actually he is in less heartbreaking shape than i maybe thought

The Prince (Nessian Version)

Oh hey look Lexi still isn’t updating Shape of You but she’s got fifty other ideas… haha I hope you like this one shot. It’s one of my favorites.

They say nothing hurts worse than a heartbreak. Who they are, I’m not sure. Maybe they’re the more experienced adults who know when to give advice. But whoever they are, they’re more than right. As I stood there in the ballroom, I couldn’t have agreed more. I had never felt such intense pain rip through me as I prepared to let him go. Then again he was never really mine to keep. But for the last five years we pretended like this wouldn’t happen. We pretended like we could actually have a future together.

We forgot that he was the prince and I was nothing more than the daughter of his mother’s hand maiden.

Today came faster than we anticipated. That didn’t make it any easier. It still hurt as fresh as the day his father told him it was time to narrow down the competition. That was three months ago. Now we were getting ready to watch our beloved prince propose to the princess who would one day rule beside him. I wondered if they would look at beautiful as his parents did on their thrones.

I held my hands in front of my stomach, holding them tightly so they wouldn’t shake. I stood in the shadows watching as the princesses fixed their hair and fluffed out their big dresses. They were all trying too hard, and it pained me to stand there and watch them fuss over their looks when Cassian couldn’t care less about who was prettiest. He never like extravagant things. But soon he would have one. Soon one of those girls would become his bride and I’d be a memory he held close on those cold nights he thought of his glory days.

I knew he didn’t love a single girl in that room. I knew because he told me he would never feel this way for anyone the way he felt about me. I bit my lip as the pain got worse. I always knew I’d have to let him go one day, but I didn’t realize how attached I had become.

Maybe this was why my mother always warned me to stay away from the brown eyed Prince. My mom had tried so hard to warn me that I needed to guard my heart against Cassian and the way we felt about each other. I never thought she would be right.

Then again I always knew how this would end.

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Can’t Stand For This

Member: Yuta

Genre: fluff(ish), Stripper AU (not smutty)

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: Slightly mature themes, drinking, strippers, that lot

a/n: not requested

Originally posted by yutaf

A lonely night drinking away remnants of a past love at a dimly lit, suspiciously smelling club went as well as any night of that kind would.
You felt the slick burn of alcohol down your throat, grimacing slightly at the bitter taste of the cheap shot, but welcoming the feeling of your inhibitions slowly fading away as you drank again.
Sufficiently woozy, you stumbled slightly from your bar stool, making your way to the crowded dance floor to find some companionship for the next thirty minutes.
Swaying to the music, it didn’t take long for a pair of hands to brush against your hips, turning you to face a man with an enticing smile. You responded by lacing your hands behind his neck as you studied his features, too drunk and lonely to care he was a complete stranger. The dim light and drunken haze wasn’t doing you any favours in solidifying his face in your memory, but it was undeniable that he was gorgeous.
His smile was an invite to study in the perfect shape of his plush lips, a defined cupids bow that shot drunk love right into your heart, and you knew that despite the amount of alcohol you’d had - you would never forget that smile.
You let yourself fall into the moment, enjoying how the heat of the club and sweaty mass around you seemed to accelerate the effect of the alcohol in numbing your mind to the feelings of heartbreak and loneliness you so desperately wanted to forget. Closing your eyes, the thump of the music in your ears and breath next to your neck was all you needed to think about right now.
“So, you want to get somewhere a bit less crowded?” The man you’d been dancing with suggested.
“I’m good here.” You smiled back, opening your eyes to meet with the orbs focus on you intently.
“If you’re sure.” He shrugged, removing a hand from your hips. Your hands reached for his, taking them and slightly tugging him back to you.
“Stay a bit longer?” You asked, slightly slow from the drinks, but still smiling.
He smiled back, a full toothed grin showing how straight and well aligned his teeth were. The expression was contagious and you let out a drunken laugh, thinking how pretty he was.
“I have work anyway, maybe I’ll so you round.” He gave a small raise of his eyebrows as if laughing at your drunken pettiness, smirking again as you finally let go of his hands.
And that was where the first encounter ended.

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onsra pt. 2 | kenny omega | adam cole

kenny omega x reader, adam cole x reader

Originally posted by theelite

 pt. 1

Summary: Long distance relationships are tough, but maybe it’s not the distance that gets in the way.

A/N: I managed to get this up just a day after part one! I’m shocked, really. I also managed to end this how I wanted to in just two parts, meaning no third part, but I hope this makes up for that anyway! Per request, tagging: @daintymissdevitt

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anonymous asked:

*curtsies* Good evening Duke! Congrats on getting published, you must be very proud of your word-baby! What is your personal opinion on writing believable and well rounded characters and how do you go about creating them? Thank you in advanced for you time.

*Curtsies* Thank you and oh my God word-baby is my new favorite term, especially since I just realized that I keep saying “we’re getting published” like my agent and I are having a baby together or something. 

Anyway. My personal opinion on writing believable and well-rounded characters is that, uh, you have to do it. Otherwise, why are you writing? Even readers of trashy romance word-porn expect some level of characterization, and if you’re writing the same stock characters over and over again, people will notice (and get bored, and stop reading, looking at you John Grisham). But this also doesn’t mean you can do the John Green thing of pulling quirks out of a hat, sticking them together and calling it a person. Characters should feel like imaginary friends–incredibly real, even though technically, they’re not. Explaining how to do this is difficult because, like so many other things, it’s going to be different for every writer. But here’s my two cents:

Advice for Aspiring Authors: On Character

  1. Nobody’s perfect. If you’re writing a story about your personal Manic Pixie Dream Girl/Guy, the reader will notice, and will not be impressed. Yes, you usually want your lead(s) to be, to some degree, likable, but if they don’t have any flaws they cease to be believable and readers will actually like them less because they can’t relate. Perfect people make us feel grumpy and inadequate. We love fictional characters for their flaws. You do the math. 
  2. Everybody needs motivation. I don’t care if it’s your leading lady or her waitress who only has one line. They both need to have an objective, even if it’s just “Pour this coffee without spilling it.” Too often (especially in collegiate writing classes) I see stories about these listless characters who are sitting around moping about how they don’t know what they want. It’s boring. It’s overdone. If your character truly doesn’t know what he wants, then his motivation better be to fucking figure out what he wants. 
  3. Everybody has a past. Part of crafting a complex, convincing characters is knowing their whole backstory. Sit down, and write out all the significant events and circumstances of that person’s life from the moment they were born. You’ll come up with a lot of information that a reader will never even see or be aware of, but you, as the creator, need to know. Our parents and childhoods and life experiences shape who we are. If you don’t give your characters as rich and detailed a history as your own, they’re only ever going to feel like paper dolls. 
  4. Plot and character affect each other. Someone once asked me whether I started with plot and then shaped characters to fit that plot or if I started with characters and then told a story to suit them. And the answer is both. Because what I write is largely upmarket (where you’re trying to straddle the line between commercial–plot-focused–fiction and literary–character driven–fiction) that makes a certain kind of sense. But it’s not a bad way to go about it. Sometimes “What would this person do in this situation?” leads to whatever happens next. And sometimes, “What kind of person would do this?” determines traits of an existing character. There’s no perfect formula, but it happens both ways. 
  5. Dialogue is your best friend. You can learn so much more about a person by watching them interact with other people than by dumping a huge paragraph describing that interaction on the reader. Bonus? This is a great way to help a reader get to know several different characters at once. What a person says and how they say it is really informative. Use it to your advantage.
  6. Show, don’t tell. This is a good rule for all writing but especially for crafting characters. A lot of young/new writers are tempted to tell us that their hero is stubborn and taciturn and blah blah blah, I’m already bored. Don’t tell us he’s stubborn and taciturn. Show him being stubborn and taciturn and let us figure it out on our own. 
  7. Physical description: less is more. It’s tempting when you have a perfect image of a character in your mind that you want to share with everyone, but there’s nothing more tedious than extraneous physical detail. I once read a story that started with something like, “She slipped her size nine feet into her blue Nike trainers and tied her shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair back out of her olive green eyes” and because there were like twelve adjectives attached to every body part as it performed every mundane action, it took the character like five paragraphs just to get out of the fucking door. Let me save you a lot of time: I know it’s heartbreaking, but no reader is going to see these characters exactly the way you do. We want to know the basics of what they look like, but we don’t need a head-to-foot examination. You (hopefully) have more important things to talk about. And so help me God, do not ever use the device of a character looking in the mirror to give us a physical description.
  8. Don’t write archetypes. Real people do not fit into neat little boxes. If your main character is like every other hero in the genre, you’ve already done yourself a disservice. YA is full of plucky teenage girls who are going to have to save the world. Sci-fi/fantasy is full of angsty orphaned man-children who find out they’re ‘The Chosen One.’ Mystery is full of hard-boiled, hard-drinking, divorced detectives. If you’re writing any of these characters stop right now and re-evaluate everything.
  9. If a character exists only to make another character more interesting, you’re doing it wrong. This goes for female characters who have no function but to sleep with your male lead, bullies who have no function but to pick on your female lead and make her look angelic by comparison, the fat best friend who is only there for plucky comic relief, and the mom who dies in chapter one to give your lead a tragic backstory (looking at you, Disney). Your reader will be insulted on behalf of these one-dimensional characters. 
  10. Villains are people too. Nobody thinks of themselves as the villain in their own life’s story. Even Hitler and Voldemort thought they were the good guys. Your villain can’t do what he does just because he’s a villain. He, like everyone else, needs to have a backstory, motivation, and should not exist just to make your lead’s life difficult. 
  11. Villains and heroes are an outdated fairy-tale concept and real life is actually much more complicated. We live in an age of moral gray areas. Nobody’s all good or all bad, and stories are much more interesting when it’s not totally obvious who we’re supposed to root for and who’s supposed to win. Complicated character dynamics are partly what make a story worth reading. Some people fit together like peas in a pod; others are like oil and water and don’t mix. There are few things more fascinating than watching fully-formed characters with different histories and personalities try to solve a problem–or create one–together.
  12. Learn from real life; don’t steal from it. I’m an actor and I’ve just written a book about a bunch of actors. I’ve already gotten a lot of questions about whether my characters are based on real people, and the answer is yes and no. No character is solely based on one person I’ve known. Instead I’ve crafted characters who have habits and tics and traits which I’ve observed in real people. If your characters are fictional replicas of your friends or someone you work with, you’ll not only run into legal trouble, but you’re not actually doing any creative work. As an author you absolutely want to mimic real human behavior, but you don’t want to reproduce it verbatim. That’s lazy.
  13. Just like real people, characters can (and should) change in the course of a story. If your MC is exactly the same man at the end of the story that he was at the start, what’s the point? If you’ve written a good story, then he’s been on a hell of a journey, and he should not be emotionally unscathed. Maybe he’s a better man. Maybe worse. Maybe he’s overcome a major fear or learned to let go of some serious baggage. What the change is doesn’t matter–it matters that there’s change. Consider Gandalf’s words to Bilbo at the beginning of The Hobbit, when he asks, “Can you promise that I will come back?” Gandalf says, “No. And if you do, you will not be the same.” Thus always to fictional characters. 

Take your time. Writing a character is like being in a relationship. You’ll get to know them inside and out, good and bad, and it is not an easy or a simple process. But you stick with it because you’re in love. And if you’re not, maybe it’s time to say goodbye and go find someone else.


“I think I know how you feel.”

If I hadn’t fallen in love with Dean Winchester the moment he was barely more than a shadow seemingly breaking into a house and stumbling to “look for a beer” and tell his very surprised brother that “dad is on a hunting trip and that he hasn’t been home in a few days” already, I’d have to say this episode was the one, where I knew that I am in over my head. Because even if it was only the third episode, you already had such a well-rounded grasp on who Dean Winchester is, what he struggles with, what means most to him and how deeply he cares and loves.

I love this episode, because it gives us more than glimpses, but really panoramic view on Dean Winchester and what he’s been through at that point, at 26, already and how it shaped him into the person he has become. Best don’t even think about everything he will go through on the coming 9 years it might want to rip your own heart out an watch it beating in your hands. This episode unmistakably shows Dean’s facade crumble and we see the real him shine through the cracks.

It’s the episode, it’s also getting undeniably clear that Dean, the tough cool guy (wearing a leather jacket at least 3 sizes too big for him), is just another persona. Another persona like a wildlife sherrif, like an FBI agent, like a firefighter. Only that it is one Dean doesn’t even realize he is playing it anymore. He wears it like a second skin, slips into it because it provides a sort of safety. Albeit a false one, one that pushes the true Dean underneath the surface. But here, in this episode, when he is talking to Lucas, he drops the act completely and we see Dean. Without any snark, without any barriers, without any masks. And what we see shine through is in equal measures sad and tragic, but also just so so beautiful.

It’s an episode about people dying horribly in the water. Their loved ones having to watch them being taken away. And a little boy witnessing how his father was killed by something that grabbed him while swimming and pulled him underneath the surface. All while that small boy was unable to do anything about it and could only watch in horror how his dad disappeared in the lake. He stopped talking after the incident. Deeply traumatized.

It is the perfect parallel to what Dean went through when he was four years old and how it affects him to this day still. In Lucas’ case it was the element water that killed a little boy’s father (most probably letting him feel guilty about being unable to save his father) while for Dean it was the element fire that killed a little boy’s mother. And just like Lucas for a while Dean stopped talking if we are taking “John Winchester’s Journal” into account as fringe canon. Deeply traumatized.

Dean relates to Lucas not only because of their shared heartbreaking experiences and trauma, but also because in a lot of ways Dean is still this kid at heart. That’s also why he gets ridiculously excited about Castiel farting when he sits down on a whoopee cussions, that’s why his face lights up times a thousand when Sam comes out of “Plucky Pennywhistle’s” covered in glitter with a giant slinky in hand, that’s why he loves LARPing (Because there he can be and feel like a hero, because in RL he doesn’t think of himself that way - Oh Dean…).

These are the light aspects of Dean carrying this child within, close to his heart (in S9 this kid was drowned out, but there is no doubt in my mind that it will resurface and play a pivotal part in Dean’s healing process). But the dark aspects are overshadowing these aspects often times. Dean still is this kid. 4 years old. Scared, traumatized and struggling to find firm ground under his feet again. Choking on words and not expressing himself as openly as he would want to, because he thought and still thinks no one would listen or hear him anyway. That’s how he felt as a child and that’s why he tells Lucas, what he would have needed to hear:

“Maybe you think no one would listen to you or… believe you. But I want you to know that I will.”

Yes, in a way this goes even deeper: Dean is Lucas and in a way he is having a talk with himself here. To open up, to let people in, to let people help and shoulder the weight on his shoulders. Too bad he never realized that he could actually do that. Have people help him shoulder the burdens. Not until it was too late… 8 season later Dean fell apart, was crushed by responsibilities that he shouldered like the toy soldier he used to play with. Like the toy soldier that is still stuck in the Impala. Trapped in old grounds, unable to break free. But he will, oh yes, I am sure he will. And while healing he will re-connect with that kid inside and embrace it.

And then, last but not least, there is Dean’s drawing. Simple, yes. But so telling. He may not be an artist, but how he draws his family is so indicative of his perception of self:

His father. Larger than life, towering over the rest of them.
His mom. Where he needs a moment to collect himself before talking about her or rather just say “mom”. And when he does is his voice breaks and he sounds so small, so vulnerable, like he has to fight really hard to hold back the tears.
And his geek brother.

All of them have something unique - or at least Dean emphasizes their importance. Either by how he drew them or how he describes them. And naturally, Dean mentions himself last. Not just out of poilteness, but because he is thinking of himself as least important… He is just him. Nothing more nothing less. And I only wish he realized and would begin to understand that that is enough. Just him. And that he is loved for exactly that (and that one day he may start loving himself as well - because in a way it’s so important to love yourself in order to save yourself). For his flaws, for his strengths. Yes, that he is loved just cause.

TITLES TO KNOW TUESDAY: Holy Trinity Fanfic Edition (11/12 - 11/25)

Well, well, we meet again fanfiction enthusiast! I hope this fine Tuesday is brought to you by cookies and chips in bed and that someone is there to play with your hair and tell you you’re fabulous, because that’s pretty much the only thing I am in the mood for right now, ya know? I mean, be careful with the crumbs though. No one likes waking up on sheets that feel like they’ve been tossed through some beach sand and whatnot. Not that I’ve ever experienced that before. Oh no, not I. I’m no heathen, I tell you. Onwards, here’s my adventure into the deep dark and fabulous world of fanfic that I think is rocking and rolling from the past two weeks.

Are you guys still reading these? LIKE/REBLOG so I know I’m not just sending it out into the ether please!Past editions located here.

Disclaimer: The main ship I read is Hartbig but I also read Swace/Mace and other fantastically festive ships on occasion. (Oh, and I <3 Grester/Swarto but I don’t read the fanfic usually unless someone recs it to me specifically) SHIP ALL THE SHIPS. These lists are always in random order. 

1. This One: by bottledoxygen (Swace)

There’s a lot to be said for past lifetimes, especially if you’re the only one who remembers them. Penn brings us back into the Chocolate universe (which if you haven’t read, seriously go do it right now) and gives a little more perspective into why Grace and Sarah seem to be stuck on this merry-go-round with each other where they get close but never quite close enough for it to stick. Imagine remembering all the lives you’ve lived before this one, and specifically remembering the one lover you’ll always try to find in each universe across that timeline. According to Plato, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. To me, it feels like this is the life Sarah leads, always remembering, always searching for who Grace has come back as in each timeline. It’s a lonely life if you think about it, being the keeper of the memories for two, always starting over when you haven’t even gotten over the last heartbreak from the person standing in front of you. It’s a conundrum really, and Penn’s words leave me a litlle breathless every time with how we’re all constantly trying to make the pieces fit.

Great lines: “A black hole centres the Milky Way,” Sarah draws circles, a vortex, on Hannah’s palm, smiling when Hannah smiles back, “and it feasts on a lot of matter. Stars that light our way at night, some moons, a few dwarf planets. But it keeps the system alive. Perhaps you’d say it’s a cruel relationship, but the thing isn’t evil or wicked, because it has no conscience or understanding of humanity and its complex emotions; it’s just temperamental, imperfect and necessary by nature.”

2. Dancing Cheek to Cheek: by doitlikekc (Hartbig)

This delicious fic is set in the 50’s and inspired by Robin Roemer’s New Hollywood portrait series and let me just say, it does not disappoint. Grace is a performer and Hannah is a provider of delicious drunken libations and one late night they find themselves closing down the bar together, talking about life and telling innocent lies the way people talk to strangers in the false lighting of a darkened room when alcohol is flowing and it all seems surreal somehow in the moment. There’s always flirting, and usually innuendo and sometimes, just sometimes, there’s even dancing.

Great lines: Hannah pursed her lips. There was no real danger in trusting the tall singer with sharp features. Even though her body had progressively sunk into the bar and toxic liquid had surely cascaded down her throat, the other woman’s deep brown eyes were completely sober. Almost piercing in a way. This would make the conversation much less one sided. And that, for Hannah, was a nice change of pace.

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Note: so this wasn’t a prompt, but after the flashbacks we’ve been getting with frank’s old hair/his past, i got distracted from my smut fic and took a break to jot this down. enjoy!!

Summary: Frank and Laurel take a trip down memory lane together, in the form of some old photo albums.

It’s a chilly Saturday afternoon when Laurel comes striding into the bedroom of their apartment, her arms full of something that looks like old books, and tosses them down onto the bed with a huff.

Frank, freshly-showered and pulling on a t-shirt near the bathroom doorway, stops what he’s doing to look at her. “What’s that?”

“My parents,” she explains, placing her hands on her hips, “are divesting themselves of all mine and my sibling’s childhood memories. They sent me up these old photo albums – because, apparently, they don’t have enough space for them in their million square foot mansion anymore.”

“Real sentimental people, huh?”

She scoffs, and plops down on the bed next to the pile. “You have no idea.”

“My folks did the same thing a couple years back. I got some old ones lyin’ around here somewhere.”

“Yeah?” Laurel turns to watch him as he makes his way across the room, yanking open one of his dresser drawers and retrieving a few albums as well. “Bring them over here. We’ll have a… jolly old trip down memory lane, of our terrible, screwed-up childhoods.”

Frank shrugs and does as she says, taking a seat next to her and cracking open the first album. “Mine wasn’t so bad.”

“Your mom never has gotten the chance to show me your embarrassing naked baby pictures,” she teases. “So, better late than never. Come on. Cough them up.”

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