That moment when you start talking about yourself in the third person’s point of view #iwentthere
Anyway the past weeks have been full of interesting, beautiful, controversial, what the fuck moments. To put it shortly, all those ingredients consisting the very essence of figure skating. Aren’t you glad you got yourself into this hell beautiful world of art and sport in which people are gracious and well mannered and they totally do not bitch and moan about scores, results, politicking and other nonsense. Right?
So 4CC was supposed to be the ~test event~ for the Olympic Games and I’m not gonna lie, if the Olympics are going to be remotely similar to this event I’m just gonna give up on life, beliefs, values and I’ll admit everything I’ve believed in has been a beautiful lie. Injuries, PyeongChang jitters, meltdowns, you name it. I spent the ladies event wishing somebody would call the ambulances, doctors, psychologists, ANYTHING to put most of those girls out of their misery. That competition was so damn tough I felt like I hit my own butt against the ice every time I saw them bombing their programs, bombing their bodies, bombing each other, idek. During the men’s event I was screaming my face off when I saw Yuzuru landing a decent quad loop, only to press my face against the floor the moment he doubled and I mean DOUBLED the next quad. Bro. How do you. How do you rotate a quad loop and fart the salchow. How many times does it have to happen. On the other hand Wenjing Sui and Cong Han owned the party and I’ve had their SP on repeat for the last few days. DAMN. Technically perfect, face giving on point, hair flipping also on point, what else would anyone want? And then there was Tessa Virtue and her lolz partner Scott Moir effectively trolling the rest of the field.
And now here are some of the things I’ve written down DURING the competitions because honestly, nothing can beat whatever shit your brain is spewing when you’re watching the thing versus when you reminisce about it.
Description: 2009!Dan grinds on a pillow while listening to Phil’s newest video
Tags: Pillow Grinding; Masturbation; 2009!phan;
A/N: i was having serious trouble in writing and even with all the advice i was having trouble focusing and getting the right amount of words thrown unto this page. eventually i ran with a blurb of an idea and decided you know what im just going to throw up all the words that have been running around my brain and see where exactly it gets me. so heres the consequences of my brain spew.
expert: Phil’s voice filled the empty house and his giggle made Dan smile.
Dan shut his eyes and leaned back in bed, pushing his yoga’s down past his ankles.Dan pushed the pants away and discarded his shirt, still breathing heavy.
I'm so interested in your ocs, particularly the knight one and his whole storyline! Can you tell us more, please please please!
AHHHHHH! OK FIRST OF ALL…THANK YOUUU!!! AHH!!! I’m going to unleash the floodgates because omg, I always get too excited when people ask me about my oc’s or stories ahah XD So thank you for your interest! I hope you don’t regret asking after I spew my brain garbage at you!
Ok, ok… SOOooOOOooo
The character I drew before, his name is Seeger, he’s actually a supporting character in my story (which still doesn’t have a name yet).
The story itself is set in a fantasy world, in the kingdom of Agravain (Excuse my terrible map making skillz, it’s still a work in progress still)
But its a Kindgom that was founded by A great hero and Nine legendary Knights, divided into Nine provinces In honor of their sacrifices. The kingdom as a whole highly values it’s knights and have specific schools to train knights from across the realm.
Enter Llyas, the main character, Llyas is the second son to a well known noble family. Being the second son however, Llyas can’t seem to find his purpose in life and is often restless at home. His parent’s worried for his status, send him to Lorechester Academy. Where he must learn the duties and values of a knight.
One of the highlights of the knighting schools, is the great tourney where schools from all over compete for the king’s cup! Seeger is his over enthusiastic upperclassmen who teaches him the joust!
Lolol that’s kinda the basic gist of it… sorry for my ramblings, but I’m hoping to make this a webcomic alongside my Avatar fanfic in the summer ^^
An experimental painting! I’ve been doing a lot of these lately, but I’m probably not going to post most of them until the next sketch dump since a lot of them aren’t all that refined. There’s a few more sitting solo on my Patreon right now, and others that I DO plan to share sooner (you may have seen smaller versions of a few on my commission sheet!) <: Mostly been painting because I don’t have a lot of free time between work shifts, so this has been a way to try and get a little art in here and there.
So, with all these spoilers flooding in and getting everyone in a sensitive mood, I thought I’d finally put forth my ingenious solution to the Tamlin problem. I hope those with ARCs can confirm that SJM listened to my proposal. A fic promised for @my-name-is-fireheart (You’d better have written me that Sex In The City AU :P)
Came In Like a Wrecking Ball
Pairings: Feysand, Lucien x Freedom, Tamlin x A sort of happy ending??
“I don’t…” Feyre began, slumped in the back of the carriage as they rode across the courts back to Night in the dark. “I don’t understand. How did this happen? He’s just letting me go?”
“Feyre,” Lucien said, his eyes glazed and distant as he stared out of the windows. “Just. Just don’t ask.”
Twelve hours earlier…
Scrutinising himself in the mirror, Tamlin smirked. He’d finally proven he was capable of taking what he wanted. After everyone – Rhysand, Amarantha, his father – had all pushed him around and left him feeling powerless and useless, he’d finally shown them all that he was the one in charge of the chessboard, so to speak. They could all play their games and treat him like a child, but in the end he was the one with the brute force to knock it all to pieces. The situation wasn’t ideal, but it was his. And that was something he would always cling onto.
Fastening his wedding attire, he checked himself over once more. With Feyre finally back in the Spring Court, where he belonged, they could marry. She would be his, and he could finally stop worrying about how everything could go wrong. Once they were married, everything would be back to normal.
“My Lord!” Lucien came charging through his door just as he finished adjusting his collar. He was flushed and pale, clutching his chest and panting. “My Lord- The guards just captured an Illyrian. They managed to sneak over the borders somehow and- well, we can barely just contain them. They demand to speak with you.” Straightening, Lucien composed himself. “Rhys sent them.”
Before, this would have ignited a furious panic in Tamlin, but now he just leered. Foolish Bat, scrambling to try and get back in a game he’d already lost. “Take me to them,” Tamlin ordered, pulling on his boots. “Let’s see what fun we can have with them. Perhaps I’ll turn them into a ring cushion. Or perhaps they’d be better suited to serving as a pew.”
Calmer now, Lucien led him as instructed out through the gardens to the forest. The day had dawned grey and cloudy, not at all fitting for Spring, but as they walked sunlight began to pierce the clouds above. They approached three figures, two guards blocking the third from sight. As their lord approached they parted, and so the other turned and-
It was like a kick to the face. A sledgehammer to his stomach. An electric current through every muscle he possessed. The force of it was so strong that for a long, long minute, Tamlin had no idea what it was. Hell, the idea of it alone was so bizarre that he refused to believe- he couldn’t-
Standing before him was a beast of an Illyrian, strapped with muscles, their luscious long locks tangled in a flowing mane of dark hair. Their eyes were dark, mysterious orbs of shadow and their smile was a lighting slash of charm. And oh, those muscles, bulging like an overgrown infant from a tired womb. Their armour was skin-tight, decorated with a bajillion siphons, their wings so big that Tamlin could only wonder at what sort of a monster lay downstairs…
“…Tam?” Lucien said, looking at him. The ginger bastard didn’t matter any more though, Tamlin only had eyes for this majestic deity of a creature.
“…Is he alright?” One of the guards asked.
“I think he’s having a stroke.”
“Tam? Do you recognise them?” Lucien asked, trying to ignore the guards.
When Tamlin failed to respond, too busy gazing into the eyes of the Illyrian, Lucien sighed. “Go and fetch Feyre. Maybe she can snap him out of it.”
“No,” Tamlin rasped. Urgh. Feyre. “No. Have her sent away, far away. I don’t care where.” The winged beast stared back at him and spoke,
“I don’t believe it.”
Tamlin nodded. “You’re my mate.”
“Wait,” Feyre said, unable to quite believe her ears. “An Illyrian was his mate?”
“Apparently,” Lucien said, and then shivered. “You should have heard his thoughts. The utter crap his brain was spewing. It was like love poetry born out of a lavatory.”
“I don’t understand,” Feyre mumbled to herself. “I didn’t think any Illyrian women were allowed to be trained until now, let alone given siphons.”
Lucien looked over at her. He kept looking. She looked back. “…No.” He nodded. “No! No, surely not?”
“I couldn’t make this stuff up even if I tried.”
Feyre sat stunned, staring at him, before breaking into hysterics. He had to endure it the whole rest of the ride back.
“No- You’re staying here, and I’m going out!”
“Are you kidding me, you flimsy fae bastard! Your fragile body can’t survive the perils of the outdoors. You’re not a trained warrior like me, you wouldn’t stand a chance with the war going on. I’m going out, you’re staying at home!”
“Flimsy? I can transform into a motherfucking lion, thank you very much!”
“Bah, a big kitty cat! I have wings. Do you have wings? No. So if Hybern flooded the place, you’d drown.”
“I can transform to have wings! Where’s you argument now, huh?”
More crashing. More throwing of furniture.
It was a very, very good thing that the courtiers of the Spring Court had learned to avoid going to the upper floors, where Tamlin and his mate now argued.
“If you think I’m going to let you go wandering off, unprotected-”
“-I take better care of my mate than that, I’ll have you know. You-”
“-just need to listen to me! It’s for your own-”
“-your own good!”
They’d been at it for two months now, and neither one of them had let the other leave the house. Gabriel, Tamlin’s new, rather unexpected mate, had proved to be just as over protective and powerful as he was, for as they both claimed, they were clearly both horrific victims of those pesky powerful male hormones, and it had ended in a rather bizarre stalemate. Still. At least it kept them out of the war and Rhysand’s life. Feyre had been forgotten completely.
“You ignorant aristocrat! Your sheltered existence isn’t fit for the harsh reality out of those doors!”
“You may have the wings of a bat, but you’ve the brain of a pigeon!”
“I will not-”
“-Allow you to leave!”
Well. They do say mates are equals. And thus Tamlin and his Gabriel lived sort of happily ever after.
References: Summary, Thoughts, * (Complete) Note: This has been sitting in drafts for quite some time and the ones that were WIP are now complete. If you do want an Otayuri Fic Mayhem for the day, or week, or month for your vacation, here’s the second fic rec!
1. A Heart Beats At Night by
Otabek’s heart was pounding a sickening, dizzying rhythm, but he schooled his face into stoicism as he pulled his helmet off to get a better look.
“Yuri Plisetsky died two years ago,” he growled. “What the hell are you?”
>> ANGST, ANGST, DRAMA, THEN FLUFF. Full of supernatural beings and jargon. I might re-read this again, because I skipped some parts to gush and weep over the Otayuri angst and fluff moments. I missed the other portion of the story, but this is a great read! Several chapters to look forward to.
2. * Anatomical Accuracy by
Fayina (Dayea) >>
Yuri has a secret talent in drawing, and he’d be damned if Otabek finds out about his shameful collection of the Kazakh’s portraits. Oh and his skype call with Mila and Sara is getting out of hand.
>> This suits me. Why? Because I’m a sucker for anatomy (and because I’m in a Bio course with a slight art enthusiasm that I would be completely immersed into AU’s such as this one) and because I love College and Roommate AU’s. With Pining, of course.
3. Break Me Down, Down, Down by
legolifesaver >> Yuri refused to let anyone call his videos “pointless”. He spent too much of his time on them and he wasn’t about to let some asshole question him.orYuri runs a fashion channel, Otabek makes covers, and they both meet in the middle. >> A Youtube AU. This AU’s rare for this pairing, but i’m not sure.. I’ll probably scavenge for more if I missed any. Three chapters in and my brains already spewing daydreams all over the place for this couple!!
4. More Than He Bargained For by
FollowYourDreams >> Yuri made one mistake. One. But, since it resulted in police bringing him home, his parents put their foot down. Now, he’s being sent away for the summer to learn his place. He’ll be staying with the Altin family and learning from their son, Otabek.Aka, the one where Yuri is a rebellious shit and ends up spending the summer with Otabek and falling in love and shit. >> First heavy fic I’ve read for this pairing. There is a ton of dense and tear-drenched backstory for Yuri and he needs all the XOXO’s he can get and that’s from Beka himself. My heart kept tearing itself in pieces for my smol little son. Also, I adore a literature enthusiast Beka. Brilliant mentions for Jane Austen and Ernest Hemmingway (if you do want some classics, you could dive in to Ernest Hemmingway’s stories; maybe even a John Steinbeck?).
5. On the Cusp of Dawn by
LoveActually_rps >> Otabek bowed to the new Prince and offered the flower crown that his sister, Sabrina, had made and a basket full of fresh cherries which he’d collected from their small farm on the cusp of dawn. Carefully, he set them down on the overflowing heap of gifts. The Prince, who’d just turned six, frowned at the basket for a long moment before raising his hand and shoving a fistful in his mouth. Otabek blinked at him, totally taken aback. “Mmm-hum… ” the Prince hummed, closing his eyes, as he chomped on the bites of the plump fruits in his mouth. He opened his eyes, fixing his crystal green glare on Otabek. “Bring me more tomorrow,” he ordered, taking a few more from the basket. “Y-yes, your highness,” Otabek stuttered, bowing again before he was shoved away by a royal guard to clear the area. He hadn’t missed the way the Prince had shot a burning look at the guard. [Aka, AU where Yuri is a Prince and ranked highest among Omegas, whose life has revolved around his childhood friend, Otabek, who holds the lowest rank among Alphas. Their worlds suddenly comes shattering down after a loss they both isn’t prepared for] >> What got me into this fic is the fresh concept of omegaverse. There’s a level of Alphas, Omegas and Betas, with a hierarchy that (idk if there’s a proper wording for this but I’m just word vomitting) dictates how people treat other people and it’s apparent here and it seems to relate in the society we’ve been living in for a while now. I like this concept, and it just sparks a rich dynamic between Otabek and Yuri. Otabek’s determination is also pleasing to read. Here you have an Alpha of the lowest rank who’s trained for years and it’s finally paying (which is fucking awesome). I’m excited for more chapters to come!
6. * I’ll take in stride, the consequences of falling by
harajukucrepes >> He wanted to ask to be touched, because in times like this intimacy would break him, and if he was broken enough, Otabek would finally see that he wasn’t ok. Stop having faith in me, stop idealising me, I’m not perfect.But Otabek would kiss him like he was the most wondrous thing to have happened to him, the most treasured, most beloved, and if there was one thing that would make him feel the worst he could humanly be is to be loved like that, because he would only want to lock this feeling, hide Otabek away and crush him underfoot if he could.He would bury his thoughts, destroy his voice, vanquish his own colours. >> Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful MASTERPIECE. At least for me, it is. It’s just an awe-inspiring work of art! It’s familiar that it almost felt like a Haruki Murakami tale and I don’t see words, I see feelings, music, anything that explores the relationship of these two people. I just love how this author blends all timelines together without disrupting the mood of the story (I think that’s what you call it, I’m not sure). I LOVE THIS PIECE and I love it so bad. This deserves more than one kudos from me!
7. Fly by
Otabek Altin, CEO of Altin’s Aviation Academy has a secret business not many know about. He meets Yuri Plisetsky and offers him a chance to become a pilot, a long awaited dream ready to be fulfilled. With no questions asked, Yuri accepts but he doesn’t know what awaits him beyond a simple act of kindness. Then again, Otabek wasn’t expecting for Yuri to open a side of him he wasn’t aware of.
>> This deserves more attention. This fic is AWESOME. It’s a shady business in the guise of an aviation academy that features a darker, much more sinister (maybe? but the author seems to be leaning towards it, idk) Otabek. I haven’t really explored fics with a Dark!Otabek but this is a start. Maybe it’s a mild Dark!Beka for now, but it’s only been a few chapters and I love it. I love the story plot and how Yuri is dragged into this mess. I’m predicting it’s gonna be a bumpy ride for these two idiots.
8. * They’re All Long Gone (It’s Only You and Me) by
Five years after the show, Otabek visits Yuri in Russia and dredges up what Yuri thought was long-dead history.
>> Unrequited love dugged up into something reciprocated after a few years of friendship. My kind of tale, actually. This was an indirect inspiration to my fic ‘now i gotta wash my hands out with soap’ and ‘Reunions’.Maybe because of the events that occurred in my life or maybe because it’s absolutely relatable topic on a daily basis, I love this fic.
9. * Of Monsters and Men by
RoseAnthem >> Ever since the day dark, mysterious, and endearing Otabek Altin told Yuri Plisetsky that he had the eyes of a soldier, Yuri hasn’t been able to stop thinking about him, the boy who saw him as something other than a beautiful, delicate fairy. Now three years later, Otabek has moved to Russia to live with Mila, his new fiancee and Yuri’s skating accomplice, and train under their coach Yakov.Yuri knows that his skating career is more important, but he can’t seem to ignore the tightness in his chest when he sees Otabek and Mila kiss or the tug at his heart when Otabek smiles sweetly at him. He knows that he isn’t in love, so why does he feel this way? Yuri decides to bury his foreign emotions as he always does and focus on what makes him happy, but as they grow closer, he cannot ignore the pain in his heart; and neither can Otabek.This is a story about the tough choices of love and the sacrifices you have to make to be happy. The story about two boys who don’t know their fate, because their futures are standing in the way. This is a story about love and life. >> OtaMila is my NOTP. Friends are… fine, but essentially, I don’t really like otamila (sorry). But I love this story. So much drama! So much self-hate! So much self-deprecation! DAMN this is a monstrous fic! My waterworks filled a dam in my heart. This is so BEAUTIFUL YOU HAVE TO READ THIS FIC. If you want to of course and if you want drama, angst, and all that with a tinge of happy ending, this is your fic.
10. * Frayed String by
Nikolai Plisetsky always told his grandson that he was the one that got to make his fate and not a string. Yuri always hated the fact that he was always reminded that he didn’t have a soulmate. Otabek always did want to defy what was left of his string and make his own fate.
>> Now this fic takes a bumpy turn on the concept of Red Strings of Fate Soulmates. It’s a fresh concept, one that I adore very much and love how it’s used in this three-shot. Go check this out if you’re up for some tears and fluff in the end. But there’s some angst too.
(For some reason, most of the fics involve pining, angst with happy endings, and more pining)
11. * Talk Flower To Me by
ABoyWorthFightingFor >> "Can I help you?“ A voice asked, shocking him back into reality. Yuri gave a small jump at the sudden words, cursing under his breath for being startled."Otabek Altin?” He asked. The bassoonist gave a nod, but didn’t offer anymore words, so he spoke on. “I’m Yuri. You’re accompanying me, or whatever.”“I know who you are,” he spoke, starting to disassemble his instrument. “You’re in my math class.” Oh. So that’s where the name’s familiar. The black haired teen looked amused. “You didn’t know? You sit right in front of me. Every single day.” The Russian only scoffed with a roll of his eyes to try and hide his embarrassment. >> In my own Filipino language, “Nakakakilig ‘to”. It’s so giddy and it’s full of fluff everywhere! This is a unique way to spice up the use of flower language. Happy endings coming your way! Read this if you’re having a bad day or nothing seems to get right. This cheers me up!
12. Watch Out for This by
dovesnroses >> “It could have been your guardian angel, ya know?” Georgi observes as he’s testing the soda dispensers the next night. Yuri reaches over the bar and takes an olive.“No such thing as guardian angels in this part of the city,” he retorts stuffing the olive in his mouth. Georgi gives him an amused look.“Well if they’d been planning on raping and or murdering you, they would have done it. ”Or: Otabek DJs at the club Yuri works at, and everything goes from there. >> Awesome piece of work! I’m loving the dynamics of not just Otayuri but other people as well. I can’t really predict what’s gonna happen in this fanfic, because recently there was some angst, and while that angst was resolved, I’m not entirely sure it’s gonna stay that way.. After all it’s still a WIP, so I’ve got a feeling there’s more! After all, what’s a happy ending if there’s no angst? HAHA kidding kidding.. But I love this fic. I re-read the sentences over and over again until the plot’s in my memory cabinet. Go check this fic out!
13. crystallofolia by
RennieOnIceCream (Hitsugi_Zirkus) >> Yuri stared at the flower, utterly paralyzed, ignoring Viktor’s scandalized, “Oh my!”“What the fuck is this?” My eyes aren’t beautiful .Without wavering, Otabek continued to hold the flower out. “I call it a tulip. As well as an offer of friendship.”AU in which Viktor is a florist looking to start a family, Otabek is a flower vendor dreaming of home, and Yuri is an orphan wrapped in seven layers of teen angst that he can only get out by screaming profanities and shoving flowers in people’s faces. >> What other way to spice up the language of flowers than to put a gallon of angst, backstory, and more angst. It’s like embedding the scientific name of a parade craniates in a fanfic that has an involvement with the feelings, the plot.. everything! If you want a dose of new flowers per paragraph and chapter, this is the fic you’re looking for.
14. * Reaching out for Silver Linings by
Muspell >> There’s a whole life he didn’t know. A whole person he didn’t know. A whole person Yuri considered his best friend. But who the fuck is he? Is anything Yuri thinks he knows actually true? Who the fuck is Otabek Altin, after all? Has he ever even known who his best friend was?——————————————- Warnings are there for a reason, please have that in mind.Second part of the KazGang series, sequel to To Judge a Book by its Cover. >> Angst… So. Much. Angst. So much misunderstandings… I’ve been treading lightly when this fic first came out because I knew how I can’t get over an angsty fic easily, so I waited till the angst wavered for a bit before reading it. And it was mind blowing. Still mind blowing. I’m planning to read this again because I like how Otabek’s dark history was portrayed here. So mysterious…
15. * A Stiller Doom by
Tessa on Ice (tessacrowley) >>
“It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine, and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. Nobody knows how many rebellions … ferment in the masses of life which people earth.” Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre >> I saved the best for last. It revolves around the OmegaVerse, the major differences on how people treat alphas, omegas and betas and how it influences Yuri as a omega skater amongst the crowd of alpha dominant field of skaters. What I do love this if most is how the politics blends in chapter by chapter. It’s rare that I read such and I love how the socio-political aspect was dealt with in this fanfic. This is a great read, and if you are into stuff like this, you could try this out!
Summary: Your job is to get the story and then the promotion is all yours, although it’s not as simple as it sounds.
AN: This is the intro to my new series! I hope you like it.
| Feedback is very much appreciated | Requests are always open |
Your fingers glide across the keys of your laptop in a quick and precise motion. Your brain constantly spews out word after word as your eyes scan over each and every letter that appears. A single bead of sweat falls down your temple when you advert your eyes to the time.
‘Shit.’ You think to yourself. ‘Shit, shit, shit, shit.’
You’re officially late with handing in your article for this weeks paper.
You let out a deep sigh and bring your stare to the boring and tedious words describing the elderly charity curling match you were at mere days ago. You held off writing the piece for so long because just the thought on how Mr. Smith was the MVP of the extremely long game sent your eyelids shut. Unfortunately your procrastination put you in a serious time crunch.
“[L/N]!” The booming voice of your boss, Mr. Jameson, came echoing through the office. Your fingers freeze, knowing what’s to come. “My office. Now!”
You close your eyes, mentally scolding yourself for putting your work aside.
“Hurry up!” He calls again, showing you just how annoyed he really is.
“I’m on my way.” You call back jumping out of your swivel chair and rushing towards his office. All your coworkers send you either looks of sympathy or looks of pity. Before you enter his office, you look behind you to find one of the photographers, Peter Parker, holding in his amusement at someone else getting in trouble other then himself.
You open the office door, poking your head into the smoke filled room. “You called, Sir?”
“Take a seat.”
‘Shit.’ You brain screams. ‘I can’t get fired. I need to pay rent, eat, and pay for wifi.’
“Yes, Sir.” You smooth down the skirt you’re wearing and take a seat in the green leather chair. You watch as Jameson puts out his cigar, focusing his attention on you.
“I know, Sir! It won’t happen-” You ramble frantically, being interrupted by his heavy New York accent.
“I couldn’t give two shits about that filler piece.” Jameson reaches into his desk, taking out a yellow folder. “I have a different assignment for you.”
You let out a breath you had no idea you were holding in. A wave of relief washes over you as he passes you the folder. “And what would that be, Sir?”
“Well if you’d wait a second I would tell you.” He leans back into his chair, spinning it so he faces the window overlooking Times Square. “I need you to get the inside scoop on Captain Steven Rogers.”
Your eyes widen as the realization hits you. “You mean Captain America?”
“Of course I do, now pay attention.” He lights a cigarette, taking a deep inhale of the velvet smoke. “You’re the only person in this place who I haven’t completely lost faith in.” He exhales, allowing the smoke to curl through the air, raising to the ceiling with the rest of the lingering clouds. “I need you to head to 5th Avenue where Stark is conducting a press event at Potts Conference Centre. Stark’s trying to clear his name for all that happened in Sokovia or some shit, but we don’t care about that. A few reporters and journalists have been given permission to interview individual Avengers, and well, you’re one of them.”
“I won’t let you down-”
“Slow down, I’m not done yet.” He takes another take at his cigarette, spinning in his chair to face you once again. “I need you to get the deep stuff outta him. I don’t care about his diet, I don’t care about his fitness routine, and I sure as hell don’t care about whoever he may have a relationship with. I and everyone else want to know about his transition from the past to present. We want any and all details of who this man was before he was Captain America. If you can do that, consider the promotion to Junior Editor yours.”
Your breath hitches in your throat and an enormous, toothy smile forms on your face. “Junior Editor?” You eagerly collect the file off of his desk. “I can do that!”
“You better.” He pushes the butt of his smoke into his ashtray. He opens another desk drawer, taking out a small silver flask. Jameson takes a swig from the flask, letting out a content breath of air. You watch as he leans back in his chair closing his eyes. “The interview’s at 4:40, so get going.”
Even though he can’t see it, you give him a curt nod and stride out the door. You quickly jog towards your desk and collect your jacket and purse. You glance towards your laptop seeing the dull paragraphs that you ditched moments ago. A small smirk plays at your lips as you mentally give your abandoned article the middle finger. ‘If I’m Junior Editor I won’t ever have to deal with curling matches ever again.’ You think to yourself while closing your laptop.
You turn towards the elevator, ready to head to the interview, but a certain teenage boy steps in your path. “Hey, [Y/N].”
“Not now, Peter.” You wrap a scarf around you neck, preparing for the cold New York weather. “I need to be somewhere.”
“You don’t look like Jameson fired you.” His eyes slowly drift towards the yellow file that’s being held tightly in your hand. “In fact it looks like he gave you an assignment!”
“Peter, I have to go.”
“Come one, [Y/N], I’m desperate! Please just take me with you. I don’t care if it’s even another curling game. I need the money for a new camera.”
“Peter, I can’t deal with this right now.” You press the down button on the elevator. “Just go chase a superhero or something. Stark’s always taking joyrides in his suit. Jameson always pays good money for those pictures.”
Peter raises an eyebrow at you. “Really?”
“Yeah.” You watch as the light above the elevator moves, indicating that it’s getting closer. “A new hero is popping up everyday, I’m sure you’ll find something. In fact there’s that Spider Guy that’s been showing up lately.”
“His name’s Spider Man.” Peter says with an edge to his voice. “I mean, at least I think it is.”
“Well whatever his name is I know for a fact that Jameson would kill to have some shots of the elusive hero.” The ding of the elevator rings through your ears as the metal doors open, awaiting for you to enter. “Now, I really have to go.”
Peter gives you a small wave as a huge smile plasters itself across his face. “Thanks so much, [Y/N]! I’ll definitely try and snap that Spider Guy!”
“You do that!” You call out as the doors begin to close. When the fully shut you release a large sigh, looking down to the watch your grandmother had given to you as a graduation present.
“Shit.” You mumble. “Shit, shit, shit, shit. I’m going to be late.” You eyes trail up to the floor counter, glued to every number that passes. Your foot begins to tap uncontrollably, desperately wanting the elevator to speed up even slightly.
After two more agonizing minutes, and four stops, you finally reached the lobby. You jog lightly to the door trying to come up with a game plan in your head. It could take only five minutes to get to the conference centre by taxi, but traffic downtown is always busy and unpredictable. That makes your only other option to run for it.
Without further thought, your feet rapidly carry you down the bustling sidewalk, darting towards the conference centre. As you run, you yell a constant stream of “Excuse me!” and “I’m sorry!”. You bump into nearly everybody you pass making them scream out any colourful cusses a person can think of. After the first mile, your lungs burn. You feel your face becoming increasing hotter by the second as sweat collects at the base of your neck. You take a moment to catch your breath before taking off for your next and final mile.
After ten more minutes and one embarrassing fall because of your uncomfortable work heels, you finally make it to Potts Conference Centre. You rapidly breathe in and out as you attempt to make yourself presentable even in the slightest of ways. You walk up the concrete steps feeling your nerves skyrocket with each step you take.
You freeze in front of the giant walnut-coloured doors. You close your eyes and take a shakey breath. “This is it.” You say to yourself. “This is the interview that will make or break my career.” You open your eyes feeling determined and ready for what lays behind. “Lets do this.”
Your hand grasps around the chilled metal handle and you pull, only the door doesn’t open. You glare at the door, giving it another pull. Feeling confused, you begin to frustratedly pull the door back and forth. You let out an angry groan as you check your watch.
“Shit.” You close your eyes and rub a hand over your face. For conferences like these they always lock the doors after they start, not wanting any unwanted guests. Typically you would agree with such a rule, but not when you standing outside in the cold when your supposed to be with all the press that’s in there.
You slide down the door, needing to take a moment to rest. Only one second into your moment of silence your phone suddenly begins to ring loudly. You search through your purse and quickly find it. You don’t bother to check the number before answering.
“Hey [Y/N], so I was wondering just how much Jameson might pay for each picture.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose as you light hit your head on the door. “I don’t know, Peter.”
“Woah,” You hear the tone of his voice change. “Are you okay?”
“No, Peter, I’m not.” You breathe out.
“Jameson said he’s give me a promotion if I get the inside scoop on Steve Rogers-”
“And now I’m locked out of Potts Conference Centre where I’m supposed to be interviewing him right now!”
“You were supposed to interview Captain America?!”
“Right, sorry.” Silence takes over the call only until Peter yells out. “Wait, did you say you’re at Potts Conference Centre?!”
You roll your eyes and stand up from the ground. “Yes-”
“There’s another entrance!”
Your eyes widen as excitement bubbles within you. “Really?”
“Yeah! There’s a back entrance just down the alley to the left of the building. They always leave it unlocked.”
“Wait,” You jog down the stairs and head towards the alley that should lead you to the back door. “How do you know that?” You wait for his answer but the sudden silence on his side only indicates that he hung up. You take your phone away from your ear, placing it back in your purse. “Dork.” You shake your head at Peter’s behaviour as you continue to walk down the alley. You near the end of the litter adorned alleyway but quickly come to an abrupt stop at the sound of an angered voice.
“Listen Tony, I don’t care if this helps you out. If one more reporter or journalist asks me about my past and the people from my past, I will use your Audi as my personal punching bag.”
You carefully tiptoe towards the wall, not wanting to be seen by whoever is behind the corner.
“You’re over reacting, Cap-”
“How would you like it if a dozen people picked and pried at you for any information about your mother and father?”
“They do! I deal with it by have glass of whiskey for every question I’m asked. It’s our job to deal with it.”
“Well I’m done.”
You decide at this moment to poke your head from behind the brick wall and what you find leaves your mouth hanging agape with shock. Your eyes glue to the two forms of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.
“I’m done with all of this.” Steve pushes a hand through his hair as he takes a couple steps away from Tony. “I’m done with dealing with these vultures. My past is my past. I don’t need hundreds of people wanting to know it just for their entertainment.”
You watch as Tony Stark lets out a large groan and drags his hands down his face. “Well what do you want me to do about it, Steve?”
“I want you to stop scheduling these press events for me. I don’t want to even speak to another journalist for the rest of my life.”
You duck behind the wall feeling like you’ve seen enough. You rest your head against the cooled brick wall, and release a soft sigh. ‘What am I supposed to do now’ You think to yourself. ‘I need that promotion… I desperately need that promotion.’
Your job just became nearly impossible, but there still might be one way for you to get your promotion.
Cause and Effect by Jet Wolf - narrated by ncvakid Rated: M Genre: Tragedy, Drama Characters: Ami Mizuno, Rei Hino, Minako Aino, Makoto Kino, Usagi Tsukino Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Summary: Mercury’s computer was screaming, its incessant beep like a needle shoved repeatedly into her brain. Her visor spewed information, critical alerts and frantic warnings. Each new piece of information was coolly noted, dispassionately processed, and summarily ignored.“ [Inspired by the "Last Soldier Standing” prompt on Tumblr. I caution you that this is not a happy ‘fic.] Links: Fanfiction.net
tfw ur brain starts spewing unwanted paranoid BS at u
‘Someone’s talking shit abt u behind ur back, someone’s spreading lies to tarnish ur character and none of ur friends r gonna talk to u ever again’ like the only liar in my life is YOU, BRIAN, so stfu
Wtf happens on your blog? Seriously, I log on and see shit about "what if Murdaddy had no eyesockets?" or fucking thrussy. I'm not saying I hate it because I love it, but I never find how the hell these conversations start
they all start from some hell spawn in our brains spewing them out randomly. there’s no origin, it just happens
Me: Ah yes, time for bed.
Brain: Gotta write! Gott write! Write that novel! Here are some tantalizing mental images of scenes we can explore! Writing time! Writing time!
Me: Okay. Okay. [opens Word]
Brain: [spews absolute gibberish, no writing is to be had, but somehow too jazzed to sleep either]
Dean took a few more deep breaths before turning to a
flight attendant who was just about to pass you in the aisle. “Excuse me, are
you Amanda?” he asked.
“No, I’m sorry, I’m not.” She replied.
mistake.” Dean said. He turned to the back of the plane and saw the only other
flight attendant on board. “Ok, so that must be Amanda back there. I’ll go talk
to her. Get a read on her mental state.” He said.
“You’re sure you’re up for
this? I could do it.” You offered.
“No…No I got it.” He replied.
“What if she’s
already possessed?” Sam wondered.
“There’s ways to test that.” Dean said. Dean
dug through his bag and pulled out a small bottle with the Virgin Mary on it.
“I brought holy water.” He told Sam, who yanked it out of his hand. You gave
him your best bitch face.
I wanted to know how to make a plot! I have a general idea but when I do an outline using those sheets, i just lose the fun and the idea, and another idea/plot is formed, very different than the one I actually thought of. How do u make a solid plot?
When You’re Bored with Your Outline
I think there’s two potential problems that you might be having. Either you’re a pantser, or you need some help developing your ideas. I’m going to address both.
1) You’re a pantser.
Pantsers prefer to see how the story unfolds as they’re writing it, as opposed to developing a detailed outline beforehand. I’m a pantser myself actually. But I think a common misconception in this whole planner vs. pantser debate is that pantsers are creating more work for themselves by not outlining, because without an outline, their stories end up messy and in major need of revision. This is true, but I don’t think it’s any less than what a planner is doing.
A planner chooses to devote time to developing an outline. Then, they write their story based on that outline.
A pantser chooses to jump in and write whatever comes to mind. Then, they write a second draft based on what they learned from the first draft.
Pantsers still plan; they just do it at a different point in the process. Their first drafts are often the equivalents of outlines. A planner will make adjustments to their outlines just as a pantser will review their first draft and determine what things should be changed for their second go at it.
Obviously I can’t speak for every writer’s process, but if something isn’t working right for you, figure out which method sounds the most appealing to you and give it a try. If you think you might be a pantser, write your story as it comes to you first. Then, when you’re evaluating the draft, you can take notes of what to change, or even make an outline at that point. For pantsers, it’s much easier to stay interested in writing from an outline if you’ve already written a draft earlier.
Here are a couple links as well that you might find of interest:
You mentioned two distinct things happening as you’re writing. You either lose interest or you think of a new idea entirely. For the latter, I actually think you might benefit from forcing yourself to combine your ideas. Even if you don’t think they fit together at all, try to make them fit. Challenge your brain and your creativity to find links and connections between the two ideas. Create new characters or subplots. Don’t be afraid of complexity. Don’t be afraid of it being too “out there.”
What I like about this is that it helps you practice how to brainstorm. And if you’re able to make two completely opposite, unrelated ideas work even halfway smoothly in one story, then you’re well on your way to developing even more creative plots down the road.
When you feel like the story is dragging, think of something exciting to add. Try killing off a character or having an enemy unexpectedly attack. Have a character discover a secret about their past, or even about someone they know and trust. Have one of your characters betray another. Have someone get pregnant, or go missing, obtain a superpower. Try natural disasters like storms, hurricanes, fires, and have your characters fight their way out.
Basically, think big. And if it still bores you, think bigger. You can always pull back later on once you’ve gotten through the draft. For now, just challenge yourself to think of the most dramatic thing you can think of and then write it. Ultimately, have fun with it.
Plotting can be serious business, but first and foremost, it’s about putting your imagination to work and seeing what you come up with. It can be a huge mess at first, but where your skill as a writer comes in is where you take everything your brain spews out and put it together in a cohesive, thoughtful way. And the only way to get better at it is to observe good storytelling (in the form of books, or even movies/television), and then put it into practice with your own ideas.
What Exactly is a Plot? Check out this blog as well - this post gets back to the basics of plotting and may have some good insight for you.
Just like I don't care about yours, because whatever you finds the brains to spew out in nothing but fucking pathetic excuses that 5 year old could do better at.
“If you didn’t care about my opinion or whatever I have to say, you wouldn’t have tried bashing me in the first place or responding to my previous comment to Isabella. You’re the only one wasting their time here.”