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I think the most fun part of monsters inc is boo calling sulley “kitty” and mike wazowski by full government name
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I am trying to keep vent posts off this blog, because I don't find it helpful to my psyche if you see me post something and then delete it later on do not perceive me but I just wanted to share a brief update on this blog.
I'm still working through processing a lot of things from 2023, tbh. Healing is not linear, much to my greatest annoyance and being in a new environment these past four months have brought about a lot of stresses and concerns for what I want to achieve for my future.
I've expressed this before on this blog, but back in 2019, I dealt with a lot of passive suicidal ideation. I was able to overcome that, but it still affects me from time to time. I want to make it clear that I have not ever actively sought out to take my own life (I ironically have a fear of death lol) and I have been in therapy for awhile now. But there has always been a small part of me that has not expected to make it this far in life--and that severely impacts how I occasionally view living and doing things.
All that to say, I do have a desire to engage in writing soon and I'm currently working on trying to establish better habits with my sleep and social media engagement. My spring semester is coming to an end soon, which will lessen some stress in my life for a short while before I take up summer classes.
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“I got you, Lo. Let it all out.”
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Everyone talks about Phil Collins and his contributions to the Tarzan Soundtrack but no one talks about Bryan Adams and his contributions to the Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron soundtrack like those songs still slap
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Tightrope Fanfic
Title: Tightrope
Summary:  Virgil feels lost. It’s not a foreign feeling, especially when one is the embodiment of Anxiety. But it feels like one as he stares down at a sniffling Roman in his arms. He doesn’t know what has happened. One moment, the others are having their spat about the wedding. The next, Roman barges into his room mid-breakdown and hasn’t left since. 
Pairings: platonic prinixety
Word-Count: 2.9k
Warnings: Crying, Anger, Panic, Discussion of POF, Hurt/Comfort
This is a companion fic to Safety Net, but you don’t have to read that one to understand the context of this one <3
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Virgil feels lost. It’s not a foreign feeling, especially when one is the embodiment of Anxiety. But it feels like one as he stares down at a sniffling Roman in his arms. He doesn’t know what has happened. One moment, the others are having their spat about the wedding. The next, Roman barges into his room mid-breakdown and hasn’t left since.
He keeps expecting the rug to be pulled out from under him. That perhaps this is some delayed April’s Fool joke. A ploy by Remus or one of the Others to fuck with him. His mind crafts a thousand possibilities, a thousand explanations for why this can’t be reality.
Because Virgil doesn’t know how to handle a Roman who fell from a great height and shattered completely. What if he cannot put the pieces back together again? What if he messes up and makes things worse? What if he’s the one to cause this in the first place?
No, he refuses to go down that spiraling thought pattern. Because if he unravels now, then he’ll be completely useless to Roman. He compartmentalizes the fear, stuffing it away to haunt him at a later date.
Roman’s cries have died down to a few hiccuping gasps of air. The ever-poised, ever-presentable Prince of Passion is anything but. He lays in Virgil’s arms, as limp and lifeless as a doll. His white princely jacket wrinkly and half-undone, red sash hanging loosely. Virgil cannot see his eyes from underneath his rumpled, messy hair but he’s willing to bet they’re bloodshot. Virgil bits his lips as he notes the dark ichor running down Roman’s cheeks like smeared mascara. 
Keep reading
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There is a knife in my chest
With each heartbeat, its jagged edges dig deeper into the nucleus of emotions
There is a knife in my chest, and I can’t pull it out
A crimson tide washes over, plunging waves as far as the eyes can see
I can’t pull it out, for its very presence keeps the flow at bay
The lungs constrict, breaths gasping for oxygen; the nectar of life
Its very presence keeps the flow at bay, yet its presence is the origin of stricken strife
The body stills, immobile as a corpse
Ironic isn’t it?
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The devastating difference between how much time it takes to write something vs how fast people read it lol
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I miss shows with long seasons, I miss having more than 8 eps per season, I miss shows running for over 100 episodes 😔
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Did you take the picture for your header? I really like the little yellow flower. But my brain is blanking on what is called
Yes I did! I think it may be a type of daisy? I'm not sure, but a few years back when I revamped my blog theme I snatched it as the header photo since I was going for a yellow/green theme (:
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🎨Remile! requested by anonymous
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Fortnite, are you sure about this? Did you think it through?
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bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements
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AO3 Comments are SO SO SOOOOOOO important because you can only leave Kudos ONCE. You add to the hit count ONCE (every 24 hours).
So whenever someone updates their fic, the ONLY way an author knows who their regular readers are is if they comment on each chapter. And we WANT to know who's still reading.
Believe it or not, some of us think about the name that pops up constantly in the comments and go "omg I can't wait to see what they think of THIS SPECIFIC SCENE cuz I KNOW they'll say something about it!!!"
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I forgot how lonely it is to write original fiction.
Where are the kudos? The subscriptions? The comments? The people cheerleading me chapter to chapter? Where are the kind words and compliments and reassurances that what I'm writing isn't complete crap? Where are the unhinged emojis? The asks on Tumblr? Where are my mutuals in my dms apologizing for not reading the latest chapter right away (side note, you know you don't have to apologize at all, right??). Where is the fanart? Where are the recs?
Where is my motivation to keep going?
It's something I've been thinking about a lot, actually, lately. How the experience of writing fanfic is so unique. How you already have an audience, willing and waiting and captive. And that's really it, isn't it? You have an audience. It's almost performative, writing fanfic. It's being on a stage, a one-person show (or two, if you do it with a friend); it's getting live reactions to your performance, it's feeding off the energy of the crowd and informing it back in a feedback loop; it's improvised, sometimes, in almost-real-time. It's building something that you couldn't have built by yourself. A thing that takes on a life of its own.
It's an experience you can't get writing original fiction, and, honestly, not having it is making it hard to write something original at all.
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may I suggest some Remile?
yes you may
partner is a Professional yapper listener
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worst part about getting angry is how much it makes you want to be mean
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