I Have More Than One Tumblr Account Incase If I Say Shit Its Gonna Be Something That Everyone Hates And

hell's paradise is a fun story where everybody smiles

okay but having adhd is so sad when you don’t have a hyperfixation so pretty much nothing gives you joy and you try and force joy out of stuff, you attempt new interests, you go back to old hyperfixations and... nothing? :( it’s so upsetting because it’s like damn. i can’t even have fun in a normal way. and that’s kind of sad ngl

all the memes about when you need to be at somewhere at a certain time but you need to get coffee or something so you need to get ready like 15 or 30 minutes earlier but for someone who's time blind watching it is like " how the fuck youre so sure that you need to do it 15 minutes earlier- h- how do you know its gonna take 15 minutes?????? what if you get motional or need more mental preparation to do it??? " i cant tell the time so shit is mega vague when i planned for something it sometimes goes like Must be at A at 13.00. the travel will take around an hour to get there. better get B before im at A. so that means i must go at fucking 7 in the morning just in case time goes extra fast or i am just extra slow or if im getting a bit sad and dumb... but then leaves at 12.15

3 Tips for Fast Drafting Your Novel In Record Time

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. Writing Mastery Academy, a 2021 NaNo sponsor, was founded by Jessica Brody, author of the bestselling plotting guide Save the Cat! Writes a Novel. In this post, Jessica shares her tips for getting words down on the page quickly, aka Fast Drafting:

As an author who writes on more than 350,000 words per year, I like to joke that every month is a NaNoWriMo for me. So with the real NaNoWriMo approaching, I thought I’d share my top 3 tips for writing quickly and efficiently, which you can use to easily smash through that 50k mark this November! 

1. You Don’t Need an Outline. You Only Need 5 Things.

As the author of Save the Cat! Writes a Novel, I’m used to talking about plot. But as any happy “pantser” will tell you, you don’t have to start a novel with a full plot outline (although you certainly can!). 

No matter if you’re a die hard plotter, pantser or somewhere in between, I urge you to, at the very least, sit down and brainstorm 5 things about your main character, your plot, and your world before you begin writing. 

Keep reading

Me, person with chronic pain : I am in pain. My body is heavy.

My mom : maybe you should try boxing?

LOOK- I CAN'T EVEN BE MAD AT THIS.

So true of Altair to name his prison-buddy rat after Nasir.

Congratulations! Today, you get to learn the difference between memory and recall. There is an important difference, and understanding that difference will make you a better ally to the disabled community and also more understanding of your own brain!

What is memory?

Memory is the information your brain has stored for later. Let's make an analogy: your memory can be compared to files stored on a computer. Your brain is extremely complex and has a deep, layered filing system.

When your roommate's friend visits and introduces herself, you put her name in one of the many name folders. Our brains are complex enough that we can assume there are thousands of those folders, each for a different type of name and how you know it: friend names, immediate family names, extended family names, classmate names, coworker names, celebrity names, and so on and so forth, forever.

What is recall?

Recall is not whether you have something stored, but whether you can find it. Like that photo of you at summer camp in sixth grade that's stored somewhere on your computer, the information you learn throughout daily life is sorted somewhere into your brain's filing system. The longer ago that you put the information into the system, the harder it is to find, unless you frequently visit those files.

For the average instance of recall, people generally use the equivalent of the search bar of their brain's filing system. The information is sorted precisely so it's, naturally, recalled in the blink of an eye.

However, you may have had moments of recall issues. Everyone does here and there. The sensation of a word being on the tip of your tongue is a common example of issues with recall. You know the word, but it's just not coming up when you search for it.

In instances like these, you end up kind of manually rooting around in your brain's folders, desperately looking for associated folders that it might have been mis-stored in. You're trying to think of a vegetable you know of, so you start listing off other vegetables to yourself, as if sifting through the vegetable folder.

Sometimes, this association game can bring forth the missing file - or in this case, vegetable name. In other cases, you simply have to let it go and wait for it to come to you later. That might mean you smacking your forehead 48 hours later when you're in the middle of driving to work and the name of that vegetable suddenly throws itself right in the middle of your internal monologue.

Recall and disability

So, what does this have to do with disability? Well, the average person may have occasional recall issues, but for many disabled people, these issues are extremely prevalent. For neurodivergent folks or those with brain fog, we can end up having trouble recalling things many times in a day. It is extremely frustrating and can even be embarrassing in social situations.

For example, your roommate's friend, who you've hung out with on multiple occasions and heard numerous stories about might drop by six months later and you might stand there trying to avoid talking while you scramble desperately through your name files trying to recall her name when you know it's in there somewhere. It's a real life reproduction of that scene in SpongeBob where he only knows how to be a waiter. By the time she addresses you, it's too little too late and you have to admit that for some reason her name is evading you. It's humiliating.

Be understanding of recall issues

These issues have little to do with how important something is to a person. If you know someone who's disabled and they have frequent issues recalling words or names, it's just because the search function in their brain sometimes breaks down and they have to rely on manually digging through the billions of memories they have to try and find what they're looking for.

If you know someone with this issue who is comfortable with it, try filling in the gaps for them! It can be a fun bonding experience, especially between two people with recall issues, to immediately offer a word that seems to fit the flow of the sentence as soon as the other starts to draw a blank. The better you know them, the easier it is.

If you know someone with recall issues, be patient when they use you as a living thesaurus. You're saving them countless hours of googling or agonizing over what that word was - you know, the one that's like willingly suffering for an extended period of time about something that may or may not matter? (I just had issues recalling 'agonizing' 😔)

Anyway, that's all for today! I hope you've all learned something new about recall and how it affects people with disabilities differently/more frequently than the average person

Well put. (Source: Writing About Writing Facebook page)

(source: me, on twitter)

THE GREAT ASS-SMACKING WAR

character(s): Caleb Xia x f!reader (fluff)

having an ass slapping contest with best friend caleb

wc: 1.4k

The lock of the bathroom in your shared apartment clicked and your body reacted immediately, paddling down the hall to get your nail polish remover from what Caleb had decided to turn into his personal spa for a solid hour.

As you entered, you had to waddle all the hot steam away from your face with one hand, maintaining a hold on an apple juice-box with the other.

Caleb stood by the sink, wrapping a towel around his hips, water dripping from his bangs onto his wide chest as he did so. He jolted slightly at your sudden presence slipping behind him but paid you no further attention - used to you mingling in his business and him in yours.

You rummaged through the cabinet until you pocketed the bottle and began to make your way back out of the bathroom, chewing on the straw, but then-

You paused.

There he was.

Caleb was bent over, reaching for something under the sink, towel sagging so dangerously low that the temptation got the better of you. Without even processing it, you jabbed a freezing cold finger straight down his partially exposed ass crack. 

The reaction was instant.

Caleb let out a squirrel yelp of such high pitch that no man his size should be capable of. His whole body jerked as if you tazed him, spine snapping back and arching as the towel slipped from his fingers and fell with a soft thud.

“Wha- PIPS- WHA- OH MY GOD!” he shrieked, face flushed, hands flailing around as he fumbled for anything to cover himself up.

You stood there unmoved, watching the 6'2" wall of muscle panic like a Victorian lady who just flashed an ankle on the street.

And just when he managed to clutch the towel with both hands, crouching away from you to preserve at least some of his dignity, you raised one hand-

SMACK.

The slap echoed.

He froze. Eyes wide. Mouth hanging open. Dignity? What dignity. Shattered… Completely.

…

…

He stared at you like you had just smacked his soul instead of his naked ass.

You raised the juice to your lips, still not breaking eye contact with him in the utter silence.

SLLuuuUuUuuUURrrRRppPpppPPppPpPPPppPpp

“Ah~,” you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “Whore.”

And you escaped the room at the speed of light.

“KISS MY ASS!”

“Gladly!” you screamed back at him from the hall.

“Freak!”

“Certified!”

On that beautiful blooming spring day, Thursday the 7th of March, 'The Great Ass-Smacking War' began.

Somehow, it became a truth universally acknowledged, that landing a bare-cheeked one counted double but also that the battlefield was restricted solely to the premises of the apartment complex; the elevator, stairwells, garage, rooftop, lobby, and other semi-public areas, all included.

Y/n’s War Journal - DAY 2: The Rooftop. He led me here. Lured me out under false pretense of stargazing and a truce. I believed him. “He wouldn't,” I thought. He did. “For yesterday,” he hissed at me. I have a red imprint now. A crow made eye contact with me. It knew…

Captain Caleb’s Log -  DAY 16: The Elevator. I hit the button. She hit me. A clean strike. I fear we have entered a point of no return.

Y/n’s War Journal - DAY 51: The Stairwell. I took the stairs to avoid him. He was already there, waiting for me. Mid-step. It was a full palm one - sent me back up three steps and made me see a spirit. I can still hear his demonic cackle.

Captain Caleb’s Log -  DAY 183: The Lobby. I managed to retreat before retaliation. Civilians were alerted. A toddler next to her screamed too. One passerby asked, “Sir, that’s your girlfriend?” To which I replied, “Not anymore.” Victory: Absolute.

Y/n’s War Journal - DAY 243: The Garbage Chute. His hands were full - a defenceless state. He moaned. “Biodegradable,” I said. * The garbage man high-fived me.

It’s been a long day at uni and you just stumbled into the apartment, heavy bags dropping to the floor, back hurting, stomach grumbling, you name it.

But the apartment… dead silent. It was unusual for Caleb to not be blasting music in the kitchen, let alone not calling out to you the moment you came back - taking your jacket and bags from you like the housewife he prided himself to be. 

“Caleb?” you called out, hanging up the keys.

No response.

You took off your shoes and placed them on their spot right next to Caleb’s. He had to be in the apartment - all of his pairs were in place, not a single one missing.

“Gege?”

…

“Clownboy?”

…

“Cilantro?”

You furrowed your brows, cringing at whatever the fuck just left your own lips.

Your coat slid down your shoulders and as you freed yourself from it, it brushed right below your ass, sending a shiver down your bare legs.

It all clicked.

Your mini skirt. Caleb had pestered you about how short it was just this morning and you were in the lead after scoring in the garbage chute.

“Oh fuck off, Caleb!” you yelled out, backing into a wall, ass flush against the cool surface like it was a question of life and death. “This isn’t fucking funny! I’m tired, alright?!”

Silence.

You started shuffling sideways along the hallway, eyes darting all over the place. Every doorway was a potential trap - he could be anywhere.

“I swear to god, if you jump me, I’m shoving your Millennium Falcon down the toilet!”

A floorboard creaked behind you.

You whipped around.

Nothing there. 

Another creak but closer. Then behind you. That dickhead was playing with you, applying pressure all over the floors with his evol.

If you could just get to the bathroom... Lock yourself in there and take a warm shower. Relax a little. Change into some comfy sweats...

You kept dragging your ass along the walls. Almost there. The bathroom’s door knob came within reach surprisingly easily. It was now just across the hall. What was he playing at? Maybe he was napping this whole time? Could you have miscounted the shoes?

And just as you peeled away from the wall, reaching for the door, it flew open.

You screamed.

Caleb burst out like a line-backer. He tackled you - one thick arm snaked around your waist, yanking you off the floor, the whole world turning upside down. There was no escaping his grasp now. Your legs wiggled in the air and your head hung by his knees, hair dragging across the floor.

That left one thing exposed - the entirety of your ass, right there, right next to his smug face.

“BEHOLD!” he howled, “THE GODS OF WAR HAVE CHOSEN ME AS THEIR CHAMPION TODAY!”

You shrieked, “CALEB! NO- LET ME GO, YOU ABSOLUTE MENA-"

SMACK.

You gasped.

“You chose this path for yourself!” he hissed, eyes wild. “Right here, in this sanctuary!”

SMACK.

“I WILL SHIT IN YOUR PROTEIN POWDER!”

SMACK.

“YOU WERE THE ONE WHO STARTED THIS!” he screamed back, dodging your wild kicks, “I’M ENDING IT! HERE AND NOW!”

SMACK-SMACK.

You kicked and flailed and cursed, but it was too late; the scales had tipped.

A final thunder-smack echoed through the hall.

You gasped. Mouth agape. Eyes bloodshot, brimming with tears. That wasn’t just a slap. That was centuries of ass-smacking tradition coursing through his palm.

Caleb dropped you like a sack of potatoes onto the floor, breathing heavily, triumphant grin etched into his red face, while you lay there. Betrayed. Violated. Spiritually wrecked and left in complete ruins.

You rolled onto your back with a groan.

Then, still gasping for air, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out an apple juice box. Looking down at you sprawled on the floor, he caught the straw between his lips.

SLLuuuUuUuuUURrrRRppPpppPPppPpPPPppPpp

He sighed, leaning against the counter. “You know what this tastes like?”

You twitched on the floor.

“Tastes like justice.”

He crouched down next to you, poking your cheek like a toddler checking if a cockroach is dead.

“You good?”

“My ancestors were watching this shitshow.”

He patted your head. "Bet they're still clapping."

And just as he rose to leave, you summoned the last speck of strength you had left in your broken soul, dragging your phone out.

You opened the contacts list.

“Okay,” you huffed, propping yourself up with one shaking arm, pressing the phone to your ear. “You think this is over?”

Beeeeepppp

He turned, mid-strut. “Uh, yeah?”

Beeeeepppp

Beeeeepppp- “Yes, kitten~?”

You smirked. “Let’s see how you do against three and a bird.”

tag list for my beloved: @cordidy, @midiplier