#or ill eat your jewelery.

[beansoup-chilli]

The pose makes me think of

Are you there god

It's me fiona

#danny phantom #jazz fenton #jasmine fenton #danny phantom art #phanart #danny phantom doodle #my art #do not repost #or ill eat your jewelery. #this took 7 hours #dont believe me? #zoom onto the neck #theres high definition scars #cant see unless you look #i also drew the hair strands individually #i didnt want to work #i did this at work #beans art #im rambling #but in my defense #i miss my wife tails

[clothboard8]

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#economics #money #finance #business

[cinnamayroll]

Romantic headcanons for Takao, Okumura, Nash, Tamaki, Kyoya, Kaoru, Mori, Nekozawa, Kasanoda and Aone with shy and quiet but kind and patient s/o please?

Starting with the second set! I hope you liked the last one ^^. I think this one is my favorite because it has Takao, Tamaki, Kyoya and Mori and they’re some of my all time favorites.

Please enjoy!

-May

Takao:

Takao definitely is a romantic at heart

he thinks up creative date ideas for the two of you, but if you don’t feel like it, he’s just as happy when you’re staying in and having a movie night

your quietness doesn’t matter to him as long as you don’t expect him to be quiet too because it’s literally the thing he’s worst at

brings you back little gifts like plushies from the Arcade

personally he likes PDA, but won’t do it when you’re too shy to

always asks for consent before he does something like kiss you in public

loves you so much for the fact that you’re patient enough to listen to him rant about his interests for hours

tells you everyday that he’s super lucky to have someone like you

encourages you to speak up, but isn’t annoying about it

“Hey, ____, you can tell me what you want!”

lots of little pecks on the lips

also lots of hugs from behind, he’s just a very affectionate guy

thinks it’s the cutest thing when you bush at his compliments and always promises that they’re all true

tries to make you laugh a lot

Okamura:

Okamura tries so hard to be romantic for you

hold doors open for you where ever you go

gives you his jacket every single opportunity he gets even if it isn’t that cold

extremely protective of you

this boy just feels so very blessed that you like him despite his height and looks, you’re perfect to him

sometimes is over the top attitude can be a little much too handle for you, but there’s no doubt he won’t do his very best to make up for it

takes you out to his favorite cafe’s and shares desserts with you

asks you if everything is okay very often when you’re quiet

also asks you if you’re okay with PDA cause he’d like the world to know you’re his s/o, but if you don’t want to that’s fine with him 

Nash:

surprisingly, Nash isn’t even that bad of guy off the court

he’s quite charming and can even be polite, it’s just his attitude on the court that is this foul

he doesn’t really mind that you’re as quiet as you are, he always has something to say

gets you lots of gifts

for dates, Nash likes to take you somewhere outside, like the beach

sometimes he gets a little aggressive when somebody is looking at you wrong and can get a bit loud, making you uncomfortable himself, but he does mean well

doesn’t give you little kisses on the forehead or cheek a lot, but when he kisses you he usually goes straight for your mouth

knows that seeing his matches would probably make you uncomfortable, he doesn’t ask to go to see them

generally speaking he isn’t the most romantic guy, but when he wants to be he can without a problem

for example he usually takes you out for fancy dinner on your birthday and then gives a party with  small number of people (even though personally, he prefers big parties)

afterwards he’ll have your home decorated with candles

don’t expect something like this on a daily base though

Tamaki:

Tamaki Suoh is quite literally the epitome of a romantic

thinks it the most adorable thing in the world tht you’re shy and quiet and made it his personal mission to protect you from all harm

while he basically lives for the drama and making a big event out of everything, he will try to tone it down a bit

is so good at reading every single one of your wishes from your eyes

when you’re down he does everything possible to make sure you have a good time

of course, your dates are extravagant and out of the ordinary

there will be a lot of flowers and fancy food

has a thing for taking you on carriage rides around his favorite places

sometimes he misinterpretes your quietness and thinks that you’re becoming annoyed with him, but he’s fine when you reassure him it’s ot his fault

loves to pick out clothes for you to wear that he thinks you’d look cute in

isn’t really a fan of PDA in the form of kissing in public either, so that’s not a issue, but when you’re alone he’s thirsty for kisses all the time

this guy is very fond of rose petals and decorates your place with them very often

on special ocasions, he takes you to France to show you around the places where he grew up

Kyoya:

to be frank, Kyoya doesn’t care if you’re shy or quiet, it is your personality and other defining traits that matter to him, like you patience and you kindness

he himself, doesn’t talk all too much when he isn’t needed to, so you two will spend a lot time just being with each other in comfortable silence

Kyoya knows exactly how to be romantic and a proper gentleman

in your everyday life, he does all the little things

holding doors open, pulling chairs back, kisses for parting, rose boquets

but he saves the really big things for special events

when christmas gets around, he takes you to another place eery ear, so you can look at the diffrent ways of celebrating christmas

Kyoya understands your boundaries better than Tamaki and would never take you silence personal

in fact, he likes it that you don’t talk about unneccessary stuff all the time and don’t get involved in drama

appreciates the kindess you show towards everyone since it’s something that doesn’t always come naturally for him

since he normally works late you usually fall asleep before he does, so he’ll cover you up properly and kiss your temple before he continues typing

Kaoru:

when he isn’t with his brother, Kaoru is usually quite calm, so he doesn’t mind that you’re more on the shy and quiet sid, he actually enjoys that kinda change of pace

as the son of a stylist, he loves to pick make up, clothes or hairstyles for you (though he always asks if you would like to wear them or if you thought they weren’t proper or something)

prefers to take you out to the city for dates to wander around and find something to do while you’re there

however, he also likes to just spend the day at home with you, talking and playing games

he understands very well if you don’t feel up to do something social, after all he spent a good part of his life only socializing with a single person

most of the time he’s the one who comes up with date ideas, but when you do happen to have one, he makes sure that you end up actually doing it

it’s kind of his way to show you it’s okay to speak your mind and that it’ll pay off when you do

gets you a lot of cute jewelery for gifts

Mori:

now, you’re just the perfect match for Mori

he is a man of few words, but talks quite a lot through his gestures and he likes it that the two of you can understand each other without talking

often takes you out for dates in the nature or invites you to come and watch his training and have lunch or dinner afterwards

he still gets you expensive gifts, but doesn’t make a show out of it, like Tamaki would

his gifts are also less flashy and more small and thoughtful

loves when you play together with his two pets

always brings you back souvenirs when he was on vacation or business trips with his family and couldn’t take you with him for some reason

checks on you every morning by texting or calling you

even though he doesn’t talk too much, he often compliments you either on your apperance or some achievement you made

also smiles and ruffles your hair often, when you’re not in public accompanied with a kiss on the the forehead or lips

has a habbit of picking the things he knows you like out of his food and giving them to you because he loves to see you smile about it  

Nekozawa:

Nekozawa might not ppear like it on first glance, but he knows very well how to be sensitive and considerate of your feelings

always tries to get you interested in the things he likes (black magic), but wouldn’t push you

still, a lot of the dates he takes you to have some kind of connection to that

is thankful that you’re so patient and understanding of the fact that you can’t go out during daylight that easily because of his illness

due to this, for most dates you just stay at his mansion and eat there, watch movies and then go out for entertainment in the evening

naturally, going around outside with Nekozawa is bound to pull some attention towards the you, but when you’re with him, Nekozawa at least won’t dvertise black magic or any kind of coursed items

just like Tamaki, Nekozawa likes to take you to his ancestors’ home russia for vacation

cuddles you a lot when you’re at home and likes it when you play with his (real) hair 

Kasanoda:

so, we know Kasanoda is somewhat awkward when it comes to romance

but the fact that you’re a little shy and quiet makes it easier for him to approach you

 blushes a lot when you’re on dates

likes to show you his plants and the flowers he grows to explain you their meanings

also gives you flowers and little potted plants with certain meanings

likes to take you to the zoo (or, for the matter of fact, to different countries) to looks at animals

sometimes he has days when he doesn’t want to talk much, so he understands when you ahve this kind of days as well

texts you all the time when you’re away from each other

can realte to your shyness on a very personal level, since he is kind of shy as well

it makes it a little easier for the both of you to cope with it around each other though

wouldn’t admit it, but he loves it when you do something with his hair, like playing with it or doing braids

Aone:

you and Aone are very similar to each other, quiet and shy, but very patient and kind at heart

while you two are pretty quiet in general, you feel more comfortable talking around each other

is very careful when he hugs you or gives you pats on the back cause he used to be bad at keeping his power at bay

sometimes does romantic things for you out of the blue

the gifts he gets you are very thoughtful, showing he always listens to you when you talk to him about the things you like

picks you up bridal style when he thinks you’re tired

is very content when you fall asleep on his chest or shoulder

mostly lets you decide what to do on dates and where to go, but if you tell him to choose, he’ll most likely want to watch some sort of game and then take you to a restaurant he knows you like

is very happy that finally someone genuinely likes him without being intimidated by his looks

when he hugs you, he usually wraps his arms around your entire torso, lifting you up while doing so

leans down when he wants to be kissed

#Knb #kuroko no Basket #kuroko no basuke #knb headcanons #knb scenario #okamura kenichi #Takao #Takao kazunari #anime #manga #headcanons #scenario #Ouran High School Host Club #ohshc #kasanoda ritsu #Kaoru Hitachiin #hitachiin twins #mori senpai #takashi morinozuka #Tamaki suoh #kyoya ootori #Haikyuu #Haikyuu!! #hq #hq!! #aone takanobu

[arachnidsgamer]

eh, dont worry about it. Sure its a waste a the time, but its not like you'll ever need to buy bras and jewelery again when you're practically a sphere. I mean, just imagine how *huge* your tits would be. They dont make underwear in that size and you know it. And well, if you explode~ Wont need anymore bras for sure, then. And ill give you a spoiler alert; whatever you end up eating? almost certainly not bulky enough. Gotta stuff that gut, fatty :3

((It would be a bit of a waste to just destroy it if that’s your goal that is true. My tits would be huge you are right about that and I guess at practically a sphere the choices for underwear would be pretty slim. As for the other option... well all I’ll say is that you’re probably right again))

#Anonymous

[ikiaikainen]

Planchette

A short story of a lonely, ill boy who consults the ouija board in order to get a friend. (2017)

Featured on my oneshot collection Something Strange on Tapas. 

Albert had always known of his mother's spirit board; it's not like her attempts to hide it were great in the first place. Said board was stored inside a small, locked trunk in the attic, and the key to open it had carelessly been placed in mother's box of jewelery and other small trinkets she certainly liked, but hardly ever used.

As such, taking the key from the box was undoubtedly the easiest part of this whole scheme Albert had carefully crafted in the past week.

The hardest part was to make the board work while doing it alone. These boards, at least according to his classmates, operated on group energy, and so doing it alone would defeat the purpose. But the whole reason Albert even wanted to use the ominous board in the first place was to have a friend (since he had none), and so he had no other choice but to try it alone.

"Never use the board at home," he had once heard a classmate tell another. "Otherwise you might invite a demon into your house."

"That sounds great," Albert had thought upon hearing this exchange. A demon in the house was certainly better than nobody.

Albert had chosen their home basement as the ideal place to use the board, as the mood of the place was perfect: quiet and eerie, no other location within the large house had quite the same feeling of ominousity and dread as this one had. As younger, Albert had been convinced the entire basement was haunted and that a hideous child-eating monster lived there. He wasn't sure at what point he stopped being afraid of the basement, but it might have been the time when he realized it was the least likely place his father would visit whenever intoxicated and aggressive.

Albert had lit a few candles here and there to give light in the otherwise dark cellar, the old board now resting on the floor and surrounded by candles. The flames flickered in careful motions, indicating the basement wasn't entirely windproof: there had to be a hole somewhere within the old, cold walls of it, but Albert couldn't tell where exactly this spot was.

On top of the board a small planchette rested, carefully placed in the middle and waiting to be used. Albert felt a little nervous (and somewhat foolish) about all this, but the idea of finally having someone, anyone, to talk to was making him determined to go through with his plan. The boy inhaled deeply and then exhaled, collecting himself for this hopefully historical moment where he would finally get a friend of his own.

Gently, Albert touched the planchette on the board and started moving it in a circle very slowly, clockwise and three times. He then cleared his throat in an almost ceremonial manner, and with the squeaky voice of a middle schooler he was, Albert spoke: "Is there anyone here with me?"

No answer.

Albert tried again, this time with more courage: "Is there someone, anyone, here with me?"

Still no answer, and Albert could feel the uncomfortable cold sweat starting to fall down on his back. After having gone through all the trouble to start this, however, he had no intentions to stop the game just yet.

For the third time, Albert called out: "Is there anyone here with me?"

What happened next was something Albert couldn't quite put into words: it was almost like the planchette itself had started to move, but simultaneously it was as if his own hand had stopped cooperating with him and was now leading the small piece of wood across the board, all the way to the left side with the text "NO" written on it.

"Very funny," Albert said with a frown, but after the initial mix of amusement and annoyance, the boy started to realize there indeed was someone with him - and that someone had immediately started messing with him.

"Do you have a name?" he asked, and the planchette moved towards "YES" on the right top corner of the board.

"What is it?" Albert then asked as a follow-up to his previous question. One by one, the board spelled out W-I-N-S-D-T-O-N, but Albert wasn't sure if the spirit just didn't know how to spell, if it was messing with him again or if he had just looked at the letters wrong. He decided to gamble on it, and responded to the supposed spirit in the room: "Your name is Winston?"

The board moved to "YES" once again, and Albert figured he himself was probably the one who couldn't spell properly, and he really wished he could go to school more often. Staying at home all the time made him slightly less intelligent at an alarming rate, or so he often felt.

"Nice. Uh, mine is Albert," he finally replied and nodded awkwardly to the blank space on the other side of the board. Albert was certain the spirit was right there in front of him, although he couldn't have explained why or how he thought this way.

"How old are you? I'm 13, turning 14 soon," the boy then spoke to the board once again.

The board, in turn, spelled out 1-7.

"You're pretty old," Albert replied. "How long have you been 17?"

"F-O-R-S-O-M-E-T-I-M-E," the board replied.

"Does it suck to be dead?"

"YES"

Albert nodded knowingly.

"Then, Winston, um... Would you like to be my friend?"

Finally, the question he had wanted to ask since the beginning. Albert closed his right hand into a fist and waited anxiously for the answer, left hand resting on top of the planchette.

"W-H-Y," Winston seemed to ask.

"Uh...," Albert started hesitantly. "I have no friends."

"W-H-Y," the board spelled out again.

"I'm sick," the boy replied sadly. "And weird. But mostly sick. I'm not allowed to go to school really often, so nobody wants to hang around with someone like that."

He took a small pause, and then added with a slightly shaky voice: "And they say you shouldn't get attached to someone who might die at any point."

Albert felt the tingling under his fingers again, and the board replied:

W-A-N-T-T-O-K-N-O-W-W-H-E-N-Y-O-U-D-I-E"

Albert shook his head. "No thank you."

"W-H-Y"

"I don't think I'd be able to do anything useful with that information," he explained and shrugged. "I would spend the rest of my days being afraid of dying and waiting for the time it comes, and I'd forget to live while I'm still alive."

"S-M-A-R-T-B-O-Y," Winston replied, and Albert couldn't help but feel a little proud of his answer, and found himself puffing up his chest a little.

"So, um, yes... I have no friends because of that. And I was wondering if you'd like to be my friend?"

Winston seemed to think for a while, and during this moment of thoughtful silence Albert wished he would have been able to see Winston: what kind of face was he making right now? And what colour was his hair? Was Winston tall? They weren't even friends yet, but Albert wanted to know this and a lot of more about Winston. Did he like dogs? Or was he more of a cat person? Was he able to play an instrument while alive? Did he read books?

Albert's excited line of thought was interrupted when the wooden piece under his left hand finally started moving, but what it spelled out puzzled Albert.

"D-O-Y-O-U-T-R-U-S-T-M-E"

"I don't know," the boy stated rather nonchalantly. "I mean we just met. Do you usually trust people the moment you meet them?"

"NO"

"Why do you ask?"

But there was no answer, and Albert thought it was better to continue being persistent about his own question instead.

"Will you be my friend? Y-you can say no too if you want." Albert's reassuring words were betrayed by his sad tone of voice: he didn't want to think he would never speak to Winston after this. He was already closer to the spirit than he had ever been to his classmates; at least Winston had spoken to him more than just two words.

"A-R-E-Y-O-U-A-F-R-A-I-D-O-F-M-E"

"Nope, not really. Or should I be? Are you an evil spirit?"

"W-H-O-K-N-O-W-S," Winston answered, and after a short pause the planchette moved again:

"D-O-E-S-I-T-M-A-T-T-E-R-T-O-Y-O-U"

Albert smiled: "No, it doesn't. An evil spirit as a friend is better than no friend at all."

"I-S-T-H-A-T-S-O"

"I think so, yes."

"W-A-I-T-S-T-I-L-L"

Albert didn't know what this meant, but he saw no reason to decline. He sat still, looking at the board and the flickering lights around it, unsure whether the dancing flames were still a result of the draft inside the basement, or due to Winston's otherworldly presence. He tried to listen if some sort of sound colld be heard, but it was just as silent in the cellar as it had been when he arrived there, as if the entire space was completely cut away from the rest of the world, wrapped in by the darkness and silence.

Then, without any warning, one of the candles near Albert died out. It was as if someone had blown it out and soon another candle from Albert's other side was also snuffed out of light. Albert shivered a little, feeling how his heart rate was going higher once more as he looked at blown out candles.

"D-did you do that, Winston?" he gasped, his hand still resting on top of the wooden planchette.

"YES" the board spelled.

Albert felt like Winston was almost smug about what he had done, even though he had no way of telling. Nevertheless, Albert could just imagine a boy older than him, smirking in front of him after performing a creepy trick to scare the younger one - almost like a big brother, even.

"That was a little scary," the boy finally admitted, but didn't forget to add: "But also really cool! You're a really strong spirit, aren't you?"

"T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U"

"I'm not afraid of you, even if you were an evil spirit, Winston! Just please tell me if you accept to be my friend or not," he finally found himself whimpering, unable to wait for the answer any longer. He had hoped to sound brave and heroic while speaking out the words, but instead his voice was weak and shaky, and above all tired as his stamina was slowly running out.

The board went eerily silent, and for a good minute there was no answer. None of the candles moved, there were no odd noises and the room's ambience was exactly the same as before, making Albert certain Winston was still present; just silent.

Finally, the board spelled:

"F-R-I-E-N-D"

And then it continued with three words: "A-L-B-E-R-T", "W-I-N-S-T-O-N" and "F-R-I-E-N-D-S"

"Would you really?!" Albert gasped in awe.

"YES" Winston replied.

"Thank you Winston! You're my first friend!" Albert found himself tearing up a little, and with his bandaged right hand he wiped away the tears from his eyes.

"I hope you aren't tired. Do you want to talk more with me tomorrow?"

"W-H-Y-T-O-M-O-R-R-OW"

"I'm starting to get a little exhausted... I should go to bed or I'll faint here," he admitted somewhat sadly, head hanging low. The rapid heartbeat was still there, and it didn't do good for him to get this excited.

"T-O-M-O-R-R-O-W"

Albert smiled from ear to ear, taking this answer as a yes.

"Bye then, Winston! See you tomorrow!" he grinned tiredly.

"GOODBYE" the board replied, and all the candles were suddenly blown out, leaving Albert into the dark basement without a single source of light.

He dug up a matchbox out of his pocket and set fire on one of the candle, and Albert couldn't help but notice a shadow moving fast from the corner of his eye, hiding into where the candle's light didn't reach. The presence of Winston still lingered in the room, and for a short moment Albert felt something akin to fear crawling up his back.

"No," he told himself firmly and then shook his head. "Winston is my friend. There is no need to fear."

But even then, when Albert finally left the basement and returned to his own room, he couldn't push away the lingering uneasiness in his body - and rightfully so, as he had just talked with a spirit. Albert's whole body shivered, and when the coughing fit started, he blamed himself for getting too worked up over the events of the past few hours; the iron taste of fresh blood in his mouth was the price of making his very first friend.

Albert couldn't help but wonder if this would remain as the only payment for what he had done. After all, nothing in this world came for free, and fatigue and blood were hardly the equivalent of a bond formed with a spirit.

Hearing the sound of his parents fighting outside his room, however, reminded Albert there wasn't much to lose anymore at this point.

#writing #short story #ouija board #supernatural #2017 #oneshot #not oc related #something strange

[devhak22]

Citizen of the Galaxy

By Robert A. Heinlein

1957

This is a phenomenal read, but that is usually the case with such a high calibre author as Heinlein. This is the story of a boy, Thorby, who had been sold into slavery at a very young age on a planet far from his birth. But the person who purchases him at the forefront of the novel is a beggar, Richard Baslim, who treats and raises him as if he were his own son. As per the beggar's wishes, upon his death the boy hitches a ride with an ally on an interstellar merchant ship, learning their way of life as a member of their crew and family. Onward he moves to a special branch of the military, which has a deep connection with the person who raised him. And from there he learns of his true identity as the heir to an influential estate. Later he suspects some nefarious misdeeds may be occurring in a ship building company owned by his estate...

Thorby learns and becomes a member of each community into which he is thrust, even when those communities act akin to sects than almost never mingle. And what he learns during his time with each will have influence on the future of the entire human collective.

Since this story was published in 1957 the major method of identification is fingerprinting, missing out on the use of DNA being discovered about a decade later. There isn't much discussion in the book about the specifics of their faster-than-light travel, but I'm glad to see the acceleration and deceleration time noted, as well as the potential vulnerabilities.

Notable insights:

'Baslim was in no hurry. Baslim was never in a hurry; he took the long view.' ~ p. 11.

'While each planet had its day, its year, its own method of dating, while they are reconciled for science in terms of the standard second as defined by radioactive decay, the standard year of the birthplace of mankind, and a standard reference date, the first jump from that planet, Sol III, to its satellite, it was impossible for an illiterate boy to date anything that way. Earth was a myth to Thorby and a "day" was the time between two sleeps.' ~ p. 16.

'Nor would Baslim remove memories had he been skilled enough; he had a stiff necked belief that a man's experiences belonged to him and that even the worst should not be taken from him without his consent.' ~ p. 19.

"That? Probably the microphone to the Chief Officer's cabin. Or it may be a dummy with the real one hidden. But don't worry; almost no one in this ship speaks System English and she isn't one of the few. They talk in their 'secret language'—only it isn't secret; it's just Finnish. Each Trader ship has its own language—one of the Terran tongues. And the culture has an over-all 'secret' language which is merely degenerate Church Latin—and at that they don't use it; 'Free Ship' talk to each other in Interlingua." ~ Margaret to Thorby, p. 78.

'But seniority did not make life easier. With rank goeth privleges—so it ever shall be. But also with it go responsibility and obligation, always more onerous than privliges are pleasant.' ~ p. 89.

"Human customs that help people live together are almost never planned. But they are useful, or they don't survive." ~ Doctor Mader to Thorby, p. 93.

'...a wise man could not be insulted, since truth could not insult and untruth was not worthy of notice.' ~ p. 108.

"...most things are right or wrong only in their backgrounds; few things are good or evil in themselves. But things that are right or wrong according to their culture really are so." ~ Margaret, p. 124.

"...you live in a steel prison; you are allowed out perhaps a few hours every few months. You live by rules more stringent than any prison. That those rules are intended to make you happy—and do—is beside the point; they are orders you have to obey. You sleep where you are told, you eat when you are told and what you are offered—it's unimportant that it is lavish and tasty; the point is you have no choice. You are told what to do ninety percent of the time. You are so bound by rules that much of what you say is not free speech but required ritual..." ~ Margaret, p. 126.

'For the first time in history comic books and pin-up magazines brought many times their weights in fine jewelery.' ~ p. 130.

'Since Thorby had no talent he became an actor.' ~ p. 135.

"I'm not lazy, I'm efficient.'~ Colonel "Stinky" Stancke, p. 164.

'...a ship with no women was simpler to live in..' ~ p. 178.

'He had been pushed around—and his strongest reflex was resistance to any authority he had not consented to; it had been burned into his soul with whips.' ~ p. 219

"Son, people do odd things for money, but they'll do still more drastic things for power over money. Anybody sittin' close to a billion credits is in danger; it's like keeping a pet rattlesnake. If I were you and started feeling ill, I'd pick my own doctor. I'd be cautious about going through doors and standing close to open windows." ~ James J. Garsch, p. 230.

"Most of what we deal in the public wouldn't believe. Can you expect the people you see around you to take seriously unbelievable stories about far-away places? You must remember that less than one percent of the race ever leaves its various planets of birth." ~ Marshal "Smith", p. 233.

'...he realized that underworlds were much the same everywhere.' ~ p. 239.

"No man can own a thing to himself alone, and the bigger it is, the less he owns it. You are not free to deal with this property arbitrarily nor foolishly. Your interest does not override that of other stockholders, nor of employees, nor of the public." ~ presiding judge, referencing the shares Thorby received from his parents' estate, p. 250.

"Give your mind a rest and use your eyes instead. There's a time and place for everything." ~ Garsch, p. 253.

#BookReview #Heinlein

[doctor-paprika]

Heroin sucks.

I have no followers, so I guess I am using this as a diary entry that no one will see but can help me vent a bit.

I am learning how to tumblr so have been randomly searching any interests that come to mind. Of course, one of the first I could think of was heroin/addiction recovery, but very few results came up. After that, I stupidly just searched the word “heroin” and the results really brought me down (lower than I already was, which was surprising.)

A few accounts were splattered with pictures of Kurt Cobain, which didn’t surprise me. Soon I saw several accounts with videos of people shooting up, people talking about how much they love heroin and other drugs, and of course, people talking of how they may be addicts, but they aren’t dirty junkies!

When I was 14 I began eating pills. Benzos were fun, but opiates were my favourite. I took them from medicine cabinets and kept myself in steady supply that way. Years passed, I graduated high school, fell in and out of a few relationships, and eventually began seeing someone who had been using heroin for a while. They would leave the room to shoot up, but one night I told them to stay, and I asked them to share.

I was 19, had a good job, a reliable car, over $4k in the bank I had earned every penny of on my own, a good relationship with my parents, and a few people I called friends.

I don’t want to sit here and put down my partner at the time because it is counterproductive. All I will say is that they were 26, had never had a job, a driver’s license, a high school diploma, but got lots of money given to them without question by their mother.

I say this just to give you (the person who is not reading this) an idea of my situation at the time.

I loved my first shot. There was no mark left on my arm, which shocked me. Before this, I had needed four nurses to hold me down to get a tetanus shot, but suddenly the fear was gone. I didn’t want to bring up doing it again, so was very excited when my partner asked a few days later if I would like to join them in shooting up again. The second time was even better than the first.

The lies came quickly. Calls to my job, claiming my car was broken down. Calls to my parents coming up with various reasons as to why I wouldn’t be home that night. The few friends I had became unimportant, I had new “friends” that I met through my partner, and they either sold, used, or both.

A few months after I turned 20 I quit my job, officially moved in with my partner, and had begun to spend almost every moment of every day coming up with ways to get heroin. I felt like a cool adult, able to make my own decisions and get high whenever I wanted! What fun!

Without having to pay for food, rent, or anything but heroin, I ran out of my $4k in less than a year. I had been saving all of my money from age 15-19 and it was gone in just a few months. I also got my car taken from me by my parents. My partners mom knew that we used, she sobbed about it, yelled about it, and acted like it was the worst thing that could have ever happened to her… but would still give us $100-300 a day so we wouldn’t get sick, and provided a nice, new car for us.

I was lucky to live in the Bay Area, because all it took was a fifteen minute drive to Oakland and I had access to dozens of dealers. There were also many needle exchanges around the city in which each person could get 400 free, new clean needles and all the ties, cooks, cottons, and anything else a heroin addict could need, including a limited supply of Narcan - which I always kept on me after having OD’d myself once and watching another friend OD, and having us both be saved by the opioid antagonist.

Oh, and I began smoking crack. Lots of crack. Crack was great! And heroin was a perfect comedown! I was awake most hours of every day, and spent almost every second of those hours worrying about how the next hour would go.

By the time my parents found out about my use, I was 22. They had been my best friends and now we were completely out of contact. My mom would occasionally stop by the apartment my partner and I shared with their mom, but by then I had begun living in the car we had, because being in Oakland all the time was easier than having to drive there every day.

My partners mom would occasionally go through periods where she decided to cut us off. She was married to an alcoholic whose health was declining so had to tend to his addiction more than ours at that point. I had never imagined myself having to fly a sign for money, but now I was doing it all day, every day, and most of the time was stuck standing out there sick. Lots of homeless people live on the streets of Oakland, so to get a good spot to stand you needed to get out early, and find some confidence to fight others who wanted your spot. I had shit thrown at me, usually open drink containers, I got yelled at to get a job, to get the fuck off the median, to kill myself. I didn’t understand what I was doing to offend these people so bad. My least favorite part was the men who would hold out a dollar, just to pull it in once I got close and show me their dick before laughing and driving off - and the worst of that was one who actually came on my hand, he could have at least gave me the dollar after!

Once my partners mom was at the hospital daily with her rapidly declining husband, waiting for him to get a liver transplant that eventually came too late, we began staying at the apartment more. Every wall became covered in blood spatter, shot from rigs that had become blocked with coagulated blood. You could not see one inch of the floor, as it was covered in used rigs and bloody rags. Surprisingly, we didn’t get the security deposit back! I will always feel terrible that I let my cat live in that fucked up place.

I joined a methadone clinic a few times to try to avoid going through withdrawal, but I would always stop going because the drive there took away time I could have spent flying my sign, smoking crack, or shooting dope.

I was 23, my job was flying a sign, my car was in three accidents that left it barely functioning, had no money for longer than a few minutes (more usually a few hours because dealers were generally slow movers), was out of contact with my parents for thirteen months, and I didn’t have one friend. I had also gotten below 90lbs, which didn’t go well with my 5'8" body - inside or out. You know you’re at rock bottom when you have old crack dealers with no teeth telling you how unhealthy you look.

You know what my most commonly used phrases during those years were? • “I’m not a junkie, I’m a functioning addict!” • “I’m not a dirty crackhead, I take showers, brush my teeth, and wash my face (in the bathroom at Safeway.)” • “My parents/friends are so stupid, they don’t get that I’m totally fine. I’m better than fine, this stuff makes me feel great! If they tried it, they’d know!” • “I know *drug dealers name* takes a long time to meet up, but we’re friends! Not like how it is for them with all the junkies out here!” • “I’ve never had to whore myself out, I’ve never been to jail, I’m not like these nasty junkies out here..”

You know what kind of things I did that I thought were totally normal and definitely didn’t make me a mentally ill drug abuser? • searched the floor of my car for lost crack rocks for hours, tearing apart any parts of it I could - one time even thinking I had found a big chunk of crack and immediately smoked it, but it was a popcorn kernel! Worst thing I’ve ever smelled or tasted. • gone through every inch of my partners mom’s room to find any loose change or gold jewelery I could sell. • sold every book, videogame, DVD, CD, and any item I owned that I could get even a dollar for, including things I had had since my childhood that had incredible sentimental value. • sold every Safeway giftcard my partners mother would give us for 75% of its value, knowing it meant my partner and I would have no food for the foreseeable future. ¹ • then spent the money we got for the giftcard on crack, knowing that without food in our system we would throw up bile after each hit. • had to shit so badly after taking a hit of crack that I went on a curb where others could see, in the middle of the day, and then taken another hit right when I was done. • taken suboxone sooner than I knew I should have, and proceeded to vomit non-stop while driving, followed my shitting my pants three times, selling a PS4 that belonged to my partners friend, and driving to meet a dealer while still vomiting and wearing my shit filled pants.

Too much information? Gross? It’s weird for me to talk about it, because I have incredibly bad anxiety and don’t like to be open about more than I have to be, but drug addiction is gross and people need to realize that. There are people out there buying clothes and accessories with “Xanax” and “Percoset” labeled on them! Alcohol is glamourized in the media all the time! And the worst part is, I get it. I get that feeling that of independence, that feeling of being cooler than others, that feeling of finally having found something to calm down my brain even a little bit and falling head over heels for it, that feeling of doing something illegal and scary and the adrenaline rush from it.

When I was in middle school there was an assembly where a man talked about his drug use. It ended with him saying quitting cigarettes was harder than quitting heroin. Once I got addicted to heroin, I knew that was complete bullshit. I wish there was a way to tell kids, adults, anyone who might be considering using that they should do anything else, that their lives can so easily be ruined for who knows how long, but unfortunately most will only learn from experience.

Addicts are demonized, we are looked at as scum, as monsters, as those you should stay far from. Addicts are people. Many addicts are brilliant minds that suffer from mental illnesses, some known and some not. I knew I was mentally ill, but the therapy groups gave me anxiety and the meds didn’t work quick enough so I took the route I felt would be easier, which proved to be the opposite. Addiction is a disease, whether people choose to believe it or not. The biggest argument I have heard against this is that addicts choose what has happened to them. Do you put down a diabetic, even if they are only dealing with that disease because they ate tons of pies and cakes every day? Do you put down a person with cancer, even if they are only dealing with that disease because they tanned themselves in the sun or under tanning booths every day? I chose to use heroin, I chose to use crack, I chose to eat pills, I chose to drink, but I did not choose to be an addict. Long before I did any of those drugs I was addicted to picking at my skin, addicted to cleaning, addicted to exercising and watching my diet very closely, but no on has ever put me down for having dermatillomania, for having OCD, or for having anorexia.

Those with mental illness are looked at as lesser beings, as being incompetent, as needing to be pushed aside and stepped on. But we are strong, we are bright, and we deserve love and acceptance.

I have been off of heroin since early 2014, but I will be celebrating my one year date of being completely clean and sober in eleven days. I never think about drugs anymore, until I see videos of others shooting up, text or images promoting the addict lifestyle, and unfortunately for me those are all too common and too easily found.

If you are an addict, ask for help. If you suffer from, or even think you may suffer from, any mental illness, ask for help. Even if it is hard to find at first, it is out there. Therapy, medications, rehabilitation and the like are out there.

But, you’re not reading this are you? Like I said, this is just a way for a rambling, ex-junkie to vent.

#heroin #addiction #substance abuse #mental illness #sobriety #recovery #mental health #support

[maraarlathan-blog]

So close to love you (NewtxReader) part 3

It didn`t took you too long to get home and when you arrived you stripped down to your underwear, the only cloth that was not soaked. You freed Picket from the pile and set him down on the kitchen counter, while debating with yourself whether or not to eat or go straight to bed. After you shoot a glance to the clock you decided it would be inhuman to force your stomach to keep feeling empty and turned on your oven to pre-head. „I`ll be back in a few minutes, don`t do anything dangerous.“ Ignoring Picketts quiet protest you left for the bathroom and an well earned shower. You smiled when the hot water hit your skin and loosend your stressed muscles. A contemplied sight escaped your lips and the sweet smell of peaches filled the room. You cleaned out your hair and left the shower to put your pizza leftovers in the heated oven. Pickett sat next to your window and looked longingly into the nightsky. You dressed yourself in a blue nightgrown and collected your damp clothes to hang them up next to the oven. The smell of pizza engulfed your form, filling your nose and placing a bright smile on your lips. „You know I never had company while eating, it feels really nice. I will miss you, Pickett.“ He looked rather sad when you said this, but didn`t offer an answer. Silence filled the room until you finished eating and put Pickett to sleep, before slipping under your sheets yourself. Just then Picketts voice filled the room. „I wish I could understand you“, you confessed and fell asleep.

The next morning started early for you. You placed the sleeping form of Pickett on your bed and your jewelery back in the small box that was his bed for the last two nights. A feeling of sadness washed over you, leavig you lingering uselessly in the bedroom untill you had to practially run to meet Newt in time. Pickett woke at your first touch and smiled with such a joy it nearly broke your heart. How could you be so attached to a animal you knew for only two days? He hid inside the pocket of your coat and you left your room knowing that he would not be here when you returned. You walked in a normal tempo and therefore arrived a little late at the library. Newt stood by the door and looked a lot more miserable than you felt, which wondered you greatly. „Hello, Mister Scamander. Is something wrong?“, you asked as you approched him. Pickett peaked his head out off your pocket at the mentioning of the familiar name and made a noise. Then and there Newt looked like he would burst out into tears. He nodded and took you by the hand. You blushed and let yourself be dragged inside the library and out into the garden. You gasped and stoped, frozen in tracks. „I`m so sorry“, Newt said next to you. Pickett made a small noise and began to cry. The three of you stood infront of the old, now burned down tree that once was Picketts home. It took some time before one of you had the courage to talk again. „I think I should take him. I already have a few Bowltruckles and could care for him.“, Newt offered while you stroked Picketts back in an atempt to calm him. You bit your lip. It was nice to have Pickett around. You liked him, even through you couldn`t care for him in the way Newt obviously could. But he was stranger after all. Maybe not more as a stranger to you, than you were to Pickett. „I guess?“ It was a question rather than an answer, but it would have to suffice. As you reached out to lay Pickett in his hands, he however seemed to have other plans. Pickett clawed at Newt, leaving three deep cuts in his hand and ran along your arm untill he was safe on your shoulder. He talked, albeit you couldn`t understand the words, his intentions were clear, as he nearly started to scream, his noises full of anger. „Christ, are you okay?“, you asked Newt who held his bleeding hand and seemed rather thrown back by Picketts actions. „Yes yes“, he mumbled and took out his wand, healed his hand and then smiled a little irritated. „I guess he choose you as your new family already.“ „But I don`t know a thing about magic animals! Pickett, he would be a better family.“ But Pickett shook his head and layed his tiny hand on your face, cautionous to not hurt you. „Well, I guess I can`t say no to you“, you smiled. Newt looked a bit sad, but held out his hand for you to shake. You did so without hestination. „Thank you for everything, Mister Scamander.“ „It was a pleasure, Miss (l/n). Should you ever need help, as long as I am here, my door is open for you and Pickett.“ You exchanged a smile and parted ways, he to god knows where and you to your job with Pickett in the pocket.

It only took you two days to knock on Newts door again. You fiddled nervously with the box Pickett slept in and hoped that he would be at home. You waited a full minute and decided to try it again in a few hours when the door opend and revealed an surprised looking Newt. A smile grew on his face as he recognized you and steped back to let you in. „What an unsuspected surprise! Come on in, Miss (l/n). Can I offer you a cup of tea?“ You went into the familiar kitchen and placed the box on his table before you sat down in one of his chairs. „That would be lovely, Mister Scamander. However, I would apreaciate it if you could first take a look at Pickett? I think he might have catched a cold or something, but I really don`t know what to do. He seems to be in pain.“ Newt nodded and opened the box, picked Pickett up and held him next to his ear, as if trying to hear something. He placed him back and went to another room, without speaking a word. A sight escaped your lips, but you waited patiencely until he returned with a glass of light blue flouid and a pipette. He woke Pickett, who seemed very unpleased by it and it took him some effort to have him drink three drops of the flouid. After that, Pickett closed his eyes and was back to sleep in not a secound. „And thats it“, Newt smiled and went to the stove to make the tea. „Thank you so much. I guess I am not cut out to take care of him after all.“ Newt sat across from you and offered a small smile. „You try, that is the thing that is important. As a muggle it is a miracle you didn`t hit him with a book!“ He laughed, as if he made the gratest joke and while you felt a little bit guilty beacuase it was exactly this you first intended to do, you soon found yourself laughing along with him. Neither of you could stop until the teapot began to steam. After Newt prepared two cups of tea and sat back down with you, the conversations seemed to just flow without any effored on either of your sides. It felt so good to talk to Newt, that you didn`t noticed how late it got, until the stars were out and the moon shone bright. „Oh god, Mister Scamander. I`m sorry I occupied you the whole day. I should go if I want to sleep in my own bed tonight.“ „You`re propably right Miss (l/n). I realy enjoyed the day, thought. We do have to do this again in the future.“ He offered a bright smile and you smiled right back. „I would love that. Thanks again, for everything. Have a good night.“ He walked you to the door and waved. „Good night to you too.“ Two years after this, you were in Newts kitchen, just like every Sunday evening, with a cup of hot tea in front of you and a smiling Newt in the opposide chair. Pickett talked to one of the other Bowltruckles and while you still had no clue, what he was saying the hight of his voice gave away that he was enjoying himself, whilst the fact that he catched a cold again. Newt finished the tale of how he got  the thunderbird and refilled his cup. „I hope you enjoy your trip to America, then. Please write me a postcard.“, you said and took a sip of your tea. Newt chukled. „I`ll just be over for a day or two, I`m here long before the postcard.“ You shook your head and lowered your eyes to your hands, that were occupied with your cup. „That`s not important. It`s that you took the time to write that card what makes it special. Besides, I could add it to my collection.“ You had an ever growing collection of postcards from Newt, due to the fact that he treveld very often and very far to find some of his `children`. You shot a glance at him from under your eyelashes and blushed when you saw how kind his eyes and his smile were. „All right, I`ll write another one.“, he gave in. „That`s more like it! Just try to not get into trouble over there. I have made a reservation in our restaurant in three days.“, you remembered him. Normaly, you would wait untill he came back to make the reservation and take him there, but this time was different. Not only because you knew it would be a short trip, but because you had something for him on your nightstand that you just itched to be giving to him. You had thought it over and over in your head, but you were certain he would never make the first move. „I would never miss this“, he said, oblivious to anything and emptied his secound cup. „But I guess I have to throw you out, it is getting late and I have to leave early.“ „Are you sure I shouldn`t escord you and Pickett to the port?“, you asked and took on your coat. „Yes, I am. Don`t worry so much, we two will be well, as will Frank, as will every other of my friends.“ Newt brought you to the door and gave you a long lasting hug. Your heart nearly left your ribcage and you were sure that you were blushing again, but you returned the hug and steped outside. You waved at Pickett, but couldn`t go without gently rubbing his back. „Be good, okay?“ He made a noise, happy and sad at the same time and Newt nearly had to drag him away from you. „Untill Wednesday, (y/n).“ „Good luck and have fun, Newt.“ He closed the door you made your way back home, for the first time in two years alone. You already missed Pickett, but Newt could care better for him while he was ill, you all knew that. And since Pickett had stoped clawing at Newt a few months ago you were sure that the two would become even better frinds when they spent a few days together. You stood in front of the restaurant and nearly freaked out. You knew you wanted to do this. You loved Newt with all of your heart. And you were sure that he felt something for you. Well, most of the time you were sure. When he smiled at you, or laughed with you. When he touched you, which he did so rawly, it had to has to mean something. Or how he always looked at you with caring eyes. He trusted you, even throught you were muggle. He had shown you his large family. Hell, he invited you every single week over to his place for tea. He never forgot to write you. Than again, he was always so caring with his creatures, what if he was just used this atire, because he did not know it better? He had not so many friends that he would now how to act different with humans than with animals. What if- But then Newt came down the street, a big smile on his face and he waved exited at you and every thought left your brain. You felt yourself smiling back and greeted him with a long hug. This was right. It had to be. „Newt, I missed you! How was your trip? How is Pickett?“ Newt laughed and stepped away, his hands still resting on your shoulders. „It was amazing. I made some new friends. Tina and her sister Queenie and a no-mage, eh I mean muggle, but I had to earase his memorie.“ He looked sad for a secound, but than Pickett ran over his arm onto your shoulder and began to make exited noises and he was smiling again. „Well, want to go in?“, he asked and offered you his arm. You acepted and hid Pickett in your handbag while you went in and gave your coat to the waiting man. You two were seated and after you made your orders you left him out and onto your lap, where you rubbed his back and smiled at how happy he was to finally be back with you. „So, you made friends?“, you asked, continuing the conversation you just had. „A yes, Tina, she is a wonderful woman! She tried to arrest me, but she wasn`t even allowed to. But she never left my side, since a few of my creatures escaped the suitcase, I have to fix it, and they went all over the city!“ He continued to tell you about his adventure and friends, about his chase through the city and Nifflers visit at a jewelery shop, all the way smiling, and never failing to mention just how amazing and helpful Tina had been. „I promised her to give her my book once it is finsished“, he closed. Your plates were empty by now, as empty as your heart. You smiled at him, despite this, and asked: „Could it be that you`re liking Tine reaaaaally much?“ He blushed and looked away, but the smile on his face said it all. You balled your hand under the table into a fist. You couldn`t belive it. A few hours not by his side and he.. He just fell in love with another woman. „I am happy for you“, you said and smiled, barely holding back the tears. He returned your smile and you two paid and left the restaurant. „It`s always raining here, isn`t it?“, Newt asked and opened his umbrella to hold it over your heads. „Yes“, you agreed and made sure Pickett stayed inside your pocket, so that he woudn`t catch yet another cold. „Are you going to stay a bit, now that you have a motivation to actually go to the writing part of your book?“ Newt shrugged his shoulders. „There are still so many fantastic beasts out there that I have yet to discover. I don`t feel like I coud write that book and be proud about it.“ „I know some people will be proud of you, no matter how many books more you have to write.“ He smiled. „You`re right, Tina would probably love it when I don`t let her wait too long.“ You didn`t felt like corecting him so you just walked the last few feet to your door in silence. „Well, good night (y/n). Thank you for being such an awesome friend all the time.“ He huged you and you returned the hug. „No problem at all,Newt. Sleep well.“ You entered the house, brought Pickett into his bed, changed your dress to your nightgrown and layed down. When your head touched your pillow, you allowed the tears to finally fall.

#fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts movie #pickett #newt scamander #newt x reader

[firstjustgoin]

Bedroom Ceiling

6. Start with an absurdly and self-indulgently long description of the ceiling of one person’s childhood bedroom.

You lie flat on your back, your hands meeting in the meeting like you’re waiting to be lowered six feet into the ground. You wish you didn’t think so much in metaphors of death but you’re telling yourself it’s just a phrase, or so your mom whispers to your father over their fourth glass of wine after they think you’ve gone to sleep.

They don’t how bad your insomnia has gotten, that your eyes only flutter closed as the sun begins to filter through your window. They don’t know that none of the sleep therapies have worked –– the lavender you hid beneath your pillow, filling your room with a heavy floral aroma that burned your waking eyes. The Trazodone you popped after begging your mother to try it, just this once, that made your body feel lethargic and heavy and pulled your head towards your desk during class. The spiritual journeys you took through reiki and acupuncture and herbal dosages only to arrive right back where you began. (Alcohol and weed, you would find out too late, was a unique miracle worker). Your parents don’t know any of this because you don’t tell them and still you cannot comprehend why you can’t.

It’s 3:45 in the morning and you can already hear the shrill drone of the first bell. You know that even if you miraculously fall asleep, you’ll still be trudging through the hallways like a zombie hungry for a deep, peaceful sleep. Maybe that’s why you think so much in metaphors and similes of death, because that’s all death is to you right now: a sleep you can’t fail at like you’ve been failing for over a year.

THe worst part of insomnia –– besides the gnawing feelings of inadequacy at not being able to submit to the simple act of REM sleep –– is how it forces you to reckon with whatever is right next to you. In this case, it is your bedroom and you despise it. As with most everything in your life, you hate that it doesn’t look or smell or feel like you, with its rosy pink walls your sister painted years ago and its absence of any pictures to prove it belongs to you save a large, grossly cliché poster of a kitten dreaming of being a lion that says, Dream Big. You spend many hours each night wondering why you still own that poster, when you hate clichés and the people who love them, but you never arise from your bed to tear it down, never roll it away in your closet.  In what should be the most intimate representation of you, this poster screams the opposite, betrays your wobbly sense of self to the world. Even the content of the poster seems cruelly ironic: there is no big dreaming that happens in this room, barely even any dreaming at all. To an insomniac dreaming is the crux of wish fulfillment, an unobtainable moment that seems like it will never come every night you spend tossing and turning beneath your comforter.

In this room you live in but do not love, you spend most of the time looking up, straining your eyes to see beyond the ceiling of your bedroom. The ceiling is not especially interesting but you’ve come to know it as well as the freckles on your forearm –– its creamy popcorn surface, the cracks that branch out like road maps of places you’ll never go, the dark stains of water damage that balloon out and sag down like mammatus clouds, each of the 82 white diamonds that are etched into the crown molding. You hate that you’ve obtained this secret knowledge through stolen hours, days now that you’ve inherited unwillingly from life, unable to spend them where it counts. But you have it and it’s yours now and no matter how well-adjusted you become later in life –– able, even, in moments of great luck and exhaustion to fall asleep on moving buses, airplanes, and cars –– you will still hold those intimate details of that room with you locked away, pulsing within you.

You stopped sleeping at twelve years old, nearly to the day. It seemed logical at the time, since puberty was ravaging your body churning out an awkward confluence of limbs and stubborn baby fat and eruptions of acne which marked constellations across your face and chest. In the years that have followed, insomnia has remained as stubbornly as the pimples, visiting you nearly every night of adolescence and leaving you exhausted and emaciated each morning. You would cringe as the parentally enforced bedtime approached, knowing that soon you would be thrown into the lion’s den alone to fight unarmed, with only hundreds of racing thoughts ricocheting against you bedroom walls.

       If you weren’t so bitter and angry at still being awake four, five, seven hours after you’ve begun trying, you might be able to appreciate how large the human mind is, how you can traverse through valleys and over mountains of thoughts and still not reach the end of what is possible for you to think about. This is a blessing and a curse. Your insomnia creates large vacuums of space within which to fester outsized love for every boy you sit next to in class, to weave tall tales for yourself about the friends who laugh about you after you’ve left the room. But it also allows you to think about yourself, perhaps the more valuable and dangerous quest. Just you’ve explored every inch of your bedroom ceiling, you’ve also become horrifyingly familiar with every pockmark, every imperfection, every pound that lives on your stomach and thighs and clings like a parasite to your skin. And just like this room you spend so much of your life in yet does not look or feel like it belongs to you, so do you see your body as if through a fun house mirror.

In your mind, your true self is svelte and confident and free from the weight that forces you into the shadows of your own life. In your mind, you cannot be your tree self, whatever that means, until you shed the thirty, forty, fifty pounds it will take for you to see yourself when you look in the mirror. You do not have the language or perspective to know this yet, but you have Body Dysmorphic Disorder and you may never fully see yourself when you look for it. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror or in the reflection of a window, you must reach out to touch it to prove it belongs to you. You will become quick and adept at covering the lenses of cameras when they are pointed in your direction. You will become a ghost in the corners of the frame, unwilling to put your body on display and have someone claim it as yours.

The first time you starved yourself for someone else, you were thirteen. Your mother told you that you should. She didn’t know. You were a nervous eater. She suggested that you “diet” and in exchange she would give you $40. You don’t remember looking in the mirror before that month, but since then you can’t stop looking.

You spent the $40 dollars on cheap makeup from Walgreens, which you would carefully apply in your bedroom but then wipe off again before leaving the house.

In the quiet hours of the night, when all you can hear are the snores of your father from the other room and the soft padding of your cat’s paws along the wooden floor, you make reinvention lists, reminding yourself to eat well, get good grades, wear jewelery, paint your fingernails, stop thinking about what you don’t have but what you do have, and choose breakfast. You consult these lists deep into the night when your mind becomes tired of treading over the same spaces of what is real and wants to push beyond into what is possible. Even at fifteen, a nagging part of you knows that you cannot reinvent yourself, only resent what you are unable to accomplish. When your body finally does give way to fitful sleep, you visit dusty country roads and thick mountainside forests, an alternate reality where you see your body doing what you wish it was capable of: moving, growing, changing. You awake with dry mouth and heavy lids and a chunky middle and you remember again that your body will never meet your mind there.

You will eventually sleep, it seems inevitable: you will either sleep or you will die and even amidst the many death metaphors you paint, you cannot fully commit to wishing for death. When you do sleep, your body will still confound you but it will no longer feel at war with itself and that it is a good step. You will move out of your childhood bedroom with its creamy popcorn ceilings and pink walls and unhelpful phrases. You will leave behind your lavender treatments and your empty bottles of pharmaceuticals and your sleep disorder, but it will not leave you.

You know this now: If you spend years battling insomnia, the rest of your life—even after you’ve theoretically “cured” it—becomes a defiant opposition to the illness. Every small twinge of disquietude, every lightning flash through the brain, every desperate second of a sleepless night, threatens to throw you full force back into the ravine. If insomnia has scarred you deeply enough, you might never truly outrun it. Passing time is inconsequential.

It is as if you have always just recovered from the original shock. How the shock is retained is in relation to its predecessor and each shock gives rise to the next. Because we are creatures living in the trenches of our memories, perhaps we can never truly escape the first shock.

[sophielgill2000-blog]

Persuasion Techniques used in Advertising

Association:

This is a technique that encourages the audience to buy the product not for the product, but for other items in the advert; the advert connects with the audience. Perfume adverts usually include this technique because they are mainly based around expensive items (such as cars) or relationships, which many people desire; and so by buying this product you may receive what you see in the advert.

Dior J’adore

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PU5bZZXnKy4

In this specific advert, the woman looks very rich for she is wearing a very sleek golden dress, as well as gold jewels, earrings and other jewelery pieces. This encourages the audience to buy the product because they will feel like her, rich and beautiful, after putting this perfume on.

Bandwagon:

This is a very effective technique because it infers that because everybody is using this product, you should be too to fit in with society. This is a very popular technique with sports wear adverts, due to encouraging everybody to be fit and by doing this, they encourage the target audience to buy the products to look appropriate whilst working out.

Nike - Take It To The Next Level

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tc3PZ3Im5aQ

Nike - Unlimited Pursuit

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SmLpiHDuLSE

These adverts encourage the audience to buy ‘Nike’ products in different ways. Firstly, point of view shots engage the audience because you feel as though you should be exercising with the others on screen, therefore you should buy their products. Secondly, it shows olympic champions whilst training, implying that if you exercise and wear their clothes, you can be on such an expert level, like these champions.

Celebrities:

By using celebrities in an advert, the overall feelings of the audience are more towards the celebrity than the product, meaning that if the celebrity respects the brand, so will their audience. With buying a product that a celebrity has used, consumers may believe they will become more like that celebrity or it will boost their social status.

Nicole Scherzinger - Muller Corner

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4RtwNlFIi3c

James Corden aka Mr GreenLight - Confused.com

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1pXdPPItzg

Nicole Scherzinger has featured in multiple ‘Muller Corner’ adverts, and this is a way of the audience relating her to the product, and she will be remembered when buying the product. With her being beautiful and very thin, the advert implies that if you eat this yoghurt, you will be like her.

James Corden features in the ‘confused.com’ advert, where he is late for an event, and by becoming ‘Mr GreenLight’, he makes it in time. This is a method of allowing the audience to relate him to the advert because it includes humour also, and is easily remembered due to being played a lot during prime-time TV.

Experts:

With using expert advice, you are encouraging people to buy the products because it is a widely-known product that has nothing wrong with it. Medical/Medicine adverts mainly use this technique because it emphasises on how good this product is and how quickly you will be better and back to your normal self.

Calpol Kids

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nyp5tdios_k

Sensodyne Toothpaste

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6S__LJWh7w

Calpol adverts include expert advice due to being a medicine. It doesn’t literally say in the advert that it is approved by experts, yet by being a medicine, it must be approved by experts otherwise it wouldn’t be on the market. With being a child’s medicine, the advert can be more persuasive to adults to buy this product, because no parent wants to see their child ill. The children are acting like lunatics in the advert, but this is acceptable for a child, and is a main reason why the advert is so persuasive, because each child acts completely mad when they are fit and healthy.

Sensodyne is a ‘recommended toothpaste by dentists’, and this statement is used in each of their adverts to emphasise the fact. Viewers will be more likely to purchase a product if it is approved by experts because it ensures the product is well made and professional.

Humour:

By creating a humourous advert, it creates a positive atmosphere about your product, as well as your brand. In some circumstances, you can get away with disclosing limited information about your product, and this can increases sales also. Humour is said to stick with an individual more than anything because it will make you laugh and remember the specific item.

Snickers Mr Bean

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QLgEG8sDpoA

MoneySuperMarket 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qdeB1eGK57o

The ‘Snickers’ advert with Mr Bean includes a lot of humour, especially due to Mr Bean being an iconic humourous character we all can identify. The humour sells this product because the characters are doing kung-fu to beat off the enemy after receiving the prize they are capturing, yet we all know that Mr Bean is clumsy and stupid, and so the ‘Snickers’ bar changes him to the expert fighter because “you aren’t you when you’re hungry”. This product is so amazing that it can change you for the better, helping to sell it, as well as the humour being related to it.

MoneySupermarket is a very unique advert in the fact that the advert has literally nothing to do with what they are advertising. However, the humour sells the company very well, and it does what an advert should do; get the audience to remember the company. The dance off is a sequel to the two previous adverts made, where the two men come together from each advert and have a ‘dance off’. These men are already related to MoneySuperMarket, and so this just uses another element of humour to stick with the audience and sell the product.

Repetition:

Repetition can be used sometimes to link to humour or celebrities, simple due to increase of sales. Yet, as a technique on its own, repetition is extremely annoying and is exactly why institutions do so, because the audience will remember the product. ‘Go Compare’ has a very annoying and repetitive jingle, of which is incorporated in song, as well as using the same man in every advert, and this is also a method of allowing the audience to remember the man whenever they hear the jingle.

Go Compare

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZBOe3gHBEQ

WeBuyAnyCar.com

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f-yEWZTBQ64

Go Compare is by far one of the most annoying adverts anybody has watched, due to the annoying jingle and repetitive singing of “Go Compare!!!”. The same man has been featured in each of these adverts, which have been shown for 3 years running. Due to being so repetitive, complaints led to the advert not being shown for nearly 6 months, yet made a miraculous return to again, be so repetitive that people remember the company.

WeBuyAnyCar.com has a very repetitive jingle, and this means that everybody remembers it easily. The jingle is very easy to recognise, and with being so distinctive, the audience relater the jingle to the company easily. The advert itself is animated and fits to the jingle, again relating to the company well.