#sometime I just need a meme to express my gratitude and pain

[alphasmoonlit-selfships]

Got curious uwu, from two different ask meme:

⚠️ and 🍄

“Why hello @shinitai-i !” Atsushi greeted with a wide smile, his belt tail swishing, “Thank you for the asks! This time an answer from both Dany and I! We appreciate your patience and hope you enjoy our answers!” — 🐯🌙

“Curiosity is grand! Let’s jump right in shall we?” — 🐺✨

⚠️ have you and S/I ever been caught in an embarrassing/"It's not what it looks like" situation? Please tell us what happened.

Oh no… ah o(*////▽////*)q...

Well, I’d be lying if I said no,,, eh he…but ah surprisingly the first thing that came to mind might not be what others could be thinking.

I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to just explain what happened. The main point being Dany and I were caught in a semi-naked state… Nothing like what you may be assuming, I swear! It was a deep, and just intimate, private moment before reality came slamming back >\\\\\\\>

I know most of you may be thinking it was a suggestive and funny moment, but it was rather serious prior to us being spooked soon after. I’ll try and keep some of the details vague and light as I can! Minor warning to past abuse and other indications, again, I'll leave as much of it vague as I can, but feel free to skip over to the last question, no worries!

We had just came back from a very serious mission that left both of us in a very heavily injured state. While my ability does help in self-healing a lot, sometimes the over exertion of it can slow it down. Dany has always struggled with her healing ability… especially due to her Shadow ability draining her more than heal.

Even so, we would have gone with Yosano-Sensei, but she was out on her own errands when we came back. We were told to just wait for her and get some rest in the patient room until she returned.

Ah, needless to say, we were concerned over each other’s injuries, and had some knowledge from Yosano-Sensei’s advice on basic aid. So we figured we could try and clean up some deeper cuts and try to wrap them up. Hopefully enough to keep away from Yosano-sensei’s usual treatments 😅

Just to note, Dany and I were definitely a few months into our relationship; we had become a generally sweet and foolishly in love and comfortable couple together and hadn’t done anything too intimate (…despite occasional nudges from our abilities ‘>>). So to say we were hesitant to remove at least our button-ups was an understatement…

We were both wary and embarrassed, we had never been semi-naked around each other before; but also just individually concerned on what the other thought. Especially when it came to old lingering scars of our pasts. Danielle definitely more than I…

Eventually, we both kind of just slowly let ourselves take that leap and removed our layers, enough to show the serious wounds that needed to be healed. Mine of course weren’t so bad and were starting to get better with help from my tiger ability. So that left mostly Dany to be treated and bandaged up.

Hers we’re definitely more serious and she needed to remove the rest of her blouse to really see her wounds. She was more tense and in a trembling panic at the time… I felt bad for being the cause of her nervousness. Though she has since reminded me that it wasn’t really me, but how she viewed herself and the scars that remained.

Eventually, with enough comforting words and settled with her own choice, she removed her layers.

…I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, definitely not the amount of scar marks that actually ran along her back and shoulders. Some long and small, some more darker than the others that are faded and silvery from age.

The moment of surprise and questions that wanted to fall from my tongue had came to a halt when I realized Dany was clearly struggling to hide her rising stress. She’s always been self conscious about herself and I never really pressed her on things she wasn’t comfortable talking about. At least not anytime soon at the time…

Of course I didn’t press, I knew a surface level of what she had dealt with before she was found by the Guild. But I couldn’t help but feel…angry at whoever had done this to her. My tiger was definitely far aggravated under my skin I’m sure she could sense it… but I kept my cool enough to help clean current wounds that she was struggling to heal with.

The silence felt like a long time, before Dany broke it herself. It seemed like I didn’t have to wait long for an explanation, as she bluntly stated how she received such marks.

I’ll leave a lot of it to the imagination…but the deep reflection about this bit of her past was enough to bring me to tears. It.. pained me to see Dany so melancholy and almost apathetic about the situation she had been under. Similar to how I’ve often seen Dazai-san’s own expression to things he’s reflected on from his past. Hell, even me to a fault during really bad days.

It was like she was a trance-like state, she honestly barely registered much of what I tried to say out of comfort and almost frustration towards her tormentors that had convinced her of something that was out of her control. It wasn’t until I calmed down a little when focusing on some scars on her upper back and shoulders that I decided on a different form of comfort.

I had placed a lingering kiss on her shoulder, directly onto one of the longer scars there; it definitely snapped her out of her daze then, practically breathing sharply from surprise. I pressed a few more before uttering some words of comfort that definitely brought Dany to tears. Likely from the very intimate kiss upon old wounds and from pent up emotions she’s hidden away for a long time without telling anyone.

I brought her into my arms then to hold her close in warm comfort, not really paying mind to our semi-clothed state. I merely wanted to offer her love and warm validation that she had been needing to hear, especially from me. I understand what that feels like and she’s always been there for me prior to our relationship and so many times after. I reminded her of how much I loved her and wanted to always love her despite such past hurts. Much like she has with me 💖

I gave her plenty of kisses, some lingering ones and others to draw her to laugh and out of her sadness. Thankfully, it worked after a few tickling ones… giving her a lasting one on her lips...before...

Well, the moment was ruined to say the least ། – _ – ། with Yosano-sensei, Dazai-san and Kunikida-kun walking in on…Well, us in our semi-naked state… and clearly noting we had just pulled away from a kiss...

Of course, we weren’t expecting them, so we both jumped out of our skins as soon as the door opened. My first instinct was to cover up Dany with the thin sheets out of respect for her and also knowing how intimate showing her scars was. Poor Dany practically hid midway under her shadow ability, but couldn’t entirely cause of her exhausted state..

…anyway the amount of scolding we got from Kunikida-kun was a mile long and I’m sure he would have strangled me for being indecent with Dany at the Agency, despite our relationship status. Of course, I say would have had Yosano-sensei not pulled on his ear for being such a parent… Dazai-san wouldn’t leave either of us alone for a week, especially without making a few innuendos when alone with me… 😓

Thankfully, Yosano-sensei was the only one not so overwhelming, but it’s not like we avoided her giving us a reminder of the Talk and giving us..well means of protection because of the situation…;>//////> I’m sure she has some level of understanding, considering she did give Danielle a check up prior to her joining the Agency, but wanted to just tease us for the fun of it..

Ah, but yeah, a bit heavy if a topic for something that was probably meant to be funny or even suggestive (U////▽////U)''. But regardless, if that moment is ever brought up, Dany and I do laugh with a bit of a look of soft comfort between each other. No one else needs to know the moment and understanding we felt in that point of our relationship. So everyone can continue to think otherwise if they want.

What matters is the moment before with my Darling and myself more than anything. 💞 🌸

🍄: Do you and your FO follow any familial or cultural traditions together?

Dany: Oh, traditions you say? 🤔 We do follow a few from our respective cultures. I try my hardest to keep up with memories of my mum’s traditions from our Hispanic/Latino heritage. Such as the food, recipes that I have long forgotten, but have gradually began to recall. I definitely researched how to make certain dishes I remember her making with the taste or flavor or ingredients it had.

Sometimes we try and mix up the foods in our cultures to have a variety of choices and cuisine! I’ve definitely made tamalés, with help from a chief that knew how to make the food, for the winter season. Sharing it with the Agency, to which I am really grateful that everyone really enjoyed it! ;;;w;;; thank god, I was very anxious they wouldn't or it came out bad ;;;v;;;

My mother definitely celebrated Día de los Muertos, I remember we had a small ofrenda in an extra room in my old cottage home. It was tiny compared to ones I’ve seen, considering my parents didn’t have much living family at the time and it was mostly just us…but anyway, present time. Atsushi definitely was curious about the holiday and give enough encouragement to me to try and replicate something similar to what my parents use to have. Some in Japan have tiny shines dedicated to family members and vary in size depending on the family.

Atsushi surprised me with a small casing box to dedicate to my passing parents…I had no lasting photos of them since I was a child. But he managed to find some individual photos of them from a report database, along with a family photo likely from whatever remained at my old home and investigators at the time found. All with Ranpo-kun’s intellect and help (the amount of praise and gratitude I gave him for it still is true uwu, and I give him plenty sweets in thanks).

Needless to say, I was very emotional and a crying mess when he did this for me. We both give our graces and often reflect a bit by the little ofrenda/shrine casing. I tell him a lot about how my parents would have loved to meet him and undoubtedly welcome him without any hesitation. Especially my dad, who was a shapeshifting animal gifted and had a favorite animal in the form of a falcon and a tiger too. Atsushi warms up a lot hearing that.

We’ve also celebrated the Lunar New Year too! That one was definitely new to me and had no idea on the festivities it entailed. We attended some of the festivals in Yokohama during the time with the Agency, the warm atmosphere and bustling energy has been beautiful and look forward to it. More so than the normal new year, keke.

Also the sakura blossom viewings are beautiful to see, very sweet and romantic if I may say… 😊🌸 we’ve taken a small boat ride though a canal that is littered with the blooms or taken a stroll and sat together under the beautiful view 💖 (❤ ω ❤). Definitely my favorite time, and I have collected blossoms to take home for the ofredna/shrine for my parents. I even made a lamination of one for safe keeping. 🌸 Definitely one of my favorite times of the year, the next being crisp autumn 🍂 !

The art provided is a commission by @/moon-fish-ghost and captures the awe and ethereal atmosphere during the sakura blossom viewing! It is truly a beautiful and romantic experience to have with my Darling 🌸🥰 she looks so beautiful in her wear 🌸💖 and love seeing her hair in a braid 💞🥰

Thank you again for the asks! We truly appreciated them and hope you enjoy these long winded asks! We try to make them as concise as we can, but sometimes we just dive into too much detail. We hope you understand. May you have a beautiful rest of your day! —Atsushi 🐯🌙

#bungou stray dogs #atsushi nakajima #atsudany #danielle mika mason #self shipping #self shipping ask game #f/o takeover asks #self ship community #tag: we are of the moon and stars my dear #tiger roars 🐯🌙 #alpha howls

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS / Part 4 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

‘you’ll have to forgive me if i seem a bit nervous.’

‘it’s been quite the month.’

‘this trip has been one miserable disaster after another.’

‘do i look like i’m here to help?’

‘my father deserved better than that.’

‘we’re playing a guessing game.’

‘i’m not here to play games.’

‘i’m not leaving her. she’d be lonely.’

‘it’s obvious you can handle yourself just fine.’

‘you could be more thankful, you know.’

‘i was just beginning to get used to the quiet, too.’

‘familiarity breeds contempt, as they say.’

‘it did make for a delightful change of pace.’

‘pick me up; i tire of walking.’

‘i don’t appreciate foreign objects invading my personal space. well, usually.’

‘so, what now? you go on a killing rampage?’

‘did i kill him? i hope i did kill him.’

‘what’s with the heavy sighs?’

‘i shall be moved to a single tear by the tragedy.’

‘there may be pigeons nearby, we should be alert!’

‘so far, i am not impressed.’

‘i’m not here to impress you.’

‘i can’t believe i’m having this conversation.’

‘everyone expects so much from me.’

‘it’s a cage, if a gilded cage. pretty, but confining.’

‘i fancy things that are beautiful, and things that are strong.’

‘i fancy things that are dangerous and exciting.’

‘would you be offended if i said i fancied you?’

‘they don’t make me look any wider, do they? i find i am already too wide as it is.’

‘should i talk in a monotone?’

‘mostly they involve slaughtering pigeons in creative and invasive manners.’

‘i’d have happily stomped them all into paste.’

‘she complained that i couldn’t fit through the doors.’

‘i get bored, and stop paying attention.’

‘blood isn’t all that important.’

‘do you have to be so literal?’

‘is this after i ravish you in celebration?’

‘the ravishing part is a given.’

‘my introduction to the subject of sex was, shall we say, rather practical.’

‘my only rule regarding sex is that it be done well.’

‘alright, but i get to stare at you luridly while you do so.’

‘some people simply need assassinating.’

‘most of them had it coming.’

‘i’ve always removed my clothes on a strictly amateur basis.’

‘the important thing is, it’s cheap.’

‘please, please get to the point.’

‘you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.’

‘i’ve never seen one of /those/ before.’

‘i was hoping you wouldn’t notice.’

‘since then, its been a little hard for me to concentrate.’

‘you look like you’re not from around here.’

‘i didn’t say i’d do it for free.’

‘don’t tell them you got these papers from me.’

‘your mind has gone to dust.’

‘i only wish there was more i could do for you.’

‘you left so abruptly before, i didn’t think i’d see you back.’

‘you know as well as i do that’s how this always ends.’

‘it’s not easy ensuring that nothing bad happens.’

‘that sounded like a threat.’

‘i don’t know how to express my gratitude.’

‘i must say, you look like our type of people.’

‘it’s just a childhood fantasy that dies hard.’

‘you’ll change, like the rest.’

‘i’m so tired of it i’m not even surprised any more.’

‘and i thought t was going to be a nice day.’

‘you looking for a fist to share your face?’

‘that’s where they send you when you’re ready to leave this world.’

‘we’ll get plenty for their kit once we cut them out of it.’

‘that sounds like a man with something to hide.’

‘to tell the truth, i was supposed to meet someone.’

‘sounds like i wouldn’t approve of your kind of opportunity.’

‘what about a generous kick in the face if you ask again?’

‘it takes a stranger to notice how bad things are, huh?’

‘you look like you’d rather hear the truth.’

‘i don’t have time for your hysterics.’

‘i don’t think he’ll listen to you.’

‘what’re you looking for?’

‘what kind of monster throws his child out on the street?’

‘i should leave before you start complaining about me, too.’

‘she threatened anyone who said they’d come after her.’

‘does it hurt? do you feel like you’ve been buried under a pile of rock?’

‘now that you mention it, i rather now feel like a delicate mushroom...’

‘that could be good or bad.’

‘there’s a back-handed compliment in there, somewhere.’

‘it just so happens that i find you... quite warm.’

‘does this coy thing work for you much?’

‘i knew this would happen eventually.’

‘you’re practically a public menace.’

‘here i thought that i seduced you.’

‘i’ll ask nothing more of you than you are willing to give.’

‘fate is such a tricky whore, isn’t she?’

‘a new day awaits us, or so the rumour goes.’

‘she will use you for her own ends.’

‘so i should inflict pain now to avoid it later? great logic.’

‘i already knew the answer. don’t know why i asked.’

‘you wonder sometimes, don’t you? if your life would be better of you weren’t who you are?’

#da:o #dragon age #KIND / IN CHARACTER. #KIND / SENTENCE. #BASED ON / VIDEO GAME. #rp meme #sentence starters #sentence meme

[juliussneezerfics]

Blood Red Lilies and Baby Blue Cornflowers: Chapter 10 - Weird

After the confrontation between him and Italy, Germany must attend a meeting where Italy will be present.

Ao3

*******

Germany sighed into the mirror. He was in a navy suit, a white button up shirt, and a matching navy tie. He knew that if Italy were here, he would try to convince him to perhaps add a little more color to his ensemble. Maybe wear a patterned tie. He felt a pang in his heart. So today was the day. Germany coughed into his elbow, turning away from the mirror. He double checked that his suitcase was on the desk. He knew everything was in there. He’d already checked twice. Once last night, once this morning. He usually just checked once the day that he left. He was organized enough to know where everything was. But he was one to fidget around and complete tasks that didn’t need to be done when he was nervous.

And this was the most nervous he’d been in a long time. 

He buttoned up the navy-blue suit jacket, pulling his suitcase off the desk. His feet fell heavily down the stairs as he paced down to the ground floor. There he found his older brother, waiting expectantly for him.

“What took you so long?” Prussia asked. Despite the teasing lilt to his voice, his face betrayed anxiety.

Germany peered over at Prussia. He knew his brother’s anxiety was on his behalf. "Sorry.”

“You ready for the meeting?” He asked, pushing open the front door.

Germany stepped out, peering up at the cloudy sky. “Probably.”

“Whatever happens happens.” Prussia said nonchalantly, unlocking the doors to his car.

 “Easy for you to say.”

“Perhaps.” Prussia opened the driver’s side door. “Either way, I’m going to have to put up with your complaining whenever we get home, so… who’s really having the worse time here?”

Germany buckled his seat belt, staring at Prussia with a harrowing glare.

 “Too soon?”

“You could say that.” Germany grunted.

 “Right. I’ll give it a couple months.”

Germany remained silent as Prussia backed out of the driveway.

 “Several?”

Germany didn’t dignify Prussia with a response.

 “A year?”

 “Gilbert?”

“Yes?” Prussia started his car down the road.

 "Stop talking.”

Prussia shrugged as his car gained speed. “That’s fair.”

The two remained silent as Prussia leaned forward, taking immediate control of the aux chord. Germany was not surprised in the slightest as the first thing to come up was some pop song from the early nineties that he barely recognized. Prussia’s playlist was a terrible mix of fast classic, 80’s and 90’s pop, some of his favorite soundtracks, rock and roll and, surprisingly, a hint of Celine Dion. Somehow, for his disaster of a brother, it was like the perfect soundtrack to describe him as a person.

They pulled up to the building that was supposed to house the international conference. It was at Sweden’s place this year. Germany liked Sweden okay, he supposed. It wasn’t like he knew him too well, but he supposed the two got along. At social gatherings, they often found peace with each other as they stood by the punch bowl, not talking, relaxing in their mutual silence.

“You have any presentations you’re supposed to do, West?” Prussia asked, unbuckling his seat belt. He looked in the rearview mirror, preening.

“Not today.” Germany sighed, also unbuckling. He reached down at his feet and grabbed his laptop bag. “Just keeping things in order as usual, I suppose.”

The two walked silently side-by-side, ignoring the attention that Germany was getting. Germany supposed that the attention Prussia got was similar to how the siblings of many celebrities got attention. There wasn’t much going on in the news cycles about them usually, but occasionally something would pop up. The teens of the world, however, were quite enamored with Prussia. His Instagram had almost as many followers as Germany’s, and he was still often stopped in the streets for pictures.

Prussia pretended to act annoyed, but Germany knew that he was relieved to have a following. Besides. However much he tried to hide it, Germany knew Prussia loved his fans as much as they loved him.

They stepped into the conference room, setting their stuff down in front of their seats. Everybody else was standing in small groups, chatting idly as they waited for the meeting to finally begin. Surprisingly, Italy, Spain, Romano, and Belgium were already grouped together.

Italy glanced up with an unreadable expression, caught Germany’s eye, and turned back to the debate Spain and Belgium seemed to be having.

Germany frowned to himself, reaching down and unzipping the pocket in his bag where he kept his notebook.

“He’ll come around.” Prussia muttered as he passed Germany to the section of the table where the micronations usually sat. “Don’t worry about it.”

Germany just grunted. He set his notebook on the table as Prussia walked away, lining up three pens beside each other. Well, there was no excuse anymore. He had to talk to people. Like a lone child in a cafeteria, he looked around at the various groups for someone to talk to. He underestimated just how much her relied on Italy dragging him around to socialize. He caught Japan’s eye as he was beginning to lose hope. Japan’s small smile beckoned him over to where he stood with America, England, France, and Canada.

“Hi, Germany! It’s good to see you here.” Canada greeted pleasantly. His left hand was wrapped around a red Tim Horton’s cup, the other deep in his pocket.

“Good to be here.” Germany responded as he stopped.

“How are your dogs doing?” Canada asked.

Germany smiled slightly. “As well as ever."

What had originally started as part of a punishment led to an unlikely friendship between Germany and Canada. It was a slightly distant one, with Canada sending Germany funny dog-related jokes and memes he happened to find on Instagram. They didn’t exchange many words outside of the subject of dogs and pets, but they found a common ground.

“We’re going to need to schedule a visit or something, soon.” Canada grinned. “Kuma’s missed them a lot.”

France shook his head distastefully. “I could never understand dog people. Cats are superior.”

“Really?” England asked, an eyebrow raised. “At least dogs actually care about you. You could just keel over dead one day and your cat likely would only notice when his food finally ran out.”

“You’re similar to a cat in that regard, England. Distant.” France said dryly. “Perhaps if you would accept my dinner invitation sometime, that would change.”

“Nice try, Frog.”

America shook his head, rolling his eyes. “You guys are so weird. England, you two are literally engaged. Like, to be married. Little late to turn down that date.”

Germany blinked. “What?” Wait, were the two even dating?

France raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t know?”

Germany was unsure how to respond.

“We’re engaged.” England raised his left hand with a slight smile, displaying a plain silver band. “Recently, albeit, but I thought you knew!”

Germany let out a rare smile. “Congratulations!” Germany reached forward and shook their hands. “Since when?”

“About a month ago.” France said with a smile. “Dinner with candlelight, roses on the table… didn’t know he had it in him.”

“Physically pained me.” England grimaced. “It was all so… so… French.”

“Oh, stop it, England.” France smiled at his fiancé. “We were walking in the moonlight on a bridge… the breeze was blowing… and he got down on one knee, and he said-”

“Okay, that’s enough detail, there.” England said. “So, yes. We’re engaged now.”

Germany nodded, still processing. “I’ve got to confess, this seems sudden.”

“Really?” America asked with a raised brow. He traded a glance with Canada.

“Well I mean…” Germany cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Were you two in a relationship?”

France and England looked at each other, each with slight smiles on their faces.

France sighed. “That’s so you, Germany. Yes, we are in a relationship. We have been since the 1960’s!”

Germany blinked stupidly. “Wait, wait, wait. Did anyone else know?”

“Well, I mean, we never made it official…” England shrugged.

America scoffed. “You two made it official that time you got drunk, pulled France into your lap, and kissed the hell out of him.”

“That’s enough out of you!” England chastised, beet red.

Again, Germany blinked. That was about the last thing he could imagine prim, proper England doing. Regardless, he didn’t let his disbelief show. “Congratulations. Forgive me, but I’m surprised your governments even allowed it.”

“About that…” France sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“They… don’t know?”

Canada grimaced. “No. Technically, no.”

England shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a little rebellion, I say. When it is the proper time.”

“Oh, now there’s nothing wrong with rebellion.” America deadpanned.

Germany, glancing at a clock on the wall, noticed the time. “It’s about time to start the meeting.”

“Thank goodness.” Canada muttered. “It was about to get pretty darn awkward in here.”

Germany turned away from the group. “Everyone, please grab a seat. It’s time to begin.”

The nations all returned to their usual seats at the table, Germany determinedly avoiding Italy’s gaze as he sat beside him. It was clear to him that Italy was not interested in talking to him. He fought the urge to confront his friend, reminding himself that Hungary had said it was best to give him some space. He suddenly wished that rather than sitting at America’s side, Japan was sitting with them. He cleared his throat after everyone had grabbed their seats at the table, all of them looking expectantly at him.

Everyone except for Italy, who seemed to be very interested in his cuticles.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming. I’m sure everyone will join me in thanking Sweden for generously hosting the meeting this year.”

There were general mutterings of gratitude around the table, Sweden nodding stoically in recognition.

“I emailed everyone the itinerary last week. I trust you all printed it out and brought it with you.”

There was a collective rustling as a few people pulled their itinerary’s out of whatever bag they kept it in. A few, like Japan, Canada, and Prussia already had theirs out. Germany couldn’t help but notice that Italy, too, bent at the waist to retrieve his. It would usually be at this point that Italy would ask if he could share Germany’s itinerary because he forgot to print his. Germany ignored the pang in his chest as he opened the cover page.

“As everyone can see, the-” His sentence was interrupted as he coughed into his hand. Everyone in the former allied powers lifted their heads, watching Germany warily.

Japan glanced up.

Italy, on the other hand, focused so hard on his itinerary that he could probably burn holes into the paper with his vision.

Germany stopped coughing. “Pardon me.” And he finally began the meeting.

Following the meeting, no one was really in a rush to part from each other. Given how busy the nations were in their day-to-day lives, many of them didn’t end up seeing each other that often. It took determination to get together with a fellow nation. So when Denmark brought up the idea of everyone going out to a bar afterword to spend more time together, many of the nations accepted the idea with fervor.

Germany glanced over at Italy. Italy’s face was already turned to him, an unreadable expression on his face. As Italy saw Germany saw him, he immediately turned away back to whatever current conversation was going between his friends. Germany deflated slightly, packing up his things to go.

“Hey, bro, do you want to go with me and the boys tonight?” Prussia asked. “Spain and France would love the company!”

Germany avoided eye contact, shoving his notebook in his bag with far more concentration than what was required. “No, I’m feeling a little tired. I may just head home.”

Prussia nodded, his gaze turning to Italy on the other side of the room. “Come to think of it, I’m a little tired too. Wanna’ just head back?”

“You really don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Prussia smirked. “It’s what makes me such an awesome older brother.”

“Somehow, your gloating takes away from the sincerity of your offer.”

“Is that a ‘yes’, then?” Prussia asked with a raised brow.

Germany furrowed his brow. “If you truly want to go back. If you’re doing this out of pity…”

“I’ll say goodbye to the boys and we can head out.” Prussia offered, turning to leave before Germany could protest any longer.

When they left, Germany didn’t bother to turn around. He thought he knew what he would see. But had he taken the chance, perhaps he would have seen the longing glance that followed him out the door. Perhaps he would have seen Italy take a hesitant step forward before he was able to control himself and stand back where he was. 

Perhaps he would have decided to stay after all.

#hetalia #hws #aph #aph Germany #hws germany #aph italy #hws italy #gerita #gerita fic #aph gerita #hws gerita #hws prussia #aph prussia #aph france #hws france #aph england #hws england #fruk #aph fruk #hws fruk #fruk fic #hetalia fic #hanahaki

[etherealwaifgoddess]

To Give Him The World, Chpt.8

Main Characters: Thor x Ellie (original female character)

Summary: Sunday for Ellie and Thor is a lazy day with Thor acquainting himself with the internet and reaching out to friends. Also, Thor thinks of his future. Master List is HERE if you need to catch up.

Warnings/ Content: nothing but fluff and plot folks

Word Count: 1.4k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! I know this is a shorty chapter and yes, it IS the final chapter. No, I haven’t lost my mind it just happened this way. I like all the hopefulness in it though and I think you will too :)  The epilogue is going up immediately afterwards. Thanks for everyone who made it to the end with me! Love you all! XOXO - Ash

To Give Him The World, Chapter Eight

Eventually the need for caffeine drug Thor and Ellie out of the warmth of his bed and out into the world. Thor was less tense as they got their morning lattes from the cafe and picked up muffins to take back with them for breakfast. He stuck with the same latte as Ellie, wanting to wait until Monday when he could pick Marcus’ brain about the different options available. 

The delivery man with Thor’s order arrived shortly after breakfast and Thor was like a little boy on Christmas as he tore through all the boxes. Setting up his phone took no time at all but Thor realized he didn’t have anyone’s phone numbers. Hoping he still had an email saved from Pepper when she had sent everyone’s info to Peter Parker, Thor had Ellie help set up his laptop so he could check his email. Sure enough, it was saved in his inbox and Thor took his time keying in everyone’s phone numbers and email addresses into his contact list. 

“I think I’ll call my friend Steven. He used to be Captain America but now he’s quite old and retired.” Thor told Ellie while he brought up the contact info for him.

Ellie cringed looking at the clock, “That’s a great idea sweetheart, but where does Steven live? Remember, time zones are a thing here.” 

“Oh.” Thor’s face fell, disappointed he’d have to wait. “He lives in Brooklyn.” 

“So it’s about five in the morning where he is. Why don’t we wait a few hours and call him after you’re sure he’s awake.” 

“Yes, I suppose. Pepper and Bruce live in California, that’s even worse, isn’t it?”

“Three more hours behind, yeah. You’ll just have to call them later this afternoon, I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear from you.”  

Thor nodded, resigned that there was nothing he could do about the time difference. “Can we finish setting up my phone and then play Assassin's Creed?” 

“Absolutely. Let’s get into the app store and download a few games for you.” 

Ellie showed Thor what she had on her phone and made suggestions for what he might enjoy. It took a while setting it all up but they had nothing but time and Thor seemed genuinely interested in the concept of social media. He remembered the other avengers talking about things like Instagram and Twitter and decided to set up accounts with Ellie’s help so he could connect with them on there. Thor got a little lost on Instagram, sifting through the endless pictures his friends had posted of their lives. Steve posted pictures of dogs he met on his walks through the park, Sam posted lots of aerial views from his flights, Pepper posted pictures of Morgan and motivational memes she liked, Bruce mostly posted pictures of food and a few of his lab. It was enjoyable to see the world through their eyes, finally feeling like a part of it again.

Ellie had wanted to give Thor the world back and she succeeded. He was commenting on pictures and replying to tweets like a pro by the time they took a break for lunch. After a quick meal of sandwiches and chips Thor checked the time, deeming it late enough to try Steve. Ellie was washing up the dishes while Thor listened to the line ring, nervously waiting. 

“Hello?” a familiar voice said over the line. 

“Friend Steven!” Thor boomed with relief, “It’s Thor!”

“Thor, wow.” Steve was surprised but happy to hear from him. “Did you get a new phone?”

“A cell phone, my friend Ellie helped me set it up.” 

“That’s great, pal. Welcome to the twenty-first century.” 

Thor chuckled and carried on the conversation, asking about any new dogs Steve met at the park. Steve was even more surprised to learn Thor joined Instagram and the two chatted about how amazing technology could be at keeping people in touch. Ellie watched Thor’s animated expressions as he talked with his friend and she excused herself to go throw in a load of laundry, fighting back the tears prickling at her eyes. She was so happy for him, he deserved a chance for a better life and he seemed to be embracing it wholeheartedly. Who knew life could change so much in just a few days. 

Thor was still on the phone when Ellie found him in the living room where he had moved to in between calls. He was talking to Pepper about how the Avengers Training Initiative was going and she eventually caved to her daughter’s pleas in the background; passing the phone to Morgan so she could tell Uncle Thor all about her science fair project that won first prize. Thor chuckled and did his best to keep up with the science jargon that spilled so easily from the little girl. Morgan admitted that Uncle Bruce let her use his lab and helped just a little bit, but insisted she did most of it all by herself. Thor was beaming with pride when he got Pepper back on the line, so proud of the amazing little girl she and Tony had created. Pepper agreed she takes after Tony more and more every day. It was bittersweet talking about Tony but Thor managed. When he ended the call, promising to consider coming out to California for Christmas, he found Ellie for a long hug. The pain of loss was still sharp but he comforted himself in Ellie’s arms instead of alcohol. Finally he broke away, feeling a little more steady, and wanting to call Bruce next. 

Thor spent almost an hour on the phone with Bruce. There was something calming about talking to Bruce who knew exactly what Thor was going through in trying to cope with emotions that just seemed too big sometimes. Bruce promised to call Thor regularly now that he had his number and offered to be a sounding board for him if he needed one. Steve had made a similar offer and Thor realized his friends were still there for him even after his months of self imposed solitude. 

Ellie kept herself busy by checking her emails, playing her new puzzle game, and watching a little TV while Thor continued making his calls. He eventually had to plug his phone in, having worn the battery down when Sam taught him how to video call with someone. Sam was enthusiastic to say the least, grinning wide, and proud of Thor for “re-entering society”. Sam told Thor a little about his work at the VA and offered to send him links to some great books on dealing with loss and PTSD. Ellie was amused but encouraging when Thor asked for her help setting up an Amazon account to order the books Sam recommended. 

The sun had set long ago and Ellie was finishing up cooking dinner when Thor finally hung up his last call of the day. He had spoken to each and every one of his fellow Avengers over the course of the afternoon and felt more connected to the world than he had in years. He watched Ellie moving around the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner, so thankful she had come back into his life.

Thor came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her snug against him. Ellie let out a startled squeak but leaned back into his embrace. “Thank you.” he said, his voice rough with heartfelt meaning.

“For what?” she asked, unsure where his gratitude was coming from.

“You’ve given me the world. I was so lost for a very long time. I didn’t think I’d ever find my way back.” 

“You just needed to be ready, sweetheart. You are now, and look how far you’ve come in the last few days. This is all you, I just helped you remember that you could.” 

Thor struggled to accept her sentiment but did feel the beginnings of pride in himself for putting in so much effort to pull himself out of the pit he’d been hiding in. He expected to be more anxious knowing Ellie would be heading home in a few hours but armed with his new phone it seemed much more manageable. Thor realized he was actually making plans again, something he hadn’t done since before the Snap. He knew that on Monday he was going to go out and see Marcus about trying a new latte. On Tuesday Bruce was going to call him again to check in. Thor thought Wednesday might be a good day to try and take a walk around the community garden if he was up to it. If he managed that alright he was going to try and surprise Ellie at work with lunch on Friday. The outside world no longer seemed intimidating and Thor was eager to rejoin it. 

~ The End ~

Taglist lovelies: @thorfanficwriter @lancsnerd @avengers-fixation

#thor #Thor Odinson #thor fanfic #thor fanfiction #Thor x original character #Thor x Original Female Character #original female character #plus size original female character #fat thor #chubby thor #thicc thor #post endgame #cannon divergent #marvel #marvel fandom #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Marvel fangirl #To Give Him The World

[sincerelybillie]

an open letter to the unsupportive desi folks

building bridges of understanding between indians and americans has shown me how disconnected we really are. the distance of the hyphen in indian-american cannot be reconciled by one person who makes art related to it.

and i know i’m not the only one making art, and i’m much less prolific and well known than other south asian artists. i envy their networks and friends and family who share the identity and passion for it. in my case, i am literally the only one i actually know drawing, writing, filming, memeing this experience. i don’t think that makes me exceptional or special; if anything, it has felt very lonely.

i wouldn’t change my decision to be an identity-focused artist because i find a lot of meaning and joy in it. but it has been very hard. you can enjoy something deeply and still experience intense challenges related to it.

when i share something, whether it be a short film or story or visual art piece or a series of memes, i am relieved and thankful for warm receptions among non-indians and the literal i-can-count-them-on-one-hand-and-still-have-fingers-left-over amount of desi friends i have in real life. i try to express my gratitude often and directly.

but i do also sometimes get disheartened by the judgment and condemnation i have received from other indians for drawing attention to us, whether it be about our historical and present-day mistreatment as a minority, our own flaws as a culture and ethnic group, and even the celebratory stuff like our holidays and fashion and food. 

i am not entitled to anyone’s support, no matter how much we have in common and how much i feel like i’m doing the right thing. but i get irritated and offended because i feel attacked for standing up for my own people, only to have them say, “shut up, sit down, why are you doing this?” it is a familiar pain that doesn’t hurt any less than it did when you were younger and you found out it is easier to make them ashamed of you than proud of you. am i doing it wrong or something? is there something bad or embarrassing about me or my work? what do you gain from your dirty looks and condescending words? 

so many of my own relatives and so-called “community members” seem to have grown complicit with the erasure and ignorance of who we are, judging me for making a big deal about legitimate hate crimes, harassment and discrimination in the workforce and other spaces, and a long list of mental health deteriorating experiences. they want so badly to associate with whiteness and accumulate wealth and prestige, without seeing the price of assimilating too hard and not defending your own kind, before they end up killed. too many times, the indians want to be riled up and demand justice then, never affiliating with organizations, public officials, or artists who can create visibility, legislation and understanding to help prevent such events from occurring.

i understand that keeping our heads down was a survival tactic for previous generations. we couldn’t afford the luxury and privilege of art careers and activism back then. but i’m here now because someone did the work to ensure that was even possible, allowed, and safe. so i won’t just settle with that, and stop there, when there is still a lot of work to be done.

so i had to re-evaluate who my art was for, if some people were going to be ungrateful, unsupportive, and just plain mean about it. i had to specify what my intention was before posting something and who my audience really is. my art is for people who can relate and support it, as well as those eager for and appreciative of opportunities to learn, to have their minds changed or opened up. those type of people invigorate me more than anyone tears me down.

and i need to stop making the mistake of momentarily forgetting how many desi issues are internal to our own culture’s classist, sexist, colorist, racist, homophobic aspects. white colonizers had historically exploited that as a tactic to make different groups within countries they invaded fight each other. indians were mistreating each other and sparing the actual enemy the dirty work.

i don’t want any part in fueling this, i don’t want to engage with people who are hell-bent on carrying similar sentiments into their interactions with me, someone who is trying to provide information to others in a creative way that i can also enjoy. because it is labour-intensive and exhausting, and i wanna have fun while doing it.

i have learning and growing to do in this craft and personally, but i need to surround myself with people who care about that, not just about censoring me because they have always been told to shut up because their voices didn’t matter. and now, they’re projecting it onto me.

your voices, even when you’re using them negatively against people like me, do matter and do impact people. i hope you see that and choose better what to do with yours. i hope to learn from you too. create the opportunity and adjust your mindset to allow that, though, please.

#desi #indian #indian-american #south asian #south asian diaspora #people of color #artists of color #punjabi

[the-everqueen]

asw meme: 48? any pairing/'verse is cool, but i first thought of ghosts?

48. life would be easier if i were easier (fact)

He comes to her after he dies.

It is not a tearful reunion or bittersweet goodbye. There is screaming, fumbling in the dark, coldness so severe and steep it makes Eliza’s heart seize in her chest. Alexander cries out, his voice wavering between banshee wail and please, Betsey, it’s me. It has been a week since the funeral, the first night Eliza managed to fall asleep in their bed rather than with one of the children, rocking them through their furious, uncomprehending grief. She could never stop being a mother, not even to mourn the loss of being a wife. But loss is lost as Alexander floats above her, his face rendered familiar through pain, as he tries and fails to grasp at her wrists.

Eliza thinks, I cannot go mad. The children can’t lose us both so soon.

She pulls the covers over her head, squeezes her eyes shut tight tight tight, like a child hiding from monsters. He wails, sad or enraged or desperate, plunging the room into a frost that makes her tremble beneath the blankets. Or maybe it’s terror. She grits her teeth and presses palms against her ears. There is no rest for the widowed.

Alexander isn’t the first.

She remembers when he got the letter, the one that informed them John Laurens had been killed in action. A waste, everyone said, as though he were a bank note foolishly spent and not a man half-mad with fever. Alexander was inconsolable. He threw himself into the Annapolis Convention, and then the Philadelphia Convention, and then the Federalist essays — must there be another one this week, what happened to twenty-five, I thought this was a collaborative project, you have to sleep, Alexander. And his eyes bright with exhaustion and fervor as he insisted, I just need to write something down, one more thing. Back then, when she left him in his office, making the careful trek upstairs to bed alone, she saw the figure in the corner of her eyes, hovering by her husband’s side. She never met John Laurens, but she recognized the leonine eyes and wild curls from the miniature Alexander had shown her — and even if she hadn’t, the uniform would have been a clue.

He appeared at intervals until the Constitution was ratified. That night, as Alexander collapsed on the bed like a puppet cut from its strings, Laurens came to his side with an expression of both fondness and disappointment. His ghostly fingers brushed at a stray piece of hair over Alexander’s slack mouth, the gesture familiar even if it had no material effect. Eliza watched him, motionless as a doe that’s heard a twig snap. For the first time, he met her gaze. He mouthed something she did not understand.

“What was that?” she whispered.

He repeated it.

Eliza swallowed hard. She felt a sudden, shameful gratitude that there was the ultimate barrier of Death between her and John Laurens. “I’ll tell him,” she said. She hoped that would be enough, but Laurens watched her for another moment, as though weighing the worth of her soul. Then he faded, leaving a breath of cool air in his wake.

When Alexander comes back to her, she realizes she never told him Laurens’s last words.

“I’m sorry,” Alexander tells her the second time. “I should have realized it might be a shock. But you have to understand, I had to make sure you were okay and assure you that I was okay —”

“Alexander, please.”

“Right.” He drops his gaze contritely. His long, dark lashes fan over his cheekbones but cast no shadows. There is a general translucent quality to him that’s hard to ignore in the afternoon light; Eliza can see the parlor settee through his shoulder. She concentrates on that, instead of the familiar twist of his mouth as he bites his lower lip.

Her husband is dead. Her husband is dead.

Her husband is standing in the parlor, wearing the same black suit she peeled from his body as Doctor Hosack worked to staunch the bleeding. Eliza recalls the iron sour smell of blood and feels as though she might faint.

Of course, Alexander cannot be silent for long. “You got the letter?”

She lets out a hysterical laugh. “Yes, Alexander, I got your letter. I suppose I should thank you for sparing me the wait to see you in a better world.”

He winces. “I just meant —”

“Oh, I know what you meant. You only ever mean anything.” Her voice is pitching higher and sharper with the anxiety splitting her carefully constructed seams. “When has your so-called honor changed my opinion of you? How dare you justify yourself to me after the fact! When you know I couldn’t possibly hate you for it because you’re dead, you’re gone, you left me and the children for your stupid honor…” She bursts into tears, hands coming up to cover her face.

“Shh, shh, oh Bets.” Flutter touches of cold raise goosebumps on her arms, shoulders, the back of her neck. Without looking, she knows that Alexander is hovering around her, eyebrows knit together in desperate resolve to Fix Things. “Hey, you’re all right, it’ll be all right. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t want to be strong,” she sobs, but her tears are ebbing. She cried for so many nights, alone in their bed, face muffled in the pillows, that now she can only weep in short cloudbursts, as sudden as a summer storm and just as quick to evaporate. She lowers her hands, and Alexander gives her a tentative smile. “There we go.”

“This is your fault,” she says. His smile slips away.

“In my defense, I didn’t think Burr would shoot me. I thought he’d dither over it like everything else in his life.”

“This isn’t a courtroom, you don’t have a defense.”

“Darling, if I’d known —”

“Don’t pretend. Don’t pretend that would have changed things. You’ve always prized your reputation, as though that’s ever mattered to me. I married you when you had nothing but your brilliance and ambition.” She swipes angrily at the wetness on her cheeks. “I fell in love with you. And I knew you’d go far, because how could you not, but all I ever wanted was to be your peace of mind.”

He reaches for her. She jerks back. “No, it’s — you died. You’re not here.”

He looks more hurt at that simple statement of fact than her previous accusation. His face falls, his shoulders droop. He becomes so transparent he seems little more than an outline, a preliminary sketch over the carpet and wallpaper.

There’s a knock on the parlor door. “Ma’am?” the maid’s voice calls, quiet and trembling. “Are you — is everything all right?”

“I’m fine,” Eliza says. Isn’t she always? She turns back to Alexander, but he’s gone, the slight shiver in the closed parlor the only sign he was here. She feels a burst of nonsensical panic — what if those were her last words to her husband? What if he thinks she doesn’t miss him so terribly sometimes it’s hard to breathe? But those questions fade, replaced with a calm certainty.

Alexander will return.

“Have you seen them? The others who have…passed?”

Eliza does not say Philip’s name, but she relies on Alexander to know what she means. Over the years their conversations have taken on the faintly surreal air of a guessing game, or riddles, both of them circling around the topics that weigh on them the most. Alexander’s visits have become shorter and less frequent — she can’t be sure whether he’s losing his tether to this side of eternity, or whether he’s reaching some limit on crossing over. Eliza has been Dutch Reformed from childhood, but encountering her dead husband makes her wonder whether her theology might need revision. Maybe his soul is passing into Heaven, out of some Purgatorial state. Maybe his visits are just a more painful and protracted goodbye, as he watches her and the children keep on living without him.

Alexander frowns. He watches as she tallies numbers in the Society’s paybook, her pen scratching neat figures in their proper columns. She feels a shiver of frisson at their reversed positions: how many times did they have conversations while he labored over their finances or scribbled down another idea? But she doesn’t give it words, not even in teasing.

She pauses. “Alexander.”

“Mm? Oh. I — I can’t say.”

It is Eliza’s turn to frown. Alexander is never at a loss for words; even on his deathbed, he managed to keep speaking, until the sight of the children all lined up at the door overwhelmed him. She wants to ask whether he’s all right — but what can she do if he isn’t? A chill washes over her arms.

A moment later, she realizes it’s Alexander, embracing her from behind. His mouth gives a puff of cold air when he murmurs in her ear, “It’s not what I imagined. There are rules about what — but I didn’t expect this, getting to see — You’ve done so much. I’m so proud of you, Bets.”

Cool lips brush a kiss against her cheek, turning her tears to brittle tracks of frost.

She’s never understood Alexander’s sense of running out of time. There is so much to do, yet the years stretch on, no fin in sight. If Alexander’s personal Hell is to be cut short, obscured, forgotten, hers might be to outlive everyone she’s loved, unable to cross over to the Other Side.

“I’m so tired,” she says. “I want to see Hamilton.”

He comes to her before the end.

She doesn’t know what woke her until she sees him at her bedside. He smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. The moonlight brings out the greyish streaks in his hair. “Hi, darling,” he murmurs. He looks, impossibly, both like the dashing young Colonel she fell in love with and the older, more subdued figure she kissed on the night he wrote his last letter to her. “It’s time.”

She takes his hand. It’s warm and solid in hers.

#my fic #hamliza #i'm not entirely satisfied (ha) with this #if i had endless time i'd probably have weird ghost sex in this #with meditations on longing and desire #but here! #happy christmas eve? #idk how to tag this for warnings #ghosts tw #death tw

[spockandawe]

For the Director's Cut meme, Sometimes I Wish for Falling, the scene where Starscream catches Cyclonus' injuries and orders him to Flatline? If not, whatever you like about that story.

OOOOH, THAT SCENE. That was an interesting one. And actually, that was a nice candidate for this, because there were a lot of important pieces that went into that scene XD

I knew I wanted to jump pov with that fic, because from a purely practical perspective, Cyclonus needed to be the one narrating when the story drifted into somnophilia land for the first time. Which was important, because somnophilia is going to be an important Thing for them, especially in the ways it’ll tie back to disordered sleeping and trust issues and service. But, there was some emotional stuff that was important for Cyclonus to take the lead on too.

And one of the big, BIG things I wanted to get back to was Cyclonus’s self-harm predilections! Because he sure keeps going for the self-mutilation thing when he’s feeling too much, and this is despite his religious views being like ‘yeah, don’t repair purely cosmetic damage’. He still goes straight to clawing up his own face. And the first time in canon that got fixed because Tailgate got better, but the second time? At that point in the story, Cyclonus’s emotions re: tailgate are MUCH further along, this isn’t that he’s dying, it’s ‘he broke up with you, told you to go away, and tried to return your innermost energon.... and then also died horribly’.

SO. I wanted to circle back round to that, but the way this story is shaped... Cyclonus and Starscream are both really tangled up in their own issues. It’s hard to even write them when they’re just in their own heads, because it’s a gridlocked snarl of misery. The story progresses when they interact with each other, but giving them those interactions also lets me pick away at the issues going on in their heads. Here, having Starscream notice the self-harm isn’t essential to plot. It would have been possible to quietly have Cyclonus move along to the point where he’s like ‘hey, awesome, I don’t need to do that thing anymore’. But that wouldn’t be nearly so satisfying!!

Here, just from a Cyclonus’s character perspective, that scene lets me tie together all kinds of important pieces. He’s still in such a bad state that he’s hurting himself. He’s got a strong and persistent urge to hurt himself. He’s got feelings about how his emotional pain should be expressed physically. He’s got religious feelings about having had that damage repaired once when he feels he should have refused treatment. He’s got more religious feelings about agreeing to have the damage repaired when he feels he should refuse treatment He’s desperate enough to find someone to serve that he’s willing to compromise those religion/grief emotions to make himself a more appealing servant, and he’s willing to compromise those religion/grief emotions for the thrill of having orders to obey. There’s a lot of under-the-surface emotions happening in there about how his confirms that he didn’t... deserve Tailgate in the first place, that his emotions and convictions are cheap, nothing so overt that I would outright describe it as self-loathing, but... basically that thing.

And. Change of direction. Starscream. Now, Cyclonus knows that Starscream doesn’t want him there. He probably isn’t as aware that part of why Starscream allowed him to stay is that Starscream is worried about what revenge Cyclonus might take if he was turned away. Because Cyclonus wouldn’t do that, it’s not his jam. But Starscream feels extremely trapped into doing this, and is bitter and angry and feels forced into keeping someone he aggressively does not trust right in close to his side.

So letting Starscream realize about the self-harm does a little bit to advance things on multiple fronts. Starscream already knew Cyclonus was having some kind of crisis, but now he’s getting a better picture of how much of a mess Cyclonus really is. Cyclonus usually has rock-solid self-control, so getting that kind of look at him isn’t easy. It’s giving Starscream’s paranoia a little room to wind down, because after seeing that, it’s a lot harder to believe that actually this is a complicated plot to overthrow the government or assassinate him or whatever. Not enough to ease the worries, but enough space to believe that something else could be true. If the worries were eased, he probably would have booted Cyclonus out the moment he realized how much of a mess he was. So he’s got a little bit of fresh bitterness that he has to give Cyclonus that second chance. BUT. On the flip side. Cyclonus sees Starscream giving him that unearned second chance and letting him stay, and Cyclonus is building up a lot of very genuine gratitude towards Starscream very quickly.

BUT. Final piece, I think. The piece I’m the most proud of. There’s a third player in all this business, who Cyclonus doesn’t realize is even there. BUMBLEBEE. Originally, my approximate plans for this fic were to write it as though it was just Starscream and Cyclonus, nobody else, but I managed to slip in bits and pieces of Bumblebee as I went. Some of that is in Cyclonus catching the edges of Starscream speaking to him, or looking at him in the middle of conversations, or reacting to things he says. But that’s a gradual build of ‘huh, that was weird.’

Some of this is going to come up in the next fic in the installment, but Starscream is angry at Cyclonus for shoving his way into his life, and angry at Bumblebee for being a bit judgey about how Starscream handled the whole thing and accidentally tripped into sex. He’s still suspicious that there’s something Cyclonus isn’t telling him (there isn’t, really, he guessed that this was a grief thing, and cyclonus isn’t really thinking much further ahead than ‘please distract me’ at this point). That’s a lot of words to circle back around to this scene. Basically, Bumblebee went out to spy on/check on Cyclonus during that one meeting, and saw Cyclonus going to town on his plating. He came back to tell Starscream what was up, or Starscream probably wouldn’t have noticed, at least not yet. I was really pleased with how that all fit together! Working ghost!bee into stories can be tricky even when it’s a starscream pov, making his presence felt is even trickier without that XD

I don’t think it’s really much of a spoiler at this point that the direction I’m taking this series in is that Starscream and Cyclonus are good for each other. There’s at least one big plot Development in the future that complicates that a bit, but overall, they are going to do each other a lot of good. And part of that is going to tie back to the ways where from a purely physical point of view, they take care of each other. Apart from the sex, which is not exactly this thing (yet), this was the first time I got to touch that directly. Cyclonus feeding Starscream was the first detail I was able to include in the one direction. And Starscream telling Cyclonus to stop hurting himself is the first detail in the other. And that physical caretaking will feed into their emotional needs, and lay groundwork for more openly emotion-related caretaking in the future.

I’m sorry, that is SO many words, but hopefully it’s got interesting information XD That was actually one of the more logistically complicated scenes I’ve written in a long time, just from all the character and plot pieces I had to coordinate into a single scene together. It was one I was really, really pleased with, so thank you for asking about it! It was a lot of fun to talk about it!! :D

#spock replies #starclonus #when i'm falling i'm at peace #self-harm/ #long post/ #transformers #cyclonus x starscream #starscream x cyclonus #cyclonus #starscream #bookoftheazuresky

[devildove-blog]

Twelve Wizard Paths Outside of The Nine Worlds (Poem)

I'm a wizard, baby, meaning a very powerful magickian. I'm a jack of many trades, so this poem details what and how. Here I'll write about a few magickian's trades that apply to my position. After nearly two decades learning magick I'd better know a lot by now. Gaining the magickal power to claim this title takes time to reach in transition.

On my path were many adventures to have and lessons to learn. From reading books to meeting others and exploring the occult therein I figured it out for myself and in time the title of Wizard did earn. Years of learning religious teachings helped me understand being otherkin. Since I was a young boy defying my upbringing for magickal power I did yearn.

The power I have is a result of many factors I don't need to explain. But putting in time and energy to my craft for a long time played a key role. I have thick skin so I don't mind if you view my pride here with disdain. Yet the poetry's here to explain my path not to brag or to try to save your soul. The 12 paths of Wizardry explained here are more obscure to people mundane.

I'm a yogi, baby, and this is some kind of ancient Pagan stuff. This is a time honoured tradition taking more time to apply than to learn. This path requires much patience, time and energy to master well enough. Years of chakras, mantras, mudras, meditation and more will in time power earn. In time weakness fades and strength is gained, and a wise Yogi hides being tough.

Learning from a Koga ninja this Kuji Kiri psychic yoga is how my path will start. Spending years meditating with these mudras, in time I grow strong. Yoga has many uses, and magickal and psychic power gained is just one part. Ignore the doubters and mockers calling my religion fantasy who string you along. Muggles can foolishly assume it all comes from cartoons like Naruto's ninja art.

I can do more than I'll say here; let it an enigma be. Not everything I experience happens while I'm in my body, you see? This transcendentalist religious belief in time proves itself a rational reality. Muggles often just assume others foreign sounding religious beliefs are fantasy. Letting the muggles think it's not real is often a wise strategy.

I'm healer, baby, and more advanced than many. I can fix medical problems other healers and sometimes even doctors can't fix. Hold my hand, feel the energy, and let me free you from any suffering you have with real healing magick, not illusionary tricks. Unlike con artists making money with tricks healing has never earned me a penny.

Empath healing magick described next may be misunderstood too. Speak of your heart's pain, and let me feel an intense amount. I'll cover my eyes to hide my tears, and I could do well to hide that I'm paying a price of pain on your account. If you felt guilty about hurting me you'd never let me heal you, would you?

Now words of wisdom I can speak guiding you on a path new that the energy of your pain gives me the inspiration to share. Now your pain is forever less or gone, because I paid a price of pain for you. The price empath healers pay is much less than the great suffering it can spare. Once this price is paid, there's no more pain for either of us to go through.

I'm a magus, baby, part priest and part mage. I don't preach to the masses; I'd rather use magick to help others. Here we go and here we go again as my pen sets the stage. I'm rollin' with muggles here I for some reason call sisters and brothers. I'm using my magick for some cause here, as life's book turns a new page.

You can call me The Fool, and I can wear many a mask. I live to serve, and my joy is to create joy for others, you see? The deities I work with can help me with many a magickal task. Being a magus is also the path of self, and there's much power in just me. For what reason do some deities help me, but not most humans who ask?

Magi is plural for Magus, and implications of royalty are here. American citizenship requires denouncing royal ranks. Yet the Magus's path is a religious construct, so have no fear. I ain't here to rule and reign.  I just want to earn some thanks. With teamwork muggles can help me fix problems, and happy endings are near.

I'm a necromancer, baby, so don't tell 'em what's true. Don't stab me in the back by being seen publicly expressing to me your love and gratitude for how I used magick to help you. People value my discretion, so don't prove to Fools my power's validity. I'm happy to meet a fan, but I don't desire the public credit that seems due.

In a necromancer's trade being misunderstood is often how it goes. If I show up after sunset in a graveyard I'll bring my tools. Be cool, man.  All I got here is a stick of incense, a bloodstone and a rose. Signs and wonders performed here are kept hidden from the Fools. If you hear the dead hiss or moan as I wake them, stay on your toes.

Muggles, necromancers and the dead all are not very forgiving when some Fool sacrifices an animal in a graveyard. That newb shit pisses off the dead even more than the living. Those Fools piss off necromancers too, making our work hard. I'm there only once to offer any dead willing the contracts I'm giving.

I'm a warlock, baby, an ancient term misunderstood but real. I'll use my power for a good cause and call it doing the thing. The power of war is implied in this word, and I'm the real deal. Let me be occult as I'm guided under a Red Dragon's wing. Tattooed on my back of my left hand is an modified AGLA hexagram seal.

Separation of church and state is a Masonic ideal as is the freedom of religion allowing warlocks to operate. Yet in the occult world there's much hidden in this religious ordeal. As time goes on interpretation of these ideals are open to debate. These balances lacking harmony result in Nobody caring how minorities feel.

To work well with others a warlock needs harmony found working on common ground. The warlock's path has traps, education, judgment and more. If warlock means deceiver does this even mean as it may sound? Who would ever suspect deception to be a humble protector's moral chore? Whether good or evil, eventually every warlock's karma comes back around.

I'm a creator, baby, and like the Ace of Wands I've got the power of fire. Watch me burn bridges faster than you may know with this poem like a pro. My divine, holy, infernal, celestial and gothic flames make creation transpire. I move these flames through 5 primary elements and through more than you know. Fools take a stranger's word unwisely, but fans of my work learn I'm no liar.

When I posted my non-hermetic psychopian elemental system theology online I clearly cited Plato as the source inspiring what I'm parroting thereof. When I don't fit into other mages' labels so called experts pop up to whine. Baby I have access to elements most mages don't, and many aren't even aware of. When it seems wise to do so from time to time I share created power of mine.

Be cool, man, and let the doubters and mockers doubt and mock all they want. Muggles do it most, but it's all arbitrary until they create danger and fear. Interpret my pride on these wizard paths as you will as my talents I flaunt. If you think I'm earning respect by bragging you don't see what's happening here. It's easy to misunderstand the reason behind my rhyme and what I really want.

I'm an occultist, baby, and I study things hidden. The occult hides the magickal, religious, esoteric and things of earthly power. Only so much is found in books, and Fools don't understand the forbidden. I have a couple cards to play, still surprising many by never facing The Tower. Fools rush in where wise men never go for reasons they don't know, no kiddin'.

I've got a weird way of speaking here understood clearly by a few. I'm not the first occultist to be intentionally obscure to most of you. I've got that occult fame in secret circles for better or worse.  Who knew? If you're a fan of my work don't ruin the show explaining this path I go through. Don't judge a book by its cover; in time an occultist's work is paid karma due.

I'm The Fool, The Magus, The Devil and even the Hierophant from time to time. The Magus card comes from the THOTH deck, used by me for reasons unsuspected. If I call myself The Devil would you just assume I live an evil life of crime? The Devil is Rider Waite though, so my chains are often with gratitude accepted. I deal these tarot cards as the lesson of my occult strengths in this rhyme.

I'm a Dog of Reason, baby, so named in the memory of harmony true. We've got memes and shit, and things we do to build a New World. From chaos comes Order, a lesson taught and learned in time and time again too. The occult can be a dangerous thing, yet we've no banner to be unfurled. These wizard-dawgs work for one love for humanity to do the thing we do.

This ain't no criminal organization or some kinda terror shit. This is one of many parts of my greater dreams and ambitions. Membership is by invitation only, so if you're motivated prove it. We ain't thelemites, baby, and with great power comes some terms and conditions. Some want more time to work, and others want more time to Fool around a bit.

I'll share some magick and theology online from time to time. The gospel of figure it out for yourself is dogma as my theology already shew. Dogs of Reason have two commandments in this religion, besides avoiding crime. Seemingly a joke if unexplained, yet truth is hidden in plain site to you. Is the illusion of a joke as real dogma even dispelled to most with this rhyme?

I'm a cyber-mage, baby, like these chaos mages in a way. I've had training and practice on this path I've been on since 2003 when I joined the TIAMAT Cyber-Magick News-list back in the day. I've spent years evolving my craft, and now have things to share for all to see. My joy is to bring you joy so follow me and I'll lead the way.

My cyber-magick is all safe and fun to use, and there's nothing to be afraid of. Free Magick Enterprises gives two projects of cyber-magick. Let my star evolve your heart chakra, and experience new love. Take the red pill, and this devil can even remove your unwanted chains so tragic. No money will be accepted, so forget about the price tag from this devil dove.

Here come the doubters and mockers; Thinly veiled saying: "I'm better than you." I don't have time to be lectured by these Fools that Cyber-magick isn't real. Participate or don't, but Bhakti Yogi say the proof is in the pudding if you do. We did lots of experiments and testing with group input in this TIAMAT deal. I learned a lot and had years of practice to develop cyber-magick that's new.

I'm an alchemist, baby, and I got the mad transformation skills for the physical and spiritual nature of substances, souls and magick too. Sure, man, let the weaker mages brag about the power to destroy and their kills. Alchemy's sacred transformation art is beyond what they know how to do. Like Yoga, this power's about time and effort on this path not cheap thrills.

I'm on a quest to not just learn new magick, but to make it evolve. I'll purify forbidden black magicks citing the great work of the ages as my cause to create that which before did not exist and otherwise unending problems solve. Alchemy's art of creation may come with a price, so beware of that because. To purify the corrupt may corrupt the pure, but balance a price paid to absolve.

With Alchemy I can create joy and harmony, and I like to work for free. Alchemists of old claimed they might turn lead to gold as part of their plan so a King would protect their right to practice and pay their research's fee instead of explaining occult arts involved that matter not to the common man. This misunderstood art involves more and includes transformation spiritually.

I'm left hand path, baby, and yes it's really true. Different people, mostly mages, find different meanings therein. The left hand path most simply put means just to be taboo. What hand is my tattoo on then?  Baby, that's secretly a Talisman. Let's turn back the clock of time to understand meanings old and new.

This term comes from India if you'll study history that far. Originally this insult started to describe Tantric Yoga when first created. The dark ages belief explaining its meaning that left handed people are morally and intellectually weaker than the right has since become outdated. The more things change the more they stay the same until someone raises the bar.

In modern times the left hand insult resurfaces metaphorically. Now embraced by many eager to be shunned by society the left hand path evolves into its own mentality. From a religious reference to basic views on morality the devil is implied on this path either literal or symbolically.

I'm a trickster, baby, and that's an occult magick path. I'll teach you lessons mostly harmless so don't take them personally. If I see chaos I may create order; see my results to do the math. I'm an educational experience; I guess I'm like this inherently. Mistake my kindness for weakness and will you get forgiveness or wrath?

I was born this way, and I'm not going through a phase as others are. When I started calling myself The Fool, that would have been your first clue. I've got metaphors like dark disguises and masks that take me far. I live to serve, and there's a method to the madness; it's true. Pride and humility working together in harmony help trickery raise the bar.

In the occult only so much is learned online or in a book. As an occultist trickster this rule applies to me the same. I'll capture the essence of my story in the poems for those who look. Here lies the story of my path as a Wizard and why this title I claim. These 12 titles of magickal paths explain why the 13th title of Wizard I took.

I'm a Wizard, Baby, just like I said before. I'm a wordsmith here sharing this path with you. As the tale comes to the end of this rhyme's chore the tip of the iceberg has been revealed to view. Muggles may take interest in this poem, or was it just a bore?

I guess doubters gonna doubt and mockers gonna mock. In the end it's always what I do and not what I say that shows my true strength. If you've walked the paths I walk you may better understand that of which I talk. I've got dreams and goals hopefully soon reached at arm's length. In Chinese Astrology not surprisingly I'm born in the year of the cock.

My story doesn't end with this poem, and my life goes on still. There's still more adventures to have, power to gain and knowledge to learn. There's still people to meet, places to go and things to do as I wilt and will. This poem describes the path, but is not in itself how a Wizard's respect I gain. If you wanted to understand my magickal path, this poem shall your wish fulfill

#poem #poetry #ftf #find the fool #occult #occultist #the magus #the fool #magic #magick

[mymothershumility]

Hal/laira + 15. kiss in the rain

Kiss Meme || { Accepting }

{ @neverflownwithme​ & @fullrangeofemotions }

She didn’t mind the rain. She never had. A sense of calm had always accompanied it, something that Laira had found herself struggling to hold on to during past portions of her life. So, she didn’t mind the occasional downpour or storm that popped up from time to time.

Her husband did not share her same contentment. Hal was, as he enjoyed telling her, made for sunny days and warm weather. Perhaps the only thing that bothered him more than rain was in fact cold.

Well, that had been the case at one point. Now, Laira thought that the rain bothered him more. It made the incision areas and the scars on and around his chest ache. She was no stranger to the discomfort that could be brought about by cool or damp weather to past injury areas. With Hal being scheduled to attend a physical therapy session that day, Laira knew he would be sore as it was. The rainy weather was only going to increase his discomfort.

It was that knowledge that had brought her out onto the street, jacket wrapped tight around her and umbrella in hand. Throughout his sessions, Hal had been adamant about returning to work after each of them for the remainder of the day. It had yielded long afternoons for not just Hal, but for those who worked with him as well. It was Laira’s hope that she could intercept him before he made his way back to the engineering building. She had already contacted Donna to tell her that Hal would not be returning for the afternoon.

Standing outside of the local wellness center, Laira watched the rain fall down into the ocean and listened to the sound of the drops beating against her umbrella. It would have been a perfect day to stay indoors, preferably lounging in bed. Those days had been few and far between as of late. When she heard the doors slide open behind her, Laira turned to look behind her. She had been expecting Hal. He had not been the one to exit the building, though.

Laira continued to wait, content to watch the rain and listen to the steady drumming against the umbrella that was protecting her from the torrent. It was another fifteen minutes at least before Hal exited the center. He looked just as Laira had predicted he would: exhausted and in clear discomfort. It took him a moment to realize she was standing just in front of him. It always took him a moment or so longer when she was in disguise. It wasn’t as he was used to seeing her. When he did realize she was standing there, she saw the confused furrow of his brow and the dip of his mouth.

“Princess?” His hands were tugging at his jacket, pulling it higher up on his shoulders. Hal made the effort to mask the wince of pain he wanted to release. Laira didn’t need to worry more than she already was. He moved to where she was standing beneath the umbrella, sidling up next to her. He let his arm slip around her waist as he did so. “What are you doing out in this weather? You’re going to catch a cold.”

She nearly chuckled at his words to her. Instead, she reached up to press a comforting hand to the side of his neck. The skin and the hair at the nape of his neck were damp with sweat. It was proof of the exertion he’d given during his session. Her mouth dipped into a sympathetic smile, nails briefly dragging across his skin.

“You have forgotten where I was born and grew up,” she finally responded. A little rain and cool weather was of no bother to her. He knew that himself. Still, Laira knew the knowledge wouldn’t stop him from fretting over her.

He smiled down at her while she spoke, feeling more at ease in those few seconds than he ever thought would have been possible. Laira had a way of doing that, though. He shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was. “Forget sometimes you’re a regular arctic fox.” He was teasing her, hand still caught at her waist. While a beat of silence lingered between them, Hal took a moment to look out over the water. The weather was getting worse. The idea of Laira having to walk back home on her own, even if it was just a few short blocks away, bothered him.

“You didn’t have to come down here and check on me, Princess,” he continued, looking back to her. “I’m fine. You should’ve stayed home where it’s dry.”

Laira maneuvered the umbrella from one hand to her other, shifting her weight on her feet simultaneously. “A little rain will not harm me.” It was a fact he was well aware of. Laira felt the need to voice it despite his knowledge. “My intentions were not to check on you,” she assured. A half truth. “I thought you might like company on your walk home.”

The statement should have surprised him. Hal found himself anything but surprised, though. The comment explained why Donna had texted him half an hour ago with reassurances that everything was slow and there was nothing for him to worry about. “What about after we get back home? Are you gonna keep me company then?”

Hal saw no point in arguing against her. She was there and had every intention of getting him back home. He supposed, in a way, it was a win-win. He could make sure she got home safely and spend some time with her. That had been lacking a lot lately.

“Only if you behave,” she answered, mouth curving in a satisfied smile. A moment later, she motioned for him to follow her with a nod of her head.

Umbrella securely in hand, the two of them made their way down the sidewalk. The wind started to pick up a few minutes into their walk, blowing rain underneath the umbrella and up against their legs. It wouldn’t be much longer now, at least. Just a couple of more blocks and they would be home again.

By the time they reached their home, lightning had started to splinter out through the ever darkening sky and the rain had increased in intensity. Hal guessed in the long run it was a good thing that Laira had shown up when she had. If he’d gone back to the office, he would have been fit to be tied right then.

At least here at home he could change into dry clothes.

Their umbrella propped just outside the door, Laira slipped out of her boots and her jacket once they were inside. Both items were soaked through. Her jacket would need to be laundered. When she moved to hang the clothing up to dry, she was surprised by the press of a hand to her stomach and lips to her temple. She turned back to look at Hal, eyes soft and brow arched in question.

An expression of gratitude; of adoration.

“You said you were going to keep me company,” he reminded, leaning to press another kiss to the bridge of her nose. 

“If you behaved,” Laira reminded, unable to fight her smile. She laughed, the sound lost amidst a booming roll of thunder overhead. “You need to remove your wet clothes first, though. You are not getting on our couch or in our bed with them on.”

“You know, Princess, if you don’t want me in anything, all you’ve gotta do is say so. No need to make excuses.” He was leaning forward again, fingers hooking in the belt loops of her pants to pull her closer.

Her jacket was dropped in favor of bracing her hands at his hips. She would have voiced her belief, too, if she hadn’t been distracted by the sudden dip of his head and the press of his mouth to her collarbone.

“You are insatiable,” she finally decided upon. And he truly was. “You need to be resting.” Wasn’t that her reasoning behind going to retrieve him? To bring him home and allow him to rest?

“PT says a little exercise won’t hurt me.” In moderation, for then. And not immediately after a session. But, she wasn’t there right then. And it wasn’t like he was going to be doing anything crazy. He moved up once more, palms resting along the sides of her face and mouth pressing to hers.

She made a muttering sound as he spoke, not believing him for a moment. Disbelief aside, Laira had no plans to deter him from what he was doing.

Perhaps she was just as insatiable as he was.

#fullrangeofemotions #neverflownwithme #;transmissions #v; from fire and ash #;drabble #otp; you are the light in the dark

[notestos3lf]

Note To Self: 03.

Love Languages

Okay, so ever since I read ‘The Game of Desire’ by Shan Boodram, I was/am inspired to rediscover who I am, love myself and be confident in who I am in order to be a better person but also to attract the best partner for me. 

In her 5 step process, the first step is learning about yourself and one of the key components in learning about yourself is my ‘Love Language’. If you don’t already know what a love language is, it’s a concept that describes how one expresses love and interpret love back. It’s vital to know in relationships, especially romantic kinds, because it can help you improve relationships and help those make you feel more loved, appreciated and secure. 

My love language is Words of Affirmation, followed by quality time and acts of service. Words of Affirmation being my main love language makes sense because I get become all giddy and happy whenever I hear someone express to me how much they love, appreciate and admire me. To me, words leave a deeper mark than actions because its the thought behind those words and the intention behind those words that I hear and value the most. I know words and actions can be misleading, however, words to me are beautiful. Whenever I express love, I usually do it by acts of services or through verbal affirmations/expressions and I really take the time to choose words and pour my heart out through words. 

If I’m going to delve in further, my parents never said much when it came to expressing their love. They did things by actions, so like working  alot to provide me the things I needed and wanted. I appreciated that, but I heard their words of disappointment or criticism more than affirmations or at least focused more on those negative comments than the positive ones. The only thing I truly remember growing up that was positive was my dad saying, “I love you so much” to my sister and I. Looking back, I loved hearing that and it made me happy. My mom didn’t say much to me, just did things for me, which I appreciated regardless. I even remember reading somewhere that your love language is typically what you lacked growing up, so that fact that I didn’t enough or lacked hearing positive, affirming and encouraging words makes sense on how I want to express and show love to others. 

For my love language, I usually write long messages to others for their birthdays. For my past romantic partner, I would write love notes to them coupled with a gift or an act of service. I would express daily to partner that I loved them or I missed them. I would send funny memes and write “thinking of you” or “thought of you”. I would also take the time to give my gratitude via words whenever someone did something for me or helped me in some way. I would even compliment another person back if they complimented me. 

However, if someone says something negative about me, I get real hurt. I get easily offended if its by someone I value or someone’s opinion I care about. If it’s someone I don’t know or whose opinion I could care less about, the insult or critic usually goes in one ear and out the other, but if it’s a family member or a close friend or even my past partner, I’d get really defensive and I’d typically bite back. So as much as I love hard with words, I also have the capacity to destroy others with words as well. So that’s something I need to work on because I realize the impact that words have on me, and I need to learn how to differentiate the intention behind those words, the feeling I have (whether it’s an insecurity thats rising or if its a insult thats worth fighting over) and how much I need to take into consideration their words (cause sometimes, its usually not getting into a huge fight about). 

For someone that isn’t about words, I can come off clingy. The thing about this love language is that I typically like to be told lovely things on the daily. So for my partner, I guess they need to tell me words of affirmation genuinely and honestly. It doesn’t need to be everyday cause life and work gets in the way, but I guess those moments of “Im thinking of you” or “i love you” go a long way for me. But the intention and the genuineness behind the words REALLY make a difference. Routine does happen when it comes to long-term relationships (I mean, its expected), but its those spontaneous words/acts of service/moments of love with the intention and genuineness of love that really make me super happy, appreciated, loved and secure in a relationship. 

I also realize that as much as I enjoy words of affirmation from friends, family and romantic partners, I should also give myself the same amount of love and effort to myself. I need to be, more time, responsible for telling myself words of affirmation and believing in it cause self-love is the most important thing everyone needs. Self-love is the root of my happiness and confidence. So I need to remind myself to love me more by telling myself encouraging, positive words of love and affirmation cause I deserve it, and once I believe it and wear that self-love, others notice and get drawn to it and will give compliments to where its due. 

I LOVE MYSELF. I LOVE YOU RACH. YOU ARE THE EPITOME OF KINDNESS, GRATITUDE, EMPATHY AND SACRIFICE. THERE IS NO ONE THAT CAN HYPE UP ANYONE MORE THAN YOU. YOU HAVE AN INFECTIOUS POSITIVE ENERGY THAT PEOPLE ARE DRAWN TO, COMBINED WITH YOUR KILLER SMILE, YOUR WARM HEART AND YOUR BEAUTIFUL SOUL, YOU ARE A CATCH. YOU GOT IT. YOU ARE A QUEEN. AND WHATS SO COOL ABOUT YOU IS THAT DESPITE THE HURT YOU’VE EXPERIENCED, DESPITE THE INSECURITIES YOU FACE, DESPITE THE PAIN YOU HAVE FELT, YOU CONTINUE TO SHOWER THOSE (FRIENDS AND STRANGERS ALIKE) WITH LOVE, OPENNESS AND KINDNESS. YOU DEMONSTRATE GODS LOVE AND KINDNESS TO ALL WHO MEET YOU. YOU ARE A WICKED DANCER, A SMART NURSE AND A PERSON WITH GOOD FOOD TASTE. YOU DESERVE ALL THE LOVE, JOY AND BLESSINGS. GWAN BIG UP YASELF. <3 DON’T EVER FORGET THE LIGHT YOU HAVE WITHIN. DONT EVER LET ANYONE MAKE YOU THINK DIFFERENT ABOUT YOURSELF. YOU ARE ONE OF A KIND AND ANYONE IS LUCKY TO KNOW YOU AND EXPERIENCE YOUR ENERGY. YOU DO YOU, BOO. I LOVE AND BELIEVE IN YOU. 

(So yeah, that’s my first post entry about learning about myself. I will continue to do this series from Shan’s book and rediscover who I am. Damn, I feel good already just reflecting and learning about myself.)