!!! Can’t wait to drink alcohol in a few years wOOOOOO

[tortoisesforhire]

So I still haven’t seen Far From Home

And to be honest, I probably won’t. I don’t want to. 

It’s not that I think it’s a bad movie, I’m sure it’s very well done and has some great moments. I’m sure everyone worked really hard on it, I’m sure Tom and Zendaya did a great job and I’m proud of them. I’m still not gonna see it though. 

I’ve talked before about my issues with what the MCU has done to Peter Parker and spiderman, so I won’t rehash all that here. But after Endgame and all, I just can’t. It’s not Peter’s story, it never was. It’s the epilogue to Tony Stark’s grand opera. They recreated Spiderman not to be his own hero with his own story, but instead he’s the successor to Ironman’s empire, Ironman’s memory and Ironman’s expectation. And that, I mean, it’s not a bad thing in and of itself. Everything exists in it’s own alternate universe, sure. And if you enjoy it then go and enjoy it. More power to you. But I love Spiderman, and I can’t divorce the character I have grown up with and am very attatched to from what is on the big screen. 

A part of this has to do with autism, marvel is my special interest, my lifelong obsession that I continually go back to. The details in the 616 universe are ingrained in my mind so deeply that I couldn’t get rid of them even if I wanted to. So when I see Spiderman Homecoming, or Far From Home clips, or any of the other recent marvel films my whole brain can’t stop going ‘wrong, that’s wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong’ on an endless loop. It’s the same reason why my family can’t watch harry potter movies with me. I cannot help myself, I will point out everything that is incorrect, and there’s a lot. 

I don’t want to ruin the MCU for people, if that’s your thing go ahead, you should be able to enjoy it in peace. But I cannot. I literally, I just can’t. And it’s upsetting because I was so hopeful that I was going to get something better. I grew up with the Ironman movies and they were so good and RDJ did such a good job representing Tony Stark and I thought finally, this is what I want. (Sure I obsessed a bit over the fact that his hair wasn’t black, his eyes aren’t blue and he’s too short but I got over it...mostly.) But then every subsequent movie was just a slight step down. Thor left me so confused, one the one hand a really good version of Loki! On the other why is Thor suddenly a frat boy? And where is Sif? And Sigyn? But I was still hopeful. And then after the Amazing Spiderman movies were killed by Sony and we were finally getting a new Spiderman in the MCU I was so excited. I was beside myself, I was fucking thrilled. New Spiderman! Who’s the right age! And who looks just like Peter! I had a whole hand flappy happy dance moment about it. And then I saw it and I wanted to be happy but I was also just....disappointed. It took me a while to put words to why and how I was disappointed. Really I couldn’t articulate it fully until I saw into the Spiderverse and I was like That! Is what! I wanted! 

Really what it is is...comics are expensive. They’re a dying art form that I love and I want to continue to love. But I don’t actually have a comic collection. I just find stuff online or read them in stores. And I’ve been doing that for years. Years and years and I thought, wouldn’t it be easier if there was a show or a movie. And then I got that, and I’m a bit bummed about it. 

So no, I’m not gonna see Far From Home. 

[mo-ondial]

im going to cut my hair this week. 

when i was in first grade, i wanted to cut my hair. but i also kind of didn’t. 

cutting my hair meant that i could donate it. my hair could help someone with cancer! that would be cool. and i didn’t like brushing my hair, and i didn’t like washing my hair, and i did NOT like it when my hair was wet, or dirty, or ponytail-headache inducing. 

but i also kind of liked it. it was long, and it flew in the wind behind me when i ran. i could braid it at sleepovers, and put bows in it, and could put all sorts of pigtails in it for crazy hair day. when i got older i could dye it, all sorts of pretty colors. 

i decided to keep one, long braid. 

funny interlude actually, i wanted one braid in the front. to pull my hair out of my face, and so people could see it. but my mother wanted one in the back. she was trying to talk me out of it, because she didn’t want to deal with it. she also worried that having hair too long braided could give me a bald spot. so we decided that i would have two, and we’ll decide which one to keep. 

i still have two. 

so i was two-braided kid. 

people ask me so often why i did it - on the street, at the dentist, at school. sometimes i say i don’t know. sometimes i say i don’t remember. sometimes i say that it was just a fun thing i thought of when i was little, after all, why do first graders do anything? 

i think i wanted to be like rapunzel in the books that i read, like my uncle with loooong matts that he says he keeps because it keeps the past with him, like the native american draftees that i read about in an article, that were excellent trackers, but it lessoned their ability to track greatly when the army required them to cut their long hair. 

i wanted to be like myself. my hair changed so often, i liked donating it, and i liked change, and i wanted a piece of me to be recognizeable. i always remember the people with interesting hair. 

there was pressure put on me to be good different. i was allowed to be quirky, i was allowed to be odd, as long as i remembered that i had to be funny and cool to make up for it. i needed a redeeming quality for how odd i was. i had to be good different. i forced myself to be as outwardly weird as i could because i was scared of blending in and scared of being singled out for my actual insecurities. i needed to put that difference in between me and the white, cisgender, straight, pretty, able-bodied, skinny person that i thought was “average”. i was too scared of measuring up to what everyone told me was “normal” and “default” and coming up short, that i needed to run the other way. it was my job to entertain, to put on a show for people. i remember laying awake at night in third grade, trying to rewrite the way that i talked so that it was accessorized and quirky but good quirky. “whats a more original way to say hello?”, “i should say ‘steal’ instead of borrow, i think that’s what sarcasm is”, “i think it would be cute and funny to wear mismatched socks”. 

“i wonder what hairstyle people would notice?”

but it was cute. i was young. i liked it at first. 

at girl scout camp when people nicknamed me they named me braids. 

yea, braids. that’s me. i have braids. 

its what people remember about me. my sister when working with people in my grade mention my two long braids, and people remember that more than they remember my name. 

just last week, we were playing psyche, and the question was what i would patch a hole in the roof with, and someone put my braids. 

hair. it’s weird. it’s a part of your body, yes, but also not quite. i can’t feel it. there aren’t any nerves in it. and you get to choose some of it. you start out with what comes from your scalp, be it curly, straight, dark, light, thin, thick. but you get to choose the length, the style, you can dye it, you can make it your own. it is in between body and fashion. 

when we give affirmations, and the rules say that you can’t give physical complements, i still without a doubt get ones that complement my braids. 

are these a part of me? is my choice that i made in first grade that they are complementing? is “braids” a personality? 

don’t get me wrong, i used to like it. a long time ago. i still do. maybe. or maybe it’s just change. 

my father tries to convince me to cut them off. sometimes jokingly, but also not. they’re too much work. but isn’t me who does the work? 

my sister says that i have to cut them eventually. when i say i want to keep them forever, that’s ridiculous. but if i say i will cut them eventually, then yes, that’s the right option. because what if im rejected from a job interview? i certainly can’t go to college with them. i can’t have them as an adult. 

everyone says eventually. but when the fuck is eventually? 

i don’t like them anymore. i really, really, do want to cut them. it’s been long enough. i’ve been keeping them as some sort of obligation to who i once was, which isn’t who i am now. they keep me from being able to have the hairstyles i want. they’re the reason i can’t lay down in the grass as rest me head. the reason i can’t wear necklaces or things with too many rhinestones because they get caught. the reason why i have to stop myself from getting my head wet in pools because it would confine me to hours of brushing. they’re remnants of my need to make sure im feminine enough and accessorized enough to be respected. they aren’t mine anymore. they’ve always belonged to other people. for other people to see, to touch, to play with. 

so i started mentioning that i want to cut them. 

really? cut them? why? yes, i am the same person that cried when a camp bully came at me with scissors while i was sleeping and tried to cut them off. but then is different from now. 

now that i say “now” instead of “eventually”, look how everyone disagrees again. 

even my father, against it from day one, says that he kind of regrets it, because he’s going to miss them. 

my mother resents me cutting them even more, for she’s the one that read in my diary the words “trans”, “nonbinary”, “they/them”. my braids are the last feminine thing about me that she doesn’t want to give up. 

but funnily enough, when she says “But they’re mine too! You can’t cut them!”, that’s when im sure i want to cut them. they are on my head. they grew out of my head. i brush them and braid them every month and every time i go swimming. whatever part of myself that other people think that they own has been stolen from me, and i have every right to take it back. 

isn’t this hard enough? deciding that hey, im grown, i can give up this thing that ive gotten so used to and attatched a part of my identity to? seeing the last bit of my feminine childhood fall to the floor? why do you have to make a fuss and make me hate my hair even more instead of this being a personal right-of-passage for me and a good sendoff?

but everyone wants to get rid of something eventually. because eventually never comes. 

but “eventually” is now. i’m tired of eventually. seeing a doctor eventually or fixing my teeth eventually or getting therapy eventually, moving bedrooms eventually, asking her out eventually, using my preferred name eventually, living eventually. 

i’m not cutting my hair eventually. 

im going to cut my hair this week. 

[anonymouskar]

Existential pain, the journey to proper living, art and love

The last post I made on here sucked. And for a long time I’ve had no desire to write anything with more insight or honesty at all. I often want to write on here after I’ve had my fits of desperate crying. This is just a ramble of thougths I’m having these last few days. I can’t structure them properly.

Long ass, depressing text (be careful exposing yourself to such negativity, haha):

I think I have been depressed for months. I always intuitively understood depression as a reaction to life circumstances that denied your true self. I’m not at all convinced it is a medical condition. It comes when you have no proof of the parts of you that redeem the pain of being you. It comes when life doesn’t validate your worth. And I think that is mostly due to a lack of social belonging, especially in our digital, individualistic time. No tribe.

To me, we seem to be split in two. One part of us that holds the eternal, spiritual, connected and secure us, and one that holds the conscious, animal, isolated ego us. I don’t think either of these are more “true”. I don’t subscribe to any philosophy that puts one over the other. I had a tragedy happen to me, and it blocked me from living in the animal ego world. To overcome it I had to sacrifice, and I had to face everything I was most afraid of. I did it to be able to live in the natural world. I know that is why I did it. I did it because that was the only way I could manifest in that world. I didn’t do it because I thought it would make me happy, really. I did it just to make myself possible.

We all have loads to carry. And we all know with outselves that we are deeply flawed. I know about myself that I’m scared, perverted, spiteful, jealous, limited, ugly, stinking. We all know this about ourselves. It makes it hard to love ourselves. I’m not sure loving yourself is even possible. I’ve tried so much self-help in attempts to reach that, I’ve tried strengthening my ego, I’ve tried deconstructing it, I’ve tried to examine my unconscious, I’ve tried grounding myself in my body, I’ve tried alone, I’ve tried with others, I’ve tried to be stoic, I’ve tried reprogramming my unconscious. But I still can’t reach the conclusion: I am worthy. In fact I think I’m totally unworthy. And I also think that about almost every other person. Because when I look around, I see despair, dysfunction, fear - but in that I see what is beautiful, too. I love others because they are limited, scared, voulnerable. And I can appretiate that in myself, but I still don’t see worthyness.

It remains to me a total mystery that someone can just know they are worthy. Worthy of love, connection, recognition. It’s a mystery to me that someone can know that about themselves. I can’t comprehend ever living like that. Like I’m a man someone I like could want. Or that I’m someone anybody could want to live with. In fact, when people who have initially liked me, and invited me to them, I’ve always seemed to massively dissapoint them. Too shy to open up. Too scared to stand sexual tension. Too self-hating to be patient with. Too quiet to be entertained with. Too passive to excite. I dissapoint, disgust and bore.

I didn’t think I would find myself crying myself to sleep at this point. I’m 23, I’ve gotten my life somewhat in order. Seen from the outside I have every reason to smile now, compared to before. I’ve grown a beautiful beard, I’m built and slim. I look better than I ever have. I sometimes think I’m sexy. I dress well. I paint better than I ever have before, I’m in better shape than ever. I know more now than ever. I’ve taken responsability for my own life and earn my own living doing something I enjoy. I have enough money now to spend on things that should inspire me. But I look around at my paintings, and all I see is failed attempts. I found myself thinking exactly that. “Fucking ugly failed attempts”. It’s harder than ever for me to paint, because I know I will end up hating every single painting. There are two paintings I’ve ever made that I love, and those are exactly the ones I’m ashamed to show anyone because they are kitschy clishes. I’m a clishe.

I tried as good as I could manage, where I was at, to live, but I always end up looking back at failed attempts. And as long as I can go back and somehow attempt to correct them, I still have hope, but it rarely helps. As long as there is progress, right? But if the progress never gets you there anyways? When has progress ever gotten us anywhere good? “I’m making progress”, well, isn’t that just an empty hope? Isn’t hope just a reason to prolong suffering?

Hope has been such a defining word in my life. It’s has been the reason I bothered to go on. I’ve never seriously contemplated taking my own life, but I’ve had fantasies of dying. On a plane for example, I’d imagine being relieved if it crashed. Don’t think I could ever sit in a moment with myself and decide to die, but maybe accepting it with a sigh of relief if death came to me.

The way I can most accurately describe how it feels to live right now, is swimming in the ocean. I’m just keeping my head over water, if I constantly swim. And it’s not that I see anywhere to swim to, I’m merely motivated by my absolute fear of sinking into despair underneath me. The ocean is made up of resignation from life. It’s where I came from. I swam up so that I could give myself a chance to experience life. And around me, I see others doing the same, but they all seem to have something to hold onto. A piece of wood, a direction, another person, an island even. Something to give them some relief.

I was told you could choose in life. You could choose to pursue what made you happy. Isn’t that the great narrative of this era. “Become the best version of yourself, be true to yourself and become happy at last”. Well, for one it seems to me that we have almost no control over our own choices. I’m sceptical to free will. Because how can I choose my desires? How can I choose my temperament? How can I choose my choices? What leads me to act as I do seems to me to be totally beyond me. Those are forces that are ancient, mysterious and so much stronger than me. Believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to reprogram myself. I’ve tried that by constructing a life that would demonstrate to me who I could be. I’ve tried to narrate my own story. I’ve asked myself “What do you want to experience?”, and I’ve tried to pursue that.

And you could ask, why force it? Why outline expectations of a life experience? Why seek out experience? Well, what other reason would there be to come to this life, than to experience? I WANT to exerience. I deeply want to. I want to experience connection, love, sex, friendship, passion. I want to fuck a woman like a man. I want to smile and look at her tenderly. I want to be a father to a child. I want to travel somwhere with a family. I want to go on hikes. I want to paint good paintings. I want to drive a car to my house. I want to have a garden and see my wife work in it while she sings to herself. I want to walk out of the shower with her in the room. I’m willing to pay for these things with years of pain. That is another life lesson I’ve learned. You have to pay for everything that is good, with pain. But I don’t see myself getting closer to it. “Progress”. Aren’t these the things that matter in life? If I died now, I know I’d think about my moments of greatest intimate connection and intimacy. I would think of smiles, glances, touch, voulnerable words shared. So, that is what I want to experience, because I think this IS what truly matters. I think it is what almost every person alive is mostly concerned with. Connection.

What upsets me most, lately, is my constant ruminations on my failed romance. Again and again and endlessly I blame myself for it all. I think back on all the oppertunities that presented themselves to me. She forgave my foolish mistakes again and again. I did everything wrong in the book, and still she came back. I said self-defeating things, I teased her too much, I was unclear in my communication, I was weak and afraid, endlessly insecure, I talked to much, I self-pitied, I over-shared. Did everything wrong. When I looked at her, alone in a room, when the atmosphere was tender and I melted inside because she was so oddly familiar and curious and beautiful. I looked away and acted cold because I was afraid of rejection. And I ended up making her reject me because I rejected myself. And I hate myself more for doing that. I never learned to stop, I just learned to hate myself more. Now when I see her I can see how she wants away from me. She is awkward. Maybe she’s ashamed too. I can’t do anything about it. But it makes me cry every time. I think I still love her. Stupid me, I love her. I love how she is. I saw a promise in her when I first met her. I found something that felt like I could belong to. I connected. I attatched myself. I thought she could nurture me, like people who matter nurture each other. It’s no shame in that, is there? Is there shame in needing validation and nurturing? Isn’t that what we all do?

Then why did I fail? If I fail again and again, in sexual, romantic encounters, then surely it’s me, and I should understand it personally, right? It’s not constant bad luck. I take it personally because it demonstrates how I can’t be who I wanted to experience life as, no matter how hard I try. And it’s a total mystery to me how someone can just accept love. They don’t know how lucky they are. Every person who has ever had someone knew that they were worthy, loveable, no matter how dysfunctional the relationship.

I don’t know that, and life demonstrates to me that I’m not.

[evans-heaven]

Anchor~s.m.

Consider it the part 2 of “Hey, Legend,” (read here) but can be read as a standalone. This shit is 4.1k words long so its gonna be a ride, y’all :)

Heavily unedited but I hope you lovelies enjoy!

Also, more towards the end I made a pretty big jump, sorry guys 🙈

~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

“And lastly, I’d like to thank my beautiful wife, Y/N. Honestly, where would I be without her? She’s my world, my soulmate, the love of my life, a goddess among mankind, the literal queen of every fucking thing, she’s-”

“Darling, put it down before you break it,” Shawn sighed, smiling up at me.

My eyes darted down to his. “Shush,” I hissed, crinkling my nose. I held the award higher and turned my attention back to my imaginary audience. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes, my wife, Y/N. She is the wind beneath my wings, the muse behind my music, without her, my guitar wouldn’t strum, my soul wouldn’t pour out nearly as much passion as it does today, my-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Shawn threw his hands up and stood up from his place on our carpeted bedroom floor. He took the award from me (mid fake speech, might I add. How rude!) and held it above his head. I looked up at it and growled. 

“Give it back! I wasn’t done!” I tried to reach for it, which, of course, backfired on me, because it somehow slipped my mind that my husband was 6′2, of course, towering over me. I threw my hands down and pouted. “The imaginary audience is waiting for me to finish my speech, Shawn,” I raised my brows and folded my arms. I was pretty sure no one interrupted him with he gave his actual speech at the VMAs. Why was he doing it to me?

“Well the imaginary audience agrees that you’re taking this way too far, and should give it up and help your husband unpack,” he said, walking over to his bedside table and placing the shiny, silver moon person on the it. He looked at it for a few seconds before licking his thumb pad and swiping it across the statuette’s tiny head. I giggled at his action as he smiled in satisfaction and walked back over to me. “Now, baby, I have weeks worth of dirty laundry that we should get started on,” he asked, taking my hands in his, pulling my back down on the floor with him, next to one of his opened suit cases. I looked inside of it and glared. Not because I didn’t want to have to deal with it, but because Shawn, like always, couldn’t be bothered to fold his garments neatly like I always told him to. It didn’t matter that they were dirty or would be confined in the suitcase, he could still make it look more presentable. Maybe it was just my OCD getting the best of me, though.

“Alright, let’s get started,” I reached over and grabbed a handful of button downs, starting to create piles of whites, darks, and colors. I was pretty sure the shirt I wore, the black one with the white trees on it, was the only button up he didn’t take with him. After all those clothing outlets sent them to him, he had grown attached and pretty much opted for those instead of the other shirts he had. I didn’t mind though, he looked amazing in them and they were much easier to remove when need be. I smirked lightly at the thought

As Shawn began to fill me in on his schedule for weeks to come, I refrained from stopping him and letting him know that I didn’t want to think about that for now. He had only just gotten home, the bags under his eyes only a small reminder of how tired he was. Jumping city to city for different promo events, tours, and finally the VMAs had taken a toll on his appearance, and I had noticed his voice was light and slightly gravelly from his tired vocal chords. I never brought up my concern, because I knew how stubborn my husband was.

“Sometimes sleep needs to be sacrificed to get that one perfect creation,” I thought to myself, remembering what he told me the first- and last- time I brought it up. “Or that one perfect moment, where you know you’ve done something right’’” he said, planting a kiss on my forehead, a universal sign between us both that I needed to drop whatever worries I had.

“Is that why the both of us are so exhausted?” Shawn asked out of nowehere.

I jumped, dropping the socks I had in my hands. “Huh?” I asked, side eyeing him.

He cocked his head. “What you just said, ‘sometimes sleep needs to be sacrificed to get that one perfect creation,’” he told me, and my eyes went wide. Had I really said that out loud?

Quickly, I made a recovery before he could notice. “Uh-um, yeah,” I gave him a nervous laugh and shoved him playfully. “Could be,” I said. “I mean, we’re both always writing, me an article and you a song. There’s always the constant struggle between us both for it to be perfect,” I sighed, and picked up a shirt, throwing it into the whites pile.

“Did you finish what you were working on during the show?” he asked me, tugging me closer until I was in his lap. He leaned back against the trunk at the foot of our bed, dragging his hand up and down my back. In that moment, my concern-for us both-vanished.

I nodded lightly, placing my head on his bare chest, AKA my second home. “Its not my best work but at least I got it done,” I said. “Michelle doesn’t want it until Tuesday so I have some time to do a little more with it,” I said while I toyed with the drawstrings on his gray sweatpants.

I was lucky enough to have an easy going boss like Michelle Tan-editor in chief of Seventeen. She gave me a day long extension on one of the featued articles for the September issue after she heard about how rough the night I was supposed to send it in was for me. And by rough night, I meant crying over my husband who was miles away and couldn’t take away the ache in my heart caused by his absence. But she didn’t need to know that. And considering I was always on time with my articles, she was willing to let it slide just this once.

It was the first and last time, thought, that I would let my lonliness get in the way of my work.

“That was understanding of her,” Shawn smiled, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Sorry you were so distracted because of me, sweetheart,” he said, and I couldnt’ tell if he was genuinely apologetic, or just being a cocky shit.

I didn’t have time to reply, because the ringing doorbell sounded from all the way downstairs. 

I furrowed my brow and stood up, Shawn doing the same, heading for the bedroom door. “Who’s that?” I asked, looking at the time on the clock that hung over the door frame as I followed Shawn out. It was well 12:30 on the dot. I didn’t know of anyone we were expecting, no family or friends.

“I noticed time got away from us and we didn’t get a chance to go to the store to get stuff for dinner,” Shawn answered, making a 360 before he descended the stairs as the bell rang again. “So I ordered some Domino’s,” he smirked over his shoulder as he opened the door, pulling out a $20 from his pocket.

I stood at the top of the staircase, smiling. It was the little things he never forgot about me that always made my heart jump-as cliche as it sounded. I was always in the mood for Domino’s, no matter what time of day it was. And he always pulled through and ordered it for me, because he just knew me so well. He was the man I married, after all.

“Thanks, man,” Shawn jutted his chin out to the pizza guy, box in his hand as he closed the door. Giving me a warm once over, he made his way to the kitchen.

“Sausage and cheese?” I asked him, loud enough so he could hear as I made my way down the stairs.

“You already know, babe!” he confirmed. I entered the kitchen just as he was taking out two plates for us.

“Did I just collect our pizza shirtless?” Shawn asked after being silent for a few moments while I grabbed two bottles of Smirnoff from the fridge.

“Yeah, you did,” I laughed, realizing along with him. “Did the pizza look like he was getting any ideas?” I joked, setting the bottles down on the island in the center of the kitchen. 

Shawn got a mischievous look in his eyes, and he darted over to me, hooking his hands under my knees and lifting me onto the island. I shrieked-and quickly transitioned into a moan- as his lips begun to suck on my jawline without warning.

“No,” he husked in between his assault. “But I have some ideas of my own,” he said into my air, the tone of his voice, low, combined with the slight rasp, sending a chill down my spine that almost made me snap in two. He took the shell of my ear in between his incisors and tugged on it lightly, then got a bit more harsh as I sucked in a sharp breath and pulled him closer to me by his broad shoulders.

He took my hips in his large hands and lifted me a bit further onto the counter, his lips finally meeting mine. It was a mixture of a slow and passionate, yet hungry and possesive kiss that would surely leave my lips red, swollen, and sure of who they belonged to. His plump lips moved rapidly against mine, our tongues fighting a battle of their own as they tangled within each other. 

He moved his hands from their exploration of my lower body to my head, threading his fingers through my hair. I moaned out loud, removing my lips from his, though he remained pulling on my tongue for a few seconds more before he attatched his lips to my neck.

“God, I’ve missed your body,” he mumbled into my divit as he began to unbutton my shirt (his shirt), pulling it apart and lightly pushing me down until I laid flat on the tiled surface.

He trailed wet, sloppy kisses down my stomach, holding on to the cups of my bra as he palmed the amply flesh concealed by them. He reached the waisband of my panties, and as much as I didn’t want to, I stopped him.

“Woah, woah,” I said, sitting up right, forcing him to stand up straight. He almost glared at me but it turned into a concerned glance.

“Baby, why move so fast?” I asked him, placing my hands on his chest as his forehead met mine, his messy curls tickling my brow. “ We’ve got all week before you leave again, and the pizza is gonna get cold,” I laughed.

“Right, you know I was too focused on my boner to remember it got delivered,” he chuckled, taking me down from the counter and walking over to the other side to add slices to our plates.

“Hey, pizza for dinner, each other for dessert,” I teased in a sing song voice, squeezing his ass playfully as he made his way out the doorway to the dining room table.

“Y/N, don’t tempt me to drop these plates and rail you against that wall,” his voice wasn’t lighthearted and he didn’t even look at me, but I still smiled. Even in his serious moments he was still a large softie to me.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the bottles of Smirnoff and the rest of the pizza, following him to the large table suited for an entire family- one we hadn’t created yet. 

“Hailee wanted me to tell you you did a great job on her article for last month’s issue,” Shawn said once we began eating. “She would have called but things have been so hectic for her, and she knew it was the same for you,”

“Damn right,” I scoffed, but smiled still. “She’s the sweetest, God knows I love writing about her,” 

Hailee was by far the one I was closest to among Shawn’s group of famous friends. We had met a few years back at Jingle Bash and immediately hit it off. Since I had been working for Seventeen, she had been on the cover twice and had been in features a dozen times. I was always the one to interview her-due to her request, and I would never complain.

“God knows you love her period,” Shawn laughed, setting his slice down to take a sip of his drink. “I swear you two are gonna hook up and you’re leave me in the shadows one day,” he joked.

I cocked a brow. “Careful you speak that into existance, Mendes,” I played along with him.  “So what are our plans for the following week? I could ask Michelle for a few days away from the office so I can work from home for us to have more time together,” I said, biting into my slice of pizza I had barely touched.

He shrugged. “Whatever we can think of, darling. This whole week is all about you,” he held my tiny hand in his gigantic one, kissing the back of it sweetly.

I nodded, suddenly not as smiley as I had been seconds before. 

“You okay?” he asked, noticing my changed stance. He tucked his index finger under my chin and lifted my head a bit higher so I could meet his gaze. His honey colored eyes held flecks of green, and concern. His thumb grazed over my bottom lip lightly.

I recovered quickly.“Yeah, fine, just thinking about how much I’ve missed you,” And how much I’d miss him when he left again in a week.

He grinned. “Think nothing of it, baby. I’m here now,” he pulled me closer to him and pecked my lips before returning to his pizza. 

I nodded again, swallowing the built up lump in my throat. Then why do I feel so distant from you?

We ate mostly in silence until the pizza was done and there was only crust left. The only words said were from him, complimenting the pizza, and me, giving a small chirp of agreement. My mood had fallen progssively as it got later, and it frustrated me that I couldn’t put it aside to be there for my husband. Luckily, his excitement to finally be able to sit and have a meal with me distracted him. I knew he didn’t need the extra weight of my problems, anyway.

Shawn’s POV, later that night

When I stretched my arm over to the other side of the bed in my sleep, I was met with only the feeling of empty sheets. And that was enough to wake me.

I rose slowly, fist rubbing over my right eye as I turned my head to face Y/N’s side of the bed, which was empty. I looked at her alarm clock- it was 4:22 in the morning. She never got out of bed during the night unless it was to use the toilet, and the opened bathroom door showed she wasn’t in there. I was always so used to having her right next to me when I wanted to snuggle, but for whatever reason, she was absent.

“Y/N! Babe?” I called out to her as I stumbled out of bed, trying not to let my concern show through my voice.

I had noticed her fallen face and monotone voice (when she bothered to speak) during and after dinner, and she had seemed all too eager to turn away from me in bed after she said goodnight. It was way different from when we met at that airport, and the impact of her koala hug made me drop my bags and nearly stumble back. I whispered words of comfort in her ear while stroking her back as she lamented how much she had missed me, words choppy from her tears and kisses all over my cheek, forehead and neck. My heart sank a bit when I thought of what could have changed over the course of the day.

As her husband, so many things mattered to me when it came to her. Above all, I wanted her to be happy. And she just didn’t seem to be, even if it was the smallest signs pointing to that, I still knew.

As I was about to call her out again, nearing the door to our bedroom to investigate the rest of the house, a small sniffle came from behind me, followed by a chocked sob. I spun on my heel, eyes in line with the doors to our balcony next to the bed, a few feet away. More broken whimpers came from that general area, getting louder as I neared.

“Y/N are you-” I was cut off by the site of my girl, curled up in the corner of the balcony, face buried in her thighs as her body shivered with her crying.

Protective mode came on inside me at full force as I rushed over to her, scopping her up in my arms and sitting down on one of the padded tweed chairs. I didn’t know why she was crying, just knew that I had to hold her.

“Shh, baby, you’re okay, you’re fine,” I said, but I mentally slapped myself, because it was evident she was neither one of those things. I shut up and just continued to hold her,rocking her in my arms as she quietly sobbed into me. I almost felt myself begin to cry as well, because her pain was my pain, but I just had to be there for her and comfort her in that moment. I had to remain strong for whatever reason had her in this state. 

“I’m here, baby, I’m right here,” I told her. It was all I could think to say. Just let her know I wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m sorry,” she managed out a few moments later, moving her headfrom its place in the crook of my neck, wiping her eyes dry, but to no ail. Tears spilled over again, but she was silent as she looked me in the eyes, blinking to keep her emotions at bay.

“No, you don’t have to apologize to me, darling. But please, tell me what’s wrong. I don’t know how long you’ve been out here but I need to know why,” I said, running my fingers through her matted hair, bringing my thumb over to her cheek, using the pad to rid her blotchy skin of the moisture from her tears.

As though what I said triggered something inside her, she got up from my lap, throwing my arms off of her as she paced in front of me, shaking her head. I stood up too, but didn’t touch her. Something told me she had gotten enough physical contact and just needed to vent, but she couldn’t find the words.

“Why?” she whispered. “There are so many reasons why I’m like this, right now, in front of you. I don’t have a single idea how to even begin to explain how I feel, Shawn,” she said, her tone helpless and frustrated. She was turned away from me, arms wrapped around herself as she fisted my Eddie Vedder t shirt in her hands. I watched her. She lifted her shoulders as she sighed and dropped her hands, eventually turning to face me. Her puffy, red eyes held no emotion but pain and sadness as she looked to me. Still, I said nothing and only watched her, letting her have the floor. She needed her husband who listened, not her husband who held her when she was sad and acted like that was enough.

“Everything is wrong. And it doesn’t seem like it, which makes it even more wrong. Because everyone brushes off what problems I might have because of how perfect my life seems. Perfect job. Perfect home. Perfect husband. And you know what? Too often, do I tell myself those exact things when it gets too hard for me. I surpress my own feelings because I let myself think I have no reason to be sad, or depressed, or lonely,” she let out another shaky sigh, and I sensed tears coming, in the both of us.

“Work is hard. It gets stressful and overwhelming and sometimes I just want to quit. And you know what makes it worse? Not having a husband to come home to when I’ve had a rough day. And that makes the following days even more rough, because I’m so filled with fear of of overbearing everything might be at work that it makes me think even more of you, not here when I really, really need you,”

My heart skipped a beat, and a small shock flowed through my body. Was that really how she felt?

“Baby, don’t get me wrong,“ she said quickly, coming over to me and taking my hands. “I know we talked about this when we started dating and I’ve accepted that you won’t always be here, but right now, at this time in my life, it seems that all I need is you. My anchor. You’re my anchor, Shawn,” she said.

I looked down at her, speechless, not sure if she was done or not. And if she was, I didn’t know what to say.

But the silence was filled by her, bursting into tears as she crashed into my chest, lightly beating it with her fists. She sobbed without a care. My arms wrapped tightly around her as I felt tears stream down my face as well, my pain not measuring up to hers, but still there, and I would make it known.

“I-It’s so hard Sh-Shawn,” she said quietly, the wetness of her tears streaming down my stomach as they fell from her eyes.

“Oh, baby,” I kissed the crown of her head as she continued to let out what was left in her. “I know, it hurts,I know,” 

“I j-just want it to st-top,” she whimpered, her tears slowing but not ceasing. “I need you, I need you here,”

“Hey, look at me,” I ordered softly, holding her face in my hands as her eyes met mine yet again. Trying not to let the agony and anxiety that swam in her once lively y/e/c orbs get to me, I dragged my thumbs across her cheeks and under her eyes as I placed a kiss on her swollen, wet lips. I swallowed her light moan before I pulled away.

“Whenever I’m away from you, I know things can be hard. They’re hard on me too. I know we both know how hard it is to fall asleep without each other to hold. Without you being there to encourage me when I’m a fucking wreck and don’t know where the hell I’m going with something. But you know what? The mere thought that in a few days I’m gonna be home to you, that’s enough to keep me grounded. Its always enough. And I want it it to be enough for you too, baby,” I told her.

“I will always come home to you, Y/N. Always. I’ll never stray or go somewhere else unless I have to. Not when I know you’re here waiting for me to come home to you. I need you and you need me and I’ll be fucked if I or anyone else ever came in the way of that. Right now, with you in my arms, I keep this feeling in my head when I’m away and that keeps the anticipation to see you rising higher. Remember the way you feel when I hold you, angel. When you need me I’m a call away, a face time away, or a flight away. You’re never alone once you remember you can always come to me no matter how you feel or where I am,” I finished, and I could do nothing more but just look to her, waiting for her.

She tugged her lips into her mouth, releasing the tension from her shoulders as I felt her entire body soften in my arms. Her eyes, still glossy, still pained in the tiniest way, slowly began to regain the same glimmer that was there earlier in the day, the same glimmer I fell in love with-lively, full of hope and excitement and love.

“My anchor, even when you’re not here,”she said, after being silent all through out my speech. 

All I could do was smile down at her. And it became clear to me that I wasn’t just her anchor, she was mine. She kept me grounded when my life in the industry’s fast lane became a hellfire. When I felt like quitting and giving up as to not deal with constant judgement and scrutiny on my craft, she was there for me like no one else. And that was what any relationship was all about. Your partner relied on you for so many things, but one of the most important was a shoulder to cry on or someone to listen. I didn’t know what I would do without Y/N when it came to those things.

“You know it, darling,” I kissed her forehead, pulling her head back into my chest as we swayed in the light breeze that the wee hours of the morning delivered. “Everything is gonna be okay, if I can’t promise you anything else, I can always promise you that,”

I had no more words left. But I had a feeling that was okay. It was time for me to just hold her, no words in between us. Sometimes the warmth of a loved one’s embrace was the best remedy for an aching heart.

Maybe in that moment she wasn’t totally rid of her worries and lamentations, but we were on the road to recovery. And I would be with her, every step of the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I feel like this sucked and it ended really abruptly, but that’s only because I was kinda in a rush to put this up. Hope you lovely babes enjoyed! Feedback is always welcome :) Gentle reminder to reblog it if you like it!

[wrath-and-regret-blog]

VERY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. ( FOR KALADIN )

RULES. repost; do not reblog! tag 10! good luck!

TAGGED BY: @luck-crowned

TAGGING: You.

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Kaladin “Stormblessed”

NICKNAME/S: ‘Stormblessed’ (for his ‘luck’), ‘Kal’ (A nickname he used when he was younger, mostly by Tien, because his full name sounded like the name of a lighteyes and it set him apart from the other children even more.), ‘Bridgeboy’ (Adolin only)

AGE: 20 (Rosharan years)/approximately 22 (Earth equivalent) [as of the end of WoR]

BIRTHDAY: sometime in the year 1154

ETHNIC GROUP: Alethi

NATIONALITY: Alethi

LANGUAGE/S: Alethi

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual, completely oblivious. He’s sO STUPID WHEN IT COMES TO FEELINGS/ATTRACTION, SO STUPID WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS BOY???

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Same as above. Trust is extremely important in both of these situations. Trust is everything when dealing with Kaladin in any situation, but especially in romantic/ sexual ones.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: [verse dependent] He’s single in most verses, but there is a lovely, wonderful verse in which he and Adolin are a thing.

CLASS: 2nd nahn by birth (2nd highest darkeyed rank), sas nahn after being branded a slave, 4th dahn militarily (a rank, usually for lighteyes, for those who command a battalion and/or those who are shardbearers. Granted to him from his rank as captain and officially after becoming a shardbearer.

HOMETOWN / AREA: Raised in the town of Hearthstone, within Sadeas’ Princedom in Alethkar.

CURRENT HOME: Verse dependant, but mostly, The Shattered Plains, in Dalinar Kholin’s warcamp after being made captain. 

PROFESSION: A soldier, a captain, a radiant, a bridgeman, a surgeon, it really depends on who you ask, but if you ask him, he’ll maintain that he is all of these things and he always will be. Those pieces make up who he has become. He’s never just one of them without the others.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: long, thick curls of deep Alethi black. Soft to the touch but easily tangled or otherwise disheviled. usually pulled back into a tail and tied in place with a black chord. His bangs are long enough to almost completely cover the slave brands on his forehead. Looks lovely when washed and brushed properly. (would also look very nice with sapphires in it. *Side-eyes Jay*)

EYES: Originally a dark, warm brown with flecks of hazel throughout the iris. Unnoticable from a distance but clear to see up close. When accessing his Radiant abilities, his eyes blaze a bright, piercing azure and remain that color until some time after his stormlight has been exhausted. They then begin to fade back to their natural color unless fed more stormlight. Almond-shaped eyes with an epicanthic fold, thick dark eyelashes, and lines from years of exhaustion and grief that tend to offset how young he really is. His eyes are often lined in kohl, like many Alethi soldiers stationed on the Plains.

NOSE: A rather straight nose with a pointed tip. The bridge is more of a slope than a bump and most of his facial freckles are concentrated across it, spreading from cheek to cheek in a dense constellation of dark flecks on his skin.

FACE: An angular, square face-shape with a strong chin and jaw. has been referred to as a ‘leader’s face’. Absolutely covered in freckles, as is the rest of his body. Usually all hard lines and sharp angles but can sometimes soften when looking upon someone he cares about. His eyes are his most expressive feature.

LIPS: Full, somewhere between rough and soft, warm to the touch, and coated with a light sprinkling of his freckles. They aren’t as dark on the thinner skin, but they are still there.

COMPLEXION: A dark brown Alethi tan. Darker than most Alethi, due to all his time spent in the sun. Freckles everywhere. Everywhere.

BLEMISHES: Many scars, most notably some very large ones on his chest and shoulders from his time running bridges. Also, plenty on his back from his time as a slave. Then, of course, there are the brands on his forehead.

TATTOOS: None

HEIGHT: 6’9″

WEIGHT: I’m so terrible at these??? How much does a muscular yet kinda beanpolish 6′9″ man weight???

BUILD: Veeeery tall. Long powerful legs leading up to pronounced hipbones. Solid abdominal muscles set into a flat stomach. A strong chest attatched to broad shoulders. All in all, he’s lean muscle and hard lines, like he’s been carved from the stone itself.

ALLERGIES: Nothing native to Roshar, but most likely MANY things from other worlds. Since they don’t exist on Roshar, his body hasn’t been designed to handle them.

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: As Guard Captain, he keeps his long hair tied into a high ponytail and keeps his face clean-shaven. As a bridgman, he kept it in a low ponytail and eventually shaved the beard he’d grown as a slave. 

USUAL EXPRESSION: Usually stern and serious. Often with a mouth set into a grim frown or a hard-edged look of determination in his eyes. Regardless, he usually sports a stoic expression or one of gloom. Occassionally, on a magically slim chance, he’ll smile and it is truly radiant.

USUAL CLOTHING: His Cobalt Guard Captain’s uniform.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: failure; powerlessness; watching those he loves die while he’s too weak to help

ASPIRATION/S: To protect everyone that he possibly can. To live the kind of life that Tien would have been proud of.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Protective; Dedicated; Willing to give his all for someone; A natural leader; Caring, loving; Driven to do what is right

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Reckless, does not value his own life, unable to accept that he can’t save everyone, prone to deep despair, fAR TOO GENTLE-HEARTED FOR WAR WHY IS HE A SOLDIER SANDERSON WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO HIM

MBTI: INFJ - The Advocate

ENNEAGRAM: Type 6 - The Loyalist

ZODIAC: Scorpio (sun) - Cancer (moon)

TAROT: Strength. Absolutely Strength.

TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic

SOUL TYPE/S: On the quiz it’s Caregiver, almost tied with Leader. Off the quiz, I’d say Warrior 

ANIMAL: He got Wild Dog on the test

VICE/S: Despair, apathy, and a tendency to believe himself to be cursed, all of which make up a mindset he refers to as ‘The Wretch’. This mindset has driven him to nearly attempt suicide. He also gets attached to people far too easily.

FAITH: Agnostic. Though raised in a Vorin society, he, himself, is uninterested.

GHOSTS?: He doesn’t believe in them, per say, but at times, he’s considered the possibility.

AFTERLIFE?: He wonders sometimes, hoping that if his loved ones are in some kind of life after death, that they’re happy. 

REINCARNATION?: No

ALIENS?: He’d merely shrug. “Anything is possible, for all I know,” He’d say.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: As it stands, the Kholins have his loyalty. He stands with them, so long as it is right.

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: He’s very good at budgeting himself, knowing how much to spend on the supplies he needs and how much to keep on hand. Frivilous buying does not exist for Kaladin. He’s never been in the financial position where that would be appropriate, and now, he uses spheres more for Stormlight than for money.

SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION: Having suffered at the hands of the lighteyes for all his life, ( his family torn apart; his loved ones murdered; being enslaved; his trust broken again and again, ) he finds it difficult to see beyond his experience. He has a deep distrust of the lighteyes, including the Kholin’s, before Dalinar bought his freedom with his shardblade. Now, he’s fiercely loyal to them; though he knows they aren’t all innocent, he still sees the good in them and chooses to protect them.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Somewhat high for a darkeyes, having learned from his father for the most part. It was mostly medical education, not necessarily academic in general. But, as an apprentice surgeon, he learned his trade well.

FAMILY.

FATHER: Lirin - (A surgeon who risked it all to try and give me a better life...which I threw away any chance of. His words still reach me, even now)

MOTHER: Hesina - ( The best mother I could have asked for. She gave me my stubborness...and my hair. I’ll never forgive myself for failing her. )

EXTENDED FAMILY: Tien ( Where can I even begin? My brother...my dearest friend. The only one who could ever lift my mood as easily as smiling. You were smiling then, the last time I saw you. I told you that I would protect you for those four years and then bring you home...I couldn’t even do it for four months. I’m so sorry...I miss you every day. Every day that passes, something happens that I wish I could tell you about. I’ve seen so many rocks out here, Tien...I think you would have liked them. Without you here, they all just look the same to me. )

SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): None, currently.

NAME MEANING/S: “Kaladin” means “born unto eternity”.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION: I mean, he’s a Radient? That’s a pretty big historical connection.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: He doesn’t read and doesn’t hold much interest in being read to.

MOVIE: Honestly, in his modern verse, he doesn’t even own a tv? The only movies he’d ever see would be at someone else’s house or if someone took him to the movies. He’d enjoy action movies with well coreographed fight scenes and the occassional Drama if it’s good.

DEITY: He got Poseidon. Since he’s called the ‘Stormbringer’, I can see why. Qualities listed are:  Pride, loyalty, devotion, reason, leadership, humor, unpredictability, rage

MONTH: No preference. 

SEASON: Spring or Autumn

PLACE: Oh. Umm....he really hasn’t...got one? Not a specific place anyway. If he had to choose. He’d say his favorite place is around the fire with Bridge 4.

WEATHER: not overwhelmingly sunny, but also not storming? Kind of overcast and chilly, though he hates the constant drizzle of the Weeping. He likes windy days the best.

SOUND: He likes the sound of the wind, whether it’s blustering hard or it’s just a faint breeze. Everything it does makes a different sound. He likes the sound it makes when it whistles through the trees or when it rustles his hair.

SCENT/S: He didn’t have one for a very long time, but now, he’s grown attached to the smell of the stew that Rock cooks for dinner.

TASTE/S: He’ll eat pretty much anything he can get, because he hasn’t kicked the mentality of ‘this might be my only meal today’ yet. He doesn’t think he ever really will. But anything eaten with his loved ones tastes much better than if he eats it alone.

FEEL/S: the weight of a spear in his hands; that surging, freeing energy that whirls and rages within him when he inhales stormlight; The feeling of having a clean-shaven face; the heavy fabric of his uniform; the Kholin cloak that was given to him after that final bridgerun.

ANIMAL/S: He enjoys skyeels, from a distance, and thinks that axehounds are...alright. He doesn’t trust horses at all. All in all, he isn’t very good with animals.

NUMBER: I have noooo idea...

COLOR: He likes blues and other cooler colors the best. Officially can’t stand the color brown, thanks to his time running bridges. Everything was brown.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: He’s excellent with a spear and is also an inspiring leader. He is able to command attention and respect by leading through example. He’s quite graceful as well, and could possibly be a good dancer if he wanted to learn. However, without any knowledge of how to dance, he just sticks to spear kata.

BAD AT: Knowing when to care and when to accept that nothing can be done. ( HE CARES TOO MUCH. ) Taking care of himself, expressing his feelings, letting go of his past.

TURN-ONS: Trust, understanding, respect, passion, confidence (Also arrogance? for some reason?), being valued

TURN-OFFS: Degradation, being told he’s ‘not worth it’, classist Alethi bullshit, selfishness

HOBBIES: Training (Himself and his men), spending time with Syl and his bridge crew. He’s really not much for hobbies but he does enjoy climbing up to high places.

TROPES: Broken Ace, The Captain, Chronic Hero Syndrome, Combat Medic, Driven to Suicide (almost), Failure Knight, Guardian Angel, Honor Before Reason, Survivor Guilt, Gravity Master, Handicapped Badass (Mentally rather than physically, since he suffers from severe clinical depression, even before developing his survivor’s guilt.)

AESTHETIC TAGS: ;Aesthetic ( KALADIN )

[ilygsd]

odfidk: 270618

i cry at least once aday cus im only surrounded by whites but like.... there are poc here. theres other adoptees of color and some poc in my DM’s wanting to chat with me and maybe even hang out but fuuuCKKK WHAT IS WRONG WTH ME WHY AM I NOT SOCIAL

i also always cry about how social and happy i used to be but im doing anything about it lmao. like i KNOW that in order to get my shit together i need to sleep and eat and exercize and shit..... do i do that?? absolutely the fuck no cus i love to feel sorry for mysel and watch myself destroy everything

i hate myself, i hate my life i can feel the anxiety coming and when that is i always call my mom but she’s white and im so  paranoid i dont trust white people with anything i REALLLY RESLLY REALLY want a therapist of color but my lazy ass cant even manage to call one cus i’d rather lie in my bed and DIE than doing smth productive with my life

also im together with a white dude and just thinking about how confused i am about this relationship makes me want to die alone. i cant trust my own thoughts and feelings but i SURE AS HELL cant trust anyone else either. not white people, no poc and not adoptees of color either. the only person i trust is my partner cus they know me better than anyone else and theyre wise but fuck i dont trust them either cus i cant even manage to tell them this cus ive already been such a horrible partner and i dont want to huet them but hey no its not even about that. its about ME not wanting to lose them cus im so fucking selfish which is only another reason i should break up. if you knew what a horrible partner, friend and human being ive been you’d all hate me. im such a hypocrite and when i hear my partner forigve me despie me KNEOING what i am like.......

how will i ever find someone who loves me like them. i’ll never find anyone like them. does it really matter that they’re white in that case? yes it does can i’d literally kILL myself if our children were to become white. how can i love myself after all of this. im holding onnto a dream of re-visiting my homecountry and my birth place. im holding omto a dream of learning mandarin and more abt my culture and get lots of chinese and asian friends but like..... who am i kidding. that wont solve my problems. what i feel is so much deeper. what i feel is nothing that can be fixed

IM SO FUCKINF SAD EVERYONE. IM SO SAD AND I MISS MY BIOLOGIAL PARENTS SO FUCKING MUCH. I HATE EVERYONE BUT ONLY BC I DONT KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH MY OWN SELF HATRED AND DISSATISFACTION. IM SO SAD AND FRUSTRATED AND LONELY AND I JUST WANT TO BE IN MY MOMS BELLY.

why did it turn out like this. what am i so problematic snd why am i not doing anything about it. why did i destroy and fux up every single relationship i ever had. why cant i love my adoptive family like anyone else. but why al i not strong enough to cut them off. is it bc i actually love them? or is it bc im scared of being alone? will i love them again when i’ve healed, when i’ve revovered from whatever it is im revorigin form. abandonment? loss? lost family, lost identity, lost culture, lost people

it doesnt matter how many POC i connect with or how many adoptees i connect with. i’ll always feel lonely. i’ll always be lonely. and im so pathetic i cant stand it. i’d rather kill myself than knowing i’ll always be lonely. ive fkd up every friendship and relationship i have and im too scared of building new ones bc im so over attatched and want to rely on them forever. and now i dont even feel anything but anger and hatred. im such a fucking mess. im a danger to myself and everyone around me. im abusing the ones i claim to love, i dream about taking a gun and just shoot everyone down. i dream about committing suicide but not bc i actually want to, but because i want to revenge. on who? i want my family to suffer. i want society to suffer and know my pain. but they wont. they never will

im all alone, im so lonely im so lonely i keep isolering myself. i keep dreaming about fkn kpop idols and anime characters. i will never get better if i dont do smth but im so tired and im so angry. but it only hurts me. im only hurting myself even more. no one cares. no one will ever care, its only hurting ME

i thought i had gotten better. i used to feel like this everyday. now its only once a month. but idk. i cant think straight, i cant control myself. i know i shouldnt post stuff lile this DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IVE FKD UP CUS I CANT CONTROL MYSELF WHEN IM IN THIS KIND OF STATE ONE TIME I ACTUALLY THOOUGHT I WAS GONNA KILL SOMEONE AND THEN JUMP IN FRONT OF A BUS

im sitting in my room. my little sister is outside and when im done with this message i’ll go out to her and pretend nothing happened. i cry for myself. i cry for other adoptees too. i cry for my adopted little sister and how white she is. i cry for all adoptees who’ve grown up to become whites. i cry because im such a fkn mess. i cry bc my abusive tendencies started so early. i abused my little sister bc of my own fkn issues and our adoptive parents didnt even care, they didnt even realize.

i feel like this is who i was supposed to be. a disgusting manipulative abuser but i know thats just another excuse for me to not do smth about myself

why dont i care about my family? about my partner or my little sister? i’d say i love my partner the most but i care more about my little sister

sometimes when i see children of color, or asian children i just feel something so fucking strong. i feel like i want to die for them on the spot. i feel like straight out giving them my jeart and protect them forever.

i got pregnant when i was 17 and it changed my life. ive never been interested in children but after that i was. but its so unhelathy. im only interested bc i want someone like me. i even doubted the abortion. fuck i felt like absolute SHIT after the abortion. i felt like they took smth from me, they took my mom, they took my baby. everhthing was taken from me and i got nothing. if im not able to have biolocial children in the future i’ll kill myself. if my children is looking white or nothing like me i’ll kill myself. im happy i had an abortion tho. i wasnt mentally stable. poor child would have only been born bc i was feeling lonely

i’d be such a horrible mom too. i’d be so overprotective. im always like that. overprotective in a possessive kind of way. like YOURE MINE. my child would hate me and i wouldnt blame them. i just feel like i have to protect something. i NEED something to protect. no one ever needs me. im always clinging into others but no one ever needs me as much as i need them. a child would need me. but they would eventuellt grow up so im thinking about a dog or a car instead. they would need me.

you know what i want? uncondotional love. from people of color. yes i have that from my white adoptive parents but i dont feel it. instead i feel like im using them. im shitting so fucking much on them and i dont know if i do it even more cus i feel guilty for shitting on them. most times they just take it and its like that makes me even angrier but if they were to argue with me i’d fkn explode right there and now. ive always been such a problematic kid. i can feel it. my sister’s been so calm and perfect but ive always been unstable. its like i always test people. ive tested my adoptive parents for 17-18 years now.

but everhtime i actually have someone love me uncondotilnally i feel like i have to isolate myself. its such a weird fkn thing i have such a weird fkn conception abt relationships and such. its just the way i thought it was like. in a friendship, relationship or family theres ONE dominant and ONE submissive. i realized relationships doesnt work lile this AT AGE 17 WHEN I LOST ALL MY FRIENDS. can you believe i’ve lived like this for 17 years???? i still categorize ppl into this and its so fucked up. how could i think like this?? how can I STILL think like this?? the submissive have to love the dominant one but the dominant will always protect the submissive one. i always, ALWAYYS go for dominant ones. and its always, ALWAYS going shit. either bc i expect too much from them. i expect them to love me back snd PROTECT ME or im just too clingy and get rejected. bc when im the dominant one i get bored. its like i WANT to fight for peoples attention. i see them as superior and i feel good when they give me that. but not too much cus if they give me too much I’LL feel superior and then i feel bored. thats basically my relationship with my partner now. ive been an awful fkn asshat and they’re still staying with me. it disturbed me once so much i forced them to break up with me only to guilt trip them when they did.

im so fucked up i really am. my partner deserves so much better. im so fucked up that i want to break up with them but if i would, if they would, i’d go fucking banans. thats not a healthy relationship. i shouldnt be in relationship

i should be alone til ive fgired myself out. but lonliness and isolation drives me mad. i dont trust myself

this post wasnt supposed to be lile this. i was going to write smth intellectual but instead im exposing myself like this. why do i do that? i dont know. do i wan people to feel sorry for me?? is that what i want? do i want advice? advice that i know i wont follow anyways cus im a dumbass?? is it because i just cant hold it in? why dont i post it somewhere else private? especially when i KNOWW THAT ILL GET SO FKN ANXIOUS ABT POSTING THIS THAT ILL NEVER FACE ANYONE AHAIN SND ILL REBLOG SO MANY TAEHYUNG GIFS AND JUST LAUGH IT OFF BUT LILE..... IM STILL GONNA POST IT???

sometimes i tell myself i wouldnt care if i died but im actually so afraid of dying

i want to be happy i want to be good but i dont know if i can or if i deserve it. when im not feeling like shit i dont want to talka but this bc then i’ll feel like sjit snd im scared of myself. i feel like im turning into a demon, something i cant control and im scared i’ll do stupid shit

how do i get rid of this? how dont become happy. the fact that my family is white, my partner is white. is that a problem or is it only me? do i have to break up, do i have to cut off my family in order to become satisfied? in order to decolonize? i know adoptees who have. mostly cus they got real weird fkn prents but my parents are....... so-so. they’re white. they’re good parents except they’ee white. but other adoptees parents weren’t even good parents to start with and their whiteness and racism made it 722771x worse

i hate feeling so split always having to choose. choose between AP and bio family. whites and poc. i’ll choose poc. i’ll choose my birth family. but i dont have a birth family like...... and now im stuck with this white one. ive been abandoned multiple times im not strong enougg to get rid of my AP’s even if i want to. but i dont think that i want to. i think i love them. im just so fkn heartvroken abt the fact that they’re white and therefore constantly hurting me and my sister wether they want it or not. im stuck. its like a fkn curse.

i was a fine kid before. i always had these issue but the abortion def triggered it. the abortion and break up with my friends that was like the 3rd break up and i just knew that damn i dont have the energy to keep going. dont even get me started on the breakup. i was a sjit friend. yeah im still a bit salty cus i think hey could have handled it better but tbh........ they probably sensed the fucking freak inside of me me before it jumped. i keep telling myself they only protected themselves but im paranoid and hate everyone and when i feel abandoned and rejected i deal with it with being an abusive asshat

i wonder why im like this. im obv not the only one since i keep reading abt adoptees who murder and stuff. i kinda think thats me sometimes. that im gonna turn out like that and just go on a murder spree. when i see x-men or the black panther...... i always feel for erik and eric (sre they both named eric lmao). mage to and killingen. and all charcters like that. i cried so much when i watched these movies cus im so sensitive when it comes to families AND people. (xmen jewish ppl) (black panther black ppl). and i kind of undersyood them

especially xmen apacolypse. he really tried to turn good. he really got himself a family but even they got killed. everyone got kille. i kinda admire him but i also think he’s weak. how come he’s able to just turn good after that?????  i’d probably kill the whole fucking world. like what kind of propaganda IS THAT??? is that even real??

and i feel so awful cus i had a good childhood i guess??? i mean fkn killmonger grew up all alone and poor and he found his fkn dad murdered??? i understand that trauma!!! and magneto had his mom shot in front of him and watched his whole people fkn die. and what about me? i havent been through any of that

ofc i dont know. i dont know what happened before and i dont remember. my APs got divroced tho and my A mom got PTSD and i def think that affected me as well tho. i kind of lost my family AGAIN. and ive never really tristes them after that. even there u could feel me snd my fucked up ness

i was such a shithead to my mom who had freaking PTSD. i blamed her for everything. breaking up with dad, bad ekonomy and then our fkn white big brother moved home bc he was depressed too or smth and there we were. 3 kids sharing a room while mom was unemployed and slept in the living room. that was such a messy time and my 11 y/o self was so angry and aggressive. and my poor sister was so scared and shy. of me. of all of us

anyways why didnt my sister turn out like this? is it bc of my temepramwnt?? maybe. ive read abt mental illness but i dont really feel like anyone fits. im leaning more towards bpd. bipolar and ptsd are similar but i dont rly get those periods and i dont get flashbacks of my trauma either cus im not even sure what my trauma is. its more like..... a feeling rather than smth specific. i mean its not like i remember anything

but why did i tjen out like this. irs cus everyone hates me right? lmao u always think lile that ots so pathetic. i always think ppl do shit to huet m. my poor partner and ex-friends..... the simpliest mistake would make me crazy.

im such a horrible human and sometimes i dont want to do anything abt this. i just dont wanna CARE but i know i feel line that cus i feel guilty deep inside. and it wont make me happy either

if i recover will i stop hating white people? will i stop hate my family and non-adoptees? probably not white ppl and non-adoptees. i mean i still hate men and so so why would i stop just cus i recover. but my family? will i forgve myself? will i fogive them? i cant forive them ew no. ugh idek what im saying. what do i have to do to stop feeling like this?

maybe get out of bed? yeah thats a start

thanks ill reblog bts now and then ill turn off my phone and never come back. cant wait to comeback and cringe the fuck out of myself wow i love

[thepokepelago]

So I just moved to the Alola region and I do a lot of costume work. Unfortunately, some of my supplies have gone missing lately, and it turns out the culprit was a few mimikyu. No idea where they came from, but I've done a lot of work with pokemon of all types ( due to working with them in theater ). I'm willing to let the little guys have some supplies, and even hang around sometimes, but is there anything specific I need to KNOW in case one moves in for good?

Seems like you’ve had quite the journey with your Mimikyu, anon. You must work in a pretty large theater - Mimikyu tend to live in relative solidarity, something I briefly discuss in an older post I made analyzing the pokémon. I’m sure you’ve noticed that Mimikyu’s nests have been fairly spread out throughout the theater?

Your Mimikyu seem to have worked out that briefly working together works out favorably for them. If they continue to help you, they continue to get scraps of fabric, and they can continue to build their “nests”. Mimikyu have been known to hoarde objects before - sounds like your’s have an affinity for cloth. I’m surprised you were even able to find thir hoarde to begin with, since Mimikyu likes to keep its living space to itself (not to mention that they usually make them in hidden areas!). Good eye.

If you watch them after they “protect” the house, I’m sure you’ll notice that they don’t go back to the deeper theater together, each drifting off on their own. This behavior has always been puzzling to pokémon behavioralists, considering how dependent Mimikyu is on human attention. That’s really my main concern about your new “neighbors”. Mimikyu that become dependant on humans can be difficult to handle. They easily get jealous of their human’s other pokémon, perhaps seeing them as competition to the trainer’s attention. Obviously, this is not good for someone who works with a lot of pokémon. They act on this jealously in many ways, usually by pestering or bullying the pokémon while the trainer’s back is turned. This can sometimes result in the injury of the effected pokémon when Mimikyu goes a little too far. Frankly, I’m not sure what would transpire if three Mimikyu were to vie for your attention at once; probably nothing good. This behavior can be trained out of them, fortunately, but it takes a lot of hard work and dedication, especially considering a Mimikyu’s life of loneliness beforehand. If they don’t seem to be too attatched to you right now, it’s possible that your relationship will stay the way it’s always been - you give cloth and theater space, they give you protection. But tread carefully.

Another option could be to allow experienced trainers, who know how to handle Mimikyu, adopt the little guys. More than one Mimikyu in a place just doesn’t seem like a good idea to me because of what might transpire.

I feel guilty telling you to exercise caution since these pokémon clearly came to you for help, but their personalities can be so volatile if they start to bond with you that I’m worried for the rest of your theater. I’ve never really heard of more than one Mimikyu doing well when trained by one person - Mimikyu breeders seperate even newly-born ones from their siblings to avoid problems. While it’s a good sign that the three are working together, that might be because they haven’t “grown” to you yet - who knows? See how it works out for a little while, but at the first sign of trouble, I’d consider taking some alternative measures than letting them stay in your theater. 

I should probably mention that I have nothing against Mimikyu myself. When trained properly, it’s a wonderful pokémon (and one heck of a security system). But since you’re working in a profession with so many other pokémon, I want to be sure that I’m ensuring their safety as well. And Mimikyu does pose the possibility of being a threat to that. Maybe I’m completly off base, and the Mimikyu will have no interest in you (though I suppose they might in a theater hand or actor, and that can start a whole host of problems). Just take the right steps for your other pokémon, okay?