kimchiplz-blog

[feralfoxfeels]

Okay I'll admit that I'm making up 75% of the pataphysics talk in my fic but um as long as it sounds plausible I guess!!

[fanaticsnail]

Snail important question;

Of any line-up of characters of your choice-

Who do you think is attracted to competency,

Who is attracted to stupidity,

Who can go either way,

And who is attracted to both at the same time (imagine;

Reader: sorry I'm late I had to fight off two different ships

Them: is that how you got that bruise on your face?

Reader: oh... Actually, I wasn't looking and pulled a push door off its' hinges into my face

Them, kicking off their pants: god you're so fucking stupid, sit on my face

)

Also, I feel like there are different versions of competency and stupidity. Street smarts vs social obliviousness. Book smarts vs functionally illiterate. Strategic/battle smarts vs what-do-you-mean-flashing-the-enemy-isn't-a-valid-distraction?

(Zoro is completely math smart and dumb in every other way)

I could imagine Luffy would be attracted to hyper specific competency. If you're really into a specific thing and good at it and it's your dream he would absolutely love it even if it sounds like you're speaking gibberish to him. He wouldn't even think of it as weird - I mean, no more weird than any other dream he doesn't personally understand - he's certainly not the type to judge based on societal norms. You could talk his ear off about the reproductive habits of different animals and he wouldn't get why everyone else doesn't like to hear it when they're eating but hey more food for him.

Snail. Your asks always know how to get the better of me. Have a series of little drabbles, dear.

Competency, Stupidity, Duality

Masterlist here

Word Count: 410+, 510+, 580+

Synopsis: They can't help what attracted them to you. No matter what you did, they simply couldn't get enough of you. Their emotions finally catch up with them, and they confess their adoration for you.

Themes: variety x gn!reader, feelings, injury, mentions of battles, finally giving in, all different 'reader' inserts, confessions of love, kid x reader, zoro x reader, killer x reader, angst, fluff, sweetness.

Notes: I wasn't expecting to write this today, but I've been thinking about the big boys lately and I needed to give them some love. Something about trios lately.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Competency: Eustass Kid

When Eustass Kid noticed how quick and sharp you were to react in life or death circumstances, he was immediately smitten with you. Being a Straw-Hat, your ambitions and dreams were fostered by your playful captain as you sailed aboard the Thousand Sunny. Your ability to interact flawlessly by balancing the combined efforts of the three crews had him intrigued by your charisma. 

Fighting by your side was something he didn’t expect to affect him so much. The way you researched the strengths and weaknesses of all three crews sailing and fighting together was admirable. Asserting yourself by asking Law to push and pull you closer to the fight with the Ope-Ope no Mi ability, while fighting side-by-side with Massacre Soldier Killer in close quarters, had him left wordless.

After the battle finishes, he watched as you hastily aided your crew of their injuries while disregarding your own; putting others first while adding pressure to your hand-gash, hovering it over your head to slow the bleeding. He couldn’t get enough of you. 

He needed you to know how he felt about you, but being in the presence of Luffy and Law always seemed to bring out the more juvenile side of attitude. His simple attraction and infatuation with you had to be revealed to you in due time, but he couldn’t risk sounding like an idiot in front of you. He would have to simply wait until you were alone and unoccupied before he made his move to take care of you after taking care of others. 

Slowly approaching you as you sat down against the tangerine grove aboard the Thousand Sunny, his shadow shrouded your form and prompted you to gaze up into his scarred, sheepish face. Your smile caused his heart to beat harder and his head to swirl with a variety of "what-ifs". Gulping back his insecurities, he knelt down in front of you.

“Let me take care of that for you,” he offered with a soft smirk, “You’ve done so much for others, and I think your hand needs some seeing to.” 

“If you say so, Captain Kid,” you shrug, offering your injured hand delicately to him and listening to his every instruction as he treats you, “I wasn’t aware you had any medical training.” He straps your hand in a bandage, placing down the final ties before holding your injured hand in his.

“I don’t,” he shrugged with a smile atop his painted lips, “But I’ve lost an arm before, and I don’t want to see that happen to you.” 

“You’re-...” he stuttered over his words, gazing at your hand before softly drifting his tired eyes up, “...-You amaze me. Truly, amaze me.” You place your other hand on his, never once removing your eyes from his face as he offers you such kindness. 

“Thank you, sir,” you nod to him with a soft smile, “You amaze me, too.”

Stupidity: Roronoa Zoro

“Why would you do that?” Zoro roared at you, hovering his body over yours and caging your face-down body within a shield of his own. The gashes on your back were deep, your body weeping out the red essence and staining your clothes with it.

“C-Couldn’t risk yours,” you stuttered out with a soft smile, “H’was gonna g-get yours. Didn’t want you to wear the shame.” His eyes widened, filling with a steam of glossy tears that threatened to spill over the moment you stuttered out your confession. “That’s what you said, wasn’t it? Mark on the back is a swordsman’s greatest shame?” 

Drip. 

Drip.

Drip.

One after one, soft tears spilt down his cheeks and mixed with the fluids pooling at your back. He leaned down towards you, the heat of battle dying down with the swift, flaming kick of the blonde cook and giggling chuckles of your captain, Luffy. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he sniffed his sobs back as he leaned down to cage you, “Can’t you see? None of that fucking matters without you here.” He softly, tenderly moved you from your position on the floor to not disturb your wounds. He sat you up, cradling you against his broad chest and openly sobbed for you. 

“When you get better,” he growled into your shoulder, “I will repay you for this. I will pay my debt to you.” His sobs got more desperate, not halting in the slightest when Trafalgar D Water-Law approached the two of you in your embrace. 

“Let me get ‘em to the infirmary,” Law offered, gesturing for Bepo to ready the aid kit, “I’ll treat the wounds there-.” 

“-I won’t leave them,” Zoro barked over your shoulder, your soft smile tugging at your cheeks in your hazy daze. “Let me go with you, Traffy. I won’t say a damn word to distract you, on my honor.” Law nods, raising his hand and spreading his fingers and offers the two words to switch positions within the infirmary: “Room, Shambles.” 

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you laughed each time Zoro chastised you for your stupidity. Echos of: “There were so many other things you could’ve done instead,” and “You stumbled into that blade like a moron and took that hit for me, idiot.” You giggled through the pain, barely feeling it as Law worked to stitch you together again. 

Upon regaining consciousness, you looked to your moss-haired crewmate and offered out your hand to his bicep. His head was bowed, arms crossed over his chest, and was assumed to be napping by your bedside. Feeling your touch, he was roused from his sleep and immediately leaned forward to bring his face beside yours. 

“You’re a fucking moron,” he huffed, smiling in a melancholy grin. You laughed at his insult, squeezing his muscle before retracting your hand. As you nearly drew it away to your side, he caught your hand and brought your palm up to his lips. 

“My fucking moron,” he confirmed, placing a soft kiss to your palm before using it to cup his face. “I love you.”

Duality: Massacre Soldier Killer

Staring up into your face while remaining silent, resting his masked face on the heel of his palm, he listened to your recount of a very specific childhood injury that left you with an interesting scar on your thigh. Killer’s eyes never left your face, his cheeks beginning to glow warm and vibrant beneath the shroud of his mask.

“So, let me get this straight,” Captain Eustass Kid held his hand in front of his face and gave it a gentle wave to halt your words, “That sick-looking scar wasn’t from any time you served with Luffy, but because you set off a fucking harpoon and speared yourself in the leg with it?” 

Killer felt himself swoon at the melody your laugh thrust into the atmosphere. He was ever thankful his blue and white mask disguised how much he was smiling beneath the shroud. 

“Yep,” you popped the ‘P’ afterwards, nodding in confirmation as you sat beside Usopp and drew your tankard up to your lips, “But I learnt from it, and it hasn’t happened since.” Killer sighed, his voice almost coming out in a soft moan to reveal his growing infatuation for you. Kid barked out a harsh gaggle of laughter, clapping you on the shoulder with his right hand and gestured for you to reveal it to them.

“Let me see it again, go on,” he chuckled, removing his hand and sitting back on his seat, “Use Killer’s thigh as a prop so we can see it properly. You don’t mind do you, big guy?” Killer absentmindedly and slowly shook his head, tapping his thigh twice with his hand for you to reveal your injury to the captain of the Victoria Punk, himself and your crewmate beside you. 

“Alright,” you shrugged, standing beside Usopp and Killer and gently placed your foot atop Killer’s thigh and began hiking up your shorts to your hip, “Feast your eyes, Captain.” Sure enough, an interesting looking scar was revealed on your inner thigh, clear as day and sure as the sea is salty. 

“Oh, fucking hells!” Kid gave you a hearty laugh, “You seeing this, big guy?” Kid turned his attention to his first mate, his smile only growing as he noticed the angle of Killer’s mask never left your face. Surprise was immediately thrust into Kid’s eyes, noticing the unwavering resolve in Killer’s posture. 

You turned your attention down to the silent and broody first-mate, your face puzzled and eyes searching his mask for any further thought or action. He slowly drew his hands up to clasp around your ankle and calf, holding it firmly as he leaned forward. 

“You’re perfect,” he offered in a breathy whisper, stroking your leg and gazing lovingly into your face, “Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.” 

Your face flushed with a warmth at his words, eyes widening and looking down at his large hands as they held you so tenderly and delicately within his grasp. Smiling, you leaned forwards and placed your hand over his scarred left forearm with mischief in your eyes, asking him a simple question with a suggestive tone. 

“Like what you see then, big guy?” At your question, Usopp nearly choked on his drink. You had never been this bold before, and this came as a shock to your crew’s skilled sniper. He covered his choking with a soft cough, turning away with a downturned smile and stifling his growing laugh. 

“So much,” Killer confirmed, gently caressing your calf and looking up at you through half-hooded blonde lashes beneath his mask, “So, so much.”

[pseudowho]

hihi haitch, i’m the anon who asked about studying your writing style …four days ago now? 🖤

writing was going good, a little over 2k words, and i had to stop since i had work in the morning. after that, i got really nervous out of nowhere that either:

a. it wasn’t at all like haitch’s writing and i am actually a giant fraud who should have a wanted poster for even trying

b. the classic issue where its good in my head, and then! i start writing it.

am i crazy? how many times do you look over or edit what you write before you post it? are there any tips you might have or if you could simply say ‘it’s just anxiety, you’re literally fine. just write for the sake of writing.’ ugh. i feel like a wet rag in need of being rung out. backhand me across the face and shout at me to pull it together, if you would feel so inclined.

ps. about your response, i was aware as i was writing the question that you don’t own a writing style, i just didnt want to add more to an already long ask for a fairly simple question. i think it was more a respect thing, i guess? but i appreciate it greatly. that, and the tenth-of-a-percentage chance you said ‘no! only i may write like this! mwahahahha! 🪿’ very realistic anxieties, i know, thank you, i worked really hard on them.

pps. the idea of sending you my writing after it was finished initially made me, for lack of better words, want to shit my pants at the idea. i imagined if you didnt like it, and had to come to terms with the fact that, at the end of the day - and i say this with all of the love and respect and admiration i can summon - you are just another person, and ill probably be fine. so, yeah, ill try to get that in your inbox whenever it gets finished. if it does. so… i hope you weren’t expecting it soon! god, im not even to the good stuff (🌶️) yet.

thank you for your time, this is probably gibberish, my anxiety is usually much more well-behaved i swear. ok, i hope you are doing well, i will try not to send another ask until its done. bye now! 🖤

When I said I don't own a writing style, I didn't mean it in a dismissive way-- really, it was a self-deprecating, encouraging way. I really promise you, I'm absolutely fine with this, flattered even.

a) it's okay if it's not an exact style imitation. In fact, it's better-- your own character will come through in it.

b) I proofread once, then post. I don't 'edit' really. I wrote directly into Tumblr drafts.

My writing is straight off the cuff and most of the time I have a couple of solid plot points planned, and everything else occurs spontaneously around it. I am aware I don't write like many other writers. Trying to copy my writing process as well will likely prove to be unfruitful, because I've become aware in the past year on here that my writing style is something of an oddity.

I also really am just another person. I also find it distinctly strange that so many people message me for writing advice when I've only been writing for a year myself! I feel bad, because I know how I write...but I don't feel particularly qualified to tell other people how to write.

Send me as many Asks as you like, genuinely.

Don't hyperfocus on copying my style. I assure you, I didn't know I had a style. I just write. Most of the time I can't remember exactly what I wrote. I just...write.

You have to allow a natural flow to develop, or your writing will feel clunky. If it starts to flow, and you're not even looking at my work...GOOD! Let that flow happen. Don't stop to go "AAHHHH! WHAT IF IT ISN'T LIKE HAITCH'S WRITING?!" because that's a fool's errand.

I believe in you, Anon!!

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[humanlyimprobable]

i feel like something people dont realize about me is that, i lived in a place with several big secrets and 0 privacy for around 3-4 years? i didnt have a proper room, or even any room that was just mine for 99% of that, so while my tolerance for these things can be fairly high, there are times when all i need in the entire world is to be left alone/left alone in my room. its kind of like im a cat, sometimes i might be very cuddly and want to hang out, and other times i just need to be left to my own devices. as much as i adore hanging out with my friends im an ambivert. sometimes its just too much.

[chocolate-parfait]

"Paranormal night? I don't think so!" - Ikemen Vampire (Isaac)

TW ; vomit , mature language

@sciamchyafterdusk requested:

I saw your post with the halloween propts also i dont really know if im requesting this right i just got tumblr but Mc and isaac from ikemen vampire for 21 and 26 🥺🍁 I just think it would be really funny because I doubt isaac would believe in ghost probably just a prank from dazzi and arthur but, I think he’d deny it but secretly not so secretly be a scaredy-cat (also male reader but ik most people have female mcs so you dont have to write it if you dont feel comfortable with that!)

Sassy!Male!MC because I'm kinda tired of writing for beautiful perfect ladies that go STOP TEASING ME TEEHEE, blush over nothing and sing like disney princesses. (watch me do exactly that in the next piece I write)

+it's not a negative thing or anything as I'm the first one who likes to write for that type of trope but,, variety is very much needed every once in a while

21. “Oh my gaud, I think the crystal ball is working. The spirits are telling me you’re a dumbass.”

26. “I dare you to go down there.”

Isaac had no idea why he ever thought this could have been a good idea in the first place. Sitting by a candlelit round table, Dazai, Arthur, you and your lover were staring at a crystal ball placed in the middle of the wooden surface, hands ceremoniously joined together to form a circle.

The room was growing colder by the minute, as the local paranormal enthusiast decided that a fire would scare the spirits away. Despite the polar temperatures, you managed to keep your hand warm enough to try and offer some kind of support to your partner, Isaac, whose left hand was as cold as ice and even slightly trembling, though you kept any type of comment to yourself as you knew he wouldn't be pleased to have a third bully team up against him.

Unfortunately for both of you, the two writers' analyzing eyes were vigilant even in the darkness of the room, and they simultaneously decided to poke fun at the scientist as they waited for something to happen.

"Ai-chan, are you scared?" The Japanese teasingly inquired. "C'mon old Newt! Shouldn't you believe in numbers and science a little bit more? I'm sure your gravitational equation will come to save you if a ghost tries strangling you!~" The other man said, obviously aware of the hypocrisy of his statement. "Would you look at that..! You're shaking like a leaf and your expression is quite the amusing one..." Arthur added, slightly leaning forward to get a better look at his face. "C'mon, stop bullying him, you two." You whispered with a scolding tone.

You didn't exactly believe in these things, and yet the slight creepiness of the whole atmosphere couldn't quite let your heart remain completely unmoved. Just as you turned your eyes back on the transparent sphere, Arthur straightened like a board and with utmost earnestness exclaimed:"I can feel a presence... Dear Lord, look behind you Isaac!!"

"W-WHAT IS IT-?!" The fragile man half screamed, throwing himself to your side and squeezing your arm tightly, as if scared a supernatural entity would grab him from behind and drag him to Hell. The moment the exclamation left your lover's lips your eyes flew to the back of the room, noting with your own two pupils that there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary there.

"Haa... you really are an impossible one Arthur." You said with a sigh while pinching the bridge of your nose. "I'm utterly serious when it comes to these things!" Said the English man with a slight pout marking his features. Then, an idea came to your mind.

The blue haired flirt always found an excuse to either tease you or your man, and a payback was the least you could do.

"Wait! Look at the sphere- no way... that's impossible..." You mumbled with an incredulous tone, making the best shocked expression you could manage. Three other pair of eyes moved to the crystal ball, focusing with all their might to try and see what you were talking about. "Do you see something??" Arthur's voice came out in a whisper, hushed and grave.

"Oh my gaud, I think the crystal ball is working. The spirits are telling me you’re a dumbass!"

"O-of course you didn't see anything- ghosts don't exist anyways..." Isaac whispered to himself, finally letting go of your arm and huffing in relief.

"MC!!! Take this seriously!!" Seeing the playboy so offended pleased you, and you responded with a hearty laugh. "Yeah well, I'm not really the biggest believer of these type of things. I'm still shocked the author of Sherlock Holmes is a fan of the occult, though!"

"Don't you dare mention that piece of trash in front of me!" Ah, there was his weakness. Whenever someone mentioned the detective, he'd lose his temper in the blink of an eye, becoming vulnerable to every type of teasing remark thrown his way. This was a tactic you had started using quite often whenever you wanted to help Isaac with all the mocking gibberish thrown his way.

"Now, now, let us not fight!" Dazai cut off your thoughts with his signature smile. "If we make too much noise, the oni might hear us and come our way"

"A what? ...can't you guys just stop with all the demon talk?" Isaac complained. "They clearly don't exist." He concluded.

"And even if they found us, would they stand a chance against three vampires? You should be scared of yourselves, not some stinky heap of darkness and evil. You can probably snap their necks like a twig with your superhuman strength." You added, looking at the two people sitting in front of you with narrowed eyes.

"Your words bring me an unimaginable amount of disapproval, MC" Did Arthur always need to have the last word on everything? "So do you." You remarked, finally standing up to make your way to the door, clearly done with the conversation.

Barely seconds after you stepped out in the hallway, you heard the sound of a chair sliding against the floor, followed by the familiar sound of shoes you had learnt to recognize anywhere.

"There's no way I'm staying in that room with those two tortures." Isaac scoffed. "I-I'd rather spend my time with you." His tone was shy, but when reaching for your hand, his touch was bold and yet gentle. At this display of cuteness, you couldn't help but softly press a kiss to his cheek before squeezing his hand in yours. "Shall we head back to your room then?" And as your question was answered with a nod, you two started walking down the dark hallway, hand in hand.

Newton's room was quite far from the small lounge you had borrowed for your spooky night, and minutes passed as a comfortable silence hung between the two of you, steps muffled by the red carpet of the hallway filling resonating softly in the empty corridor.

Letting your mind wander freely during the small walk, you went over the events of the day and the evening in particular. The firm words of scepticism you had thrown at Arthur's way suddenly tumbled on you all at once.

What if... what if something were to happen now? Wouldn't it be funny? How ironic would it be! It was a thought that made your heart race; the possibility of witnessing something uncommon, out of this world and probably life-threatening was something that had always attracted the human heart, and you certainly weren't an exception despite your earlier contradicting statement. Sure, you weighed rationalism way more than matters from the supernatural sphere, and yet you had already been proved wrong once when you arrived to the mansion. So maybe nothing was impossible, right..?

You unconsciously slowed your pace, as if wanting to increase the chances of seeing some kind of paranormal activity, and fortunately enough your twisted prayers were met in the strangest of ways.

Passing by the access to the staircase that took downstairs to the cellar, you heard the most curious of sounds. It wasn't perfectly audible from your position, but you could make out incoherent mumbling and sounds that were human but not quite. Seeing how you had stopped walking, Isaac called out to you. "MC..?" After a few seconds of unresponsiveness, you turned to him, curiosity and a hint of mischief in your excited orbs. "Isaac, I dare you to go down there.” His eyes widened in surprise, and before he knew what what happening, you were pushing his back down the steps, adding in a reassuring whisper:"Don't worry. I'm right behind you." But the way you gripped his shoulder didn't go unnoticed, and it reminded him of when he had done the same thing to you minutes prior. Perhaps, those words of encouragement served to placate your quivering spirits, now slaves to your immense curiosity. The scientist certainly couldn't blame you when it came to that, so he gulped down his fear and, in an spur of bold courage, made his way down the dark, old staircase.

What was driving him was possibly either the wish to appear a bit cooler in your eyes or his innate spirit of in inquiry, maybe both. Meanwhile the weird murmurs and rustles got stronger as you approached the end of the stairs, and with a heart thundering wildly in both of your chests, you peeked into the cold basement. What you saw was...

"What in God's name aRE YOU DOING HERE?!"

Theo, slumped against the floor next to Vincent and a pool of...liquids. The angel was whispering words in his brother's ear while drawing soothing circles with his hand on the man's back. Just as you and your lover stepped into the room a pair of blue eyes flew to your figures in a surprised manner, and the blonde's soft voice found its way to your ears.

"Can you guys... help me out?" He said, slipping his arm under Theo's armpit to try and raise him up while offering you an apologetic smile. "We went to the pub to celebrate my newest painting but I'm afraid he exaggerated a bit... He... Theo is so drunk he fell down the stairs"

At this phrase you burst out laughing and Isaac stifled a giggle at the idea of the gruff man tumbling down like a sack of potatoes, then nodded and moved to help the eldest Van Gogh. The moment your lover got next to to the now half standing drunk vampire, Theo emitted a guttural noise and painted his usual grey vest in a terrifying yellow-ish color that would've looked breathtaking on Vincent's canvas. If it hadn't been... vomit, that is.

As you saw the pink haired vampire stiffen up in disgust, you started laughing even harder, calming down ever so slightly once you remembered how horrible your loudness must feel to someone so hungover. After recovering some much needed air, you went to help the two porters who were struggling to open the door as Theo's wobbly legs threatened to make them all fly down the steps, a smile on your face.

The whole situation took a turn you certainly had never expected, but it satisfied you nonetheless. In such a big house, no moment was to be left to boredom, and you had learned to appreciate and love all these grownup babies so it now felt completely natural to spend a night like this. (One of them had captured your whole heart in particular)

...though you figured someone wasn't going to be equally happy with all the cleaning the next day.

[ackermans-freedom-inc]

Hiya! I was debating on whether or not to ask you this, considering that you're probably busy with valentine and other matchup asks, but here it goes. I was wondering if you can match me up with a AOT male, taller then me (I'm 5'5 lol). If that's possible? Here I go-(I'm sorry if this is long!)

✨I have blue/greenish eyes, and red dyed hair (I put this last, idk know why-)

✨I'm an aquarius and honestly, I truly live up to my sign. I'm a Ambivert cause even though I love hanging out with my friends and get along with them, there are times where I just need to get out and be alone for a bit and just let out everything in me.

✨for my personality, I got a turbulent advocate, INFJ-T (I don't know if that helps-) I'm usually quiet and shy around new people, and keep to myself around them unless they come over and talk to me, or I hear them say something that is an interest of mine then I can break out of my shell and start talking.

✨After speaking up to a person and getting to know them better, I'm a very bubbly person, I try to be kind by treating people the way I want to be treated and only rarely am I angry unless someone really press my buttons. I also use humor to cope with, pretty much everything, and I always try my hardest to make someone laugh, because whenever I hear someone laugh, my heart melts because of it. Idk why it just does.

✨considering my height, and my weight, I'm a chubby girl, thick thighs and all. It took me a long time to love myself and try to accept myself for who I am, since I was bullied quite a bit during my childhood for my weight and other things. However, even though Im starting to love myself, there are times where I become insecure but I usually keep it to myself unless someone makes me blurt it out.

✨speaking of insecure, I have really bad anxiety. Whenever I'm under pressure during a situation I have no idea how to fix, I start to pick at my skin, usually digging my nails into my skin to the point it draws blood. And whenever I'm around a lot of people, like at a store for example, I always feel like their eyes are on me which makes me feel very insecure and I keep my arms around my stomach to try to keep my nerves down. Whenever I feel my anxiety rise, my body start to twitch, especially my hands, so in order to calm it down I start to sketch out a drawing or listen to music to help me calm.

✨I was mentally and physically abused as a child so it takes me a while before I can truly open to someone. I always feel like I'm a burden to people when I speak out about my problems or my feelings, so I tend to keep them to myself. However, there are times where I just can't keep it in anymore, so I just let it all out to someone by either crying or speaking at high speed (pretty much gibberish) and tug really hard at my hair. Because of this, I love it when someone understands me or, even if they don't know what I've exactly been through, they're still there to help and support me no matter what.

✨I usually don't use words or describe my emotions in these types of situations, so I express it to my partner by actions. Such as hugging them tight, or crying in their shoulders. Because I'm always worried I'll say the wrong thing to someone. And whenever I do say something wrong, I apologise to them, but it still lingers in my head for a while before I can come to terms with it.

✨In many situations, I try to use my brain before acting out, but there are times where my emotions get the best of me.

✨I have an immense fear that I'll be forgotten by the people I love, or I lose someone close to me. It didn't bother me back then, but now it's become a big fear of mine.

✨ANYWAY- aside from the "that" stuff, I get really flustered whenever someone compliments me, or even remotely flirts with me. Sure, I flirt back or compliment to someone as well (even if it's cheesy sometimes-) but when it's directed to me, I blush SO hard and smile because Ive never been complimented a lot during my past, so I take compliments to heart a lot of the time.

✨My hobbies are Drawing/Painting, Reading, Writing, Video games, and Hanging out with my friends.

✨Drawing has always been my favorite hobby as long as I can remember. Through out the years, my art style has gotten better, even though I still don't have an officially art style for myself. I especially love to draw or sketch out the people I love, ocs, animals, and mythical creatures. Mostly dragons/wyverns since I've always been entranced by mythology and mythical creatures. Drawing, or sketching in general has helped me a lot with expressing my emotions and my creativity on paper.

✨Animation has always been my biggest aspiration and I'm currently saving up money so I can study in animation.

Anyways, I think imma stop my matchup ask here so I hope all of this information about me helps! Again, I'm sorry if I'm bothering you with this matchup!

Hi Onyx!!!! You are NEVER bothering me!!! Thank you for sending in such a detailed bio for me! I just wanted to say, a lot of how you describe yourself sounds like me! Maybe its a fellow Aquarius thing? You are so so brave to be able to share so much about yourself with me, and I am so very thankful you felt safe to do so! <3 rooting for you and here for you if you need an ear, or shoulder. 

Alright, now. I have excluded Levi, Armin, and Connie because I believe those are the ones that are shorter than 5′5. 

I think the single thing that made me choose who I did for you was your love for art! I would match you up with....

Jean! 

We saw how much of an artist Jean was, and honestly that part stuck with me. 

Jean would be a good match for an ambivert such as yourself because I feel like he is a good balance of quiet contemplation and keeping to himself mixed with a very particular personality that can lean towards outgoing and sarcastic. 

I feel like Jean would be very respectful of what you wanted, and in time, would get more perceptive towards your needs. Did you agree to go out with your friends but as the day drew closer seemed a little hesitant about going out? He would be willing to be your scapegoat, telling your friends that he had something come up and you couldnt hang out anymore, or that there was some sort of leak or issue he caused and he needed you to stay behind to help with it. Essentially, he would be partner and that friend you call to bail you out of unfortunate situations all rolled up into one! 

At first, Jean would be the one who prompts you to talk and share more about yourself, but over time, as you grow more comfortable with him, you’d be the one dominating conversations, and he'd be absolutely fine with it! Just listening to you talk with an occasional hum or comment. 

Jean I think would be a mixture of actions and words. He is a little more vocal about sharing his emotions, but not by much. Hes mostly in his head with things and can come off as a little cold, but if you knew how he communicated his love, it would be obvious how much he cares. He does the little, mundane things to make life easier for you rather than profess his feelings all the time. When he notices how you cope with stressful environments, he'd be a great help. He'd gently take your hands and help you unfurl your clenched fist, or lacing your fingers with his to prevent you from picking at em. He would be that rock you need at the store, ushering you into a quiet aisle with an arm around your shoulder, making sure you're okay before resuming the shopping trip, planning out the optimal routes to take in order to minimize time spent in the store. 

The two of you would rarely get into arguments, mainly due to the fact that he could never really argue with you, also, you are just...never really angry. He would know better than to push your buttons or pick a fight so its usually pretty smooth sailing. 

You and jean’s everyday talk would be cute to listen to, him taking every opportunity to flirt or throw in a cheesy pickup line to make you smile. “good morning! its a beautiful day!”

“morning! You’re right. Gorgeous.” and hes looking straight at you and not at the blue skies smh 

Jean might be a little embarrassed or self conscious about his art, but would love to watch you sketch. He would go along with you to the park, or just out to explore new spots, sitting beside you quietly, sometimes laying his head in your lap as you sketch. That would be his ideal lazy afternoon. 

Overall, you two would be super cute! Everyone thinks so, but most importantly, the two of you would support each other, each helping the other grow in the best ways! 

Valentines Day Event 

[laurent-ofvere]

i'm sort of curious about your fic writing process. what do you start with? how do you get through tough parts? do you edit/revise? how do you know if an idea is worth writing?

WHY DOES EVERY ANSWER I EVER GIVE TURN INTO AN ESSAY IM SO ANNOYING YOU DONT CARE THAT MUCH 

1. when i first started writing fic i would start wherever i wanted, i would put down a scene that was currently in my head and then work around that. now i typically make myself write in chronological order, tho im not entirely sure why i restrict myself to it. i think its bc my writing consistency/interest has gone down considerably, and unlike before im more likely to drop something in the middle, so i dont allow myself to jump the gun bc im afraid ill write the parts that interest me most, and then be more inclined to let the fic go bc i got the fun bits out of my system. (but! i daydream the fic completely out of order, and i have notes of random lines/scenes that will happen that can span the entire thing. its all out of order and basically in gibberish code and would make sense to no one but me)

2. depends what you mean by tough parts. if its tough bc its one of those parts you dont care about/enjoy but just gotta get through, i basically do just that. its like dragging my feet but it needs to be done. if you mean tough like the mechanics of it are tough to write, ill write whatever i can and then just drop it, probably read over non related scenes and work on those, then come back with a fresh perspective and see what new ideas come to me. kinda like taking study breaks? when you spend hours going over one thing and reach a point where you’re like “i know what i know and at this point im going in circles” so you break for a while and when you pick it back up you can absorb it differently. its like that but im producing instead of consuming. also, ill occasionally just rant my head off to someone (i have a specific person for this) even if shes not online, ill just word vomit everything im thinking about the scene/situation and essentially have a long conversation with myself, and she’ll either help work through it bc we’re very likeminded on capri or ill reach a point in my yelling where it just clicks. 

3. FUCK yes i do. my first drafts are absolute garbage, if for whatever reason i send someone new a draft i give a paragraph long disclaimer like “ignore this and this and this and this and ITS GONNA BE EDITED I PROMISE” technical edits aside, the first version of my fics are like the skeleton of the story. single lines become paragraphs, small things get fleshed out, details get added etc. i add something new every time i re read, and i do the thing mentioned above with tough parts where i let it chill untouched for a while and then come back with fresh edits (slight lie, i dont leave it alone that long anymore, bc impatient and careless) 

4. i mean, how do you ever know? i wont lie, knowing that there are people who are interested and hype for it makes it worth it, but i‘d never write something i dont personally care about just bc others do, so its a steady combination. but i know its really worth writing if i truly have fun with it, if it sparks joy, if i think about it sporadically, all that. the first thing i wrote for nikandros pining over laurent was with no intentions of being posted, i just couldn’t stop thinking about it and writing those feelings out was fun and cathartic. 

[b-hardys]

familiarity / roger taylor

✩ __ hasn’t seen roger since she ran out of his flat one sunday morning, but after a gig is just the perfect time, right? wrong. 

a/n this took almost a week to write? hopefully this is okay have a lovely weekend its 1:30am in melbourne and its officially the weekend ok im rambling I love roger and wish I was a singer oops (p.s wish I was dead and deadly doll are actually songs by jesse jo stark so check her out!) 

With every blink, she swore he had moved to another spot within the crowded and musty pub. The gig had been good, room for improvement, sure - Fletcher had slipped up on a cord on the ground and knocked into Rowan’s drum-kit, throwing off the drumbeat in the midst of “Wish I Was Dead” - but a good gig nonetheless. The ‘afterparty’ or pub crawl, whatever you wanted to call it, was in full swing, the place had to be at full capacity, but people kept filing in. The word throughout the cramped and claustrophobic crowd was that “Queen was here tonight!” and whether or not the foursome had been at the gig or not threw __ into a tailspin.

“You know, you can be upset he’s here.” Rowan’s thick Irish accent never failed to frighten the young woman when it appeared out of nowhere. ‘He’ had to be Roger, __ hadn’t seen him since she stumbled out of his shared flat that Sunday afternoon, too overwhelmed with her own emotions to even grab the coat she’d left on the rack by the door or the pyjamas she had hung up to dry by the radiator. The decision to break up with him had been festering within her head from the moment whatever his fucking ex’s name was came tumbling into __’s life. The constant foreshadowing of Roger being unfaithful or leaving her behind in the dust circulated around and around her mind; one person can only harbour so much paranoia before they crumble.

“I should not be upset, I broke up with him. I can’t go gallivanting around being upset and torn apart, that’s just unfair.” __’s stance on her emotions and her guilt had been implanted within her while she pinballed herself home through the crowded and wet streets of London that fateful afternoon. This decision to bottle everything up inside once she reached the elevator of her building had been eating away at her, no matter what she did or how many pep talks she’d tried to give herself in the mirror - quietly, the walls were thin and Fletcher’s room is beside hers.

The more __ thought about it, the more she drank. Between the drinks being handed to her with the passing comment of “fucking good set tonight!” and those being bought between the trio that was Deadly Doll, __ found herself fucking plastered. Her legs ached from bouncing around with Fletcher and Rowan and their girlfriends and anyone who had bounded into the sunken floor being used for a dancefloor, and her head felt like it wasn’t even attached to her shoulders anymore as if it was floating above her.

Having lost sight of Rowan and Fletcher hours earlier, __ seemed to be floating from social group to social group, and she swore she’d stopped for a moment to compliment Freddie on the coat he was wearing - but with how discombobulated and colluded her mind was at that present time it could have been anyone wearing a garbage bag for all she knew. Her eyes, no matter how hazy her vision, could always pinpoint the blue-eyed bombshell that had invaded her life and personal space for the eight months prior to a fortnight ago. Her eyes could also spot the smaller brunette attached to him, her baby pink blouse effortlessly knotted at her stomach and her jeans hugging in all the right places. Her lingering hand wandering up and down the expanse of Roger’s arm turned __’s night immediately sour. Any thought or feeling of accomplishment or victory they’d been celebrating had completely vanished from view, the only thought or feeling remaining being one of utter, drunken, sadness.

Fletcher knew, more than anyone, how much breaking up with Roger had truly affected __. Her mood at home was almost a half-version of herself. Her time, and thoughts, were commonly associated with music, and music only, as if a moment outside of their blossoming career would just be a haunting reminder of how much she’d let outside sources control and manipulate her happiness. Fletcher also, had his own drunk girlfriend to take care of, as well as himself - they weren’t getting home by sheer intuition, he knew that. So upon finding the young woman he classified as his best friend, not that he would ever admit it out loud, drunkenly sulking and borderline crying in the corner of the dingy and hot pub they’d been bouncing around in for the past couple of hours, he was truly worried.

“__, hey, hey, c’mon you need to calm down.” His hot, clammy hands tried their hardest to soothe the younger woman with her hair askew and the lace trimming of her tank top so uncomfortably itching her skin. “It’s just everything unbottling itself, you're alright.” Her mind had truly snapped, the tether she had been so desperate to maintain had finally worn down and everything was just seeping out of her. By no means was this a private escapade, the two of them drunkenly embracing in the corner while one of them was crying was so easy for everyone to see - the flickering neon light above them was definitely not helping either.

“Hey mate, your girlfriend is looking- oh, Christ.” The sight before Roger was purely heartbreaking. From that Sunday afternoon onwards, __’s pyjamas hadn’t moved from the clotheshorse beside the radiator, and her perfume remained atop his chest of draws, the smell still lingering on her former side of his bed. “What - I mean, what’s going on?” Between __ sitting in Fletcher’s lap, her body slightly shaking and Fletcher’s horrified and concerned expression, Roger was rightfully worried about what the fuck was happening in front of him.

“She just had a lot to drink, and you know her! She’s just bottled everything up - it’s come out.” __ just could not control the absolute gibberish that was piling out of her mouth. The neverending “I’m sorry” and “I want to go home” just accumulating between the three of them in the corner. “I need to go find Clara. Rog, can you just wait with her? I’ll come back when I find Clara!”

Roger truly had not seen __ since she ran out his and Brian’s flat; hours before when she was singing her heart out on stage being the only exception. And now, standing in the corner whole Fletcher was scanning his eyes around searching for his girlfriend (who he was not going to find while sitting there consoling __), Roger knew that he had to step in. “I’ll take __ home. You go find Clara, I’ll get __ to call ya’ in the morning.”

With a nod and some acknowledgement, Fletcher was off squeezing through all of the patrons still loitering around, thankfully too drunk to notice that __ was drunk off of her face and plunging her face into the space between Roger’s neck and shoulder.  

Trying to manoeuvre __ through the lobby towards the elevator had to be one of the hardest struggles Roger had faced within the past couple of months (not including his heart being split straight down the middle, with __ running down the street with her respective half). __ could stand, but hardly, her drowsiness and alcohol intake severely slowing down her inhibitions and co-ordination.

“Rog, I’m so sorry I’m your problem, I’m so sorry.” Sitting on the end of Roger’s bed simply felt so wrong and invasive. Even considering her drunken state, __ could recognise herself all over the small bedroom. Articles of her clothing still lingering in the room, polaroids of the two of them stuck up amongst the posters and mock-up Queen memorabilia. “I’m just, wow, just so sorry.” The tension in the room was ultimately suffocating, and awkward. __ didn't know what to do, didn't know where to put her hands or whether or not she should fumble around and try to take her shoes off.

Roger still looked the same - his hair a mess and his clothes so haphazardly mismatched but like it always did, it worked, everything worked for Roger. He was so gentle, even through the process that was trying to undress __ he was always so, so gentle. Even though __’s arms could hardly hold themselves up and she kept almost crying whenever she remembered that she was in Roger’s room again, with him and that she missed him, so, so much. Managing to manoeuvre __ down into his bed and under the covers had to be a mission, and he knew that the glitter she’d covered her eye-lids in was going to be all over his covers in the morning, but Roger could care less.

“It’s so inappropriate but please just stay with me.” The soft whisper would have been completely drowned out if anyone else had been inside the flat in those early hours of the morning. If Brian was pondering around or fiddling with his guitar, Roger would not have heard __’s plea for him to stay with her.

And yes, it was inappropriate. And yes, Roger should have said no and slept on the couch, or even Brian’s bed that remained unused that night. But, looking down at her lying underneath his covers once again, latching herself onto the pillow that used to be claimed as her own, he became a weaker version of himself. And four o’clock in the morning became the perfect time for Roger to slide in beside __, for __ to snuggle herself up beside the man she missed so much, and for Roger to lay the smallest, chaste kiss atop of __’s temple. They’d deal with whatever their intoxicated minds had decided was normal later in the morning.

I’m feeling like I might write a part two to this but we’ll see if my uni workload agrees with that idea, let me know if you’d like to be tagged!! I really like these characters and story so who knows. x

[pinkykitten]

By your side

The Greatest Showman

P.T. Barnum x female! reader

Warning: reader having a panic attack

Specifics: romance, one-shot, race neutral reader

People: P.T. Barnum, you, driver (oc, mentioned), group of people (oc, mentioned)

Words: 1,058

Requested: By anonymously Hey, I absolutely adore your writing! Could you do a P.T. x reader where the reader has bad anxiety and gets a panic attack about going on stage and P.T. comforts them? Only if you’re feeling up to it tho💕

Authors Note: thank u anon ur so sweet! srry this took so long and im srry this doesnt have more words but i kinda had writers block in the middle. i havent written a pt fic in a while lol i kinda miss it! i hope i wrote about a panic attack correctly if i havent pls message me or just tell me how i can write it better and more appropriate. thnx for the request guys and i luv to hear what u guys think. 

Your palms were sweating, your knees buckling against each other, your eyes in a trance in a day dream. 

Nervous was an understatement, you were terrified at the most. You were a singer in P.T. Barnum’s circus. You sang only in front of Phineas and some of your friends but you have never sang in front of a numerous amount of people. This was your first concert. 

You almost collapsed when Phineas told you about the news of you singing. The truth was you have had a history with panic attacks. You wanted to tell Phineas but you could tell in his eyes and the way he smiled that he was just so excited for you to sing. You didn’t want to burn that fire within him. 

You practiced your song many times out loud and in your head. 

Nodding to yourself while staring out the window of the carriage you sang quietly the lyrics. Phineas sat beside you and seeing that you were nervous, clutched your hand. 

Your head whipped to both yours and Phineas’s hands together. 

“Don’t be nervous y/n. You’re gonna do great out there.” Phineas reassured you, rubbing your hand with his gloved one. 

You chuckled, “that’s laughable Mr. Barnum, usually when someone tells you not to be nervous it just makes them more anxious.”

Phineas took his hand away from yours quickly, leaving you a bit saddened. You placed your tiny hand compared to his on your lap, clutching your skirt. You stared out the window again, seeing the white snowflakes dance across the sky. 

You smiled and touched Phineas on his shirt, “look Mr. Barnum. Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?”

Phineas nodded, “its beautiful but not the most beautiful.” He then looked at you and whispered, “you are.”

You turned your attention to him with a startled face. “Did you say something?”

Phineas shook his head, “nothing just...remember to hold your head up high when you sing.”

Your looked down to your hands again. Suddenly the carriage came to a halt. 

“We are here Mr. Barnum.” The driver announced. 

Barnum thanked the driver while you got help getting out. 

You waited for Phineas to come around and you wrapped your arm around his. 

“May I just say y/n, your dress is stunning on you. You look like a queen.” Phineas whispered to you. 

You looked away bashful at his words but thanked him. 

Your shoulders peaked out just enough to call your dress risky, but you liked it that way. You wore a coat on top as you were outside. 

Walking up to the place your name in a poster was hanged up as big as can be. “Queen of music, Y/n.” You chuckled. “I love it Mr. Barnum. I think it really catches your sarcastic attitude.”

As you entered the building there were many folks there. Wanting your signature or maybe a photograph with you. You clutched onto Phineas’s arm the whole time. Your nerves igniting again. 

You shrugged your coat off and everyone gasped in the room at your beauty. You thought you could even hear Phineas gasp a little. 

As you walked closer to the stage your heart started to pound faster and faster. 

“Phineas I don’t think I can do this.” You desperately said, your eyes begging Phineas to let you go. 

Phineas’s expression though was of shock. 

“What is wrong?”

Phineas giggled, “No its just, you have never called me by my first name before.”

You stood still for a moment remembering the moments prior to this one and you looked up into Phineas’s eyes shocked. 

“You’re right. Oh, please do forgive me Mr. Barnum, its just the nerves and everything.”

“Y/n, I’m not mad. Actually far from it. From now on I would greatly appreciate you calling me by my first name. It sounds like a melody coming from your lips.”

You were very bashful in this moment. 

“Y/n you’re on in less than an hour. Get ready.”

You looked at Phineas and then you peaked through the curtains. The amount of people was astonishing. 

“I don’t, Phineas, I don’t. I think, I’m gonna.” You were trying to find the words, your heart was beating so quickly. You felt scared and you felt you were being suffocated. Your whole entire environment felt like a blur like a movie. All their voices and words didn’t come to you, it was as if they were speaking gibberish. 

“C’mon y/n, you can’t do this. Not here not now.” You told yourself in your head. 

Your breathing became erratic, you tried breathing through your nose and then out your mouth but it was not working. 

Phineas saw this and quickly kneeled down to you, since he was so much taller than you. 

“Y/n, sweetheart please look at me. Can you look at me?”

You shook your head and clutched your chest. You were having a panic attack. 

“Breathe y/n, you have to breathe. Breathe for me. In and out.”

You tried but you just felt alone, you felt lost. 

“I got you y/n. I am here.”

You breathed in and out, while Phineas held your hand. 

In and out. 

After a few moments your heart was beating normally and your breathing was slow and appropriate. 

“Y/n are you okay?”

You looked at Phineas’s face into his eyes. “Phineas I am scared. I should of told you, but I have had panic attacks in the past. I’m sorry.”

Phineas caressed your face and shook his head. “Y/n why are you sorry. I’m sorry for wanting you to do this and not caring about you being nervous. You are really important to me. I am right here for you y/n.”

You smiled and leaned your forehead against his. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to sing if you are not comfortable with it.”

No you needed to do this. You promised every one and you were not going to let your anxiety get the best of you. You stood proud and tall. 

“I told everyone I was going to sing, then that is what I am going to do. I am going to sing my best.”

Phineas grinned the biggest grinned and kissed your hand, standing tall as well. “If that is the decision that you have choose then I will be by your side through it all.”

[moonguardsecrets]

hi im berenal

So I'd like to preface by saying I don't really use this blog too much, I mostly read it every now and again but that's about it. I've been relatively quiet concerning this issue but frankly I don't think that's the right way to go about it anymore, so I'm just going to address some stuff.

I've always believed in being pretty transparent about my issues, especially beef with other people. So while this blog is all about being anonymous, I'm just going to put up my side of this whole thing.

1. Concerning my guild/our story. There's a post I've seen pop up a few times that we've accused Blizzard of copying our stuff for Drustvar. While there's some striking similarities between some of our stuff and Drustvar, we know that Blizzard doesn't care about some random guild on MG. It was a meme. Maybe it's cause sarcasm gets lost in text, idk, but we've never actually believed that our stuff was stolen. We've actually fully embraced the similarities and have been super looking forward to the Drust stuff cause it's a cool concept, but this idea that we've somehow been slighted by Blizzard/earnestly believe that there was a copy thing isn't true. It was a joke that I guess went over poorly outside of our guild. We still say it as a joke in our casual conversations, accusing a specific guild mate of being a blizzard spy whenever something funny happens. It's a little outlandish to me personally that it got taken seriously but hey I'm not going to point a finger around, I'm just clarifying that the Blades as a group doesn't actually think this.

As for my character, which I've seen people saying I try to roleplay Greymane, thanks I guess? Berenal as a character is meant to be insanely patriotic. If they ever turned Genn into a villain, Berenal would follow him, unless it was done so in a really weird way like old gods or something overtly obvious. The character is meant to echo Greymane's statements, but I've never tried to pass myself off as Genn IC or state I have absolute authority from him or whatever.

Our guild is centered around Gilneas foremost and we put a lot of our narrative in-house rather than post it up publicly because we don't believe in forcing an intrusive narrative. I know I've been accused of such personally when Flames of War was doing Ashenvale, though I'll address that a bit later.

2. Concerning the titles of ranks in the guild. Recently a post came out, which was deleted because it did include the name explicitly of our stuff, that was talking about a title given to one of my officers. The post included a mistranslation, saying it translated to queen. That's just blatantly not true. For some background, the position was a recent creation because our previous council system wasn't working too well for this branch so we downsized it to the main officer in charge of the branch of the guild.

Given that this is our pagan project, and they have their own language (which yes, we do proxy with Irish cause I'm not a linguist and I don't have the means or time to make my own language up), we used an amalgam of a few words to describe it. The title roughly translates to an arbitrator of law/leader of law. Not king, not queen. In fact it's not even a noble position either, it's an elected one that if Aleyina were to ever step down, it'd go to whoever was elected next. We use the title Grand Master, Spymaster, Rionasai, and a few others throughout the guild. They're all on the same level of 'power', and countless other guilds have similar structure. I'm not sure what drove the need to lie about that but I'd just like to clear that misconception up before I go into my next point.

3. Concerning the pagan project in my guild. My guild has had a pagan project in it for roughly 4-5 years. I put up the original article for it about almost a year after we started it. It's a story I personally started back in Mists of Pandaria and have cultivated alongside several others for years, it's something I only recently managed to hand off into other people's hands for running it because I couldn't focus on it, I have other narratives and stories that I tell in my guild, but here's the proof of how old this story is. (Note, at the time the Pagans were called "Wickers", which is actually where the whole drust meme even comes from on our side.)

https://i.imgur.com/7rgG9t5.png

I was fascinated with the bare minimal lore that Blizzard provided for the Old Ways and Harvest Witches/Wizards that I tried to expand on that by making a group of people based around the ideology of an expanded religion that roots its self from a common point in druidism.

What started originally as a side group grew into an entire branch of our guild and has since been something I've personally invested years worth of time growing and developing as a writing project alongside others. We've made a point of making nearly everything in this branch original content and it's at the point it's at after four to five years of growth and development alongside the main narrative of the guild. It's a project that I have personally cultivated with the help of others for years and has been personally invested into by the guild as a whole through nearly three expansions now.

On top of it, a while ago we were accused of having said our runes were celtic or something. That's not true. They're stylized elder futhark, we've never bothered to hide that. In fact, I've attached some images below.

https://i.imgur.com/q5MHveU.png

This is an image from Varian's grave in Stormwind. The runes are translatable elder futhark, and this is the closest representation to Common we have in the game.

https://i.imgur.com/C9jc7sG.png

This is an image from Haustvald in Stormheim. These runes too are Elder Futhark, though they've been slightly stylized and include some runes that are gibberish it's meant to represent Vrykul. The angle's a little bad but if you go there in game Elder Futhark is literally lining most of Stormheim. You can translate these as well, it's pretty nifty.

The premise of our written language for the project we have for runes has never been 'celtic', we just based it off whatever Blizzard ended up saying was 'humanity's language'. Our group takes some minor inspiration from norse and celtic themes, but the majority of it is original writing, and the runes themselves are based around the idea of having descended from vrykul runes; so we just kept to the format that Blizz themselves are using for humans in the game.

4. Concerning Flames of War. While this one has largely died down, I'd still like to address it. Flames of War is a team effort, something with over ten coordinators that all of us still actively communicate with one another fairly regularly. During this time I'd been claimed as a dictator, or that I was giving special attention to myself/my own. Flames of War has never been solely 'dictated' by my actions. Every major decision has been either voted on or come to consensus one way or another, including story decisions. Sure I'm the dude who made the server but I've forfeited any real 'power' that gives me in favor of a council system. Ergo, if you're mad at me for something that happened in Flames of War, I highly encourage you to re-assess the things that happened and either speak to myself or another coordinator. We're not in this for some weird power play or whatever, this is a video game in the end of the day and unlike some past 'moguls of the server', I'm earnestly just looking to make my virtual barbie doll be in some cool situations, not make him grand poobah of the alliance or whatever. I can speak on behalf of the rest of the team and say they feel the exact same way.

5. Concerning our adherence to lore. I know there's been some people who have accused my guild of breaking lore/saying I don't care about lore. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a giant lore fanatic and for whatever reason people use me like an almanac in a few servers for lore questions. I really honestly do try to keep the boundaries of my guild within reasonable lore parameters. Despite the rumors, no, my character doesn't have regular casual chats with Genn Greymane, no, our lands are not 'flawless with millions of gold and soldiers', no, we don't RP like we run Gilneas either. All we're trying to do is have fun with the game and tell a story of a rundown kingdom trying to get back on it's feet.

6. Concerning deleted secrets. Yes, I've requested secrets be deleted before because, honestly, ever since this nick-name stuff started it's stopped being remotely ambiguous. Sword of Genn isn't even remotely ambiguous. Neither is Knives of Greymane, that's just changing one word. The rules for the blog on the side state anything that can be considered trolling or abuse of anonymity is grounds for removal of secrets; so I've just used those rules since honestly, a lot of these are really weird accusations. Each time I've been willing/or have provided screenshots to prove the contrary. Not all secrets concerning my guild have been deleted; only the ones that break the rules. This segways into my final point.

As I said at the beginning of this huge post, I've always been a believer of transparency. If you have issue with me, or any of my guild mates, I'm honestly imploring people to contact me over Discord or in game. My tag is:

Berenal#0693 In game it's just Berenal, no weird letters. I'll be online in Boralus.

You don't need to contact me on your main account if you're afraid I'm going to 'out you' or whatever. Any conversation we have will be one on one between us. You can even delete it afterwards, I don't mind. So come to me on a throw-away discord account, let it out to my face, or maybe we can even hash out our differences. I'm more interested in getting this shit done with than trying to start a flame war, honestly. In the end of the day this is a game to me and mine, and we're all paying 15 bucks a month to have fun. I've cleared out my block list entirely, so there's nothing stopping people from contacting me.

I do hope folks reach out so we can hash our differences out and do our own thing, instead of whatever vendetta seems to have brewed up over play pretend for god knows what reason. I earnestly don't understand the point of the majority of these vitriolic posts; it just seems to subsist off the idea of throwing words around for what real reason? To upset people? I don't get it. I don't see what posting incessantly here about it does to fix anything.

If you've got issue with me or my guys come talk to me about it, my door's open.

[bloojayoolie]

Apparently, Books, and Crazy: My bros I have been doing a lot of reading about Wacky wwll Hijinks lately and I want to tell you a story because I ove it okay once upon a time there was a dude in Spain named Juan Pujol Garcia. Pujol was a chicken farmer. Pujol hated him some goodamn fascists See Spain had recently ended its civil war, with the fascists taking power. So when WWil broke out in Europe, Spain technically remained neutral but in practice was buddy buddy with the Nazis. Juan Pujol Garcia thought this was pretty bulishit so soon afer war breaks out Pujoi travels to his local British embassy and goes hey I wanna spy on the Nazis for you who the fuck are you? say the British, and kick him out but Pujol is not deterred! He stil wants to dunk on some fascists, so now he goes to his local German embassy Instead. "hey" he says, 1wanna spy on the British for you, I sure do hate them yeah okay" say the Germans "that seems pretty legint and just like that Pujol now officially works for the Abwehr, the German intelligence agency. They hand him some spy gear (invisible ink and such) and instruct him to travel to Lisbon, and from there make his way into the UK. So Pujol heads to Lisbon, and a little while later writes to his German handlers telling them he's made it to England Pujol had not made it to England. He had, in fact, made it to the Lisbon public library, where he checked out a number of English guide books and set about just wholesaie making shit up this is slightly complicated by the fact that, for example, he completely did not understand British currency and all his expense reports were basically gibberish. He also reported things like bribing Scotsmen, because the people of Glasgow would do anything for a litre of wine (an actual quote) because, hey, people in Spain like wine so that's probably the same right? Here is where in starts to get really crazy, because the Abwehr loves this. wow this dude is a great spy they say, because apparently none of them had ever been the England either. In fact, they are so pumped about this new awesome spy that the British start to get worried you see, by this time the British had cracked German's supposedly unbreakable Enigma code and were totally dunking on the Nazis by reading basically all of their super top secret- radio transmissions. And, crucially, they'd become so good at breaking and reading traffic that there were literally no German spies in England. The Germans would set up a spy drop (usually dropping dudes in by parachute in the middle of the night), the British would intercept the message and then just scoop the dudes up as soon as they landed in a move that must have been SUPER embarrassing to the spies so there are no German spies in the UK because they're all sitting in a prison run by MI5 (although some are being run under supervision as double agents, feeding Germany bullshit). But suddenly MI5 is picking up al this traffic from the Germans talking about their super great spy- a spy the British do not have in their ja ch shit says Mi5, and starts rereading all the transmissions they have to and from this mysterious super spy hey wait says MIS, upon actualy reading the shit the spy was sending someone is playing silly buggers, pip pip cheerio At this point, Pujol, still in Lisbon, had actually been approaching the British embassy again, repeatedly, but apparently 1 am literally an Abwehr agent and would like to offer you my services wasn't interesting enough, because he was repeatedly turned away, again It wasn't until MIS started asking around that one of the embassy staff was like "oh yeah we know that guy so in 1942 the British finally make contact with Pujoll and he officially becomes a spy for MI5. They move him to London and assign him a case officer so he can start making up even better bullshit and he does, Once actually in London, Pujol reports to the Abwehr that he'd recruted a whole slew of informants- from a bunch of Welsh Aryans to disafected army officers. He ends up with a network of 20+ sub-spies, all feeding him information from around the UK none of these people actualy exist Pujol just straight up invented like 20 people, keeping careful track of their fake personalities, names, and activities. With the help of Mi5, the information he sends becomes even better- a mix of true but utimately useless facts and actually important intel timed to arrive in Germany just slightly too late to be of any use. e and his "spy network' become the Abwehr's most trusted agents Pujol, now codenamed Agent Garbo (for his acting skils), ends up playing a huge role in the run-up to D-Day, where the Allies mounted a huge intelligence campaign to convince Hitler that the planned site of attack was going to be Calais and not Normandy (this was Operation Fortitude and you should absolutely look it up for more Wacky wwll Adventures). Obviously you know how this ended crazily enough, the Abwehr never figured out that Pujol was a double agent Afler the war he received both the Iron Cross Second Class (which require personal authorization from Hitler), and a Member of the Order of the British Empire (from King George VI) unable to resist being totaly fucking ridicuious, Pujol turned down MI5's post-war offer to continue spying, but this time against the USSR. no, he said just help me fake my own death and then Im moving to Venezuela and thats exactly what he did. Juan Garcia Pujol died in 1988, at the age of 76 Okay Im just editing my reblog to add this picture of Juan Pujol Garcia because I feel that n adds so much to the story to picture him doing ALL THE ABOVE with this expression What a legend

[emilyl-b]

10 Great fire inside music Public Speakers

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tracks that she wrote a lot more than ten years ago, the woman who came to get regarded only because the piano teacher offered what, in hindsight, looks like an eerie glimpse of her possess potential.

Im transferring absent these days to a spot so distant, exactly where no person knows my name, she wrote in the lyrics of a tune identified as Relocating.

When she wrote that music, she was young and vivacious, a piano Instructor and freelance audio author who loved Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river sounds, lengthy walks and every thing about Big apple.

On a kind of beloved walks, by way of Central Park in the intense Sunlight of the June working day in 1996, a homeless drifter beat her and attempted to rape her, leaving her clinging to daily life. Once the assault, the text to her track came accurate. She moved absent, out of New York City, from her outdated everyday living, and all but her closest good friends didn't know her identify. To the remainder of the globe, she was — much like the additional well known jogger attacked in Central Park 7 a long time previously — an nameless symbol of the city nightmare. She was the piano Trainer.

Now, around the 10th anniversary on the attack, she's celebrating what is apparently her comprehensive Restoration from Mind trauma. She is 42, married, with a small boy or girl. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Instructor, and she or he really wants to convey to her story, her way.

Her health care provider instructed her it will just take 10 years to Recuperate, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I sense my life has become redefined by Central Park, she mentioned a number of days in the past, her voice delicate and hopeful. Before park; just after park. Will there ever be described as a time Once i dont Believe, Oh, Here is the tenth anniversary, the 11th anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch house inside of a wooded subdivision in a The big apple suburb. She sat inside of a eating place strewn with toys, surrounded by pictures of her cherubic, dim-haired 2-12 months-aged daughter. A Steinway grand filled 50 % the place, and at one particular place she sat down and performed. Her actively playing was forceful, but she seemed ashamed to Enjoy various bars, and shrugged, rather then answering, when questioned the identify of your piece. She requested that her daughter and her town not be named.

She calls that working day, June 4, 1996, the day Once i was harm.

Hers was the 1st in a string of assaults by the exact same guy on 4 Women of all ages above 8 times. The last victim, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was crushed to death as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing shop, and in the end, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to daily life in jail.

However the assault on the piano Trainer will be the just one individuals seem to recall by far the most. Section of the fascination should do with echoes on the 1989 attack over the Central Park jogger. But Furthermore, it frightened people today in a way the attack around the jogger did not simply because its circumstances were so mundane.

It did not occur in a very distant A part of the park late during the night, but close to a favorite playground at three from the afternoon. It could have transpired to any one. The strain was heightened with the thriller on the piano academics identification.

For three days, as law enforcement and Medical doctors tried using to see who she was, she lay in the coma in her healthcare facility bed, nameless. Her mothers and fathers had been on vacation and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Eventually, amongst her pupils identified a police sketch and was capable of establish her while in the clinic by her fingers, mainly because her face was swollen further than recognition. The police did not launch her identify.

The very last thing she remembers about June four, 1996, is offering a lesson in her studio apartment on West 57th Avenue, then Placing her very long hair in the ponytail and going out for just a walk. She won't keep in mind the attack, While she has heard the accounts in the police and prosecutors.

To me its like a fact I discovered and memorized, she said. Like I were a student in school finding out heritage.

She isn't going to take into consideration The person who did it. I may have been offended for a minute, but not for much longer than that, she reported. How could I be indignant at John Royster? He was declared not crazy, but I guess by our standards he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her physician at New York Clinic-Cornell Medical Middle, as it had been recognised in 1996, explained to reporters that she experienced a ten percent probability of survival. Health professionals had to remove her forehead bone, which was later on replaced, to generate space for her swelling brain. When her mom built a public attract pray for my daughter, hundreds did.

Following eight times, she arrived from a coma, initially in a vegetative point out, then in a childlike point out. As she recovered, she slept tiny and talked frequently, sometimes in gibberish. I had been obtaining mad at persons if they didnt reply to these words and phrases, she explained.

Like an Alzheimers individual, she had small shorter-term memory and would fail to remember people when they remaining the room.

More than various months, she needed to relearn how you can walk, dress, study and write. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, visited each day to Participate in guitar for her. He inspired her to Enjoy the piano, in opposition to the recommendation of her Actual physical therapists, who believed she could well be frustrated by her lack of ability to Perform the way she after experienced. Mr. Scherr played Beatles duets along with her, playing the still left-hand aspect though she played the best.

That was my most effective therapy, she explained.

In August, she moved again home to New Jersey, along with her father, an engineer, and mom, a schoolteacher. She visited previous haunts and named good friends, making an attempt to revive her shattered memory. I had been quite obsessive about remembering, she stated. Any memory loss was to me a sign of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists considered her development was great, but her two sisters protested that she wasn't the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she had shed a chance to cry, as if a faucet inside her Mind had been turned off. 1 night, nine months soon after she was harm, she stayed up late to view the John Grisham movie A Time and energy to Destroy. Just right after her father had gone to mattress, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on trial for killing two men who experienced raped his young daughter.

The faucet opened, as well as the tears trickled down her cheeks. I considered my mother and father, my father, and the things they went by means of, she reported. Minor by little, my sensation returned, my depth of brain returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back to school and acquired a masters diploma in tunes training.

Not every little thing went nicely. She and Mr. Scherr split up five years once the assault, though they continue to be friends. She dated other Guys, but she constantly informed them concerning the assault immediately — she couldn't assist it, she claimed — plus they by no means termed for your next date.

Now we have to seek out you an individual, her Good friend David Phelps, a guitar player, stated 4 years in the past, prior to introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and beginner drummer. For after, she did not say anything at all with regards to the attack until eventually she acquired to grasp Mr. McCann, after which when she did, he admired her strength.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who experienced typically visited her at her bedside whilst she was from the medical center, married them in his Occasions Square Place of work. She wore a blue costume and pearls. Even though she was pregnant, within a burst of creativeness, she and her friends recorded Even though Had been Youthful, an album of childrens tracks that she experienced written before the assault, including the tune Moving. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, made the CD. On it, her partner performs drums and she plays electric powered piano.

Is her everyday living as it absolutely was? Not accurately, nevertheless she is reluctant to attribute the distinctions to her injuries. Her very last two piano learners remaining her, without calling to clarify why, she claimed. She has resumed playing classical tunes, but uncomplicated items, mainly because her daughter will not give her the perfect time to apply. As for jazz, I dont even consider, she explained.

She would want to drive far more, feeling stranded inside the suburbs, but she is definitely rattled. She tries to be articles with keeping house and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a medical professor of neurological surgical treatment at what is now known as New York-Presbyterian Clinic/Weill Cornell Healthcare Heart, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann after the attack, claimed last 7 days that her degree of recovery was uncommon. Shes essentially standard, he mentioned.

Other professionals, who will be not personally acquainted with Ms. Kevorkian McCanns situation, are more cautious.

Regaining a chance to Participate in the piano could include an Practically mechanical method, a semiautomatic remember of what the fingers have to do, explained Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of medical rehabilitation medication at Ny University School of Medicine. Once Mind-wounded, you will be always brain-wounded, for the rest of your life, Dr. Ben-Yishay explained. There is no remedy, There's only intensive compensation.

The greater telling Element of a recovery, in his check out, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns marriage and baby as a major victory.

For her element, the piano Instructor is aware she has changed, but she has designed her peace with it. I had been form of a hyper —— I dont know if I was a Type A, but I was bold, she states. Why was I so bold? I used to be a piano Trainer. I dont know very well what the ambition was about. I really did come back to the person Im supposed to be.

[nbmudkip]

💕💔!

💕: talk about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!

okay for certain media, usually stuff i either kin a char from or have a really strong hyperfixation on, i find it really, really hard to pick favorites or least favorites because it feels like im choosing between family members or real life best friends. so trust me when i say that i love literally almost all of the characters and that i cant really pick one as a favorite over another. id also like to keep this short—full on character analyses are extremely fun, but they also take a lot of time and effort and are difficult to write in a way that isnt absolute indecipherable gibberish for me. so, a speedrun description of Magnus Burnsides and Why I Love Him So Goddamn Much: respects women. OBVIOUSLY gives fantastic hugs. has a little magic fish he keeps in a little magic orb that i love. hes kind and selfless and brave and so goddamn cheerful and hes protective and so so so full of love and it makes me so happy. travis did an absolutely amazing job with him and i fucking love both of them so much it’s unreal. (you shouldve seen me when i met travis at gencon a couple years ago. there i was, in full taako cosplay with perfect makeup and six inch heels, sobbing my brains out just because of how honored and overjoyed i was to see him. i cherish that moment)

💔: talk about one of your least favorite characters and why you dislike them

AGAIN with certain media i just have a FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE TIME with trying to hate characters because of how closely knit i am to the world and the characters. however, a few taz characters i can safely say i wholly despise: governor kalen (obvious reasons. the man makes my blood curdle.) lydia and edward (again, obvious reasons. i can appreciate their flair for the dramatic, but otherwise its just pure malice in my brain.) and upsy, your lifting friend (he makes me so miserably fucking uncomfortable i do not feel even slightly guilty about this.)

[gooeyguy]

email to my teacher (warning alot of personal stuff)

Hey so, sorry to email you out of nowhere like this? But i feel like maybe im finally at a point where i can explain more thoroughly why im having trouble with school or just succeeding in general. I think its really important that i tell you some of this junk because theres a chance it might make the rest of the year easier for you and me.

I wanted to start off with apologizing for all the trouble ive caused you throughout the year with the annoying comments, disruptions and backtalk.  And most of all the terrible ability i have with doing and turning in work.

This email is mostly to explain my situation and reasoning for acting/struggling the way i have been (not to annoy you or be sarcastic).

Alright so, if you havent noticed i struggle with some things and one of them i never really bring up is ptsd. I have been diagnosed and im hoping to enlighten you on my specific issues with it, (everything i mention will apply to me as to make it less confusing from here on)

 I have a specific type of ptsd called Complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD; also known as complex trauma) This type of ptsd is different in that it results from repetitive, prolonged trauma. My causes for being diagnosed are specifically natural-detachment from my mother and physical/sexual abuse growing up and some other things im not going to mention.

My side effects from this are,

Attachment – "problems with relationship boundaries, lack of trust, social isolation, difficulty perceiving and responding to other's emotional states, and lack of empathy"

This is strongly linked to my reactive attachment disorder and explains alot to why i am the way i am. Heres a link to a website http://www.webmd.com/mental-health/mental-health-reactive-attachment-disorder#1 that explains a bit of what it is so that i do not have to make this already long email that much longer, i would also really appreciate it if you read even just a little.

I have an extreme lack of trust in others and am constantly doubting myself, there is not a second of the day where i dont think im a horrible person, i could be doing better, im disgusting to look at ect. The social isolation is a big problem for me, because im “this way” i feel that bothering others with my presence/problems/medical difficulties ect. is not necessary and for the better. Hence why i refrain from asking when i really need help, im scared to bother you. I dont want to make you angry and i know you and mrs mumford are already so stressed by the time my bell starts.

Biology – "sensory-motor developmental dysfunction, sensory-integration difficulties, somatization, and increased medical problems"

This ties into my Fibromyalgia and eds which ill explain more about after i go through ptsd. Its all kind of one big mixed bag of disorders that tie together and make me the way i am.

Affect or emotional regulation – "poor affect regulation, difficulty identifying and expressing emotions and internal states, and difficulties communicating needs, wants, and wishes"

Like i talked about before i feel extremely useless and annoying when asking for help or even talking about the things i enjoy. And when trying to explain my difficulties i stop midsentence or forget words/forget what my problem is and it becomes frustrating.

Dissociation – "amnesia, depersonalization, discrete states of consciousness with discrete memories, affect, and functioning, and impaired memory for state-based events"

THIS is what i blame for never being able to remember anything. With fibromyalgia i have whats called “brain fog” and with the constant dream like state im in because of dissociation it makes my memory absolutely terrible. Remembering your names in class took me until almost 3rd quarter and it was utterly embarrassing(i still forget sometimes), its even more embarrassing when i forget basic buttons on the calculator and have to ask in front of everyone looking like an idiot.Or when i try to shout out an answer in class and it comes out gibberish because my mind is everywhere all at once, Or when we have a test on the formula we learned a week ago, and of course my mind draws a blank. I cant remember, and it makes me so frustrated with myself that i want to break down right there in class. It renders me doing weird things too, like the other day i put the icecream in the bread drawer, and on sunday i woke up and got ready for school. Theres alot of other things i could say but its as if fibro is laughing in my face.

 Dissociation in my own words is feeling like nothing is real, things dont feel like they happened. What does feel real is the pain/feeling in my body, i am a very anxious and jumpy person so im very sensitive to loud sounds/touch/weather and certain (triggering)  talk among students. And yet i still feel in a daze,My vision will sometimes blur and i am very prone to falling/accidents, staying focused can be extremely frustrating because my brain feels like a cloud, its almost uncontrollable like a dream. I dont think anyone can control those very much so i think its a good example.

Behavioural control – "problems with impulse control, aggression, pathological self-soothing, and sleep problems"

Im pretty okay with impulses, i of course have alot of very impulsive thoughts but i am good at controlling them id say, same with aggression but i very much so struggle with sleep problems because of nightmares from ptsd and chronic pain from fibro, i have not been diagnosed with insomnia but im sure i fit the criteria im just really bad at opening up with doctors/people ect.

These are just a couple more symptoms to help explain,

Cognition – "difficulty regulating attention, problems with a variety of "executive functions" such as planning, judgement, initiation, use of materials, and self-monitoring, difficulty processing new information, difficulty focusing and completing tasks, poor object constancy, problems with "cause-effect" thinking, and language developmental problems such as a gap between receptive and expressive communication abilities."

Self-concept – "fragmented and disconnected autobiographical narrative, disturbed body image, low self-esteem, excessive shame, and negative internal working models of self".

Alterations in relations with others, including isolation and withdrawal, persistent distrust, a repeated search for a rescuer, disruption in intimate relationships and repeated failures of self-protection.

Loss of, or changes in, one's system of meanings, which may include a loss of sustaining faith or a sense of hopelessness and despair.

Variations in consciousness, including forgetting traumatic events (i.e., psychogenic amnesia), reliving experiences (either in the form of intrusive PTSD symptoms or in ruminative preoccupation), or having episodes of dissociation.

Changes in self-perception, such as a chronic and pervasive sense of helplessness, paralysis of initiative, shame, guilt, self-blame, a sense of defilement or stigma, and a sense of being completely different from other human beings

Now that im done explaining the ptsd, Fibromyalgia

Fibromyalgia is a chronic pain disorder that my doctor believes to be linked to my other disorders, Fibromyalgia has to do with the senses we as humans all have, feeling, hearing, taste, and sight. The difference between someone with fibro and an average healthy person is lets say theres a knob for how strong each of these senses are, so imagine someone taking all those knobs and turning them all the way up to max sensitivity. Youd think oh cool youre like a super hero (like my sister likes to say) but no its the exact opposite, it does not benefit me whatsoever. Feeling, paired with ehlers danlos syndrome both my joints and my muscles are constantly in pain and some days ill have what you call a “flare up” which is where getting out of bed usually isnt an option for my body, i cannot remember the last time i didnt feel at least a dull ache in my head, i get migraines at least once everyday and unfortunately i get nauseous so i dont eat very much . Almost everything is irritating to my skin, a simple light rub of my finger on the top of my forearm is irritating and raw feeling (like ive been sitting there rubbing the same spot for hours) /Writing is over all painful, including typing as well/

If youve ever woken up in the morning with sore muscles from pushing yourself too hard the day before,that is how the muscles in my body feel, if you press on them they ache, and sting/burn when i use them. painful touch for most of my body paired with constant anxiety of getting bumped into/touched is stressful and tiring. On a good day my pain scale is a 5 from 1-10 but thats if im really lucky.

Then theres the weather, if im too hot and i start to sweat, the sweat stings my skin and i end up going into a frenzy of scratching and agony.  If its too cold my joints will start to lock up and become painful, its like they freeze and when i move them it feels like im shattering ice in my hand mixed with dull muscle ache. If its a good temperature theres still the feeling and i swear, the sound i can hear of my joints grinding together like two pieces of rubber being rubbed against eachother slowly.

Hearing is also bad, loud sounds are very irritating to my ears and will cause my migraine to get worse.(Talking too loud)Other irritating sounds, paper rubbing against paper roughly making that blblblb sound, high pitched noises of any loudness, squeaks, repetitive beeps ect.

Sight wise turning on lights abruptly is painful and makes my migraine worse, any bright light in general.

Taste doesnt really matter so i wont mention, but because these knobs are turned full blast it means the nerves and pain receptors in my body are being over worked constantly by my brain

And my brain thinks its doing its job by constantly acting like ive been running triathalons.

The recollection of pain comes in avalanches of distress for me. I usually experience the intense turmoil of fibromyalgia in the winter, or whenever cold fronts shatter the air and its frail victims. My limbs cannot contain the strength possible to function during those cold spells. Fibromyalgia’s lengthy sentence comes and goes for some, but, as a teenager, it’s disheartening. For the rest of my life, I will never be able to remember living without every waking moment marked by pain.

The abnormality of fibro weighs on my shoulders when I’m asleep, awake, or anywhere inbetween. I wake up at 4:30 each morning in order to be shuffling around by 6:20 a.m. The heaviness of my body pulls me down and pains me as I take a shower, put on my clothes, and put my small backpack on my shoulder to head out to school. Any sense of touch creates extreme levels of pain for me. Touching my arm, poking my leg, and brushing against my back hurt as much as twisting my ankle. My distraught reaction is a lot like a dog crying in pain and distrust after you accidentally step on its paw. Because im always in pain im always right next to the emotional breaking point, im always on the verge of tears. The smallest things can make me break down.

The pain prohibits me from being a teenager. Thanks to fibro, I cannot dress up in my favorite clothes and be what you call “Extra” everyday as i so much wish to be during the winter. My hands are crooked and shake too much usually to apply makeup. I struggle with applying eyeliner, because my hands hurt too much wrapped around a brush. The uncomfortable school chairs make me weep when I return home, because they destroy my concentration, forcing me to focus on the overwhelming pain I feel. I used to excel in school, but now, I can barely think fast enough, and come off as ditzy. I feel like I’m constantly struggling to maintain the fragments of my intelligence I lost due to fibro medication and fibromyalgia itself.

My GPA, became my ball and chain in school, rather than an accomplishment worth sharing. During the year, my schedule is dictated by the weather. Cold weather causes agonizing, excruciating pain that races down my spine and branches through my limbs. If a cold front passes, rain falls, snow falls, or temperatures drop, I freeze like the Tin Man, except there isn’t any oil to move my joints. The way I get sleep should be considered a torture method. Many people feel refreshed or renewed when they wake up after 8 hours, but I feel completely restless and exhausted. And thats if the nightmares from the PTSD dont interrupt. I toss and turn for hours in pain, because the pain signals interrupt the sleep cycle. I cry intensely whenever I think of sleep; school usually means a lack of sleep, but I am further deprived without choice. My biological system cannot allow me to rest, and continues to tense my muscles in a constant state of flight or fight.

With most schools starting at 8 a.m., my body struggles to run on 8 hours of sleep (which really feels like two). The exhaustion prevents me from hanging out with some of my closest friends. In the early stages of having fibromyalgia, I used to be able to do school clubs, hang out with my best friend, and go to cons with my friends often. Now, I spend my time huddled down, trying to make up for the nights of lost sleep. The lack of sleep and the endless pain contribute to extreme depression. And to keep my mood relatively happy i act like a goose in school with friends which doesnt do me good with teachers, I do it to not break down and let myself get too low around others because i know id regret embarrassing myself like that more than anything. The pain yearns for my thoughts to leap toward suicidal thoughts, and I was obsessed with death for years and still am. There was a time when I searched for ways to end my life, because nobody could help me and I couldn’t face living the rest of my life knowing that I’ll always be in pain. I still have these thoughts, and I believe I always will as long as I emit pain. Hence why i was in the hospital for a week recently, the hopelessness and embarrassment is dragging me down. The whole idea of having fibromyalgia embarrasses me. I’m embarrassed that I am constantly being called crippled, disabled, or chronically ill.Or worse not being noticed at all while struggling. I’m embarrassed that fibromyalgia makes me feel like I’m 67 instead of 16. I’m embarrassed that I will never be able to be an artsy beat poet like Patti Smith, or a rock ‘n’ roll guitarist like Keith Richards.

So i think thats as much as i can cover for you right now with my two of my biggest problems , im extremely exhausted and im not joking when i say my fingers feel like they are gonna fall off haha.  

Im terribly sorry for how long this email is but i think i got most everything with these two topics in there, also dont feel obliged to reply to this, im already embarrassed i even wrote all this down (terribly).

Quick thing i would like to say before i end the email, with all respect i am not looking for sympathy in any way. I am simply stating the way i am  in hopes that if you understand itll make things less stressful for me and you. So dont feel like you have to do anything for me.  

Thankyou for reading if you got this far, really. (btw forwarding this to Mrs. m******d is totally okay with me)

[emilyl-b]

9 Things Your Parents Taught You About fireinsidemusic.com

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens music that she wrote a lot more than ten years ago, the woman who came to become acknowledged only given that the piano Trainer supplied what, in hindsight, seems like an eerie glimpse of her have upcoming.

Im moving away currently to a spot so distant, wherever nobody appreciates my title, she wrote from the lyrics of the music referred to as Moving.

When she wrote that track, she was youthful and vivacious, a piano Trainer and freelance new music writer who liked Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Appears, lengthy walks and every thing about Big apple.

On a type of beloved walks, via Central Park in the bright Solar of the June day in 1996, a homeless drifter conquer her and made an effort to rape her, leaving her clinging to lifestyle. Once the assault, the text to her track arrived legitimate. She moved away, outside of Ny city, out of her old daily life, and all but her closest buddies did not know her name. To the rest of the environment, she was — such as far more famous jogger attacked in Central Park seven years before — an nameless image of the urban nightmare. She was the piano Trainer.

Now, around the 10th anniversary of the assault, she is celebrating what appears to be her whole recovery from Mind trauma. She is forty two, married, with a little child. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Trainer, and she or he wants to explain to her story, her way.

Her physician instructed her it could just take ten years to Recuperate, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I sense my lifestyle has become redefined by Central Park, she said several times ago, her voice smooth and hopeful. Prior to park; immediately after park. Will there at any time be a time Once i dont Feel, Oh, Here is the 10th anniversary, the 11th anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch residence in the wooded subdivision in a The big apple suburb. She sat in a dining area strewn with toys, surrounded by photos of her cherubic, dim-haired 2-calendar year-aged daughter. A Steinway grand filled fifty percent the place, and at just one level she sat down and played. Her taking part in was forceful, but she seemed embarrassed to Engage in quite a lot of bars, and shrugged, rather then answering, when asked the identify from the piece. She asked that her daughter and her city not be named.

She phone calls that working day, June 4, 1996, the working day Once i was harm.

Hers was the main within a string of assaults by precisely the same man on four women over 8 days. The final victim, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was overwhelmed to Loss of life as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing shop, and eventually, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to lifestyle in prison.

Nonetheless the attack on the piano Instructor may be the a person individuals seem to recollect probably the most. Portion of the fascination has to do with echoes on the 1989 assault to the Central Park jogger. But In addition, it frightened men and women in a means the attack on the jogger did not since its situation ended up so mundane.

It did not happen in a very remote Portion of the park late in the evening, but in close proximity to a favorite playground at three inside the afternoon. It could have took place to anybody. The stress was heightened from the mystery with the piano academics id.

For three times, as law enforcement and Health professionals attempted to find out who she was, she lay in a coma in her clinic mattress, anonymous. Her parents were on trip and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Last but not least, among her students regarded a police sketch and was able to establish her while in the clinic by her fingers, since her confront was swollen beyond recognition. The law enforcement did not release her identify.

The last thing she remembers about June four, 1996, is providing a lesson in her studio apartment on West 57th Avenue, then putting her very long hair in the ponytail and likely out for any walk. She will not keep in mind the attack, Though she has listened to the accounts from the police and prosecutors.

To me its like a actuality I realized and memorized, she mentioned. As if I ended up a student in school researching background.

She doesn't think of The person who did it. I might need been offended for any moment, although not a lot longer than that, she said. How could I be offended at John Royster? He was declared not insane, but I assume by our specifications he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her doctor at The big apple Healthcare facility-Cornell Health-related Middle, as it was known in 1996, explained to reporters that she experienced a 10 percent possibility of survival. Medical professionals experienced to get rid of her forehead bone, which was later on changed, to produce space for her swelling brain. When her mother produced a community appeal to pray for my daughter, 1000's did.

Immediately after eight times, she arrived out of a coma, very first in a very vegetative state, then in a childlike condition. As she recovered, she slept minor and talked frequently, from time to time in gibberish. I had been finding mad at folks after they didnt reply to these terms, she claimed.

Like an Alzheimers individual, she experienced small short-term memory and would forget guests once they left the room.

Around a number of months, she had to relearn ways to stroll, dress, read and write. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented everyday to Perform guitar for her. He encouraged her to Engage in the piano, in opposition to the advice of her Actual physical therapists, who thought she can be disappointed by her incapacity to Participate in the best way she once experienced. Mr. Scherr performed Beatles duets along with her, actively playing the remaining-hand portion though she played the ideal.

Which was my most effective therapy, she mentioned.

In August, she moved back again property to New Jersey, along with her father, an engineer, and mother, a schoolteacher. She visited previous haunts and known as good friends, striving to revive her shattered memory. I used to be really obsessive about remembering, she reported. Any memory reduction was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists considered her progress was fantastic, but her two sisters protested that she was not the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she had missing the ability to cry, like a faucet within her brain were turned off. A person night time, nine months following she was harm, she stayed up late to watch the John Grisham Motion picture A Time to Destroy. Just following her father had long gone to mattress, she viewed a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on demo for killing two men who had raped his younger daughter.

The faucet opened, as well as tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought of my mothers and fathers, my father, and whatever they went by means of, she explained. Minor by very little, my feeling returned, my depth of mind returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went again to highschool and obtained a masters degree in music education and learning.

Not anything went very well. She and Mr. Scherr split up five years once the assault, although they remain good friends. She dated other Gentlemen, but she always advised them regarding the assault instantly — she couldn't support it, she mentioned — plus they in no way known as for a 2nd day.

We have now to search out you anyone, her Good friend David Phelps, a guitar participant, mentioned 4 many years back, before introducing her to Liam McCann, a computer technician and newbie drummer. For at the time, she did not say anything at all about the assault until she received to grasp Mr. McCann, then when she did, he admired her toughness.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who had typically frequented her at her bedside though she was in the clinic, married them in his Instances Sq. Place of work. She wore a blue costume and pearls. Whilst she was pregnant, within a burst of creativity, she and her mates recorded Even though Ended up Young, an album of childrens songs that she experienced penned prior to the attack, such as the music Shifting. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, manufactured the CD. On it, her spouse performs drums and she performs electrical piano.

Is her life as it absolutely was? Not specifically, although she is hesitant to attribute the distinctions to her injuries. Her very last two piano students still left her, with out contacting to clarify why, she reported. She has resumed taking part in classical songs, but simple items, because her daughter would not give her the perfect time to practice. As for jazz, I dont even check out, she stated.

She would want to drive additional, sensation stranded in the suburbs, but she is easily rattled. She tries to be written content with being house and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a medical professor of neurological operation at precisely what is now named New York-Presbyterian Healthcare facility/Weill Cornell Clinical Center, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann once the assault, said final week that her amount of Restoration was rare. Shes generally standard, he claimed.

Other gurus, who're not Individually accustomed to Ms. Kevorkian McCanns case, are more cautious.

Regaining the opportunity to Participate in the piano may possibly contain an Nearly mechanical procedure, a semiautomatic remember of exactly what the fingers have to do, explained Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of scientific rehabilitation medication at Ny University School of Medication. As soon as brain-injured, you happen to be always brain-hurt, For the remainder of your lifetime, Dr. Ben-Yishay claimed. There isn't any cure, You can find only intense compensation.

The more telling Portion of a Restoration, in his see, is psychological, and on that rating he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns relationship and boy or girl as a major victory.

For her aspect, the piano Instructor is familiar with she has altered, but she has produced her peace with it. I used to be sort of a hyper —— I dont know if I was a kind A, but I used to be bold, she claims. Why was I so formidable? I was a piano Trainer. I dont understand what the ambition was about. I really did come back to the individual Im designed to be.