and the forest with talking trees

How to avoid informed traits

You know those characters that are constantly referred to so smart or so capable or so sensitive (etc. etc.) by other characters or in the narration? And every time it comes up you find yourself shaking your head or rolling your eyes because the character in question  either is as bland as boiled potatoes or constantly acts in ways that contradict those claims without explanation? 

That’s what is commonly called an “informed trait”. You’re told the character is a certain way (or has a certain ability), but there is more or less nothing in the text to back that up. 

It goes the other way around, too, with informed flaws that are supposed to make a character more relatable or interesting - think almost every romantic comedy leading lady who is supposedly “shy” and “clumsy”, but in a cute, endearing way that only ever comes up when the plot asks for it. 

It’s frustrating, distracting, incredibly dull and at times downright insulting to the reader to encounter a story where one or more characters have a bad case of this, but unfortunately, it’s a pretty common weakness even in otherwise strong, well-written stories with interesting and complex character concepts. 

Since characters and how the reader feels about them (whether they are supposed to relate to them, look up to them or feel repulsed by them) can really make or break a story, informed traits are an easy trap to fall into and many a writer’s Achilles heel. 

So, how to avoid them?

This is where the trusty old “Show, don’t tell” comes in. You have most likely been told before that it’s usually better to go for subtlety and leave something to the reader’s imagination than to spell it out, and that is true. 

It’s challenging to imply something without outright saying it. You have to get creative with the details you want to put into your story to get a point across by relying on your audience’s ability to read between the lines, and while it’s absolutely worth it to go the extra mile, you also run the risk of making your narrative too stilted and contrived instead. 

However, there is a fairly simple trick to make your characterization feel more natural and insert it into the story smoothly:

Stop thinking of your characters as possessing certain traits and start thinking of their personalities as a collection of habits, preferences and specific abilities. 

It might not sound like that big of a difference, but it will make translating your character traits into text much, much easier and save you a lot of trouble while editing. 

Some examples:

  1.  A “smart” character

    This can mean a lot of things. You could have a character who is booksmart, learns quickly, reads a lot, can retain information easily and access it when needed, but has trouble applying theoretical knowledge in real life, someone who entertains their friends by telling them about weird facts and trivia, someone who can still recite poems they had to learn by heart when they were ten, someone with a tendency to talk in such complex run-on sentences they frequently forget what they were talking about half-way through. 
    Or you could have a character who is good at problem-solving instead, who likes puzzles and riddles, who gleefully obsesses over odd problems to find even odder solutions, but thinks so far out of the box in order to remain engaged in their current task they often miss the forest for the trees.  

  2. A “brave” character

    Try to instead make a character who can never resist a challenge, who is a thrill-seeker and went bungee jumping about a dozen times already, who enjoys dragging their friends on the most dangerous looking rides in an amusement park and endlessly teases them about how pale they went afterwards. Make someone who simply cannot stand by when they see someone else get bullied, someone with a collection of scars they wear proudly and a story to tell about each one.
      
  3. A “shy” character

    Forget about characters who blush prettily when spoken to and that’s it. Instead, write about a character who can’t make eye contact without forcing themselves to, who stumbles over their own words when talking to strangers, who is afraid of wearing bright colours because it might draw attention to them, someone who is humble and polite, but distant and comes across as cold or uncaring because they have tendency to hide their insecurity by retreating into themselves, even though seeming rude is the last thing on their mind.

Insert these habits into the story wherever they fit best. Be consistent in the portrayal of your character’s behaviour, even as character development kicks in. Adjust deliberately, but reasonably. After all, old habits die hard, so having your character break with one, however minor, can be a powerful moment with just as much emotional resonance as a flashy, dramatic scene meant to convey the same sentiment, and any “big” scenes will likely feel more organic if the reader has already seen traces of the necessary character changes before. 

pjo musical: the rundown

so i went to see the lightning thief with @angelicomma yesterday and um. oKAY GUYS GALS AND NONBINARY PALS LEMME TELL U ABOUT THIS MOTHER!FUCKIN! SHOW!!!! because it was SO GOOD this is just like. the short list of what i loved about it because oh my god 

prepare for the longest post ever 

  • the set was such an aesthetic? it was all very metallic like there was scaffolding and greek columns with graffiti on them? it was very chb and very nyc and overall a Blessing 
  • every time they needed to show a different location they’d do it with the lights so like there were these lights lining the scaffolding that would change color ?? in the underworld they’d flash red, yellow and orange and were made to look like fire and near the ocean theyd be blue and if they were talking about trees itd be green and! if they wanted u to focus on a certain part of the scaffolding it’d be a different light color than any of the other parts which was rad af
  • the overhead lights were used really well too like when percy was singing about being the son of poseidon or when there was water the lights would be blue and when they were in the forest theyd be green
  • there is an entire song about how they hate new jersey and how they refuse to die in the garden state. know this
  • the show was very low budget like oh my god it was great
  • they didnt make some of their own props so sally walked in once with a trader joe’s bag and also the most important bag in the world (containing the master bolt) was a fucking jansport 
  • their representation of water was just to attach toilet paper rolls to leaf blowers and turn the overhead lights blue like what even
  • they covered the first 4 rows in toilet paper at one point 
  • also they fuckin deca-casted everyone except for percy (chris mccarrell, the light of my life actually he was so good) 
  • jonathan raviv played chiron, auntie em, random chb girl in a bike helmet and braids (?), random tractor guy (?), a bus driver, a train conductor, hades, and poseidon and im probably missing someone. he had very distinctive characters for all of them not to mention horse puns 
    • “the gods are kind of dicks”
    • medusa’s eyes were just light up swim goggles
  • sarah beth pfeifer, who probably has the best comic timing ive seen ever, played clarisse, katie gardner, a fucking squirrel?, mrs. dodds, lotus casino girl, random camper assistant to mr. d, and thalia 
    • *chases annabeth down a flight of stairs with a sword while screaming* 
    • “for their sixteenth birthdays my friends all got cars. I got a fern and a mason jar!” 
    • “ARROWS ARE MADE WITH WOOD. I REFUSE TO PARTICIPATE IN AN ACTIVITY THAT CONDONES VIOLENCE AGAINST OUR ARBOR BRETHREN!”
  • they had the most roles and they were GREAT 
  • george salazar was such a wonderful grover and mr d oh man 
    • mr d’s whole gag was he’d kick a chair when he got pissed which was hysterical bc the camper assistant would start pouting every time and he also wanted to turn percy into a dolphin 
    • “grover, are you ever going to wear pants again?” “NOPE!” 
    • his solo song was about thalia and how he couldnt save her talk about EMOTIONAL he cried
    • dam jokes
      • we might have more drachmas if you didnt spend them on those DAM SNACKS” “HEY! IT WAS THE HOOVER DAM” 
  • let me talk about. carrie compere for like multiple hot seconds bc GODDAMN GIRL CAN SANG 
  • she was such a good sally. can she be my mom. she sang a song abt percy being special and wonderful and i got a lil teary 
    • “you saved my life, percy. It’s time i learned how to live it.” cryin g 
  • her silena was really funny? like very whiny but very funny.
    •  “every time i bring a boy home, my mom’s there in her nightie […] she steals my mascara and all my dates!” 
  • she also played sort of charon? underworld guide in this awesome gold dress (she looked SO GOOD) who smacked grover’s goat ass (?????) 
    • “you know, bringing people to the underworld isn’t my only job. I also have a band. wanna hear a demo?” “not really?” “sorry, i can’t hear you over this SWEET ASS RIFF” 
    • We got everyone! we got kurt kobain, we got beethoven. any requests?” “um, do you have josh groban?” “we will.” 
  • JAMES! HAYDEN ! RODRIGUEZ! was sO GOOD AS LUKE
  • THERE WAS A GOOD KID REPRISE AND I WAS SHOOKEN 
    • “being a good kid gets you nowhere at all” bruh 
  • they couldn’t have a scorpion onstage so luke just. fucking stabs percy in the back??? 
  • He was also a really funny ares and gabe!! 
  • ok and my gal KRISTIN STOKES 
    • fun fact abt me and kristin stokes ….. so we were walking in the same direction after stage door and so me and @angelicomma just walked with her….to the train…. she gave us dessert recs…… and talked about the show (she’s so salty about how rangey her big solo is but trust me she was so good on that song) and also waitress with us…. it was the best experience of all time she is so nice and cool and was wearing jurassic park leggings how rad is she oh my god
    • her annabeth? was awesome? she was witty and tough and aggressive and i was ABOUT IT 
    • she called out sexism all the damn time 
      • “annabeth, i get it. do you know how many schools i’ve been kicked out of?” “yeah, percy, but when boys mess up they get a second chance.” 
      • “hey, annabeth, who’s your dad?” “he’s a history professor.” “i thought everyone’s dad was-” “a god? that’s my mom. sexist.” 
        • longest yeah boi ever 
    • the moment where she betrayed luke at the end??? YES GIRL
  • chris mccarrell was such a perfect percy i am elated 
    • “Tartarus? LIKE THE FISH SAUCE???!!!?!?!” 
    • *swings riptide like a lightsaber while making lightsaber noises* 
    • *packages medusa’s head* “To Mount Olympus. Signed, Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase.” “the gods will think we’re impertinent!” “*winning smile* we are impertinent.” 
    • *pouts* “i know how to hold a sword! like this!” annabeth corrects him and he swings it “oh wow actually that’s a lot easier” 
    • in good kid he was like? running around the stage and climbing the scaffolding and shit? and i cried??? the no mom line was the WORST i wanted to actually scream and his voice is so pretty 
    • and he was so shook by his own powers oh man 
    • he was just. so good at the twelve year old thing it was fantastic he was all fidgety and Dramatic ™ god bless
    • he loves sally so much!!! all the demigods were salty af abt their parents and he was just quietly singing like “my mom loves hugs and scary movies” and i just. screamed quietly
  • there were rlly cute percabeth moments too. 
    •  percy’s knocked tf out the first time annabeth meets him (she infiltrates his dream a lil) and he sings a lil song abt how she’s beautiful and stuff and he wakes up and she’s all “YOU DROOL IN YOUR SLEEP” shook 
    • she shows up at capture the flag (percy hasnt officially met her yet) and he points at her and was just “gasps YOURE MY DREAM GIRL!” and annabeth side-eyes him hardcore and he goes “UM. THE GIRL. FROM MY DREAM.” 
    • “the god is my mom. sexist.” “NO NO I LOVE GIRLS!” annabeth is shook yet again and percy panics and is like “I MEAN UM THEYRE VERY NICE” 
      • percy gets serious side eye from luke
      • it’s great  
    • when percy gets stabbed they almost kiss and then grover RUNS ONSTAGE “HEY! here’s your ambrosia percy” goddamn it was DRAMATIC
  • im definitely missing shit but oh boy it was so so good
  • i’d kill a man for that soundtrack  
  • if you have the chance (and the money) it’s just. such an Experience and everything i could have ever dreamed of. the cast is great (and theyre all so freakin NICE s/o to kristin especially). 
  • i’d highly recommend it!!! A+ 1000/10

anonymous asked:

i have a prompt for you: what if snape hadn't called lily 'mudblood' that day. what if their friendship had stayed strong, unbreakable. would he have grown to be a better person? would lily have loved him, rather than james? would harry just have another godfather? would james and lily have survived?

Okay you have successfully convinced me to write a Snape thing, which is a possibility I have audibly forsworn many times to my loved ones. But I’m a sucker for concepts like “Harry gets another godfather,” so, here we go.


When Severus was seven, he fell in love with the girl down the street. She had long red hair and dirty knees and she offered him half her candy bar one drizzly afternoon, waiting outside the school for her parents to come pick her up.

His parents weren’t coming— dad working late and mum at the pub recounting old Hogwarts glory stories, talking of years when her life was magical– but he didn’t tell Lily that. He was just waiting for the older bully boys who lurked in the empty lot on his way home to get bored and leave.

He ate the candy slowly in neat little bites while she grinned and told him about her big sister’s feud with the science teacher, like her Tuney was some sort of hero in a political espionage drama. She talked with her hands, narrow little things with freckled backs. He watched her wave from the back window of her mother’s car and then he started the long walk home.

When Severus was fifteen, James Potter dangled him upside down in the quad and laughed. Severus landed on elbows and knees. The bruises would stay for a week. The memories would not die with them— James’s cocky grin, the laughter in the spring air, the long whip of Lily’s red hair.

He felt small, bug-like, his knees pressing into the grass. His mother would come home some nights, kick the threadbare carpet, rattle the battered old pans in the cupboard, curse a Ministry that hated purebloods, that sucked up to halfbreeds and Mudbloods, that left the true wizards to rot in filth. He would curl up, make himself small, bug-like, imagine a chitinous shield growing over his shoulders, his spine, the softness of his kidneys. Some days, his father slept through this. Some days he screamed back.

After Severus met Lily, he would curl up under his covers, small, bug-like, and read through the comics she’d lent him with his hands pressed up over his ears. He wanted Professor X to come take him away. He wanted to be someone special, someone saved. He wanted a giant to burst through his door and frighten his mother and offer him a squashed birthday cake and a way out.

When Severus was fifteen, he slammed to his knees on the green Hogwarts quad. Laughter burrowed into his ears, like curses, like the nights his father screamed back, and when Lily stepped toward him he snapped, “I don’t need help from a Mudblood.”

When Severus slouched up to her door that summer, Lily didn’t invite him in. She leaned on the open frame of the door, arms crossed. He had so rarely seen Lily neither smiling or incandescent with rage, but she watched him with snakeskin eyes and a set mouth, still.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t–”

She twitched a strand of hair over her shoulder, the irritation the closest thing to an emotion he could spot on her. He was watching, desperate– this was Lily, she gave things away. She talked with her hands. He never felt lost, with her. “But why,” said Lily. “Why are you sorry? Because I’m upset, or because what you did was wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You did, and it’s not the point. I don’t care if it’s the part you care about, Sev, it’s not the part that matters. That was an awful thing to say– to say to anyone. You were cruel because you were scared and embarrassed, but Sev I could really care less. You were cruel.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Sorry’s not enough, Sev. Be fucking better.”

He jerked back and tried to turn it into some kind of laugh. “Language, careful, your mum might hear.”

She shrugged, and stepped back through the open door, and shut it in his face.

He spent the summer reading comic books, haunting the local library, then the local park once it’d closed, and then sneaking home when he was hopeful his parents would be asleep. He tried to think about bravery, but sometimes he just thought about Lily’s hair, the way it went more golden in summer. He tried to think about nobility, ethics and grace, but the clouds chased each other, fat and white, across the sky and he wasn’t sure what any of this had to do with him.

His father took him fishing by a dreary brown creek and they sat in silence. Severus could hear every creak of the rods, every lap of the water, every inhale and movement his father made. He thought maybe if he just said nothing, nothing ever, he’d never say anything again that made Lily’s face go so flat and distant. If he said nothing, maybe nothing would hurt.

His father reached back for a beer can in a swift movement and Severus froze himself unflinching. He sat in that silence afterward, slowing his heartbeat, picking apart the sudden rigid shell of his shoulders. His father hummed, cracking the can open like a gunshot.

He sat alone on the Hogwarts Express that year, stuffed in a compartment with a handful of second years who gave him half the seats while they giggled among themselves about the haircut of someone named Gertrude. Every summer’s end, for five years, he and Lily had boarded the train together, pressed their noses to the window glass, and watched the land rush by.

For the first month of school, Severus practiced pausing before he spoke, for seconds, minutes if he needed them. Sometimes he’d add an answer after the conversation had already moved on, bent over his mashed potatoes, weighing words as carefully as he weighed salamander eyes and mandrake root.

(If you crushed firedrake seeds with the flat of your blade, instead of cutting them, they made a more potent potion. The textbooks told you to stir six times counterclockwise to make Sleeping Draught, but he knew–because he had thought, and tried, and tried again–that if you did five counterclockwise and two clockwise the draught would turn that perfect turquoise and the sleep would be dreamless and sweet and deep. He kept notes in his textbook’s margins, because it helped to remember.)

In the second month, he tried to listen. People were starting to think about life after school, a big yawning chasm they were supposed to fill with themselves. People were starting to fall in love, puppyish and petty. People were starting to believe in the war, whispering, dreaming, fearing.

In the common room, one of the kids said something about Mudbloods and Severus’s head snapped up. He tried to imagine a shell growing into his shoulders, over his spine, covering all the soft parts of him. He wanted his covers, he wanted to shrink, he wanted Lily’s boxfuls of comics, but he rose to his feet and snapped back. Sometimes saying nothing hurt people, too. A small Muggleborn in green and silver ducked away to her dorm, clutching quietly at her sleeves.

For the third month, he tried to watch– not for warning sneers or cocky grins, clenched fists and broad shoulders, all the things he’d been watching for since before he could name them– but for the way shoulders might go rigid, the way fists might clench but hide, wishing for something to shield every soft part of them.

Severus was bony and pimply, sixteen years old and graceless in it, but he could be an interruption. He could mock with the best of them, flicking his brows and twisting his nose, and asking pointed questions. He could talk, smart-mouthed and snide, until the focus turned to him, and then he could survive anything they handed out. He could give as good as he got. The pauses were shorter, these days, before he spoke, but they would always be there, an echo offset from the shout, an avalanche that struck late and terrible.

When kids cried in bathrooms or empty classrooms or the library, he didn’t move to comfort them, though he heard them. He didn’t know how. He wrote his own curses, out in the forest where he could scar the trees in experiment, and they all turned out bloody. He loved few things, even Lily, as much as he loved pouring all of himself into his work, until something new and his own grew out of it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever invented something kind.

He didn’t try to find Lily, but he came back from the Forest once and almost tripped over her, half-napping in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. He stumbled back into a gargantuan gourd while she pushed hair out of her face and peered up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after a pause that rumbled and roiled in his gut, that he clung to with both hands, breathing into it and letting his shoulders go soft. “I’m sorry I said it. I’m sorry I made you feel small because I was feeling– small.”

Lily sat up a bit, in the little semi circle she’d built herself of books and scrolls and gobstones and snacks. She had built fairy circles like that, when they were children, of the flowers he’d transfigured for her.

“I’m sorry anyone has to feel that way, ever,” he said. “They shouldn’t. I’m angry anyone has to feel that way.”

“Me, too,” she said, and, fishing around in the detritus that surrounded her, handed him half a candy bar. “C'mon, you want some tea? Hagrid said he’d put a kettle on for me if I finished my Arithmancy.”

When Severus was in sixth year, Remus Lupin almost killed him on a moonlit night.

Severus had wanted answers, had wanted to get them in trouble, had wanted something a bit like vengeance, and Sirius had told him about the Whomping Willow. Sirius had grinned when he’d done it, small and bitter, and Severus had wondered if he was fighting with James again, wondering why else he’d sell out his friends.

“I didn’t think–” Sirius tried, the morning after, watching Remus across dry toast and cocoa, big juicy bowls of melon.

“You never do,” Remus snapped. (A bare handful of years later, standing in the smoldering ruins of James and Lily’s house, Remus would think about Sirius’s erratic gaze, the sharp edge of his voice, his last name, and wonder if he should have seen it coming. What here was premeditated? What was mischief? Sirius had once almost painted Remus’s own hands with red blood.)

But for now, Remus was sixteen and angry; he was sixteen and guilty of things that might have happened. He didn’t speak to Sirius for a month.

James refused to speak with Sirius, too, but he only lasted a week. Moony was sulking and Peter was busy studying his little heart out, and James got twitchy without proper and regular socialization.

“I’ll punch him in the nose,” said Lily, when Severus told her. She shifted where she sat cross-legged on the library table, like she might go off and hunt him down that second.

“Black doesn’t deserve the attention,” said Severus.

“Getting his ass kicked by a girl? That type of attention?”

“Getting his ass kicked by Lily Evans,” Severus said. “It’d be an honor and you know it.”

Reports of violence outside Hogwarts got worse. People were disappearing. People were whispering, fearing. The papers were ignoring the important things, and feeding off the fearmongering, or so Lily announced in the library while Severus was trying to study.

Alice and Lily had spent years sharing hissed rants in humid greenhouses. Over an undulating bed of luminescent deadly nightshade, Alice bent her head close to Lily’s and asked, “Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?”

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“I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with.
Tell me why you loved them,
then tell me why they loved you.

Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through.
Tell me what the word home means to you
and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mother’s name
just by the way you describe your bedroom
when you were eight.

See, I want to know the first time you felt the weight of hate,
and if that day still trembles beneath your bones.

Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain
or bounce in the bellies of snow?
And if you were to build a snowman,
would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms
or would leave your snowman armless
for the sake of being harmless to the tree?
And if you would,
would you notice how that tree weeps for you
because your snowman has no arms to hug you
every time you kiss him on the cheek?

Do you kiss your friends on the cheek?
Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad
even if it makes your lover mad?
Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion
or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain?

See, I wanna know what you think of your first name,
and if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mother’s joy
when she spoke it for the very first time.

I want you to tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind.
Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel.
Tell me, knowing I often picture Gandhi at ten years old
beating up little boys at school.

If you were walking by a chemical plant
where smokestacks were filling the sky with dark black clouds
would you holler “Poison! Poison! Poison!” really loud
or would you whisper
“That cloud looks like a fish,
and that cloud looks like a fairy!”

Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin?
Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea?
And if you don’t believe in miracles, tell me —
how would you explain the miracle of my life to me?

See, I wanna know if you believe in any god
or if you believe in many gods
or better yet
what gods believe in you.
And for all the times that you’ve knelt before the temple of yourself,
have the prayers you asked come true?
And if they didn’t, did you feel denied?
And if you felt denied,
denied by who?

I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror
on a day you’re feeling good.
I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror
on a day you’re feeling bad.
I wanna know the first person who taught you your beauty
could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass.

If you ever reach enlightenment
will you remember how to laugh?

Have you ever been a song?
Would you think less of me
if I told you I’ve lived my entire life a little off-key?
And I’m not nearly as smart as my poetry
I just plagiarize the thoughts of the people around me
who have learned the wisdom of silence.

Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence?
And if you do —
I want you to tell me of a meadow
where my skateboard will soar.

See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living.
I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving,
and if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes.
I wanna know if you bleed sometimes
from other people’s wounds,
and if you dream sometimes
that this life is just a balloon —
that if you wanted to, you could pop,
but you never would
‘cause you’d never want it to stop.

If a tree fell in the forest
and you were the only one there to hear —
if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound,
would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist,
or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness?

And lastly, let me ask you this:

If you and I went for a walk
and the entire walk, we didn’t talk —
do you think eventually, we’d… kiss?

No, wait.
That’s asking too much —
after all,
this is only our first date.”

—  Andrea Gibson
FOOL4U

Jughead x Reader

Wordcount: 1,635

A/N: Leave me requests in my DM’s 

Summery: Jughead and y/n get caught up in a heated moment by the lake

Y/N POV -

The heat radiated off my skin as I stepped out of the water onto the riverbank. There was a warm subtle breeze hitting my face as I join the others sat on a large rock, beer cans and food around us. The gang had decided to start off the new term at school on a high note so we all met up by the river for the day and had a couple of drinks. The group consisted of Archie, Betty, Kevin, Veronica, Jughead and myself.

We all sat round on the rock sharing laughs and making plans for our future summer together. Although some moments weren’t as perfect as others due to there still being tension between some members of the group. There was an ominous feeling about the day as we’d all pushed aside the Jason Blossom case to free our minds of the stress for one weekend.

I sigh and take in a deep breath of fresh air, feeling cold, refreshing water droplets spin down my back from my wet hair. I run my fingers through it to untangle the knots that had appeared. I look to my left to see Jughead awkwardly looking around unsure of what to do with himself. A look of slight discomfort contorted onto his features.

“You okay Juggie?” I ask him quietly not wanting to draw the attention of others. He just looks at me and shrugs, a solemn look about him.

“You gonna strip those clothes off for us Juggie” Veronica cheekily flirted towards the only one still fully dressed at the time. Jughead just scoffed and looked away biting back  “Are you gonna learn to keep your clothes on Veronica?” gaining awkward hisses and coughs from the others.

“That’s a little harsh isn’t Jug, considering it’s still basically summer, are you not planning on getting in the water with the rest of us later on then?” I ask him discreetly smirking his way.

“If it gets too hot then sure i’ll come in, but it’s not necessary for me to sit here half naked and be even more uncomfortable” he passive aggressively comments throwing his arms into the air.

We all just let out breathy laughs and go back to coordinating normal conversation. Not that any of us could really have a normal conversation as our minds had been constantly filled with the conspiracies towards Jason’s death.

“So Archie, how’s your music coming along?” Betty questions the red headed boy sat opposite us. “Yeah it’s good, I’m just really trying to throw myself into writing really, right enough of this sitting around, who wants to get in the water with me?” Archie suggests standing up, Betty, V and Kevin all stand up and follow Archie into the water, all smiles and laughs. I really did love my friends.

“You don’t have to sit here with me because you feel sorry for me you know?” Jughead suddenly snaps looking towards me. “I’m not staying with you because I feel sorry for you, I’m staying here because I enjoy your company dumb ass” I laugh and playfully shove the raven haired boy. He chuckles and grabs my hands to stop me from pushing him. Goose bumps travel up my arms as his hands come into contact with mine. I lean in towards him and let myself collapse in his lap, my head looking up at him, while our hands were still intertwined he fiddled with my fingers.

“I love the way you act around me, you’re just more free” I say looking up at his beautiful face. His green eyes catch mine and he smiles, Not something many people got to see very often, but I had always had the ability to bring it onto his face.

“Well that’s because I’m comfortable with you, I don’t have to pretend to like you it just comes naturally” there was a few minutes silence after his confession, where we just sat enjoying each others company listening to the sounds of our surroundings. You could hear the water splashing and our friends laughs were heard over the buzzing of the nature. It was a truly breathtaking moment in time.

“Do you think we should tell them?” I ask him quietly not wanting to spoil the atmosphere.

“Tell them what?” He replies dumbly knowing exactly what i was talking about, just then he let go of one of my hands and brushed it through my hair, making loops around his fingers with the locks.

“About us” I retort flatly, not taking his sarcasm to heart.

“meh, why do they need to know right now, I don’t care just as long as you’re happy, but not everyone has to know our business, let them just sit and ship us for a while longer” he breaths out.

“yeah it is kinda fun watching them freak out over the little things isn’t it” I giggle and look down at our still intertwined hands. Jug just smiles and nods down at me.

“Right” I sigh standing up and pulling him with me, “take your clothes off we’re going for a swim” He groans in distaste pulling a face but still he shrugs his shirt over his head, kicking off his shoes. I couldn’t help but stare at his body as he removed the layers of clothes. His slightly indented stomach sort of gleamed as the sun hit his skin. He was perfect to me, not completely ripped like Archie, he had a slightly toned lanky figure which suited him well. Once he was ready I lightly pushed him back yelling over my shoulder.

“Race you to the water” I giggle running ahead. It didn’t take long for him to catch up and we joined the others in the water.

“well look who decided to show up” V commented splashing water up at me. I let out a small screech as the cold water splashed up at my body, I just laughed and splashed her back. Bad move. We had started a splashing war between the group, everyone screaming and laughing kicked and thrashing in the water to get everyone wet.

Even Jughead joined in and genuinely looked happy, something that goes a long way in my eyes, I loved to see him happy and smiling, a nice difference from his usual grumpy disposition.

We all carried on messing around in the water for a matter of time, when Betty suggested taking a swim around the lake, Her and Archie swam off and Veronica and Kevin were heavily enthused in competing on ‘who can do the better handstand’

“You wanna take a walk?” Jughead nudges me, his arm comes up to my waist and he tugs me towards the river bank again. I ring out the water from my hair as we walk towards the rock where his clothes were. He just shimmies on his jeans and hands me his flannel shirt, I look up at him and smile, putting the flannel on over my body.

We walk through the forest into a more secluded area, talking about nothing in general. I stop to look at the scenery before us. You could still see the lake peaking through the trees, and sunlight streaking through the gaps of branches. Jughead pulls me towards him by my waist and presses his lips against mine briefly. he pushes his forehead onto mine and breathes out “Beautiful” raising a hand to my face he strokes my cheek, his rough thumb stroking over my bottom lip, I look up into his eyes and notice the contentment in them.

He leans down pressing his lips to mine again, harder than before, his grip around my waist subconsciously tightens. My arms sling around his neck, one hand coming into contact with his face the other falling to the back of his head grasping the wavy raven locks in between my dainty fingers.

He slowly starts to walk me backwards not breaking the kiss until my back hits a tree. Both of his hands now resided on my waist tugging at the shirt he had so graciously handed to me. Our lips moved roughly against each others, both of us pouring our passion into the other person. My hands slipped down from his neck and rested on his smooth chest. Jughead pressed himself closer against me our chests now flush together. I could feel the rough bark from the tree behind me digging into my back. Giving me a slight sensation while our lips were meshed together.

I captured his bottom lip in between my teeth and lightly sucked on it before returning my lips to his. His hands slid round my waist to my lower back where he pulls me closer into his, if that’s even possible. The closeness between us right now was why we enjoyed being with one another, the raw connection we both felt never hesitated to send shivers down my spine.

“Woah! what’s going on here then guys” We hear the smug comment from Veronica, causing us to pull away from each other in shock. she just laughs and shakes her head. “I knew something was going on between you two” and walks away yelling to the others that she had some “big news”

“Well i guess the cats out of the bag then” Jug smiled and looked down at me, still holding onto my waist.

“Do you want me to go and tell her not to say anything?” I enquire looking up to him shyly, not really caring we were caught.

“Nah, let them all see I’m a fool for you” he replies pressing his forehead to mine smiling down at me. I just smile and lean up to press my lips to his once more. This really couldn’t have been a more perfect day.

dear connor murphy, yes i also:
🔘 miss our talks
⚪ took my shot
⚪ shit a rock

stop doing drugs, just try to:
⚪ wish happy birthday to laura dreyfuss
⚪ squip the whole cast, tell ur friend to fuck off
🔘 take deep breaths and go on walks

im sending pictures of the:
⚪ ugliest monkeys
🔘 most amazing trees
⚪ screaming horde of bees

you’ll be obsessed with all my:
⚪ motorcycle keys
⚪ striped shirt factories
🔘 forest expertise

in the astrology story a fireball explodes from the sky in a scarlet pinata the world awakens and the cosmic child named aries prepares to conquer it all, 
as she propels through the world she enters the deep forest, and in the aroma of nature, the cold dew sprinkling against her skin, the trees breathing around here, she stops still for a moment and takes a breath she is taurus 
and know she knows how beautiful this all is 
and after that marvellous exhale with air rushing through her lungs
she felt the wind gust through her mind, suddenly its pathways came to life 
two giggling twins emerged from seemingly the nothingness of thin air, two little matching geminis 
talking a language of their own, mixing mischief with brilliance 
as the night fell the cancer queen appeared from the sky slumbering in her half crescent moon throne, ruling the stars and the ebony sky and guarding her children as they sleep
when she eventually falls into dream, the leo king rises to paint the sky a reverent shade of blue, bedazzling and igniting the royalty inside all of the residents in the kingdom, the king eventually becomes worn and longs for a moment in the shadow 
here the virgo comes out from her hiding place, her hands callused with golden cracks from tugging the ropes of the sun and the moon, secretly orchestrating the whole show, the silent server
and the heart that drives her toward this generosity grows and grows inside her chest, love infusing with air so petals become of her tongue and she becomes libra, the architecture that is another mesmerises her until it becomes her completely, her love dissolves the physical body, the soul is revealed
and so is the scorpio 
she holds out her ghostly hand seducing you into a world beyond senses, hypnotising with swirling and magnetising eyes, luring you to go deeper and deeper and evoke the climax more, go deeper and deeper and provoke the ledges of your sanity more, and as she does and rises into a state where 
there is no boundary, contamination, or ego 
she has risen to the sky where she is flying on the back of an arrow, throwing her hair back gloriously as a sagittarius, now she is half human and 
half angel she can see comfortably from the heights of the higher mind 
her arrow hits the tip of the mountain - target centre 
and she becomes capricorn, the sovereign of land, air, and sea, she who has seen, conquered, and known all, she who resides at the peak edge of vision, guiding pilgrims as they come to extract her wisdom 
as she watches these pilgrims make their way in masses up the mountain, the unity and oneness of all humanity is revealed to her, she burns down her reputation and becomes one with the people, she becomes an aquarius
and she walks amongst them, nourishing them with her enlightened mind 
as she grows worn and tired and her mind begins to lose its perception of what is real and what is not, she begins drifting into the nothing state, the everything state, the pisces state, and the body that held her captive begins to dissolve, she reflects on the story that has been, and the goddess she has become
finally it’s time to go home

aesthetic
  • Aries: big groups of friends, action films, sugary popcorn, creamy drinks, the scent of sweet caramel, the colour navy blue, play fighting, sleeping really late, taking risks, the company of best friends, the cutest expressions.
  • Taurus: peaceful train rides, repeating songs, dark captivating eyes, silky hair, the taste of newly opened soda, smiling at strangers, daydreaming, grey scale with bright colours, high fiving friends.
  • Gemini: the feel of fresh paper, the taste and scent of dark chocolate, sarcastic replies, expressive eyes, bright emotions, gentle touches, kisses on the hand, warm scarves, fingerless gloves.
  • Cancer: soft sweaters, the scent of coffee, smooth clean hair, pale skin, vanilla, pattens in the stars, beautiful silence, holding hands, gorgeous eyes, cuddling, golden light, evening time, a good book, the colours brown and red.
  • Leo: warm sunlight, the feel of sand on your feet, the colours yellow and blue, cloudless skies, shining smiles, loose ponytails, freedom, ice cream on a hot day, playing childish games with friends.
  • Virgo: prolonged eye contact, comforting whispers, soft cheek kisses, quiet music, late night talking, warm blankets, the scent of a new book, shy smiles, rain against a window, steely grey sky, heavy rain clouds, blue jeans.
  • Libra: cups of steaming tea, fluffy hair, sweet licorice, big heavy hoodies, sci-fi novels and series, silly faces, dark lighting, the colour silver, messy beds, sleeping through alarms, the scent of s fresh morning.
  • Scorpio: little inside jokes, hugs with friends, kisses on the neck, hues of green, dew-sprinkled grass, playful nudges, cheesy selfies, carving into trees, the scent of a forest.
  • Sagittarius: the flicker of street lights at night, the gentle hum of cars in the distance, long and warm laughter, shorts and loose clothing, the cool midnight air, adrenaline rushes, short giggles, linking arms.
  • Capricorn: the scent of fresh fruit, neon colours, bright sunrises, singing slow songs, tracing patterns out of clouds, sweet ice popsicles, fuzzy socks, accidental hand touches, a glass of refreshing fruit juice.
  • Aquarius: clean pillows, hair in buns, a sip of fresh water on a warm day, amazing friendships, first crushes, the scent of coconut, showering in the morning, modern design.
  • Pisces: running with the wind on your face, perfect grins, seashells, drawing on rocks with chalk, painting in to wet sand, bright hair, soft sea foam, pastel colours, little secret gifts, surprise tickles.
Sun Through the Houses

This is a very basic and simplified version of the Sun in each of the 12 houses. Later, I’ll make a more in-depth list of what you’re like if you have an Aries Sun, etc. in each house! And of course, this is my interpretations, other people may disagree!!

The Sun is where you want to be different than everyone else. It’s where you want to shine, and is a key part of who you need to be to be happy. This is something you have an affect on!! If it says you enjoy volunteering, for example, you will not be destined to volunteer in soup kitchens and the like. You will need to take the initiative to do this, and you will find yourself happier!!

Sun in 1st House
- You like looking good and dressing up
- You are aware of yourself and your needs; probably do buy books from the self-help section
- You like to stay in shape
- You have a big personality, people find themselves drawn to you
- You stick by the rules you have in life; strong set of morals

Sun in 2nd House
- You want to be rich, and probably famous as well!
- Your charisma and natural leadership will help you further your career
- You don’t need to rely on others for your self-worth
- You are quite possessive

Sun in 3rd House
- You value communication
- You’re a tech person (lucky)
- You like to make new friends and get along well with neighbours, family, heck even the man standing behind you at the grocery store!
- You’re very intelligent, or want to be perceived as being smart
- You see each individual tree for what it is, rather than the whole forest
- You always have the newest tea; a gossiper

Sun in 4th House
- You like have a showy house
- You probably blog parenting tips, or read parenting books and pass the knowledge on to everyone you talk to
- You aspire to be the best parent, or to be your children’s best friend

Sun in 5th House
- Similar to the 4th house, you want a good relationship with your children
- You tend to be very creative
- You aren’t afraid to do what you love, despite what others may think of it
- Your love affairs can be quite intense and fast-paced
- You can be risky and impulsive; gambling is fun, but be careful

Sun in 6th House
- You like trying out new diets and always have a gym membership, even if you rarely go
- Your health should be very well!
- You find enjoyment in even the most mundane tasks, like cleaning or washing windows
- You enjoy volunteer work 
- You have divine hygiene

Sun in 7th House
- You are good at personal relationships
- Everyone you talk to feels special 
- Your relationships are intense, including the negative ones
- In marriage, you and your partner typically get along wonderfully and are great at communicating and cooperating with each other

Sun in 8th House
- You have a fascination with death, whether that be your own or others
- You will come into inheritance, or marry someone with a large amount of money
- Sex with you is intense, you give it everything you have, wanting to be the best partner your lover has had
- You will suffer from great loss, and if you allow it, it can teach you how to grow and heal

Sun in 9th House
- You are very intelligent and aware of the world and how it works
- If you’re religious, you are devoted
- You have strong morals
- You love to travel
- Your dreams tend to have more meaning than the usual person’s
- You may not have a lot of knowledge, but you have a very deep understanding of what you do know

Sun in 10th House
- You want to be known
- You are probably involved in your community and enjoy politics
- You have a very positive and powerful reputation
- Fame means more to you than money
- Your public face is quite different than your private face

Sun in 11th House
- You have many, many “friends”, but may not feel like you are actually close with others
- Quantity trumps quality, in your opinion
- You have very big dreams and wishes for your future
- You are also quite aware of yourself

Sun in 12th House
- You want to understand the unknown
- You are probably very involved in the occult, astrology, or something similar
- You are more likely to suffer from severe mental health
- You tend to be caught up in your own thoughts
- You may be a philosopher, with lots of self-reflection
- You have many romantic affairs, sometimes at the same time as each other

my good friend @lena221b recently reminded me of a series of drabbles i wrote in response to anon asks aaaaages ago. i couldn’t find the original posts (we’re talking years ago, that’s too much scrolling for one mortal girl) so i decided to lump them all together here. the following are a few short snippets of derek and stiles’ life together. in my head they’re all part of the same universe. enjoy!


“I dream about riding you sometimes.”

Derek drops Stiles flat on his face.

Stiles doesn’t seem to notice, just tries to roll himself back over. ‘Tries’ being the operative word, because he somehow manages to get himself tangled in his hoodie and then he’s just struggling on the ground with his head trapped in the sleeve.

Ordinarily Derek would help him, would feel guilty about dropping him in the first place, but right now he’s too preoccupied with choking on his own spit.

Stiles fights his way out of his clothing and gazes up at Derek.

“You’re so big though, I’m not even sure I could get my legs around you.”

Can werewolves go into cardiac arrest? Because it’s happening, Derek’s pretty sure it’s happening.

“And you’re so strong, too. I bet I could just climb up on there and you could keep going for hours.”

Stiles smacks his lips and wiggles on the forest floor and seems completely unconcerned with the way Derek’s world is rearranging itself around him.

“Such a scary wolfy,” Stiles mumbles, eyelashes fluttering. “You’re also really fluffy though.” He reaches out and starts patting Derek’s boot. “Preeeetty.”

Derek steps carefully away from Stiles and smashes his head into the nearest tree. A cut appears on his eyebrow and then heals before he’s even wiped the blood away. Because Stiles is talking about riding Derek in his wolf form. Like he’s some kind of glorified pony. And Derek is so pathetically gone on this boy that he’d let him. He’d growl and snarl and snap his jaws and then he’d get down on his haunches and carry Stiles wherever he wanted to go.

He’s absolutely, definitively not disappointed that Stiles isn’t talking about riding him in his human form because that would be gross and creepy and taking advantage of Stiles’ intoxicated state.

Right, Stiles, who is drunk, and burrowing into a pile of leaves.

Derek sighs at his life and stomps over to pick Stiles up again.

“Whoa, spinny!” Stiles shrieks and clutches at Derek’s collar. When he’s got his feet back under himself he looks around and frowns. “Nooo, no standing, it’s nap time.”

“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” Derek grumbles.

“Which is why it’s nap time,” Stiles insists, like it wasn’t his idea to get smashed in the woods in the middle of the night like an utter moron.

“You can sleep back at the loft, okay?” Derek bargains, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ waist and hauling him forward.

“Mmm your bed,” Stiles groans, stuffing his face into Derek’s neck. “Been trying to get into your bed for months.”

Derek drops Stiles flat on his face.

                                                              *****

The first time Stiles walks into Derek’s loft and finds him cooking he’s so stunned that he forgets to actually stop walking and crashes into a table.

Derek raises an eyebrow without looking away from where he’s blanching (blanching) vegetables. Once Stiles has stopped rolling around on the floor he uses two bar stools to pull himself right-side-up and brushes himself off as nonchalantly as he can manage.

“You cook?” he asks, trying his hardest not to appear incredulous, but Derek is wearing oven mitts so it’s not really going too well.

Derek levels him with his patented ‘why am I dating an idiot?’ look. It’s very, very flat.

“Yes, Stiles, I can cook,” he says, and pokes at something sizzling in a pan. Stiles boggles. Derek raises his other eyebrow this time. “Why is this shocking? You know I eat.”

“Well, yeah, objectively,” Stiles agrees. “I just always assumed you lived off a diet of Hot Pockets, squirrels, and the tears of your enemies.”

So very flat.

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint. I’ll throw this in the bin and then head out to rustle up some woodland creatures.” He goes to turn off the burner and Stiles dives across the kitchen.

"No, no, no. This is good. This is — What is this?” Stiles takes a whiff and just about hits the floor again. “Oh god, feed me.”

(Stiles can cook too, but his speciality is sweet things. Derek couldn’t bake a cake to save his life. They’re a match made in culinary heaven.)

                                                            *****

"No,” Derek says sternly, giving Stiles everything his eyebrows have to offer. “Absolutely not.”

“What! Derek, come on, you know you want one,” Stiles wheedles, waggling his own eyebrows at Derek. He looks ridiculous and definitely not appealing.

“I have my hands full enough just trying to look after you.”

"Hey!” Stiles squawks. “I resent that! I am a fully functioning adult, thank you very much,” he says, puffing himself up.

All Derek has to do is glance pointedly at the thing curled up in Stiles’ arms and he puffs right back down again.

“I’ll keep her at my place! You won’t even know she’s there. I’ll take such good care of her, I swear.” Derek remains unmoved. Stiles pulls out the big guns. “Babe, please.” Damn him. “Just look at that face. You can’t say no to that face.”

The thing is, Derek is dangerously close to letting slip just how true that is. He’ll never be able to say no to Stiles. He might put up a token protest, but Derek knows that the second Stiles asks him for anything he’s already screwed.

And right now Stiles isn’t pulling his punches either. He’s got the big eyes and the pouty lips and his neck stretched out at the most perfect angle and Derek’s ready to fall to his knees and offer Stiles everything.

Except, what, no, not this time, Stiles is starting to make him legitimately insane.

“Who are you?! Hagrid?!” he exclaims. “Put the dragon down, Stiles.”

Stiles pulls this heartbroken face, and Derek is almost swayed except dragon.

“But she’s just a baby!” Stiles wails. “She doesn’t know how to look after herself.”

“She just singed off Scott’s eyebrows,” Derek says flatly. “I think she’ll be fine.”

(On the walk back to the Jeep Derek offers to buy Stiles a cat in place of the dragon, because they’re basically the same thing anyway and Derek is a sucker.)

                                                            *****

“I told you not to do it,” Derek sing-songs, condescendingly, not even looking up from his book. The ass.

“No you didn’t,” Stiles moans from his place on the couch. He removes his arm from his face to glare weakly at said ass. “You said, ‘As if you’d ever get your nipple pierced’. Which was basically a direct challenge. Which means of course I did it.”

Derek doesn’t even stop reading to roll his eyes at Stiles. He just kind of widens them slightly with a long-suffering look on his face. The ass.

"This is entirely your fault,” Stiles whines. Derek doesn’t respond at all.

Stiles wriggles around making pitiful noises until Derek snaps his book shut with a growl. “What.”

“It hurts,” Stiles sniffles.

“Well that’s because you poked a piece of metal through your flesh,” Derek bitches, but he gets up and walks over to the couch anyway. He lifts Stiles’ legs and settles himself down, Stiles’ thighs splayed across his lap. Then he curls his hand around Stiles’ knee and begins leeching his pain.

“Better?” he asks, and Stiles hums in the back of his throat, his eyes fluttering shut.

He’s just about to drop off the edge of consciousness when something hot and wet envelops his nipple. Stiles jerks violently and finds Derek staring up at him from his chest, eyes dancing. He grins wickedly and flicks his tongue against the bar and Stiles melts.

(Derek ends up loving Stiles’ nipple piercing. Stiles lords it over him for months until Derek comes home with a piercing in a much more sensitive place. Stiles’ mouth is busy doing other things after that.)

                                                            *****

Derek went into this relationship with Stiles with his eyes wide open. Which basically meant he was expecting a lot of sex, because every second word out of the kid’s mouth was innuendo and he smelled constantly turned-on. And Stiles did not disappoint. There was a lot of sex. A lot.

Derek was not expecting the cuddling. But five months in Derek’s beginning to wonder if Stiles is actually a were-octopus and just hasn’t told him yet.

No matter how aggressively he spoons Stiles when they’re drifting off to sleep, he’ll always wake up buried under warm, clingy boy.

When Derek joined the Stilinski’s in visiting the Sheriff’s mother over Thanksgiving, he passed out alone on the couch and woke to Stiles wrapped around him, his face shoved under a throw pillow.

Stiles holds him in the shower, tucks Derek under his arm at pack movie nights, plasters himself to Derek’s back in the kitchen when he’s soft and tired-eyed.

The first time Stiles grabbed Derek’s hip and rested his head on Derek’s shoulder while they were both brushing their teeth Derek spent two whole minutes staring at him in the mirror. The first time. Now it feels weird whenever he’s not lopsided during his entire morning routine.

For years after Kate, Derek was uncomfortable being touched. Other people’s hands made his blood pump harder and his breathing turn shallower and his muscles coil up. Now, the safest he ever feels is when Stiles’ arms are snug around his heart.

7 Apps for Studying and Time Management

Companion video: link

Memorigi

Android [FREE]: link
iPhone: [NOT AVAILABLE]
Similar app: Wunderlist [FREE] link

Memorigi is a really easy to use time management app where you can log in all of your tasks for the day, week and month. You can use a color code to track your tasks by theme or by subject so you can understand what your workload will be for the next few days. I really like this app’s simple layout and the fact that you can chose between different views, namely between a daily view or a three-days view. It also lets you set an alarm to remind you that your tasks and events are coming up. Other similar apps to consider are Google Calendar and Evernote.


Duolingo
Android [FREE]: link
iPhone [FREE]: link

Duolingo is an app that lets you learn languages through an array of mini games and exercises that you can complete daily, increasing your fluency and mastery step by step. Each language comes with dozens of different themed levels that teach you different aspects of vocabulary and grammar so you can build up your knowledge on that language. Each level recycles what you’ve learned in past levels to make sure that you still remember that you have learned before. You can also use the training icon to get a personalized lesson with your weakest words, so you can really tackle whatever you are having a difficult time with, before moving on with the learning process. I also enjoy the fact that the levels are short and you aren’t required to speak or listen, so it’s the perfect way to spend some idle time during commuting to school.


►Forest:
Android [FREE]: link
iPhone [1,99$]: link

Another app that I always talk about is Forest, and for me it’s the best way to use the Pomodoro Technique whilst having a true visual experience of your productivity levels. The concept is quite simple: for each block of time you spend studying, you plant a virtual tree. While that tree grows, you cannot use other app in your phone, less you get distracted. When the timer reaches zero, you will have planted a tree in your forest. The more trees you have, the more productive you were during that day.

Loop - Habit Tracker
Android [FREE]: link
iPhone: NOT AVAILABLE
HabitBull [FREE], similar app: link

Habits is an habit tracker app that lets you follow up on those small daily tasks that we sometimes forget, like drinking enough water, taking medication or taking a walk outside. It’s very simple to use – all you have to do is insert which tasks you want to track and just press the small cross to mark it for that day. As time goes by, you will build a graphic that tells you how many times you’ve forgotten certain tasks and where you should improve. I usually do this by hand in my bullet journal but I think that tracking your habits with an app should please everyone who prefers to manage their time with their phone and doesn’t like to carry a notebook around.

SaveMyTime
Android [FREE]: link
iPhone: NOT AVAILABLE
Similar app: link

Still on the time management theme, I think that everyone should try at least once in their life to really understand how they are spending their time. A time wheel lets you do this – you basically input how you have been spending your time during the day, with transportation, sleeping, eating, studying and taking classes and you will be baffled by how little time you can actually spend at your own will. This app lets you do exactly this, you just insert the amount of time you have been doing something and it will build a time wheel for you, so you can reflect where you have been wasting your time and re-organize your schedule. I think this is a great challenge to keep up with during a week and just reflect on how you are actually living your life. Basically, it sets a tracking time and when you unlock your phone, the app will ask you what you have been doing for the past fifteen minutes so you can build your time wheel gradually during the day without even noticing it.

Quizlet
Android [FREE]: link
iPhone [FREE]: link

A great app to save paper, ink and time is quizlet. It basically replaces all of your physical flash cards and lets you keep entire sets of questions and answers in your phone under your personal account. You can then export these to your computer and share them with your friends. I think this is an amazing app for anyone who relies on definition based classes and tests and is something great to use on idle times or when you need to study but only have your phone around. It has tons of different ways to test your knowledge on a subject and it can even read your cards out loud as if you were being questioned by your professor.

Timetable
Android [FREE]: link
iPhone [NOT AVAILABLE]
Similar app: Class Timetable [FREE]: link

Finally, and this is one of my favorites, there is a widget timetable app so you can place your school timetable in your homescreen and never skip a class again. I usually never know where I am going to have class and sometimes it’s not really useful to take out your planner and look at your schedule so having it right on your homescreen is really useful.

You can insert all data related to your class in this widget, like the name of the class, the location, participants and total duration. You can always assign a color to a certain class. Afterwards, you just tap the screen to assign your class to a certain timeblock and there you have it.

king-of-the-gay  asked:

I saw you do a fic rec and I wanted to know if you know of any good 8th year drarry fics or any drarry fics where Harry and Draco come back to hogwarts as professors

Anonymous said: Hiya! Do you know of any fics with Drarry teaching at hogwarts? Thank you!!

Anonymous said: So first of all, your recs are amazing and perfect omg 😍 and secondly, can you rec me your favorite fics where Harry is a DADA teacher (either with or without Draco being a potions professor).

HELLO, YES!!! Professor!Drarry is one of my favorite things ever!!! This list will cover all types of professing—all classes and some in which only one of them is a Professor :)

(Also for @king-of-the-gay, here are my 8th year drarry recs! I hope you enjoy both lists!)

Professor Drarry Recs

Professor Potter and his Magical Menagerie by dracogotgame (7.5K)- Harry Potter descends on Hogwarts with a horde of magical beasts. Professor Malfoy is not amused.
THIS FIC IS A HILARIOUS ADORABLE MASTERPIECE. It’s one of my favorites and Draco is so oblivious and he thinks he’s feared and hated but really he and Harry are the students’ favorite Professors and it’s just SO CUTE. (Potions Prof. Draco and Care of Magical Creatures Prof. Harry!)

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (115K)- Professor Malfoy’s world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.
I will never stop loving this fic. Contains petty pranks, one of those pranks going horribly wrong, Draco feeling guilty, a giant beetle named Stanley who is my favorite OC ever, Draco learning to be a fucking amazing Professor who cares, and hours of (Transfiguration) Professor Malfoy sitting by Flying Instructor Potter’s bedside. UTTERLY LOVELY.

The Re-education of Draco Malfoy by Veritas03 (31K)- In the aftermath of the war, it has been noted that many of the young witches and wizards who attended school during the second rise of Voldemort have received sub-standard educations. As a result, Hogwarts opens an adult education program in the summer to bring these students up to par in the workforce. Draco Malfoy, desperate to pass the NEWT for DADA, is among them. But his hopes are dashed when, on the first day of class, Draco discovers – to his horror – the new DADA professor has never even taught before – and is a student himself, still trying to pass Potions. And anyway – just how is Draco supposed to stay focused in class when Professor Potter is so totally hot?
I feel like the summary says it all for this fic. Being forced to go back to Hogwarts and Harry is Draco’s DADA Professor?! YES 100000000 TIMES

Newts by Astolat (14K)- “I’m twenty-eight!” Harry said. “I’ve been an Auror for ten years! You want me to go back to Hogwarts now?“
Pretty much the reverse of the above fic! Harry, on the cusp of becoming Head Auror, is forced to go back and get his NEWTS because of some ancient law. Potions Professor Draco does not make it easy for him ;). TRULY AMAZING!!

Homecoming by November Snowflake (27K)- Harry thinks spending two weeks as a guest lecturer at Hogwarts will offer the perfect chance to get away from his troubles. Then he meets his assigned faculty guide: Potions Master Draco Malfoy.
The kids are great in this fic and the development of Harry and Draco’s relationship is (of course!!) fabulous as well. I especially love it because both of them interact a lot with each other’s children AS THEIR PROFESSORS <333

Healing Touch by Digitallance & Arineat (19.5K)- After an accident forces Harry away from professional Quidditch and back to Hogwarts, he discovers the healing abilities of a certain former Slytherin.
Found this fic while searching for massage!drarry (hehehe) and was NOT DISAPPOINTED. Harry is the new flying instructor and Draco is the potions professor who is quite willing to help Professor Potter with his injury ;)

In Pieces by dysonrules (85K)- Harry returns to Hogwarts as the new DADA instructor, only to find his teaching efforts thwarted by a very familiar ghost.
THIS FIC THO! It is amazing and touching and it just took me apart and then put me back together again. It has all the angst you would expect to find considering Draco is a ghost but also I SWEAR THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING AND IT MAKES SENSE AND IS NOT PREDICTABLE OR CLICHE AND IDK HOW SHE EVER THOUGHT OF IT <3

More Than That by joosetta (11K)- This is a story about two 52 year old men who refuse to age gracefully.
Okay I love reading about middle-aged drarry, and they are at their best here. Harry is the new DADA Professor, Draco is horrified, and then their relationship develops slowly and it’s sweet and funny and everything heartwarming <3

Boom Clap (The Sound of my Heart) by @femmequixoticand @noeeon (39.5K)- Post-war Hogwarts has been energized by its new teaching fellows program. Where once bitter enmity divided the wizarding community, Malfoy and Potter chummily patrol hallways together whilst Granger and Zabini seek lost parts of the castle at McGonagall’s behest and Chang supervises Quidditch when not lecturing in Charms. It’s a veritable wizarding utopia and life is predictable for the first time in years. Which is, of course, when everything blows apart as the result of a drunken dare and Malfoy’s life is ruined beyond his capacity to repair it. Ever. In a million years.
Teaching fellows counts as professors, right? Right??? WELL I DON’T CARE because I love this fic and there is hallway patrol and EXPLOSIONS and pining!draco and I WANT YOU TO READ IT.

Transfigurations by Resonant (71K)- Five years after Voldemort’s defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts.
First of all, Draco is the Muggle Studies Professor and BFFs with Hermione, and if that isn’t enough to draw you in (who are you?!), Hogwarts is newly reopening and there’s all kinds of daring, suspenseful adventure AND everything is exploding AND Harry is a pro at American magic, and you should really read it!!!!!

The Man in the Scarlet Cloak by @bixgirl1 (16.5K)- There’s usually a better time and place to participate in seduction than the Forbidden Forest. Unless, of course, it’s Mating Season. In which Draco is sneaky but not sneaky enough, Harry is confident but goes a bit mad, and the Trees are either incredibly romantic or just sort of perverts.
This fic has very little to do with actual teaching but DRACO IS A POTIONS FELLOW COLLECTING INGREDIENTS AND TALKING TO TREES AND HARRY IS AN AUROR COLLECTING FLOWERS AND WANKING IN THE FOREST IT’S NOT AS WEIRD AS IT SOUNDS (ONLY MAYBE IT IS) AND YOU MUST GO READ IT THIS MOMENT <3

‘Twixt the Sun and Sward by November Snowflake (30.5K)- A potions mishap has Harry and Draco meeting on entirely new—or is it old?—ground.
This is not your typical Professor fic, because it has de-aged!Harry living with Potions Professor Malfoy, who is forced to take care of him and who slowly realizes that Harry’s childhood was not quite how he had always imagined. VERY CUTE. Also note that it’s marked as an unfinished series, but when I read it, it felt very complete! :)

Love Actually by DracoWillHearAboutThis (17.5K)- “Harry,” she said quietly. “How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts now?”
Harry frowned, caught off-guard by the question.
“Six years, three months, and I guess about two weeks?,” he answered hesitantly.
“And how much of this time have you spent pining over our Charms professor?,” she continued, eyes flashing dangerously.
When even Minerva McGonagall wants to have a conversation about Harry’s love life, Harry realizes that it might be time to actually do something about this little crush of his. Since apparently, everyone knows, anyways.
“Everyone?!,” Harry repeated, his voice uncomfortably high-pitched in his panic.
“Everyone!”

Drarry / Love Actually crossover in which they are both Professors and yes you DID need this in your life.

Lessons in Humility by playout (86K)- After the dissolution of his marriage and a good bit of soul-searching, Harry returns to Hogwarts as the new Defense teacher. Go figure, it happens to be the same year Draco takes over the role of Potions Master. Neither man is happy about this turn of events. Will they be able to set aside their differences and learn a thing or two about trust and humility on the way? (Spoiler Alert: Yes. Very much so.)
This fic is EIGHTY SIX THOUSAND WORDS OF FLUFF AND I LOVED EVERY SECOND (Potions Prof. Draco & DADA Prof. Harry)

  • Ravenclaw 1: Did you do your homework?
  • Ravenclaw 2: No.
  • Ravenclaw 1: Did you study for the charms exam?
  • Ravenclaw 2: Nope.
  • Ravenclaw 1: Did you get any sleep then?
  • Ravenclaw 2: No, I didn't.
  • Ravenclaw 1: So what were you doing?
  • Ravenclaw 2: I was mapping the distances between the trees as you get closer to the Forbidden Forest.
  • Ravenclaw 1: Why?
  • Ravenclaw 2: *Shrugs*
When Quiet Is Violent - Part 1

Masterlist  -  Part 2

Summary: You’re retired, living a quiet and secure life when your ex turns up on your doorstep with his best friend, seeking refuge. (bucky x reader, enhanced reader)

Prompt(s): Okay I know I already wrote Night Walks with these prompts but I really wasn’t happy with it, so here is attempt #2. @pandarosita request: 93 and 94… but Reader being upset rather than Bucky?

93.“I’m telling you. I’m haunted.”
94. “I had a bad dream again.”
Plus anon request: 64 “Here, take my blanket.”

Warnings: light talk of injuries and treating them, nightmares, probably swearing, I think that’s it!

Word Count: 3210

Author’s Note: I started this in fucking January when my brother and I were belting Whitney and it got me thinking about how much I love The Bodyguard and how I’d kill for that lake house and this idea hit, except I’m not about that damsel in distress life so this is a lil different. And iiiiiiiiIIIIIiiiiii will always LOVE YOUUUUU

Originally posted by akamatthewmurdock

The morning after a snowstorm was always your favorite here. The already quiet forest around your cabin rendered utterly silent, tree branches heavy and yielding to the new snow. You loved the pale blue light and how the morning sun made every surface glitter with the day’s new ice crystals. You could practically feel the static electricity in the air, dancing across your skin snapping little sparks when you rubbed your hands over your arms for warmth. Past time to light a fire.

A quick glance at your phone told you they weren’t here. Not yet. You tried not to be annoyed, knowing that if he called you he must really need help and safety. Naturally a night owl, the 4:30am call was a harsh awakening but when you saw “Steve” on the caller ID everything shifted. It always did for him. He carried a sense of urgency everywhere he went and your history made it impossible to ignore.

Keep reading

Rosie had heard all of the stories about old mister Bilbo coming home with boxes and barrels of treasure. He had been gone so long everyone had assumed he was dead, but then he had ridden into town with gold in his pony’s saddlebags.

She dreamed about Sam coming home, a feather in his cap, gold tucked into the sensible pockets on his sensible pants. She dreamed about Sam coming home. They made jokes in the Green Dragon about young mad Mr. Baggins, just like his uncle old mad Mr. Baggins, who had run off with three gullible youngsters and gotten eaten by wolves.

Rosie watched her mother during the occupation, the ways she counted curly heads, the way she canned vegetables and fruits, salted meats, then bound them up in cloth and tucked them under each child’s bed, in the hollow in the tree down the road, buried out by Miller’s Pond. Rosie watched her father walk the edges of the property, like he was stomping his ownership into it. He kept his pitchfork sharp. He was preparing to fight for his home and her mother was giving them a way out.

Pippin and Merry came back taller; they would bump their foreheads on low doorways all their lives. Frodo came back wiser; he would feel lost on the wind until the day he stepped onto a creaking deck and let it sweep him away. Sam came back; he had grown, for all miles and hunger had worn him down to the quick.

When Sam came home, there was a feather in Pippin’s cap, a horn on Merry’s hip. All Sam had was a box of dirt with one large, smooth seed tucked inside. Even in Mordor, Sam had only been fighting for the Shire. He spent the rest of his life helping things grow.  


Let’s talk about Sam crying over rabbit stew, because a brace of coneys had been a spot of luck, once; because even then, even when he still had his pots and his pans, when Frodo had not yet snarled at him and told him to go– Mr. Frodo had still been gone too far by then to ever come back again.

Rosie, who did not cry easy, chopped onions so he would not be the only one with wet cheeks to scrub off. She asked him about herbs and spices, about stirring and cooking times, about what loaf would go best with it all. Sam said, “Rosemary, tarragon.” Part of him still rang against the greening metal of a copper pot dropped down a chasm and left somewhere on the edges of Mordor, but she saw him breathe deep and reach for thyme.  

When they brought Frodo a bowl in the little study that had once been Bilbo’s, Frodo warmed his hands in the steam and chuckled when he recognized the smell. Sam pressed his cheek into Rosie’s curls and remembered that not everything was lost.


Sam came back different, but Rosie had not stayed the same either.

Some nights Sam couldn’t sleep on the bed. He laid out with a blanket on the floor and apologized for it. She checked the locks three times, and didn’t trust them anyway. If men came to the door in the night, smashed through the window, set the house on fire– she knew three ways out. She knew the path she’d take through the forests and little hills, two good places to cross the water and three mediocre ones, how to gather and set snares and never have to come back.

She also knew that she would come back. Sam had gone out and met the world, but Rosie had stayed here and staked her claim.


Between helping with the reconstruction, clearing out abused hobbit holes, planting new trees, raising her children, and managing Bag End, Rosie took tea into Mr. Frodo’s little study and let him tell her about his story. 

Some days he sat up, waved his hands, talked about Moria like it was Mr. Bilbo telling hobbitlings about the three trolls. On others he muttered about language and conjugation, dialects of Elvish, and Rosie learned words for things she had never seen. One of her sons would be named for Frodo, and one of her daughters Elanor, for a flower that grew on the floor of a forest no hobbits but four had ever seen. 

He told her about Faramir and Boromir–their adventures, and their family trees to seven generations back. Rosie scattered her younger children over his study floor on those long afternoons, where they got cookie crumbs and sloppy paint all over the sheet she’d lain over his soft carpet. 

It was a late night, the kids abed, when he told her about Mordor, about Gollum and the eagles, and how Sam had not given up, even at the very end. She had come down to turn over some marinade in the pantry and found the study light on, Frodo bent over his desk and scribbling. “I have to get it all down,” he said, and smiled at her unhappily. “Too tired right now to be scared of it all.“ 

So she got some cocoa and a heavy quilt for each of them, and stayed to listen to him mutter and scratch out lines. “Frodo Nine-Fingered and Samwise the Brave,” he told her. “We talked about how we were going to be stories, one day.“ 

When Sam came down the hall in the morning, his wife’s curls were pooled on the desk beside Mr. Frodo’s, inked pages scattered under their cheeks and curled palms. Sam had watched Frodo earn each and every white hair on his head, and he was learning the stories still behind each tired crease and laugh line on Rosie’s face. Sam leaned against the door frame and watched them breathe, in and out, until the kids came shrieking down the hallway and woke them. 

The day Frodo gave him the Red Book and left, Sam cried on the shores of the sea and watched him go. Frodo had sat Rosie down that morning, over a breakfast of two eggs, thick bacon, hearty toast, a little salad– he had told Rosie he was leaving and Rosie had already known. 

There were still burned scars on the soft fertile ground of the Shire. Some of them would never grow over, no matter how many seeds they scattered and watered. Rosie still had emergency kits buried in the yard, tucked in hollow trees down the road, kept under her children’s beds. 

But there were strawberries growing in her window boxes, even if on the worst days she wasn’t sure if they’d be there to harvest them in springtime. On those days, Rosie padded down to the pantry and got out little glass jars of strawberry preserves. So many springs had come and gone, and so many would come again. There were some things you could carry with you. 

Drop your pots, drop your pans–lose weight, faith, a finger–forget the taste of strawberries. There were little white blossoms waiting in the window boxes of Bag End to turn into blushing red fruit. Sam had carried Frodo to the end of his journey, and Frodo had given her this home. The spring would come. 

Sam came back with salt crystallized on his hems and the edge of his jaw. He came back with a red book under one arm–no gold in his pockets, no gems, just his two hands tucked and curled in the warmth of them. 

Their children would read Frodo’s book as they grew (Bilbo’s book, too, and those few words that were their father’s). They would not understand, not all of it, not at first. They would eat strawberries in spring and dream of Fangorn, dare each other to brave the Old Forest on the edge of the Shire. They would climb all over Merry and Pippin’s tall frames and beg to go with them when they went to visit the kings of Gondor and Rohan. 

Rosie would eat strawberries in the spring. She would make jars and jars of jam to keep for long winters. She would keep kits of supplies, for emergencies, for invasions, for the children of hers who had wanderlust in their bare, woolly feet. 

On nights when she could not sleep–too cold, too stuffy, too old–she would pad out to Frodo’s old study and sit among the books and things. She would read about places she’d never seen, languages she’d never heard. She would write her own notes down about the Scouring– the first little resistances, and the final front lines. She would trace her fingers over loving maps of the Shire, tracing the ways out, the places to hide, the ways back. 

When she woke in the morning, her cheek on the old wood desk, a blanket would be draped around her shoulders and Sam would be asleep in an armchair, just close enough to reach out and touch.