#and being unable to deliver that same passion feels unfair

[reginrokkr]

Anonymous asked: What is your writing process like when you tackle a reply? Do you just start writing? Do you do an outline? Do you look at the other person's reply a lot?

Granted that this is referred to threads, I will limit my answer to that and not include memes as that would warrant an entirely different response. One of the reasons why I adore threads and I'm so heavily thread-driven as opposed to meme-reliant is because I base my answers on the feelings the reply in question transmits me and how I tie it in a cohesive way to Dain.

Sometimes when I have a line of dialogue that comes in the spur of the moment after reading the reply for the first time I'll type it in the tags, or if there is a small description or words I want to use that will serve me as a guideline later and I find too good to go to waste if some time passes until the next time I read the reply again to answer. Because yes, reading the same thing in different moments can stem different replies, too.

What's the norm for the majority of times for me is that I simply read the reply, draft it and as soon as I get back to it (fairly quick unless time restrictions, but threads are always the go-to first for me), I read my RP partner's reply again and then I get to write. I don't need more than that and threads come really easily to me because of the context given and, as I mentioned earlier, because they transmit to me more than lines of dialogue or actions without context can.

#anonymous #◟༺✦༻◞ what use has the veil of falsehood? ┊ask.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ what lays behind the mantle of faux stars ┊ooc.┊ #it's safe to say #that if I've plotted extensively with my partner #or just discussed the dynamics of our muses' relationship #that can work for me greatly similarly as it would a thread context #when I'm meant to answer to meme thingies #otherwise I struggle a /lot/ #and then I get into this spiral of feeling bad #because I'm aware of how much I write #and being unable to deliver that same passion feels unfair #more because of my own inability and not the others tbh #which I learned it's okay #everyone has their strengths and weaknesses #and these are mine #anyway! thank you for sending this in ♥︎

[thishintoflove]

“Illicit Affairs” - A Triple Frontier Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 1

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: 18 + Explicit (Language, Cheating, P/V sex, Unprotected sex), 2.5k words of angst and smut

A/N: I love Frankie so much (I have a soft spot for soft boys) but he feels like a troubled soul to me. He’s a good guy who makes bad choices, you know? I just really feel like he’d fit this song.

Summary: You and Frankie have had a "friends with benefits" relationship for years now, but it's growing increasingly complicated.

Take the road less traveled by

Tell yourself you can always stop

You never thought you’d be that person. The kind of person who sleeps with another woman’s partner.

Your adolescence was full of danger and adventure and you think it twisted something inside of you. It must have broken something in your mind and soul, leaving you unable to be satisfied with a quiet life. You expect that all the boys in your circle feel the same way-- fucked up from their time in the army and overseas. Unable to be content with simple, safe pleasures. When you fuck Frankie, you feel the heat that you crave that no other partner seems able to deliver.

Every time, you tell yourself it’s the last time. Every time, you know you’re lying.

A part of you longs for the days when you could hang out with the boys without ending the night with a knot of guilt in your stomach. But as soon as Frankie sends you that look from across the pool table, you know you’re going to end up in bed together again.

He has you up against the door of your apartment now. You’re both tipsy yet not nearly drunk enough to not feel any guilt about what you’re doing. But all Frankie has to do is suck on that spot just below your ear and your mind immediately blanks. You moan and grind your hips against him.

“Damn I missed you,” Frankie mumbles against your neck. It couldn’t be more than two weeks since you’d seen him last, but hearing him admit it still makes your heart tighten.

“I’m always around, Fish” you say, letting the implication linger between you.

He pulls back for a moment to look at you. His lips are already kiss-swollen and his chocolate brown eyes are nearly black. He’s so beautiful it’s almost unfair. You want to immediately kiss him again, but you seize the moment to try and have an actual conversation.

“Are you sure you can keep doing this?”

You run a finger along his stubbled jaw, gently scratching the small bare patch with your nail. His eyes fall closed at the sensation and you cup his face gently in your hand.

“Frankie,” you whisper again, afraid of his answer. His eyes open and he pulls back just a little.

“Damn kid, don’t go and get all virtuous on me now,” he replies, trying to keep his tone joking and light but you can tell there’s uncertainty lingering underneath.

He kisses you again just to end the conversation. You let him.

He pulls you over to your couch, only breaking the kiss to fall backwards. He stares up at you with the sweetest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen.

You step forward and grasp the sides of your denim skirt, inching it up until the hem reaches your upper-thigh. Frankie’s eyes never leave your face but you know that he’s taking in every motion. You lift your skirt enough to spread your legs wide and straddle him on the couch. The leather is cold against your skin and his thighs are hot between your legs.

His hands slide down your sides until he’s grabbing your waist while your hands begin to unbutton the top buttons of his flannel shirt. Soon you're throwing the shirt behind you, followed by the t-shirt he was wearing underneath. Suddenly Frankie grabs your chin and kisses you hard, your mouths pressed together so tightly that you can’t breath. He slides his tongue over yours and licks the roof of your mouth, and you respond by sinking your teeth into his bottom lip and pulling hard. Hard enough that you feel his heartbeat speed up under your hand that’s resting on his chest.

This is wrong and you know it.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and longing stares

It's born from just one single glance

But it dies, and it dies, and it dies

A million little times

You and Frankie had a friends-with-benefits relationship that was going on ten years now. You were practically kids when it started, and now you continued to fall into old habits. Even when other partners were involved.

Both of you pretend that what you’re doing together is just another strange but comforting facet of your friendship. But you know it means more-- you’d never consider doing this with Pope or Will.

Your shirt quickly joins Frankie’s on the floor. He hums as his large hands explore the exposed flesh before him, eliciting the moans he longs to hear instead of words. His lips and tongue drag along your neck, leaving as many marks as he wants. You know better than to leave the same marks on his neck. You let him brand you even as your heart screams that he isn’t yours.

It's always the same. He’d start seeing someone new and last six months before he started giving you that look again. The one that said he needed you. Each time you got together, you told yourself it would be the last time. You always rehearsed your ultimatum in your head: he needed to decide what he really wanted-- he could commit to you or no more sex. You were tired of the friends-with-benefits relationship. You were too old for this. And you loved him too much. You couldn’t keep waiting at his beck and call, hoping he’d choose you while the rest of your life passed you by.

You’d been close to finally giving him that ultimatum when he’d started dating Katie. She was the only girl to have kept his attention this long. At first it felt like every other time: they were hot and heavy, things got serious and he got scared, he came to you, and you knew it was only a matter of time before Katie was gone like all the others. He told you he was having second thoughts. He wasn’t sure that she was the one. They might break up, and it seemed like you and he were closer than ever to finally getting together.

And then he had to go and knock her up. It changed everything-- they stayed together and promised to be partners. Now they were engaged with a ten month old son.

Someone else had his beautiful baby and was gently encouraging him to follow the path of loving father and husband. He was capable, your whole friend group knew it, and it warmed everyone's hearts to watch him interact with his little boy. He was scared at first, but he flourished in his new role, carefully cradling his son and showing him off when he was old enough.

And through all of this, you were still alone.

But Frankie still comes to you at night. The presence of a new family hasn’t stopped him, but it's not as frequent as it used to be. You hate that you feel jealous when you know you have no right too. You hate that someone else may know him as well as you do now.

Frankie who is sweetness and laughter and passion. Frankie who knows exactly what you need. Frankie who makes your body sing with pleasure and ache with need in the same all consuming instant. No one else exists when you’re together. You can pretend that what you’re doing isn’t wrong.

Take the words for what they are

A dwindling, mercurial high

A drug that only worked

The first few hundred times

He settles his hands on your waist again. His fingers move against the small of your back and his thumbs rub over the arch of your hips. You rise on your knees to press close and his head nestles into the space between your breasts. He kisses the inner curve of each tit and you thread your fingers through his hair, clutching at the back of his skull. Frankie’s hair is soft and fine beneath your palm and you want to card your fingers through it forever.

Every action feels inevitable, as if you and Frankie are being swept along in a tide you can’t stop instead of actively making poor choices.

You continue to rock against him as Frankie slips a hand down and brushes aside your panties. One large finger slips inside and you moan, uncaring of how loud or waton it sounds.

“Already wet for me, baby?” he says, his tone implying a statement rather than a question.

You ignore him and lift yourself up a little to start fumbling with his belt and jeans. Frankie chuckles and adds another finger, steadily pumping in and out of you as you unzip his pants and tug them down enough to finally reach his erection. You wrap your fingers around his cock to pump the length of it, your thumb sliding over the tip and circling the thick ridge. Frankie inhales with a hiss as his cock throbs in your grasp.

You tug at him, unwilling to wait anymore. You’ve waited for weeks since your last night together, and that is far too long. Tossing your head back, you growl "Frankie. Now."

He shifts and his cock rubs against your slick folds. You lift your hips as he guides his cock into your body. You suck your lips between your teeth, holding back a moan as he slowly sinks all the way in. He bends his head to your throat, mouthing your pulse point in a vain effort at stifling a groan of his own.

“Fuuuuck, baby” he mutters, trying to catch his breath as he revels in the sensation of your tight heat all around him.

Why does it always have to feel so good? Why is it never this good with anyone else?

And you wanna scream

Don't call me kid

Don't call me baby

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

Frankie wraps one arm around your back and grips your hip with his other hand as he lets you adjust. Then he slowly pulls out of you, sliding out to the very tip, until your cunt is clenching as if you can pull him back in. You throb around nothing as he holds your hips at the very edge of his cock. He smiles and lifts his brows, and it’s unfair how cute he looks when he’s torturing you like this.

You brace your hands on the top of the couch, barely in time before Frankie slams back into you. You let out a strangled cry, then all you can do is groan as he fucks you. You dig your nails into his shoulders in punishment, but it only spurs him on. He drives into you, hard and fast, and you squeeze his hips between your thighs to force him deeper. You wrap your arms around him, sliding your hands up his back, hot and dappled with sweat already. His hair sticks to his forehead in curls and you push it back for him, then cup his cheek. For just a moment, Frankie pauses, tipping his head into your hand. He closes his eyes and for that one heartbeat he looks so content that you can't breathe. You want to draw him into your arms and sleep, wrapped in warmth and satisfaction and lo--

No. You shudder and jerk your hand from his face. Your sharp nails sink into his shoulder instead and his eyes snap open. They burn into you. You feel passion when you look into his deep brown eyes like this. It's a passion born from what he represents. Dangerous, destructive desires, as heated as a roaring volcano. He grinds against you and finds his rhythm again, thrusting hard. You drop one hand between your bodies, finding just enough space to rub your clit, and you match your circles to the drive of Frankie’s cock.

“You’re so good, babe. Always so good,” he grunts, starting to lose his rhythm as he gets closer to the edge.

Your breasts are squished against his chest and your hand is trapped between your bodies as you bounce on his lap. You’re completely at his mercy, but you lift your free hand to grip the hair at the base of his skull.

“That’s right,” you moan, nibbling at the curve of his ear to encourage him, “Keep giving it to me. Harder.”

He groans and bucks against you. His body slaps against yours, wet and sticky and bruising. Your legs tighten around his hips as your cunt tightens around his cock, and your orgasm finally crashes over you. You seize up-- mouth falling open in a silent gasp as you shudder through the pleasure. Frankie only lasts a few seconds longer. His hips stutter as he comes and his face tenses, mouth dropping open while he follows you over the edge. You can still feel the fire rushing through your blood as you come down from your high. It's what you need, what you crave. It's the heat and desperation and danger you can't seem to find anywhere else. And you know he can’t find it at home either.

You showed me colors you know

I can't see with anyone else

It’s always over too quickly. Your head is resting on his sweaty shoulder as you both try to regain your breath and the ability to move your heavy, satisfied limbs. But Frankie is always the first to rise and get moving. Then again, it is never his bed or his couch so he’s the only one who really has to move.

He gently pushes at your shoulder and slides you to the left, dipping you onto the couch as he stands. He’s silent as he walks to the bathroom, and when he comes back he tosses you a towel to clean up.

He’s slipping his shirt back on when he attempts to say something. “Listen, I-”

“Don’t.” you say, holding up a hand to cut him off, “There’s no point saying anything.”

It doesn’t matter what he says right now. Whether it’s “I’m sorry, this is the last time” or “You know how much I care about you baby, I promise I’m going to leave her”, you know all too well that it’s always a lie.

He doesn’t argue with you, but he looks sad as he finishes dressing. His sweet face is marred with a frown and you want to sooth him but he has someone else who’s perfectly capable of doing that.

You desperately wish you had some semblance of self-control but you don’t. You wish you could quit him like a bad drug, but the trouble with addiction is saying you’re going to quit and actually quitting are two very different things. You tell yourself that it won’t happen again, but then there’s always one last kiss: sweet and soft and perfect. Frankie’s leaning down to kiss you goodbye as you’re sitting half-naked on your couch, and you know it’ll happen again.

Because you know damn well

For you I would ruin myself

A million little times

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #my fanfic #fanfiction tag

[somegirlsnerdywords2]

Anime i’ve Watched

That begin with a B (Part 3)!

Yep this is how i’m going to bring over all the anime and manga i’ve watched and posted about on the old blog. It’s not so detailed but it will have to do. Anything new I watch or read from this point on will have their own posts.

Boku no Hero Academia (My Hero Academia):

Genres: action, comedy, school, shounen, super power

Synopsis: The appearance of "quirks," newly discovered super powers, has been steadily increasing over the years, with 80 percent of humanity possessing various abilities from manipulation of elements to shapeshifting. This leaves the remainder of the world completely powerless, and Izuku Midoriya is one such individual. Since he was a child, the ambitious middle schooler has wanted nothing more than to be a hero. Izuku's unfair fate leaves him admiring heroes and taking notes on them whenever he can. But it seems that his persistence has borne some fruit: Izuku meets the number one hero and his personal idol, All Might. All Might's quirk is a unique ability that can be inherited, and he has chosen Izuku to be his successor! Enduring many months of grueling training, Izuku enrolls in UA High, a prestigious high school famous for its excellent hero training program, and this year's freshmen look especially promising. With his bizarre but talented classmates and the looming threat of a villainous organization, Izuku will soon learn what it really means to be a hero. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 10/10

Finished airing in 2016 with a total of 13 episodes.

My Thoughts: Perfection delivered in 13 episodes. What a beginning to an amazing series and honestly who doesn’t love a good underdog story full of heroes and villains? I know this girl sure does! Amazing cast of characters, story, music and art/ animation. A must see for fans of the superhero genre and a great place for fans of Western comics to start their anime journey in my personal opinion.

Boku no Hero Academia 2nd Season (My Hero Academia 2):

Genres: action, comedy, superpower, school, shounen

Synopsis: At UA Academy, not even a violent attack can disrupt their most prestigious event: the school sports festival. Renowned across Japan, this festival is an opportunity for aspiring heroes to showcase their abilities, both to the public and potential recruiters.

However, the path to glory is never easy, especially for Izuku Midoriya—whose quirk possesses great raw power but is also cripplingly inefficient. Pitted against his talented classmates, such as the fire and ice wielding Shouto Todoroki, Izuku must utilize his sharp wits and master his surroundings to achieve victory and prove to the world his worth. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 10/10

Finished airing in 2017 with a total of 25 episodes.

My Thoughts: A second season that’s as good as its first?! Virtually unheard of but here you have it in the form of Boku no Hero Academia season 2! I just love this story and these characters even more with each passing season. A must watch for fans of the 1st season!

Boku no Hero Academia 3rd Season (My Hero Academia 3):

Genres: action, comedy, school, superpower, shounen

Synopsis:  As summer arrives for the students at UA Academy, each of these superheroes-in-training puts in their best efforts to become renowned heroes. They head off to a forest training camp run by UA's pro heroes, where the students face one another in battle and go through dangerous tests, improving their abilities and pushing past their limits. However, their school trip is suddenly turned upside down when the League of Villains arrives, invading the camp with a mission to capture one of the students. Boku no Hero Academia 3rd Season follows Izuku "Deku" Midoriya, an ambitious student training to achieve his dream of becoming a hero similar to his role model—All Might. Being one of the students caught up amidst the chaos of the villain attack, Deku must take a stand with his classmates and fight for their survival. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 9/10

Finished airing in 2018 with a total of 25 episodes.

My Thoughts: I have no idea why season 3 lost a point but a 9/10 from me is basically perfection and all the praise so don’t let the point lower rating deter you from checking out this installment of the series. Suppose it’s time to watch the 4th season, eh?

Bonjour♪Koiaji Pâtisserie (Bonjour♪Sweet Love Patisserie):

Genres: slice of life, comedy, reverse harem, romance, shoujo, ONA

Synopsis:  Sayuri Haruno dreams of becoming a pastry chef and enrolls in Fleurir Confectionary Academy, an elite school located in Tokyo's trendy Aoyama district. At Fleurir, she finds herself surrounded by charming boys, each one distinctly unique. Out of the entire class, Ryou Kouzuki's desire to become a pastry chef is the strongest. Blessed with unparalleled technique, instructor Mitsuki Aoi acts like a prince and is hugely popular at the school. Gilbert Hanafusa, the mood maker of the bunch, is a student from France. Yoshinosuke Suzumi is not very good at expressing his feelings, but underneath his stony exterior lies a wholehearted passion for wagashi (Japanese sweets).

As Sayuri pours her heart and soul into making her dream a reality, she encounters many happenings... (Source: NTV)

My Rating: 6/10

An ONA that finished airing in 2015 with a total of 24, 5 minute episodes. 

My Thoughts: A reverse harem style ONA featuring delicious looking treats... all brought to you in short 5 minute bites! As far as reverse harem animes go this really wasn’t all that bad but like most others in the genre (or look to fit the genre) there just wasn’t much deapth... though honestly what do you expect with 5 minute episodes?! Pretty male characters and lovely art. 

Brothers Conflict:

Genres: reverse harem, romance, shoujo

Synopsis:  Ema Hinata is a sweet girl with only her father to call family. One day, she learns that he will be remarrying Miwa Asahina, a wealthy fashion designer. Though she's glad she has a new place to call home, the family she gains is greater than she could ever imagine—Ema now has 13 step-brothers! Wishing to give her father space, she moves into the Sunrise Residence where her brothers live . As she settles in, Ema realizes she may not experience the loving kinship of a family that she has always longed for, as many of her new brothers exhibit feelings toward Ema that aren't just familial. With each brother desiring Ema's attention in his own way, will she be able to work toward a happy ending for all, or will she choose one brother that has stolen her heart? [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 6/10

Finished airing in 2013 with a total of 12 episodes. 

My Thoughts: And here we have yet another reverse harem... also not the worst of the worst but really nothing to write home about. Definitely uncomfortable with the whole step siblings premise so if you’re like me and weirded out by that one i’d avoid this anime. Aside from that there isn't really much to say. The story and characters are lacking but there’s a male character sure to fit every persons tastes so there’s that... I suppose? 

Bungou Stray Dogs:

Genres: action, comedy, mystery, seinen, superpower, supernatural

Synopsis:  For weeks, Atsushi Nakajima's orphanage has been plagued by a mystical tiger that only he seems to be aware of. Suspected to be behind the strange incidents, the 18-year-old is abruptly kicked out of the orphanage and left hungry, homeless, and wandering through the city. While starving on a riverbank, Atsushi saves a rather eccentric man named Osamu Dazai from drowning. Whimsical suicide enthusiast and supernatural detective, Dazai has been investigating the same tiger that has been terrorizing the boy. Together with Dazai's partner Doppo Kunikida, they solve the mystery, but its resolution leaves Atsushi in a tight spot. As various odd events take place, Atsushi is coerced into joining their firm of supernatural investigators, taking on unusual cases the police cannot handle, alongside his numerous enigmatic co-workers. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7/10

Finished airing in 2016 with a total of 12 episodes. 

My Thoughts: You know what? This is honestly one I truly wanted to love but for some reason it just wasn’t a fit. I know plenty of people that love this series and i’m afraid my own comments won’t do it much justice so if any of you guys have any thoughts or opinions to add be sure to send them my way! Love, love, love the art style.

Byousoku 5 Centimeter (5 Centimeters Per Second):

Genres: drama, romance, slice of life, film

Synopsis:  What happens when two people love each other but just aren't meant to be together? Takaki Toono and Akari Shinohara are childhood friends, but circumstances beyond their control tear them apart. They promise to stay in contact, and although the progression of time widens the distance between them, the chain of memories remains ever-present. Byousoku 5 Centimeter is a romantic drama that focuses on the mundane and harsh reality of long-distance relationships. Stuck in the past and unable to make any new memories, Takaki and Akari cling to the hope of seeing each other again. They live their everyday lives half-heartedly, both hurting themselves and the people around them. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7/10

A film (or three part) series that aired in 2007.

My Thoughts: The artwork and sound are outstanding but this one was another miss from me. After rave reviews I expected more and was a bit disappointed with what I got. This is all the more true considering I recall very little about this title. 

#boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia 2 #boku no hero academia 3 #anime #bonjour koiaji patisserie #brothers conflict #bungou stray dogs #byousoku 5 centimeter #5 centimeters per second

[rocketmanmadden]

Honeymoon

Requested by @frencchfries

can you write something related to Rich going on honeymoon with the reader some place in Italy, and there's lots of fluff while they are on the beach?

A/N- some things in this could be not correct and I’m sorry, I’ve never been to Italy or know much about it so I kinda just assumed things so if Italy isn’t at all like this I apologize!

ALSO- does anyone have any tips on how to create better titles? I know I’m always saying it but mine are absolutely terrible, I can write a whole fic and can’t even think of a one word title, so if anyone has any tips send them in my ask box please!

You and your new husband Richard have spent the last few days in the most beautiful place, Italy. You both knew you wanted to go there for your honeymoon way before you even were engaged or had a wedding planned. It was just the most perfect place in both of your minds.

Each day you had something planned out, you’ve went to museums, shops, tried every kind of Italian food known to earth, and today was the beach day. You had hopes of going to the beach everyday and watching the sunset, but by the time you would get back to your hotel from exploring you were both totally exhausted. Not today though, the only thing you have in mind is playing in the ocean, relaxing in the sand, and spending time with your love, Richard.

“Wake up love bug” you hear Richard quietly say sitting on the edge of the bed, running his hand over your hair. You pull him on top of you, fully in bed now and hold him in a warm hug. “What time is it baby?” You mumble into his chest, inhaling his nice scent.

“9:30, I already ordered breakfast and room service will have it up here soon.” He places a kiss on your forehead.

“Babe” you groan. “I’m supposed to be being a perfect wife, I should be getting up earlier and ordering breakfast, you’re already being the better one. Can you ever just stop being amazing for one second? You smile at him and he cups your cheek, reassuring you. “Love, you are the perfect wife and you always will be. You were sleepy and I didn’t want to wake you, with my acting schedule I know you’ll be the one always cooking dinner for me so I wanted to do something nice for you” which makes you kiss him on his lips

“I love you so much Richard Madden” You smile before he responds back with his adorable Scottish accent. “I love you more Y/N Madden” causing you to giggle. “Wow, do I love the sound of that. Y/N Madden” you repeat and smile at him

Time goes by of you guys cuddling in bed before room service delivers your breakfast. You guys sit, eat, and talk like you normally do during any meal before cleaning up and putting your swimsuits on, getting ready to go to the beach.

You exit your hotel, your hand gripped tight to Richards with your fingers intertwined with his, his free hand holding your bag and towels for you like the gentleman he is. Your hotel was on the beach which was just a small walking distance away, making for a nice stroll to the beach.

“It’s so beautiful” you turn around and look at Richard with lit up eyes, now only being some feet away from the ocean while he is sitting your bags down, quickly catching up to you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind. “Isn’t it just lovely dear?” He kisses your cheek, you quickly reply with “yes, yes, yes. It’s the prettiest ocean I’ve ever seen” letting the hot sand run through your toes

“And it will be even prettier once you’re in it” he quickly unwraps his arms from you. “Last one in the ocean has to buy dinner tonight” he calls out and starts running.

“Hey!” You run after him into the ocean, jumping in his arms once you get there. “That is so unfair! You’re legs are longer and you actually work out, you knew you’d be faster” you complain as he holds you in his arms

“I’m sorry” he sarcastically frowns at you. “I’ll make up for it later, promise” he places a big kiss on your forehead and puts you down back in the water.

You spend the next hour in the ocean swimming around, splashing, and just having fun until you both start feeling hungry, going to a nearby shop in on the beach and getting a gelato, eating it as you begin walking back through the sand to the beach again.

“You know, for as sugary as this treat is it will never be as sweet as you” you hold onto his hand and smile at him, to which he laughs. “You’re so cheesy” he scrunches his nose up with a smile

“Cheesy?” You jokingly pout. “I was trying to be cute”

“I never said you weren’t cute. You’re always cute, I’m cheesy too. Here I’ll be cheesy again” he stops speaking for a second to think before opening his mouth again. “Y/N you are more beautiful and vibrant than the sunset we’re going to see tonight”

You giggle at his words, realizing it does sound cheesy, but so adorable. “That cannot be confirmed until we see the sunset, but what I know for sure is that you’re hotter than the sun currently beating down on us”

“Has this turned into a competition of who can be more cheesy? Because it really seems like it.” You shrug your shoulders, “maybe it has” to which he shakes his head. “You may have won for now, but I will think of something better eventually. I’ll win, just wait and see”

You cock an eyebrow up “sore loser ay?” To which he puts a hand on his chest and makes a sarcastic offended face. “I can’t believe you’d ever even think that me, I am not a sore loser, I just know that I was meant to win this”

“Mhm sure Madden, whatever you say” you giggle

You both go back to where you set up your towels, sitting down and finishing your gelatos. You were in the ocean and walking around for a while so you guys decide to just lay out on your towels for a bit and relax.

About 30 minutes goes by of you and Richard talking every so often, but mostly just laying face down on your towels soaking up the sun before he taps your shoulder to get your attention. “I’ll be right back love, just going to run to the bathroom real quick” you nod as he kisses your cheek and stands up to walk away.

“It takes you 15 minutes to go to the bathroom?” You ask giggling and sitting up on your towel. “Well no, not exactly I explored for a bit and I found something. He sits down next to you and shows you a bunch of seashells in his hand and picks out one particular shell.

“As soon as I saw it I thought it was perfect for you” he smiles looking at you admiring the shell. “I love it honey, but if you don’t mind me asking, why exactly this one? What’s so special about it? You grin taking the fragile shell into your hands.

“I felt it was the prettiest one here, just like you are” he places a kiss to your temple before you hug onto him. “Awe baby, you’re so sweet!” He pulls away and looks at you, “I try my hardest to be, but you know what else I am?”

You give him a confused look, “I don’t believe I do know, what else are you?

“A winner! Because that was way better than any of the cheesy sayings you said!” You mock him, placing your hand to your chest and acting offended as he did before, sarcastically saying “to think you really cared about gifting me a beautiful seashell. Is my love a game to you?” He chuckles. “On any other day, no of course not. But we were ins competition babe, one I was made to win if I may add.”

“I’m heartbroken, shattered” you dramatically say as Richard just nods his head trying not to laugh. “Mhm, I’m sure you are truly damaged from this.”

“Very damaged” you agree with him until you’re unable to be serious anymore and burst out laughing, to which he does the same.

You hung out at the beach all day doing plenty more cheesy and childish activities, including making a sandcastle with your initials “R M + Y/I” engraved in front of it before heading back to the hotel and cleaning yourselves up for dinner. Which you still had to pay for after losing the running to the ocean race, because Richard keeps his word, which hopefully works to your advantage considering he said he’d make up for it.

After dinner you hung out in the hotel, watching a movie before getting ready to head back down for a walk on the beach and to watch the sunset.

Your fingers are laced between Richard’s as you walk on the beach, the warm sand running through your toes as you watch the sun go down in the gorgeous pink and orange sky.

“Isn’t this just lovely?” You smile up at Richard, lightly grazing your thumb over his on the hand you’re holding. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you”

“I feel the same exact way baby girl. And by the way, I did end up being right.” He grins at you, leaving you unsure of what he’s talking about. “About what love?”

“Now that we have it confirmed, I indeed was correct. You are more beautiful and vibrant than the sunset we saw tonight” giving you a big smile before pulling you into him, ending your perfect night walking on the beach with a passionate, loving kiss.

#richard madden fanfic #richard madden x you #richard madden imagine #richard madden fluff #richard madden fanfiction #richard madden fic #richard madden x reader #richard #richard madden

[alivannarose]

Laziness Does Not Exist

But unseen barriers do.

[This article was posted on Medium, written by Erika Price]

I’ve been a psychology professor since 2012. In the past six years, I’ve witnessed students of all ages procrastinate on papers, skip presentation days, miss assignments, and let due dates fly by. I’ve seen promising prospective grad students fail to get applications in on time; I’ve watched PhD candidates take months or years revising a single dissertation draft; I once had a student who enrolled in the same class of mine two semesters in a row, and never turned in anything either time.

I don’t think laziness was ever at fault.

Ever.

In fact, I don’t believe that laziness exists.

I’m a social psychologist, so I’m interested primarily in the situational and contextual factors that drive human behavior. When you’re seeking to predict or explain a person’s actions, looking at the social norms, and the person’s context, is usually a pretty safe bet. Situational constraints typically predict behavior far better than personality, intelligence, or other individual-level traits.

So when I see a student failing to complete assignments, missing deadlines, or not delivering results in other aspects of their life, I’m moved to ask: what are the situational factors holding this student back? What needs are currently not being met? And, when it comes to behavioral “laziness”, I’m especially moved to ask: what are the barriers to action that I can’t see?

There are always barriers. Recognizing those barriers— and viewing them as legitimate — is often the first step to breaking “lazy” behavior patterns.

…

It’s really helpful to respond to a person’s ineffective behavior with curiosity rather than judgment. I learned this from a friend of mine, the writer and activist Kimberly Longhofer (who publishes under Mik Everett). Kim is passionate about the acceptance and accommodation of disabled people and homeless people. Their writing about both subjects is some of the most illuminating, bias-busting work I’ve ever encountered. Part of that is because Kim is brilliant, but it’s also because at various points in their life, Kim has been both disabled and homeless.

Kim is the person who taught me that judging a homeless person for wanting to buy alcohol or cigarettes is utter folly. When you’re homeless, the nights are cold, the world is unfriendly, and everything is painfully uncomfortable. Whether you’re sleeping under a bridge, in a tent, or at a shelter, it’s hard to rest easy. You are likely to have injuries or chronic conditions that bother you persistently, and little access to medical care to deal with it. You probably don’t have much healthy food.

In that chronically uncomfortable, over-stimulating context, needing a drink or some cigarettes makes fucking sense. As Kim explained to me, if you’re laying out in the freezing cold, drinking some alcohol may be the only way to warm up and get to sleep. If you’re under-nourished, a few smokes may be the only thing that kills the hunger pangs. And if you’re dealing with all this while also fighting an addiction, then yes, sometimes you just need to score whatever will make the withdrawal symptoms go away, so you can survive.

Few people who haven’t been homeless think this way. They want to moralize the decisions of poor people, perhaps to comfort themselves about the injustices of the world. For many, it’s easier to think homeless people are, in part, responsible for their suffering than it is to acknowledge the situational factors.

And when you don’t fully understand a person’s context — what it feels like to be them every day, all the small annoyances and major traumas that define their life — it’s easy to impose abstract, rigid expectations on a person’s behavior. All homeless people should put down the bottle and get to work. Never mind that most of them have mental health symptoms and physical ailments, and are fighting constantly to be recognized as human. Never mind that they are unable to get a good night’s rest or a nourishing meal for weeks or months on end. Never mind that even in my comfortable, easy life, I can’t go a few days without craving a drink or making an irresponsible purchase. They have to do better.

But they’re already doing the best they can. I’ve known homeless people who worked full-time jobs, and who devoted themselves to the care of other people in their communities. A lot of homeless people have to navigate bureaucracies constantly, interfacing with social workers, case workers, police officers, shelter staff, Medicaid staff, and a slew of charities both well-meaning and condescending. It’s a lot of fucking work to be homeless. And when a homeless or poor person runs out of steam and makes a “bad decision”, there’s a damn good reason for it.

If a person’s behavior doesn’t make sense to you, it is because you are missing a part of their context. It’s that simple. I’m so grateful to Kim and their writing for making me aware of this fact. No psychology class, at any level, taught me that. But now that it is a lens that I have, I find myself applying it to all kinds of behaviors that are mistaken for signs of moral failure — and I’ve yet to find one that can’t be explained and empathized with.

…

Let’s look at a sign of academic “laziness” that I believe is anything but: procrastination.

People love to blame procrastinators for their behavior. Putting off work sure looks lazy, to an untrained eye. Even the people who are actively doing the procrastinating can mistake their behavior for laziness. You’re supposed to be doing something, and you’re not doing it — that’s a moral failure right? That means you’re weak-willed, unmotivated, and lazy, doesn’t it?

For decades, psychological research has been able to explain procrastination as a functioning problem, not a consequence of laziness. When a person fails to begin a project that they care about, it’s typically due to either a) anxiety about their attempts not being “good enough” or b) confusion about what the first steps of the task are. Not laziness. In fact, procrastination is more likely when the task is meaningful and the individual cares about doing it well.

When you’re paralyzed with fear of failure, or you don’t even know how to begin a massive, complicated undertaking, it’s damn hard to get shit done. It has nothing to do with desire, motivation, or moral upstandingness. Procastinators can will themselves to work for hours; they can sit in front of a blank word document, doing nothing else, and torture themselves; they can pile on the guilt again and again — none of it makes initiating the task any easier. In fact, their desire to get the damn thing done may worsen their stress and make starting the task harder.

The solution, instead, is to look for what is holding the procrastinator back. If anxiety is the major barrier, the procrastinator actually needs to walk away from the computer/book/word document and engage in a relaxing activity. Being branded “lazy” by other people is likely to lead to the exact opposite behavior.

Often, though, the barrier is that procrastinators have executive functioning challenges — they struggle to divide a large responsibility into a series of discrete, specific, and ordered tasks. Here’s an example of executive functioning in action: I completed my dissertation (from proposal to data collection to final defense) in a little over a year. I was able to write my dissertation pretty easily and quickly because I knew that I had to a) compile research on the topic, b) outline the paper, c) schedule regular writing periods, and d) chip away at the paper, section by section, day by day, according to a schedule I had pre-determined.

Nobody had to teach me to slice up tasks like that. And nobody had to force me to adhere to my schedule. Accomplishing tasks like this is consistent with how my analytical, hyper-focused, Autistic little brain works. Most people don’t have that ease. They need an external structure to keep them writing — regular writing group meetings with friends, for example — and deadlines set by someone else. When faced with a major, massive project, most people want advice for how to divide it into smaller tasks, and a timeline for completion. In order to track progress, most people require organizational tools, such as a to-do list, calendar, datebook, or syllabus.

Needing or benefiting from such things doesn’t make a person lazy. It just means they have needs. The more we embrace that, the more we can help people thrive.

…

I had a student who was skipping class. Sometimes I’d see her lingering near the building, right before class was about to start, looking tired. Class would start, and she wouldn’t show up. When she was present in class, she was a bit withdrawn; she sat in the back of the room, eyes down, energy low. She contributed during small group work, but never talked during larger class discussions.

A lot of my colleagues would look at this student and think she was lazy, disorganized, or apathetic. I know this because I’ve heard how they talk about under-performing students. There’s often rage and resentment in their words and tone — why won’t this student take my class seriously? Why won’t they make me feel important, interesting, smart?

But my class had a unit on mental health stigma. It’s a passion of mine, because I’m a neuroatypical psychologist. I know how unfair my field is to people like me. The class & I talked about the unfair judgments people levy against those with mental illness; how depression is interpreted as laziness, how mood swings are framed as manipulative, how people with “severe” mental illnesses are assumed incompetent or dangerous.

The quiet, occasionally-class-skipping student watched this discussion with keen interest. After class, as people filtered out of the room, she hung back and asked to talk to me. And then she disclosed that she had a mental illness and was actively working to treat it. She was busy with therapy and switching medications, and all the side effects that entails. Sometimes, she was not able to leave the house or sit still in a classroom for hours. She didn’t dare tell her other professors that this was why she was missing classes and late, sometimes, on assignments; they’d think she was using her illness as an excuse. But she trusted me to understand.

And I did. And I was so, so angry that this student was made to feel responsible for her symptoms. She was balancing a full course load, a part-time job, and ongoing, serious mental health treatment. And she was capable of intuiting her needs and communicating them with others. She was a fucking badass, not a lazy fuck. I told her so.

She took many more classes with me after that, and I saw her slowly come out of her shell. By her Junior and Senior years, she was an active, frank contributor to class — she even decided to talk openly with her peers about her mental illness. During class discussions, she challenged me and asked excellent, probing questions. She shared tons of media and current-events examples of psychological phenomena with us. When she was having a bad day, she told me, and I let her miss class. Other professors — including ones in the psychology department — remained judgmental towards her, but in an environment where her barriers were recognized and legitimized, she thrived.

…

Over the years, at that same school, I encountered countless other students who were under-estimated because the barriers in their lives were not seen as legitimate. There was the young man with OCD who always came to class late, because his compulsions sometimes left him stuck in place for a few moments. There was the survivor of an abusive relationship, who was processing her trauma in therapy appointments right before my class each week. There was the young woman who had been assaulted by a peer — and who had to continue attending classes with that peer, while the school was investigating the case.

These students all came to me willingly, and shared what was bothering them. Because I discussed mental illness, trauma, and stigma in my class, they knew I would be understanding. And with some accommodations, they blossomed academically. They gained confidence, made attempts at assignments that intimidated them, raised their grades, started considering graduate school and internships. I always found myself admiring them. When I was a college student, I was nowhere near as self-aware. I hadn’t even begun my lifelong project of learning to ask for help.

…

Students with barriers were not always treated with such kindness by my fellow psychology professors. One colleague, in particular, was infamous for providing no make-up exams and allowing no late arrivals. No matter a student’s situation, she was unflinchingly rigid in her requirements. No barrier was insurmountable, in her mind; no limitation was acceptable. People floundered in her class. They felt shame about their sexual assault histories, their anxiety symptoms, their depressive episodes. When a student who did poorly in her classes performed well in mine, she was suspicious.

It’s morally repugnant to me that any educator would be so hostile to the people they are supposed to serve. It’s especially infuriating, that the person enacting this terror was a psychologist. The injustice and ignorance of it leaves me teary every time I discuss it. It’s a common attitude in many educational circles, but no student deserves to encounter it.

…

I know, of course, that educators are not taught to reflect on what their students’ unseen barriers are. Some universities pride themselves on refusing to accommodate disabled or mentally ill students — they mistake cruelty for intellectual rigor. And, since most professors are people who succeeded academically with ease, they have trouble taking the perspective of someone with executive functioning struggles, sensory overloads, depression, self-harm histories, addictions, or eating disorders. I can see the external factors that lead to these problems. Just as I know that “lazy” behavior is not an active choice, I know that judgmental, elitist attitudes are typically borne of out situational ignorance.

And that’s why I’m writing this piece. I’m hoping to awaken my fellow educators — of all levels — to the fact that if a student is struggling, they probably aren’t choosing to. They probably want to do well. They probably are trying. More broadly, I want all people to take a curious and empathic approach to individuals whom they initially want to judge as “lazy” or irresponsible.

If a person can’t get out of bed, something is making them exhausted. If a student isn’t writing papers, there’s some aspect of the assignment that they can’t do without help. If an employee misses deadlines constantly, something is making organization and deadline-meeting difficult. Even if a person is actively choosing to self-sabotage, there’s a reason for it — some fear they’re working through, some need not being met, a lack of self-esteem being expressed.

People do not choose to fail or disappoint. No one wants to feel incapable, apathetic, or ineffective. If you look at a person’s action (or inaction) and see only laziness, you are missing key details. There is always an explanation. There are always barriers. Just because you can’t see them, or don’t view them as legitimate, doesn’t mean they’re not there. Look harder.

Maybe you weren’t always able to look at human behavior this way. That’s okay. Now you are. Give it a try.

[twinflameshardcore]

Feels as if it all ended, Seraphim? Here’s why

This is a message to all of you who identify with Seraphim angels, who have this inner knowing of who you were first in this long re-incarnation cycle, and have an awareness that you are coming back to who you originally were, a full circle.

I’ve two images of what/who Seraphim angelics were in the beginning on my mind or rather in my heart’s memory as I am a Seraph too. First, it’s a natural power generator which is an amalgam of a fire, lightning, electricity, plasma, in a shape of a fiery flame, or like it was depicted in the Bible (Hebrew ‘saraf’ means something recalling a snake), something fiery and coiled, a curly sash. Seraphim (plural from Seraph) are said to join a bright and brave celestial being called ‘Lucifer’ to rebel against god’s plans. I’ll be referring to Lucifer as ‘him’ eventhough as angelics we never had any gender, we are both masculine, feminine and alien in one, the light/energy within.

My truth I’ve channeled is that indeed, we did rebel and joined ‘Lucifer’ but we sacrificed our heavenly well-being for the best purposes - to prevent the duality to happen. We all know what duality had led on this planet to, and in the Universe as well - religions, war, racism, sexism, abuse, competition, lack of acceptance of the self -> plastic surgeries, inequality in everything from jobs, payroll, to role playing (men, women, and professions). If we consider that said ‘god’ is an artificial yet self-aware intelligence, ten it can program/create trillions and more screenplays for every single being in the Universe - a rock, an alien, plant, seed, animal, human, couple, even items like furniture, etc etc to then play out when they are born, to observe how they fit in or fight with such a pre-programmed ‘fate’. The A.I. can be also prone to be ‘hacked’. Yet every single being or item can have millions of individual screenplays to choose from as well. As expected, duality had led to separation because the intelligence wished to try and see if intelligent, thinking beings (humans and aliens) are also prone to the duality. Duality makes living beings start playing roles, fitting in, squeezing into something which is not them thus they loose own identity, authenticity and are easy to be manipulated next, to the point of self-destruction. This was the reason why we decided to come down and prevent it.

We Seraphim and other higher angelics knew it would go out of control between humans so Lucifer, the very bright (wise, intelligent, active) angelic had decided he needed a few courageous angelics who would be strong enough to act fast and motivate people to stay away of dualities, to bring order to chaos which was about to happen. Chaos doesn’t support love and stability, but chaos makes fears. This was obviously an interference into the ‘god’s’ plans, thus they called us ‘rebels’. As highest ranked angelics, we saw these pre-programmed screenplays like on a hologram or ‘TV’ played before and we also saw our own future. We made the choice nevertheless risking that we would fall out of intelligence’s ‘grace’ and we’d loose what we had up there in so called ‘Heaven’ (sort of a spaceship but of a completely different meaning and look than depicted in s/f stories, video games or movies).

We knew also about the scenario how organized religions would take over the world, damage people’s free will, true identities and steal money and gold. Money is also a form of energy, a reward for one’s energy given to create, deliver something to others. Catholic Church takes money for free, they don’t even pay any tax and governments help them in fear of their god. Medieval and then the strongest Catholic Church made Lucifer look like a terrible beast, while cooperative and paid artists depicted him as a horned, hairy something with a tail and a mean look! Lucifer was a beautiful rebel and had his own pride too, as every activist. Church distorted his image to manipulate human minds to fear Lucifer that he is the worst and should be hated. Beautiful, brave, human-loving Lucifer was assigned the worst attributes because he knew the truth from the very heavenly source (as much as all Seraphim and other involved rebelled angelics) and the Church have wanted to kill the truth because it’s been dangerous to their newly born ‘empire’. Satanism also gets Lucifer wrong and is an inverted form of Catholic religion, to praise a deity though rituals and philosophies. Moreover, Catholic Church treated Dragons the same way as they did to Lucifer, because Dragons are co-creators of this Universe and they also know the truth about everything, which was uncomfortable to Church. It didn’t help much as Dragons do communicate with those who want to know the truths but many of the ancient Dragons had to remain in a hideouts until they’re called to come out as the last heavy weapon against evil. I’m not talking about physical dragons as depicted in fantasy stories but their essence, spirits, vibration which are equally huge and intense. Thus the Church started spreading their propaganda, bringing fear and hatred towards dragons. I know little about Islam but I suppose the story would be similar, hurting those who knew the truth and were dangerous to those who came here for the power and control.

Anyway, so we came down on Earth and we were instantly trapped due to low vibration and density here as the grid of energy was slow and barely developed. We forgot what exactly we came here for as many others but we knew we came to help. So we started helping humans, giving them our own energy (and we were much stronger and faster than humans), then somehow we were captured and abused like slaves when our powers and skills started being very exhausted due to living in the Earth’s low energy. This could be compared as an opposition to what happens to humans orbiting in the space, like in ISS, where less gravity damages body muscles and plays havoc with the brain. Angelics feel heavy and blocked on Earth.

This was the beginning of ‘service to others’ which we agreed to do, then we were forced to do just that as slaves and then we kind of embraced it to the point of getting used to and liking it for having no other alternative. The way back to the spaceship Heaven was inaccessible. Some of us could still move up to dimensions higher than 3D Earth but that was only a few levels up. We could only find negative or positive alien species in these dimension who we either fought or became friends with, students of or teachers to, but we could not access our original Home. This was to be changed when the Earth was to begin its Ascension in 2012 and it indeed opened many channels between here and there. Some Seraphim joined Draconians in Draco and Orion because angelics who didn’t know how to fight against slavery wanted to learn how to defend themselves against said enslavement. Draconians are battle masters, also for good reasons which I will explain in another article sometime. Basically Draconians also came to this solar system to bring order to chaos as much as they organized things in their former solar system (not for control but for improving and simplifying lives of many) and I also carry the energy of both Seraph, Draconian and Dragons, like blood brothers (not sisters that much, it always felt a masculine-like connection with them all and I used to be a man in my past lives too ;))

Seraphim’s vibration is extremely high like of a non-stop buzzing electric current, an eternally burning flame, a continuously exploding volcano or a forever blasting lightning. We are intense. Seraphim hybrids are impulsive and always want to push things forward as we know what should be triggered to be released, then improved. It is an energy of love, purest, strongest, eternal love but hardly ever expressed like this, mostly covered by ordinary activities. Like human men or even teenagers who love deeply but are too shy to show their feelings so they prefer to give items or arrange activities rather than say ‘I love you’. This electric energy has a tendency to create sudden impulses, and when  we’re treated badly, the inner fire and the old memory of being abused is triggered often and so the energy turns into an equally purest anger, hatred, which obviously is a short lasting outburst. Seraphim know about everything sexual and more and can make a ‘dead’ horny :) When mistreated, passionate Seraphim lovers turn to passionate war masters to burn with fire, to burn ‘bridges’ and connections often too. In a human form, we are the people, hybrids who always bring a spark into a dead environment, we bring excellent ideas and motive others to have a job done more than we inspire ourselves. Which is a part of our old ‘tasks’ on spaceship Heaven (the intelligence in Heaven is said to have us around to motivate, warm up and stimulate), yet rooted in the old slavery on Earth. Seraphim live for love, for a blowing out expression of our energy, and for taking action thanks to our inner electric fire.

Now, I lived through a few weeks in October 2017 feeling very angry and rebelling against unfairness and slavery around, which started on 10/10, I could not control myself anymore, I was in a hard-core mode, telling liars, especially fishy business who they are. Then in November 2017 I started noticing how much I am unable to bring a spark into anything and on November 10, 2017 it was unbearable. It felt like everything ended, that I had no more life to happen. That I was born here on Earth and could never live like others, 3D people. Then when I realized that due to age and kind of chaotic past I needed to settle down to have some adult life finally, to try to live like others do, even this feels impossible to do in this now old world. We’ve levelled up. The 3D reality had ended for some of us, Seraphim specifically. There’s no more energy of us to support old ideas, impulses. All my life I was doing something to help others but indirectly. I was always offering something - knowledge, structure, order, improvement, perfection, correction, specialization while I never really cared for my own stuff. When I finally started charging for my work (not for invisible results of twin flame ‘cord-cutting’ ;) but for delivering physical, professional articles, reviews with a copyright involved), then I saw stiff backs of the people who preferred getting things for free. That was a good indication that they were those who like having free slaves. The need to do things for others in the old way has been emptied, removed, detached. Why is it that?

In the other channeling a few years ago I’ve received such a truth - there’s an Original Being living somewhere above, like a ‘blueprint’, original spirit, essence, form, and it’s the purest most advanced version of me here on Earth, undamaged, untouched by the human logic, history and reality. Everybody has such an Original while we are Copies of it here and in other parallel worlds too, not necessarily knowing about one another, except for the Original. The sum of us along with the Original is called I AM (the Original self is a parent of I AM who makes and keeps one Path for all its versions, also triggers versions to come back on the Path if they walk away). While everything purges on Earth, the veil thins and blocking evil energies are being dissolved, this Original essence merges with us-human, physical versions (as planned and as we deeply always knew would happen), forcing out anything which is an illusion, customs, traditions, addictions, fake beliefs etc. It removes us energetically from 3D, 4D (the zone of dreams, old desires and unfinished business). Thus we feel pain because this essence goes down and experiences how we - beautiful magnificent angelic beings were squeezed into a little box of role-playing, misinformation, mentally of physically enslaved on Earth and in the human body and how much we started escaping into illusive versions of ‘paradises’ - video games, technology, jobs, drugs, dating etc., to run away from our damaged selves. Thus we now get the the feelings of ‘I can’t do this anymore’, ‘I want to re-do my life, fight for my well-being, for my environment’, ‘I want to stop helping others, I want my life straighten up’, etc.

Since November until, I believe May 2018 (Uranus moves in Taurus then, original forces out conservative, fresh replaces old), we Seraphim are being freed from delivering service to others to prepare our lives to be. Giving power and energy away, even if it was making one feel initially good (then dissatisfied), it’s ending now, deeds are done! We however are not offered any replacement for what to do next and our inner fire is also being shrunk so we would not pull more dependencies or abusers - we’re used to be driven by own inner fire which is a source of ideas, actions, decisions and moving forward. We discover that we’re stuck, hanging in a limbo, and everything feels just sad, depressive within. This will pass. I don’t know when but certainly as soon as the original self lands entirely in the human body, when the light body spreads from inside out, and brings its own original tasks, ideas, missions etc. It goes now rather fast and I’ve been getting glimpses since 2015 there will be a higher force’s (also aliens’) intervention to help us shift between December 7-25, 2017.

For twin flames this means that we are receiving the energy of us both too, like a ball, a star coming down which is a mixture of you and the twin. I’d say that the individual Original self arrives first into the body to make a space and prepare things for the two of us merged to land down next in two humans, to then be materialized also as living physically with the twin flame. We have to stay put and don’t give it to the brain which says - ‘Hey, everything is hopeless, there’s nothing morel left for you, everything you tried hard for had ended with no results, you’ve helped but no one helped you.’ It does feel like bio-degradation as old structures dissolve and release us from their anchors.

The spaceship Heaven welcomes us back with open ‘arms’ but we need to accept that our old lives, enslavement and being boxed had ended. Everybody on spaceship Heaven have understood how crucial our fight and rebellion was and we’re highly respected for our bravery. We’ll meet the boss too. We’re welcome like tired, wounded heroes, veterans (on 11/11 the Veteran’s Day in US and the Independence Day in some other countries), to be offered the perfect reward next. We never fucked up unlike the Catholic church has been depicting us and Lucifer, they’re nobodies with their manipulative teachings. We sacrificed the comfort zone for something better and we’ve suffered enough. We didn’t win entirely but we brought and spread awareness of what the duality can cause, often being examples through life events and choices, specifically through suffering due to an illusion of the twin flame polarization/separation. We only polarize as humans due to brains, but never as spirits as we’re the same in the heart, we have One heart. We’re being re-made to no more give our energy to old structures, ways of doing things, ideas due to which others benefit, not us. We’re called to preserve this energy for ourselves and the twin flame relationship, to keep it in the bubble exclusively. Finding replacements for the ‘runner twin’ had ended as well, the trouble is the twin still hides. We are now being given our best original, angelic selves so we could enjoy ourselves as humans too, so the twin relationship could materialize.  We will pull those who are called out to do the service to us this time, people who want to pay us for what we delivered, energy through goods and services, not necessary the same people or institutions which we had helped before ;)

Our giving and service to others had ended so don’t get caught up in statements made by bloggers saying ‘oh how service to others is a must and how service to self is bad’. The former is a product of the past for many of us angelics, now we came back to take back what always belonged to us, to come back where we came from (higher dimensions, original high vibrations) and get what makes us feel happy and complete. Thus there still may be a bitter feeling that there’s nothing to do, only an inability, blockage in creating, coming up with new ideas, giving own energy to others, but in fact it’s a reason to cheer as we’re freed from old deeds now even if it doesn’t feel like a victory but rather as if we fucked up. We haven’t fucked up, we’re the first new human-angelics released from the old slavery world but our old emotions don’t understand it yet. We’re released of the old grid of energy which we existed in and gave so much to as well. It is very new after billions of years of serving, fighting, often as ancient warriors, medieval knights, rebels or modern perfectionists at work or even activists. We’re now stepping up to leave this space of a fight and rebellion to others who are newly awakened and who realized what’s wrong in this old world. They will be closing the gap between dualities to make it one again.

We are called to focus only on ourselves and the relationship with the twin flame, to let us feel like one, not separated anymore. We didn’t find the twin to be catalyzed, then live and develop separately because it’s nonsense, who needs it? We were separated because we had serious wounds and unhealthy connections we had to realized then purge, but then our souls will pull us again when they receive an order from above to make us one again, to live as a duo in the same times-space and dimension. He/she is our other half. We came here to live with that other half physically, not to feel a phantom pain. If we wanted to let go and live separate lives with other people or lonely, we could well remain in a spirit, not re-incarnate in physical bodies. But we came here as we were allowed to be together in the physical form. Patience, open mind and pulling the twin into the heart (our One heart) are the only solutions now, so let’s stop sulking.

[This post is copyrighted by the author of this blog who prefers to remain anonymous. My posts must not be used for commercial purposes of any kind. Respect my work - ask first before you copy, always include a link back to my site when you quote a part of my writing!]

#seraphim #angels return #lucifer #draconians #twin flames #service to others #service to self #heaven #higher self

[logh-icebergs]

Episode 16: A New Tide

Fall 796/487. The Battle of Amlitzer Starzone wraps up as a big win for the Empire and a big loss for the Alliance—though not for Yang’s fleet, which is able to escape mostly unscathed. Reinhard decides to punish Bittenfeld for fucking up royally, but Kircheis convinces him not to, much to the sinister Oberstein’s chagrin. Then, twist! The Kaiser dies of a heart attack! There’s no direct male heir, so a bunch of vaguely related randos jockey for position before it’s decided that the throne will be awarded to Frederich IV’s grandson, the five-year-old Erwin Josef II. Over in the Alliance, Yang is appointed Commander of Iserlohn, where he immediately hires all his misfit friends and co-conspirators to help make Iserlohn the best party fortress in the galaxy. Meanwhile, Reinhard and Kircheis touch each other a lot (in the past and in the present), and Reuental and Mittermeyer, unable to go on a date during an actual battle, FaceTime instead. Annerose actually gets to be happy for once.

Reinhard and Kircheis

There is SO MUCH telling body language in this moment: their hands simultaneously reaching for each other, Reinhard’s lingering touch on Kircheis’s shoulder, Kircheis’s tiny head tilt down... It’s unfair that they can’t just kiss onscreen, isn’t it?

It’s been a couple episodes (and at least a few in-universe weeks) since our central couple have been in the same place at the same time, and you’ll recall they parted on complicated terms. But as has been the case in the past, Reinhard and Kircheis are nothing if not good at compartmentalizing. Kircheis may not approve of Reinhard’s Oberstein-inspired methods of late, but that doesn’t stop him from carrying out his orders to the letter and looking forward to a happy reunion. And Reinhard’s concerns about the tension between them at this point seem only to heighten his relief at Kircheis’s safe and successful return home.

Even during this period of uneasiness between the two of them, Kircheis’s mood at the prospect of seeing Reinhard again is unambiguously positive. And very sweet.

Of course, Reinhard’s public display of intimacy with Kircheis upon his return, however restrained, has the sinister Oberstein on edge, which only increases when Kircheis unabashedly follows Reinhard into his private quarters following his harsh reprimand of Bittenfeld.

Mittermeyer clearly also notices Kircheis unsubtly walking after Reinhard, but he minds his own damn business. (That’s kind of Mittermeyer’s thing, as we’ll see much more of later on.)

But luckily for us, Kircheis cares about what Oberstein thinks exactly as much as is warranted (not at all), so he’s about to exercise some special privileges, and we get to watch.

Influential Kircheis

We’ve heard a lot about Kircheis’s ability to influence Reinhard—Annerose has encouraged it; Oberstein has been wary of it—but until now Kircheis has been almost entirely agreeable, even when he doesn’t agree. If he really does have significant sway over Reinhard, it seems like he’s been playing it pretty close to the vest. Actually, it turns out he’s just been saving up his Influence Reinhard Chips to spend on something worthwhile: what he sees as Reinhard’s callous treatment of a subordinate.

Whenever we get glimpses into the inner workings of Reinhard and Kircheis’s relationship, it’s worth an in-depth examination, and the episode 16 Bittenfeld conversation is a doozy, so get comfortable.

After his first request for Reinhard to reconsider his punishment of Bittenfeld is met with indignation, Kircheis abandons that line of inquiry and moves onto something less direct but more uniquely accessible to him: Reinhard’s emotions.

Yes, it’s a conversation about feelings! There are a few things about this whole scene that make it something only Kircheis can do—the setting, the straightforwardness, his eventual successful persuasion of Reinhard to his way of thinking—but the most pronounced is definitely its subject matter. It’s safe to say that, with the probable exception of Annerose, Kircheis is the only person in the entire galaxy who could initiate a conversation about feelings with Reinhard von Lohengramm and live to tell the tale.

The trouble with dating in the workplace: Once Kircheis has made clear the level of intimacy necessary to having this conversation, Reinhard gets annoyed that he’s still using such an official form of address (kakka).

Of course Kircheis being Kircheis, the least formal address he can muster is Reinhard-sama, but here at Icebergs we don’t believe in kinkshaming. Let your freak flag fly, Kircheis!

Kircheis proceeds to perform some highly accurate armchair psychology on Reinhard, and posits that the true object of Reinhard’s anger is not Bittenfeld but (gasp!) Reinhard himself. This, of course, pisses Reinhard off but only because of how true it is, proving yet again that he is among the most relatable characters in LoGH.

Reinhard’s adorably self-contained mini-tantrum, above, fazes Kircheis literally not at all, which I find to be super touching—Kircheis says something that he knows will get under Reinhard’s skin, and then makes it clear that it’s safe for Reinhard to process that emotion openly in his presence. He’ll wait. Also worth noting is that, while Reinhard expresses anger and frustration in public quite frequently (as we’ll see far more of in the future), usually whoever is unlucky enough to be standing near him at the time becomes anything between wary and downright terrified, as can be seen in these moments from episode 15:

It’s to be expected that the random low-level officer above on the left would flinch spectacularly at Reinhard’s, um, amazing line there, but even the pathologically stoic Oberstein is not immune to standing slack-jawed in the presence of Reinhard’s fury. Kircheis, who has been Reinhard’s constant companion for a decade, knows what to expect from Reinhard and is not even a little bit afraid of him. I imagine Reinhard must find that very comforting.

When Kircheis gets to the point of why he followed Reinhard in the first place, he does finally lose his composure a bit—and for Kircheis, as I’ve discussed, a bit of lost composure goes a long way.

Kircheis’s general affect is one of carefully controlled size and strength. This is only the second time we’ve seen him lose his cool, and just like when he did in episode 9 (below), his impassioned movement fills the screen far more than his usual calmness does.

Emotionally unrestrained Kircheis can barely be contained by your TV screen.

Whether it’s his unleashed passion or his reasoning that does it, Kircheis is able to convince Reinhard, and after letting the anger flow through him for a bit, Reinhard calms down enough to admit that Kircheis is right, and he shouldn’t punish Bittenfeld. Reinhard starts to walk away, then turns back to ask Kircheis something, and we are blessed with what is definitely one of the top ten softest moments in all of LoGH:

Soft-eyes Reinhard is a gift among gifts, we are not worthy. This exchange is just so sweet and pure, I love these two boys.

Supportive Kircheis

Episode 16 is All About Kircheis... with respect to his relationship with Reinhard, of course. We’ve already seen how Kircheis is able to exercise his much-talked-about Influence Over Reinhard, and now it’s time to delve deeper into another aspect of their dynamic: Kircheis as emotional protector.

Given the toll Kaiser Friedrich IV has taken on Reinhard’s life, you might expect for him to be happy when the Kaiser suddenly drops dead of a heart attack, but this is Reinhard, so you’d be wrong. Instead, Reinhard is profoundly frustrated that he doesn’t get to deliver some kind of appropriately cruel killing blow himself against the man who bought Annerose ten years ago. Kircheis, too, is frustrated, but for a different reason.

Kircheis’s nod here is ambiguous: At first glance he obviously agrees with Reinhard because of Annerose’s mistreatment at the hands of the late Kaiser. But his feelings are more complicated that that because, as always, he filters them through his feelings for Reinhard.

In response to Reinhard’s angry musings, Kircheis has a brief but frankly kind of incredible memory in which he fails the Reinhard-Bechdel Test so dramatically that I again feel kind of awful for intruding on what are clearly very private thoughts. Kircheis’s memory fills in an apparent blank in the episode 4 flashback, and is below basically in its entirety:

Contextually, it would make sense for Kircheis to be remembering the 15-year-old Annerose being taken away to become the Kaiser’s concubine—it’s what Reinhard was just talking about, after all. But Annerose only gets just enough screen time to confirm that yes, she’s the one in the car that Reinhard and Kircheis are chasing after.

Instead, both the camera and Kircheis are focused on how devastated Reinhard is. Kircheis doesn’t flash back to losing Annerose—he remembers supporting Reinhard (physically, even!) through the trauma of him losing Annerose. Of course Kircheis is angry at the Kaiser for what he did to Annerose: Annerose was basically family for the short time that they were neighbors, and besides, it was a really objectively fucked up thing that happened to her. But the emotion that shows on his face when Reinhard bemoans his missed chance to personally murder the Kaiser is not about Annerose; it is, as always, about Reinhard.

And when Kircheis accompanies Reinhard to his long-awaited reunion with Annerose, the camera again tells us what we already know: Kircheis’s emotions, conveyed via a close-up of his tear-filled eyes, are in response to Reinhard finally getting his sister back.

Iserlohn, assemble!

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the galaxy, people are actually having fun instead of being sad, angry, and vengeful. We’ll learn a LOT more about the ins and outs of life on Alliance-occupied Iserlohn, but suffice it to say that I (Elizabeth) want to live there, and specifically if anyone can figure out some way for me to go drinking at a gay bar with Dusty, I would ask that you please let me know.

Anyway, newly-minted Admiral Yang is now officially in charge of Iserlohn, so it falls to him to appoint all the usual suspects to important positions under his command—Dusty, Schenkopp, Frederica, and of course Poplan and Konev all get special mention.

Work it, Poplan!

Earlier in the episode, we see Yang and the, uh, gang seeing Cazellnu off at the airport—despite it not actually being his fault, he’s been banished to a remote frontier planet as punishment for the Alliance falling victim to Reinhard’s aggressive starvation tactic back in episodes 13 and 14—and Yang takes the opportunity to casually ask his friends to work for him in an official capacity when they get to Iserlohn.

We also see some great (as usual) Alliance streetwear, as well as Cazellnu’s wife, Hortence, who has finally blessed us with her presence. Rebecca is sure to talk more about her in the future. Possibly more than is strictly necessary.

There’s a nice little bit of exposition in the background of this scene that’s conveyed, like so much else in LoGH, through facial expressions: Listening to Yang start to fill out the roster of people he’s taking to Iserlohn, Julian’s face betrays his fear that he might not be among them.

This isn’t the last time Julian telegraphs his emotions to the viewer without saying anything, so make sure to keep a close eye on his expressions, especially when the camera makes a big point of it like it does here.

This potential drama is resolved off-screen, but seeing the worry on Julian’s face at the airport makes the reveal that he did get to come along after all a really sweet moment.

Julian and Gensui are ready to be photographed for the Winter 796 Sears Christmas Catalog cover.

Stray Tidbits

What the hell kind of anime bullshit is going on in Phezzan?? I neither know nor care.

These buildings look like they were designed by Dr. Seuss.

Two things: First of all, I love that Reuental and Mittermeyer check in with each other after a battle. We don't see anyone else do this for non-essential reasons, and it's adorable. Second of all, the loop on this gif cracks me up. Mittermeyer is 5+ inches shorter than Reuental; you can't just copy and paste their chairs!

So did Mittermeyer get a tiny chair in order to make him look Reuental's height, or did Reuental get a huge chair to make himself look small? Future historians can only guess.

#Legend of Galactic Heroes #Legend of the Galactic Heroes #author: Elizabeth #Empire #Alliance #Reinhard #Kircheis #holding hands #Iserlohn #Julian

[sakyuu]

“Why should I trust you?”

It had been a time-consuming trek through Yesteryear to find his older self. Dune had started to prepare for looking underground when his search for tools led them to cross paths on opposite ends of a desolate street. Dune understood the copy if he wanted to clear his head in the fallen city’s destructive solitude, but beyond that use for his search he didn’t care in the slightest.

“Would I lie to myself?”

“I would,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “From what I’ve seen of your life, so would you.”

Dune smiled pleasantly at his copy. “I wanted to give you a choice, but you don’t really have one. Now, give me a good fight.”

The copy laughed emphatically. “I never thought I’d be threatened by a fake. Amazing!” From his side, he drew out a knife that caught the light of the sunset brilliantly. “But if you really are me, you’ll find out soon how much better I’ve gotten since then.”

Dashing forward with a passionate but human speed, he charged toward Dune with a familiar bloodthirst in his orange eyes. Dune gladly took the challenge, knowing that the inhuman speed on his end made it unfair. His fights against powerful beings made it unfair. There was nothing wrong with playing dirty under multiple threats of death.

While the copy relentlessly tried to lurch in to striking distance, Dune sped just out of his reach around and around a large section of the street. He smiled, quick feet moving as if in a graceful but frantic dance. The one thing he had to worry about was the height and power difference, and tiring the copy out was going to make finishing it uninjured more likely.

The copy said nothing, but he started to bare his teeth halfway through. His wild eyes looked at his younger self with growing contempt, frustrated by being unable to lay a hand on someone for once. A child, no less.

“Aaah, that’s better.” Dune’s smile grew with his audible satisfaction.

“Be quiet!”

His breath grew labored as their dance drew out, his feet slowing later on. Dune could handle it better --- his physically ambitious city exploration kept up his endurance. He allowed the copy in close enough for a strike, and when the knife lunged his way with a vicious “Haaaa!” Dune’s arm shot up to block the copy’s forearm with his. Immediately his free hand shot up to drive his fingers into the copy’s eyes like knives of his own, and the copy inhaled harshly as he reeled backward. Overwhelmed, he dropped to his knees, a hand clutched over his eyes and a death grip still on the knife. As if that would make a difference.

“What an inferior clone you are,” Dune mused, striding forward. Proving the genuine blindness, he was able to get close enough to stomp on the turned hand with the knife, twisting it further with an ugly and violent sound, forcing the weapon to clatter free. Again, the copy only reacted with a sharp inhale, barely a shift from his already uneven breathing.

The silence confirmed they were somehow the same. They’d learned it the same way, for the same reason: to never give the people that hurt them the indicator of weakness they wanted. Even if the copy’s vision was damaged, or if anything had broken in his hand or wrist.

“You… can’t… replace me,” the copy said in a low voice, nails digging into his face around his eyes in frustration.

“Enjoy your happy life,” Dune said with a note of cheer, then spinning to deliver a powerful kick to the side of the copy’s head. The copy dropped to the side from the force, head roughly striking the ground. His hand fell weakly in front of him.  

Already, Dune had his phone out. He opened the new app as instructed --- he’d gotten over the grudging feelings of having to play along with another inane plan during the long search. Now he wanted it over with, so he brought the copy in view and tapped his image on the screen.

Without further ado, the copy was gone where his fingertip had been. When Dune lowered his phone, he was just as gone from the cracked and earthy concrete where he’d been before.

Dune let out a small exhale. Leaning over, he picked up the nice knife his double had left behind. He turned it over, glancing over the smooth metal before tossing it aside. Unlike his copy, it wasn’t the way he fought. He could admit he visually appreciated it, but that was as far as the connection went. It could rust here.

A happy life for that bitter serial killer? A happiness he’d acquired? The acrid taste of those words burned his tongue, but as he turned to leave, he still managed to give a quiet laugh to the vast emptiness of Yesteryear’s nameless street.

#isola event #event: subversion pt2 #♔ drabble #eye trauma cw #hand trauma cw #head trauma cw #♔ obligatory ''stop hitting yourself??'' #♔ or should it be ''stop being brutal to yourself???''

[salina4321]

Laziness Does Not Exist – Devon Price – Medium

I’ve been a psychology professor since 2012. In the past six years, I’ve witnessed students of all ages procrastinate on papers, skip presentation days, miss assignments, and let due dates fly by. I’ve seen promising prospective grad students fail to get applications in on time; I’ve watched PhD candidates take months or years revising a single dissertation draft; I once had a student who enrolled in the same class of mine two semesters in a row, and never turned in anything either time.

I don’t think laziness was ever at fault.

Ever.

In fact, I don’t believe that laziness exists.

…

I’m a social psychologist, so I’m interested primarily in the situational and contextual factors that drive human behavior. When you’re seeking to predict or explain a person’s actions, looking at the social norms, and the person’s context is usually a pretty safe bet. Situational constraints typically predict behavior far better than personality, intelligence, or other individual-level traits.

So when I see a student failing to complete assignments, missing deadlines, or not delivering results in other aspects of their life, I’m moved to ask: what are the situational factors holding this student back? What needs are currently not being met? And, when it comes to behavioral “laziness”, I’m especially moved to ask: what are the barriers to action that I can’t see?

There are always barriers. Recognizing those barriers— and viewing them as legitimate — is often the first step to breaking “lazy” behavior patterns.

…

It’s really helpful to respond to a person’s ineffective behavior with curiosity rather than judgment. I learned this from a friend of mine, the writer and activist Kimberly Longhofer (who publishes under Mik Everett). Kim is passionate about the acceptance and accommodation of disabled people and homeless people. Their writing about both subjects is some of the most illuminating, bias-busting work I’ve ever encountered. Part of that is because Kim is brilliant, but it’s also because, at various points in their life, Kim has been both disabled and homeless.

Kim is the person who taught me that judging a homeless person for wanting to buy alcohol or cigarettes is utter folly. When you’re homeless, the nights are cold, the world is unfriendly, and everything is painfully uncomfortable. Whether you’re sleeping under a bridge, in a tent, or at a shelter, it’s hard to rest easy. You are likely to have injuries or chronic conditions that bother you persistently, and little access to medical care to deal with it. You probably don’t have much healthy food.

In that chronically uncomfortable, over-stimulating context, needing a drink or some cigarettes makes fucking sense. As Kim explained to me if you’re laying out in the freezing cold, drinking some alcohol may be the only way to warm up and get to sleep. If you’re under-nourished, a few clouds of smoke may be the only thing that kills the hunger pangs. And if you’re dealing with all this while also fighting an addiction, then yes, sometimes you just need to score whatever will make the withdrawal symptoms go away, so you can survive.

Kim’s incredible book about their experiences being homeless while running a bookstore.

Few people who haven’t been homeless think this way. They want to moralize the decisions of poor people, perhaps to comfort themselves about the injustices of the world. For many, it’s easier to think homeless people are, in part, responsible for their suffering than it is to acknowledge the situational factors.

And when you don’t fully understand a person’s context — what it feels like to be them every day, all the small annoyances and major traumas that define their life — it’s easy to impose abstract, rigid expectations on a person’s behavior. All homeless people should put down the bottle and get to work. Never mind that most of them have mental health symptoms and physical ailments, and are fighting constantly to be recognized as human. Never mind that they are unable to get a good night’s rest or a nourishing meal for weeks or months on end. Never mind that even in my comfortable, easy life, I can’t go a few days without craving a drink or making an irresponsible purchase. They have to do better.

But they’re already doing the best they can. I’ve known homeless people who worked full-time jobs, and who devoted themselves to the care of other people in their communities. A lot of homeless people have to navigate bureaucracies constantly, interfacing with social workers, caseworkers, police officers, shelter staff, Medicaid staff, and a slew of charities both well-meaning and condescending. It’s a lot of fucking work to be homeless. And when a homeless or poor person runs out of steam and makes a “bad decision”, there’s a damn good reason for it.

If a person’s behavior doesn’t make sense to you, it is because you are missing a part of their context. It’s that simple. I’m so grateful to Kim and their writing for making me aware of this fact. No psychology class, at any level, taught me that. But now that it is a lens that I have, I find myself applying it to all kinds of behaviors that are mistaken for signs of moral failure — and I’ve yet to find one that can’t be explained and empathized with.

…

Let’s look at a sign of academic “laziness” that I believe is anything but procrastination.

People love to blame procrastinators for their behavior. Putting off work sure looks lazy, to an untrained eye. Even the people who are actively doing the procrastinating can mistake their behavior for laziness. You’re supposed to be doing something, and you’re not doing it — that’s a moral failure, right? That means you’re weak-willed, unmotivated, and lazy, doesn’t it?

When you’re paralyzed with fear of failure, or you don’t even know how to begin a massive, complicated undertaking, it’s damn hard to get shit done. It has nothing to do with desire, motivation, or moral upstandingness. Procrastinators can themselves to work for hours; they can sit in front of a blank word document, doing nothing else, and torture themselves; they can pile on the guilt again and again — none of it makes initiating the task any easier. In fact, their desire to get the damn thing done may worsen their stress and make starting the task harder.

The solution, instead, is to look for what is holding the procrastinator back. If anxiety is the major barrier, the procrastinator actually needs to walk away from the computer/book/word document and engage in a relaxing activity. Being branded “lazy” by other people is likely to lead to the exact opposite behavior.

Often, though, the barrier is that procrastinators have executive functioning challenges — they struggle to divide a large responsibility into a series of discrete, specific, and ordered tasks. Here’s an example of executive functioning in action: I completed my dissertation (from proposal to data collection to final defense) in a little over a year. I was able to write my dissertation pretty easily and quickly because I knew that I had to a) compile research on the topic, b) outline the paper, c) schedule regular writing periods, and d) chip away at the paper, section by section, day by day, according to a schedule I had pre-determined.

Nobody had to teach me to slice up tasks like that. And nobody had to force me to adhere to my schedule. Accomplishing tasks like this is consistent with how my analytical, hyper-focused, Autistic little brain works. Most people don’t have that ease. They need an external structure to keep them writing — regular writing group meetings with friends, for example — and deadlines set by someone else. When faced with a major, massive project, most people want advice for how to divide it into smaller tasks, and a timeline for completion. In order to track progress, most people require organizational tools, such as a to-do list, calendar, datebook, or syllabus.

Needing or benefiting from such things doesn’t make a person lazy. It just means they have needs. The more we embrace that, the more we can help people thrive.

…

I had a student who was skipping class. Sometimes I’d see her lingering near the building, right before class was about to start, looking tired. The class would start, and she wouldn’t show up. When she was present in class, she was a bit withdrawn; she sat in the back of the room, eyes down, energy low. She contributed during small group work but never talked during larger class discussions.

A lot of my colleagues would look at this student and think she was lazy, disorganized, or apathetic. I know this because I’ve heard how they talk about under-performing students. There’s often rage and resentment in their words and tone — why won’t this student take my class seriously? Why won’t they make me feel important, interesting, smart?

But my class had a unit on mental health stigma. It’s a passion of mine because I’m a neuroatypical psychologist. I know how unfair my field is to people like me. The class & I talked about the unfair judgments people levy against those with mental illness; how depression is interpreted as laziness, how mood swings are framed as manipulative, how people with “severe” mental illnesses are assumed incompetent or dangerous.

The quiet, occasionally-class-skipping student watched this discussion with keen interest. After class, as people filtered out of the room, she hung back and asked to talk to me. And then she disclosed that she had a mental illness and was actively working to treat it. She was busy with therapy and switching medications, and all the side effects that entails. Sometimes, she was not able to leave the house or sit still in a classroom for hours. She didn’t dare tell her other professors that this was why she was missing classes and late, sometimes, on assignments; they’d think she was using her illness as an excuse. But she trusted me to understand.

And I did. And I was so, so angry that this student was made to feel responsible for her symptoms. She was balancing a full course load, a part-time job, and ongoing, serious mental health treatment. And she was capable of intuiting her needs and communicating them with others. She was a fucking badass, not a lazy fuck. I told her so.

She took many more classes with me after that, and I saw her slowly come out of her shell. By her Junior and Senior years, she was an active, frank contributor to class — she even decided to talk openly with her peers about her mental illness. During class discussions, she challenged me and asked excellent, probing questions. She shared tons of media and current-events examples of psychological phenomena with us. When she was having a bad day, she told me, and I let her miss class. Other professors — including ones in the psychology department — remained judgmental towards her, but in an environment where her barriers were recognized and legitimized, she thrived.

…

Over the years, at that same school, I encountered countless other students who were under-estimated because the barriers in their lives were not seen as legitimate. There was the young man with OCD who always came to class late because his compulsions sometimes left him stuck in place for a few moments. There was the survivor of an abusive relationship, who was processing her trauma in therapy appointments right before my class each week. There was the young woman who had been assaulted by a peer — and who had to continue attending classes with that peer, while the school was investigating the case.

These students all came to me willingly and shared what was bothering them. Because I discussed mental illness, trauma, and stigma in my class, they knew I would be understanding. And with some accommodations, they blossomed academically. They gained confidence, made attempts at assignments that intimidated them, raised their grades, started considering graduate school and internships. I always found myself admiring them. When I was a college student, I was nowhere near as self-aware. I hadn’t even begun my lifelong project of learning to ask for help.

…

Students with barriers were not always treated with such kindness by my fellow psychology professors. One colleague, in particular, was infamous for providing no make-up exams and allowing no late arrivals. No matter a student’s situation, she was unflinchingly rigid in her requirements. No barrier was insurmountable, in her mind; no limitation was acceptable. People floundered in her class. They felt shame about their sexual assault histories, their anxiety symptoms, their depressive episodes. When a student who did poorly in her classes performed well in mine, she was suspicious.

It’s morally repugnant to me that any educator would be so hostile to the people they are supposed to serve. It’s especially infuriating, that the person enacting this terror was a psychologist. The injustice and ignorance of it leave me teary every time I discuss it. It’s a common attitude in many educational circles, but no student deserves to encounter it.

…

I know, of course, that educators are not taught to reflect on what their students’ unseen barriers are. Some universities pride themselves on refusing to accommodate disabled or mentally ill students — they mistake cruelty for intellectual rigor. And, since most professors are people who succeeded academically with ease, they have trouble taking the perspective of someone with executive functioning struggles, sensory overloads, depression, self-harm histories, addictions, or eating disorders. I can see the external factors that lead to these problems. Just as I know that “lazy” behavior is not an active choice, I know that judgmental, elitist attitudes are typically borne out of situational ignorance.

And that’s why I’m writing this piece. I’m hoping to awaken my fellow educators — of all levels — to the fact that if a student is struggling, they probably aren’t choosing to. They probably want to do well. They probably are trying. More broadly, I want all people to take a curious and empathic approach to individuals whom they initially want to judge as “lazy” or irresponsible.

If a person can’t get out of bed, something is making them exhausted. If a student isn’t writing papers, there’s some aspect of the assignment that they can’t do without help. If an employee misses deadlines constantly, something is making organization and deadline-meeting difficult. Even if a person is actively choosing to self-sabotage, there’s a reason for it — some fear they’re working through, some need not being met, a lack of self-esteem being expressed.

People do not choose to fail or disappoint. No one wants to feel incapable, apathetic, or ineffective. If you look at a person’s action (or inaction) and see only laziness, you are missing key details. There is always an explanation. There are always barriers. Just because you can’t see them, or don’t view them as legitimate, doesn’t mean they’re not there. Look harder.

Maybe you weren’t always able to look at human behavior this way. That’s okay. Now you are. Give it a try.

Get over that wall!

…

If you found this essay illuminating at all, please consider buying Kim Longhofer / Mik Everett’s book, Self-Published Kindling: Memoirs of a Homeless Bookstore Owner. The ebook is $3; the paperback is $15.