#crazy brain

[theslimysquid]

How I feel when explaining the plot of my novel that I haven't written a single word for yet..

[wyldezoo]

Crazy Brain

[li-stock-holm]

I woke up yesterday in the middle of the night and wrote down stuff that was running in my brain cause I thought it was brilliant and people should see it

now I'm reading this and I'm just agjahaha wtf

"my freedom otdalut

with the tolerance comes the judging - why do people judge people who judge people who don't like cheese but deny being assholes

I love cheese" © my crazy midnight brain

there is no such word as "otdalut" girl get your shit together

[youreverycolor]

me: i want a guy who treats me like rafael treats anna, but i’m never going to find him, because he doesn’t exist.

also me: oh my god, this guy treats me like rafael treats anna. i should break up with him because he’s too good for me.

[beckleboo]

>> I don’t think people understand how stressful it is to explain what’s going on in your head when you don’t even understand it yourself <<

[icetsvu]

[shieldmaiden19]

Disaster’s In The Air

Entertain the thought for one quick second that Pidge hacked into the Castle’s computer systems - I mean, it’s practically canon - and managed to sync their phone to sound systems all across the Castle. 

Now imagine them sitting with Hunk in the control room, watching security feeds of Keith and Lance together on the training deck. They take the mic for the intercom, making sure the signal is only going to the training deck, and say very clearly, “I can see what’s happening.”

Both boys’ heads go up - they know good things never come when Pidge sounds that gleeful - but they’re more unsure than anything.

When Hunk exclaims, “What?” and Pidge sighs, “And they don’t have a clue,” Lance goes pale and immediately sprints for the doors to the rest of the castle.

Pidge doesn’t lock the doors down until Lance is almost there.

Color floods Lance’s face when he hears Hunk smirk, “Who?”

“Pidge, I swear to God-”

If anything, Pidge gets more gleeful as they fake-pout, “They’ll fall in love, and here’s the bottom line: our trio’s down to two.”

“Oh.”

Now Pidge is singing, Lance is furious, and Keith is just confused. “The sweet caress of twilight - there’s magic everywhere...”

Lance is yelling obscenities in Spanish, cursing Hunk and Pidge to listen to only Rick Aston for  what remains of their miserable existences, and still Pidge keeps singing, “And with all this romantic atmosphere, disaster’s in the air...”

Can You Feel The Love Tonight fades in, the regular lights fade out, and technicolor prom lights light up the training deck. 

Even Keith can’t miss the implications. He flushes darker than Lance, but the shock quickly wears off to leave him almost shaking with frustration. He takes out his bayard, determined to cut through the door, when he is halted by Pidge’s voice over the intercom.

“You might not want to do that, Keith. The door may or may not be rigged to blow if anyone but me unlocks it.”

“What do you want with us?” Lance screams.

The track comes to a halt.

“Think of this as a scientific experiment, guys. Hunk and I are running a test on two specimens, and we will repeat this procedure as many times as we need until we see the desired effect.”

“They mean you’ve got to sing your parts,” Hunk interjects helpfully. 

Lance can hear Pidge’s smirk when they say, “Keith is Simba, Lance is Nala.”

Lance is indignant. “How come McMullet is Simba? I’m way cooler than he is!”

“Sorry.” Pidge doesn’t sound sorry at all. “That’s what the script requires. Now, do we need to start from the top?”

“No!” both exclaim. 

“Just...start from where we left off,” Lance mutters.

Pidge shrugs smugly. “If you insist.”

The music comes back in, and Keith’s so focused on not looking at Lance that he’s a little late with, “So many things to tell him...” but he catches up to sing, “But how to make him see... the truth about my past? Impossible. He’d turn away from me...”

Neither Pidge nor Hunk miss Keith changing the pronouns. And by the hunching of Lance’s shoulders, neither does he.

But even major embarrassment is not enough to prevent Lance from starting right on cue. “He’s holding back, he’s hiding, but what I can’t decide - why won’t be be the king I know he is, the king I see inside?”

The music swells, and Pidge hisses into the mic, “Now kiiiiiisssss.”

And the boys thought they couldn’t get any redder. They sneak a glance at each other and happen to make eye contact. Lance’s hunched shoulders loosen into a half-shrug, and Keith responds in kind. 

They start moving towards each other (Hunk and Pidge have their hands clapped over their mouths to prevent their excited squealing from escaping), and their fingers have intertwined, and Keith’s arm is around Lance’s waist, and Lance is leaning down...

“What is going on here?”

The regular lights flood the training deck, and Keith and Lance wince as their eyes readjust. They miss the first part of the conversation on the other end of the intercom, but they tune back in in time to hear Shiro chewing out Hunk and Pidge: “You locked them in a room and prevented them from leaving by threatening to use dangerous explosives?!”

“But Shiro...”

“Don’t ‘But Shiro’ me. Unlock the doors this instance, and let them go on their way. I am extremely disappointed in you, Pidge.”

Even Keith and Lance wince at Shiro’s choice of words.

“And you, Hunk. I honestly thought you were better than this. What could have possibly possessed you to put a silly prank like this over your teammates’ lives?”

Shiro’s tone is cold and his disappointment apparent. “I expect a written apology from both of you to Keith and Lance by the end of tomorrow. You’ll be cleaning the castle from top to bottom starting first thing tomorrow, and you’re on latrine duty the next three times we go on a mission off-ship. Do you understand?”

Their mumbled assent is picked up by the mic.

The silence on the training deck is loud. The boys make eye contact and seem to have a wordless conversation. Finally Keith flushes and gives Lance a half-shrug. A lopsided but soft smile crosses Lance’s face in answer, and he holds out his hand. Keith’s fingers intertwine with his, and they leave the training deck hand-in-hand.

After all, the disaster’s still in the air.

[sarahscrazybrain-blog]

A lot of people assume this wiggle butt, who is now 20 and a half weeks in the making, was an accident. It was not. I'm 27 with a chronic illness and a family history that's not so great for "older" years. I want a child, but I don't want that child to have to look after me. I want to be able to make memories and run around and care for what will be the most important thing in my life and not be burdening him or her with possible stress if my issues get worse as I age. It's only a possibility but it's a possibility that I would not want inflicting on my child.