do you ever get those pangs of anxiety where you feel like nobody likes you and nobody will ever like you and you will achieve nothing
I used to. And then I dug in. And here it’s easier, because we find other minds like ours, no matter how eccentric our thought processes and our tastes are. No matter how strange we think our likes in movies and books and studies are, there are people here with the same likes who think there’s no one who shares them until we link, and observe, and swap a message or two, or three. We recommend books or movies to each other, then try a phone call, or a visit, and slowly we add another person who feels as we do, and another.
And time passes, and one day you look around you and you may only ever have a cluster of as many good friends as you have fingers, but they’re really good friends, and the bad patches will have evaporated away with the get-togethers and the projects you have finished.
The trick is to keep slogging and to reach out now and then when someone says something worthwhile. You don’t have to do it every day. Just when the possibilities seem like fun.
SIRIUS - BLACK AS HE’S PAINTED?NOTORIOUS MASS MURDERER OR INNOCENT SINGING SENSATION?
that time when there were crack fics in canon
this one was a masterpiece and Sirius specifically asked for this one to be delivered to him and i’m still laughinh anf cryuyinb
My mother says that fanfiction doesn’t count as reading because “it isn’t nearly as good as the stuff that’s published. You’re not going to find something online that will win a Booker Prize.”
Please reblog if you count fan fiction as reading, or if the fanfiction you’ve read is equally as good as published novels. I want to see the figures.
*crushes mouse while hitting reblog button*
*SMASHES BUTTONS LIKE IT WILL SAVE A LIFE*
Me: Roll over.
GM: The hedgehog rolls over. It’s adorable.
GM: You take a few steps away. The hedgehog remains where it is.
GM: The hedgehog heals you for 5 HP.
Me: Holy shit.
Instead of waiting in her tower, Rapunzel slices off her long, golden hair with a carving knife, and then uses it to climb down to freedom.
Just as she’s about to take the poison apple, Snow White sees the familiar wicked glow in the old lady’s eyes, and slashes the evil queen’s throat with a pair of sewing scissors.
Cinderella refuses everything but the glass slippers from her fairy godmother, crushes her stepmother’s windpipe under her heel, and the Prince falls madly in love with the mysterious girl who dons rags and blood-stained slippers.
Persephone goes adventuring with weapons hidden under her dress.
Persephone climbs into the gaping chasm.
Or, Persephone uses her hands to carve a hole down to hell.
In none of these versions is Persephone’s body violated unless she asks Hades to hold her down with his horse-whips.
Not once does she hold out on eating the pomegranate, instead biting into it eagerly and relishing the juice running down her chin, staining it red.
In some of the stories, Hades never appears and Persephone rules the underworld with a crown of her own making.
In all of them, it is widely known that the name Persephone means Bringer of Destruction.
Red Riding Hood marches from her grandmother’s house with a bloody wolf pelt.
Medusa rights the wrongs that have been done to her.
Eurydice breaks every muscle in her arms climbing out of the land of the dead.
Girls are allowed to think dark thoughts, and be dark things.
Instead of the dragon, it’s the princess with claws and fiery breath
who smashes her way from the confines of her castle
and swallows men whole.
'Reinventing Rescuing,' theappleppielifestyle. (via justawordshaker)
Give me all of them.
My mother once told me that trauma is like Lord of the Rings. You go through this crazy, life-altering thing that almost kills you (like say having to drop the one ring into Mount Doom), and that thing by definition cannot possibly be understood by someone who hasn’t gone through it. They can sympathize sure, but they’ll never really know, and more than likely they’ll expect you to move on from the thing fairly quickly. And they can’t be blamed, people are just like that, but that’s not how it works.
Some lucky people are like Sam. They can go straight home, get married, have a whole bunch of curly headed Hobbit babies and pick up their gardening right where they left off, content to forget the whole thing and live out their days in peace. Lots of people however, are like Frodo, and they don’t come home the same person they were when they left, and everything is more horrible and more hard then it ever was before. The old wounds sting and the ghost of the weight of the one ring still weighs heavy on their minds, and they don’t fit in at home anymore, so they get on boats go sailing away to the Undying West to look for the sort of peace that can only come from within. Frodos can’t cope, and most of us are Frodos when we start out.
But if we move past the urge to hide or lash out, my mother always told me, we can become Pippin and Merry. They never ignored what had happened to them, but they were malleable and receptive to change. They became civic leaders and great storytellers; they we able to turn all that fear and anger and grief into narratives that others could delight in and learn from, and they used the skills they had learned in battle to protect their homeland. They were fortified by what had happened to them, they wore it like armor and used it to their advantage.
It is our trauma that turns us into guardians, my mother told me, it is suffering that strengthens our skin and softens our hearts, and if we learn to live with the ghosts of what had been done to us, we just may be able to save others from the same fate. S.T.Gibson (via ratatoskidile)