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I JUST UGLY LAUGHED SO HARD I WOKE UP THE DAMN HOUSE JFC!!!

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John Mulaney, a true ADHD icon

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i HATE when a woman character is oversexualized and people are like “it’s her CHOICE as a woman to wear makeup and a push-up bra as body armor!!” like ????

do y’all realize that characters aren’t real? that someone like wonder woman did not “decide” to wear a miniskirt and heels? someone else, a creator, a designer, chose that?

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“Getting” yourself to write

Yesterday, I was trawling iTunes for a decent podcast about writing. After a while, I gave up, because 90% of them talked incessantly about “self-discipline,” “making writing a habit,” “getting your butt in the chair,” “getting yourself to write.” To me, that’s six flavors of fucked up.

Okay, yes—I see why we might want to “make writing a habit.” If we want to finish anything, we’ll have to write at least semi-regularly. In practical terms, I get it.

But maybe before we force our butts into chairs, we should ask why it’s so hard to “get” ourselves to write. We aren’t deranged; our brains say “I don’t want to do this” for a reason. We should take that reason seriously.

Most of us resist writing because it hurts and it’s hard. Well, you say, writing isn’t supposed to be easy—but there’s hard, and then there’s hard. For many of us, sitting down to write feels like being asked to solve a problem that is both urgent and unsolvable—“I have to, but it’s impossible, but I have to, but it’s impossible.” It feels fucking awful, so naturally we avoid it.

We can’t “make writing a habit,” then, until we make it less painful. Something we don’t just “get” ourselves to do.

The “make writing a habit” people are trying to do that, in their way. If you do something regularly, the theory goes, you stop dreading it with such special intensity because it just becomes a thing you do. But my god, if you’re still in that “dreading it” phase and someone tells you to “make writing a habit,” that sounds horrible.

So many of us already dismiss our own pain constantly. If we turn writing into another occasion for mute suffering, for numb and joyless endurance, we 1) will not write more, and 2) should not write more, because we should not intentionally hurt ourselves.

Seriously. If you want to write more, don’t ask, “how can I make myself write?” Ask, “why is writing so painful for me and how can I ease that pain?” Show some compassion for yourself. Forgive yourself for not being the person you wish you were and treat the person you are with some basic decency. Give yourself a fucking break for avoiding a thing that makes you feel awful.

Daniel José Older, in my favorite article on writing ever, has this to say to the people who admonish writers to write every day:

Here’s what stops more people from writing than anything else: shame. That creeping, nagging sense of ‘should be,’ ‘should have been,’ and ‘if only I had…’ Shame lives in the body, it clenches our muscles when we sit at the keyboard, takes up valuable mental space with useless, repetitive conversations. Shame, and the resulting paralysis, are what happen when the whole world drills into you that you should be writing every day and you’re not.

The antidote, he says, is to treat yourself kindly:

For me, writing always begins with self-forgiveness. I don’t sit down and rush headlong into the blank page. I make coffee. I put on a song I like. I drink the coffee, listen to the song. I don’t write. Beginning with forgiveness revolutionizes the writing process, returns its being to a journey of creativity rather than an exercise in self-flagellation. I forgive myself for not sitting down to write sooner, for taking yesterday off, for living my life. That shame? I release it. My body unclenches; a new lightness takes over once that burden has floated off. There is room, now, for story, idea, life.

Writing has the potential to bring us so much joy. Why else would we want to do it? But first we’ve got to unlearn the pain and dread and anxiety and shame attached to writing—not just so we can write more, but for our own sakes! Forget “making writing a habit”—how about “being less miserable”? That’s a worthy goal too!

Luckily, there are ways to do this. But before I get into them, please absorb this lesson: if you want to write, start by valuing your own well-being. Start by forgiving yourself. And listen to yourself when something hurts.

Next post: freewriting

Ask me a question or send me feedback! Podcast recommendations welcome…

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Do you think that when Steve Rogers sneezes, one of the Avengers goes up to him and whispers, “God Bless America” Then Steve fucking looks at them like this

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Call out my name:  Chapter 4

summary: Y/N explains herself after knocking Bucky out in an alley.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: I think not 

a/n: well I haven't updated this story in like forever, and I am not that happy with this chapter tbh, I had way too many difficulties with writing it, and I still need a lot more to do.. but anyway the was written for the @green-eyeddragonfanfiction writing challenge so enjoy another chapter of this weirdness. (also just so you know, there may be like some mistakes in this, I'm not really awake rn but eh)

catch up on the story if u want):

prologue

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

James Barnes did not have much in his apartment; a ratty mattress on an old creaky frame, a plain wooden table, a stove, and a pile of journals. Getting up to his floor was a feat on its own, but now that you got him onto his bed, you were desperately trying to restore the heat that you stole from him earlier. his temperature was more or less back to normal, it shouldn’t be long before he wakes up though. 

Since Barnes was a super soldier, you hoped you didn’t do any severe damage. The chair made a creek as you sat at the table looking around at the windows covered in newspaper, wondering how you were going to explain yourself when he came to. Its not going to be easy, you couldn’t just go: hey I recognised you before but couldn’t remember who you were, but then I stalked you and found out you were the winter soldier, oh and I’m sorry that I tried to kill you earlier, its just that I was afraid that if hydra found you, they would find me too, but then I had a flashback so here we are, I know where you live by the way.

You sighed and put your head in your hands, trying to piece an actual reasonable explanation that wouldn’t make him want to put a fist through your face more than he already did.

You thought it would be a good idea to start off with the fact you’re not Hydra. You poured a glass of water, before moving the chair to sit down next to Barnes. Gently setting down the water, you lightly pressed your hand against his cheek to check his temperature. He was still a little frozen, so you transferred some more of your energy to him. Slowly the color in his cheeks came back, and just then you wondered what the chances of you meeting him right in that city were. You leaned back in your chair and stared at your hands. It was bad enough you tried to kill him, you don't want to be staring at him.

Maybe you should leave. You’ve done enough damage already. Fucking hell, you didn't mean it.

While you were beating yourself about previous events, Bucky was coming into consciousness again. He didn't open his eyes immediately, trying to gauge his surroundings. It smelled like his apartment, but it only just confused him more: why would you try to kill him and then bring him to his home? He heard you entirely muttering under your breath and decided not to risk it, and as discreetly as possible he reached under his pillow for a gun. At that point out of the corner of your eye, you saw a slight movement and realised he was trying to get the gun.

“I took your gun.” Once he heard your voice and realised that you were talking to him, he didn't even try to act like he was sleeping, and with the speed of lightning. He reached into the pocket of his pants. “ I took your knife too.” Bucky grasped at the side of the mattress, where he had stowed another knife. “That one too.” At this point, his eyes were opened, and he glared at you, resembling a cat ready to pounce on its prey. “Sorry, I had to make sure you wouldn't try to kill me before I explained myself.”

A split second passed before he tried to lunge at you. There was a clank of metal against metal, and he immediately ricocheted back into the mattress. He turned his heat to look at his left arm. It was handcuffed to the battery behind him. He had shot a look at you: really? Handcuffs?

you just shrugged. “are you saying if I didn’t  take your knife wouldn't be lodged in my windpipe?”

something so broken flashed before his eyes before he muttered a few words for you to hear.

“I don't do that anymore.”

“do what?” your voice was lighter than things, almost like you were asking a friend at lunch what they wanted to do that weekend.

“kill people,” his eyes were trained on yours as his low voice sounded through the room.

“so does that mean there wouldn't be a knife lodged somewhere else in my body then?”

...and the glaring was back.

“Listen, I’m sorry for earlier. I wasn't expecting you to know who I was, considering I didn't think we had met. Also, I was scared Hydra knows where you are and would, in turn, find out about me. You gotta understand that one.” you were desperately trying to get him to understand, your tone pleading with the same desperation in your eyes.

His scorching gaze didn't soften, and you couldn't blame him. Nothing you had said or did had shown him that he can trust you, and after everything that he went through with hydra, trust was in low supply.

You sighed and rubbed your face with your hands. You didn't know how much information you could give him, and you weren't sure you were okay with giving him what you remembered, you shattered memory barely better than Barnes'.

“I don’t know where or how to start, so why don’t you ask the questions?”

You knew you were giving up all your power over to him right now, but there had to be some sense to be made in this mess, so you thought that this was the only way to do that.

“You’re not working for Hydra, or else you would have brought me in or killed me the second you saw me. That’s also would have been would you would’ve done if you worked for an official organisation. So which rich fuck are you working for?”

“Damn still some fire left in you after the freezer, Barnes.” his glare didn't ease, but he went rigid as if being reminded of it had brought that automatic reaction. “ I don't work for anyone,” you wrung your hands and looked down. “ I was another one of Hydra’s experiments. Failed one, that is. Or that's what they thought. my parents broke me out before they were supposed to test out another version of the super serum.” Your voice was starting to tremble, and you took in a breath, before continuing with your never-ending nightmare.

“Hydra found us.” You didn't look over at Barnes. You didn't want to know what he was feeling, what he thought, he probably didn't even care. “they always do, don't they.” you let out a huff of an empty laugh at that.

“They found a stone. Or rather found it again. They had it in the seventies, but then it was ‘lost’. They wondered if the reason experiments didn't work on me was because I was something else. So they strapped me up. I couldn't move anything. They made me face my family, as I touched the stone. My little brother was terrified,” you choked on a sob then, trying not to completely break down in front of a person you hardly knew, especially since you knew he could most definitely use it against you.

Tears went down your face, but you didn't wipe them away, too lost in your head for that.

“They drugged me, just in case something happened, so that I was barely awake and compliant enough without being unconscious. Then they held the stone up to my hand, so I had to touch it. I got covered completely in a black substance. I heard my parents scream. I heard my little brother cry and ask if I was dead. It was too much. I felt like I was trapped like I was buried alive. I couldn't keep it in any longer. I kept getting hotter, and hotter until it felt like I was on fire. Then I let go. I exploded.” You could've stopped right there. He surely would have figured out what had happened after that. But you had to say it. You needed to hear it.

“the amount of heat that I release into the room, it melted them. Every single person.” you didn't look at him, but you could tell that he had stilled. You felt his eyes on you, but it didn't seem like he was glaring at you.

“the contrast in temperatures, the high temperature killed them. I killed them. Sure hydra was dead. But so was my little brother.” the tears were streaming freely down your face, no barriers, nothing to stop them. Just like nothing stopped your energy.

“I think there were supposed to be alarmed if that happened. But the heat had broken all the circuits, fried any technology there was in the building. So I got away. I didn't have time to take them with me. I don't know what I would have done with them anyway. They were just bones.anyway.” your voice got quieter until it was only silence in the apartment, and the only noise was coming from outside.

Finally, you managed to look at him. He wasn't looking at you, but he had long stopped struggling against the restraints and there his eyes were almost glistening, although that couldn't be right, you just met him, and you didn't just tell him your sob story for him to pity you. You said to him that.

“I told you this so you would trust me. Now if you don’t, you’re either smart or paranoid, however, I know you’re hiding, from basically the entire world, right now, but I want to take down Hydra, and I need your help,” you watched him as you said the words, trying to get a glimpse of his reaction to it.  “That and you are doing a shit job at hiding. You need a haircut. And something needs to change. Your baseball cap is not fooling anyone. You are missing shitty black eyeshadow and its DC all over again.”

“How do you know that?” hie eyes questioned you, but it seemed he was less hostile than before.

“There's a thing called Google, old man. even I'm sure that you know about it by now.”

His gaze didn't change, and then it hit you.

“Oh, you probably don't know. You were on the other side of that, weren't you? Black Widow had dumped all the Hydra and shield files online while Steve was trying to bring down the helacarriers.”

His eyes almost went a shade darker, as if clouds were covering the beautiful blueish-silver, and suddenly you knew what he was thinking. You also knew he almost didn't remember what had happened to him half the time.

“You might not want to know what happened,”  you warned him.

“I need to.”

You nodded at him. You knew what he felt.

“Come on, I’m not going to kill you, can you just get me out of this.” He looked at his handcuffs.

You kind of forgot about those at this point.

masterlist

#Dragon's3K3C #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #winter solider x reader

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“use your words, simon.”

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The Entire 1st Half of Carry On

Simon: I miss Baz. Congratulations, Universe. You win.

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GET THIS AWAY FROM ME

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carry on stans before and after rainbow announced the sequel

before: lmao she’s DEF writing a sequel just look at all the hints she’s dropped it’s basically confirmed

after: A CARRY ON SEQUEL I NEVER THOUGHT ID SEE THE DAY-

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the “disaster gay” that is baz pitch has the worst bed head imaginable and spends ages in the bathroom trying to fix it before simon wakes up

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I don’t care if you write as a hobby or a career. You’re a writer. You’re valid. You deserve support

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dear straight, white men:

i love you, i respect you, but some of y’all need a little reality check. you’ll probably know whether or not this applies to you.

you can refer to yourselves as oppressed when:

you are murdered solely for being white

you are murdered solely for loving someone

you are murdered for saying “no”

you are murdered by law enforcement for being white

you can’t depend on law enforcement because you are white

you receive unfair prison sentencing because you are white

you are denied voting rights because you are white

you are denied certain medical services

you are sold as a slave

you are deemed incapable on a daily basis

you aren’t allowed to hear all options regarding your health

something regarding you is illegal

you are paid less because of your gender (it’s real, the wage gap literally exists whether you want it to or not)

you see yourselves portrayed as weak and fragile in the media

your children are ripped from your arms and treated like dogs because you weren’t born in a place

no, I don’t want any of this to happen to you, and I truly hope that it never does.

we know men are more likely to commit suicide. we know men are more likely to be homeless. and that isn’t good, and we want to fight that. we want to fight anything that makes the world more shitty and less equal. but you aren’t more likely to commit suicide because you are white or because you are straight. you aren’t more likely to be homeless because you are white or because you are straight. you may be more likely because you are men, but not because you are white or straight. this isn’t said to discourage the issues MEN as an entirety face—LGBT+ men, black men, asian men, Latino men, minority men, yes, even white men—but saying you are oppressed for being white or for being straight considering what others have gone through and continue to go through on a daily basis is incredibly ignorant. we’re not saying your problems don’t matter or that your life has been easy, we’re saying you aren’t oppressed in the way that minorities are. part of your job in helping to fight for rights and encouraging people to support you is recognizing that, despite what may negatively affect you, you don’t have it the worst of everyone. your privilege is a platform: use it to reach out to men struggling with depression and suicide. use it to do something about the level of homelessness in America. use it to actually do something about the issues you bring up in debates. don’t just use it to complain and be counterproductive. use it to benefit people that need it. that need you.

sometimes you have to be the one to spark change.

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i just posted a pic on insta and a chick i hate just liked it lmao fUCK OFF DEMON

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“Embrace your differences and the qualities about yourself that you think are weird. Eventually, they’re going to be the only things separating you from everyone else.”

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Steve and Bucky’s reunion in Wakanda except the audio is replaced with “Africa” by Toto