but i just read the book and discovered they made a movie out of it

You bored, or feeling artsy but don’t have any inspiration...!?

Do you need to distract yourself? Or are you simply bored? 

Well, let’s fix that shit right now~

Here are some great websites to make the time pass.


First off, here are some 100% free art programs!; 

  • Photoshop CS2 - (Windows, not sure about Mac.)
  • FireAlpaca - (Windows and Mac)
  • Medibang Paint Pro- (windows and Mac)
  • Sketchbook Copic Edition - (Windows and Mac)
  • GIMP - (Windows) (Mac)
  • Paint tool SAI [cracked]  - (Windows) (Mac)
  • Paint tool SAI 2 beta - (tumblr post on said program)
  • iPaint - (Mac)
  • Paintbrush - (Mac)
  • Pencil - (Windows, Mac)
  • Paint.NET - (Windows)
  • Seashore [still in development, ver 0.5] - (Mac)
  • ChocoFlop - (Mac)
  • Inkscape - (Mac and Windows)
  • ArtRage [Demo] - (Mac and Windows)
  • OpenCanvas 1.1[must pay for 2.0] - (Windows, not sure about Mac.)
  • MyPaint - (Windows)
  • Krita - (Windows)
  • Vectorian [Supports Animation] - (Windows)
  • Pixia[Japanese, some English versions] - (Windows)
  • Asperite - (Windows)
  • Chasys Draw IES - (Windows)
  • SmoothDraw - (Windows)
  • TwistedBrush Open Studio - (Windows)
  • BOUNS - CTRL+Paint [Great for teaching all kinds of stuff, like how to use digital programs.]


Alrighty, but maybe you don’t want to download software to draw, free or not. That’s just too much time, and let’s face it, you’re already bored. Well, I’ve got you covered peoples, here are some free browser paint/drawing programs!;

  • Pixlr.com-a browser photoeditor, and can be used for drawing!
  • Psykopaint
  • QueekyPaint
  • PaintOnline- ((also has some random free browser games on site too!))


Sooo, maybe You just don’t feel like drawing…understandable, you beasts-here’s a BUNCH of other websites to calm and/or stretch those brain muscles!;

  • create pixel art
  • Awesome photo editor and art program, all free…!
  • Totally free transparent textures
  • make a cute chibi
  • draw some cool generative art
  • be a graffiti creator
  • create a picassohead (you don’t need to be a picasso to do so)
  • paint online
  • another awsome site to create pixel art on
  • and another one
  • create your own mandala
  • or color one
  • create an avatar
  • or you can try creating your own superhero
  • here you can interact with organisms in different environments to see how to music changes
  • here’s a website that translates the time into hexidecimal colours,
  • Here is a website where you can travel along a 3D line into the infinite unkown
  • here is a website where you can listen to rain with or without music
  • Need a model in a certain pose for drawing? here
  • Want to build your own planet
  • here is a website where you can create your own galaxies
  • make your own pattern (very useful if you need a new background)
  • create next hit comic
  • make a city which looks like something from 90′s games
  • draw a mandala like design
  • jig saw puzzles
  • more jig saw puzzles to solve
  • create a stunning HTML5 animation - no coding!
  • make a movie
  • create and dress up dolls
  • play a piano
  • you can also play a guitar
  • create sounds
  • another sound creator
  • create a logo
  • design your dream home
  • sketch rooms
  • explore fashion trends and create your own sets
  • build a website
  • try this app for building a website
  • Or maybe start learning how to code!
  • design your own t-shirt or a beanie or sweatpants and order them
  • design your own phone case
  • pretend to be a graphic designer with this cool online tool
  • Make your own Glitch art
  • Here’s another glitch art maker
  • And another!
  • Holy hell, here’s a third!
  • make an image look like it was created by a commodore 64
  • freaking cool text generator!
  • Easy to use word processor
  • Make up really cool patterns or run your photos through it :)
  • Write an essay on anything with no hassle
  • Wanna see how something you write would look like if it was on JacksFilms YGS((Your Grammar Sucks videos on YouTube))?
  • Make pictures out of text
  • ASCII word generator
  • Need an idea for some fanart-here :D
  • mario
  • cubefield
  • sleep calculator
    essay typer
  • rice questions
  • maths 
  • artsy-fartsy pretty thing
  • quotes
  • survive nature
  • rain
  • tumblr music
  • calming rain
  • themes
  • backgrounds [x] 
  • loads of references


Still haven’t found something that would float your  proverbial boat? 

Then try these out!:

  • watch a documentary
  • learn to code
  • do something yourself
  • workout with the help of this great youtube channels
  • learn things
  • play pokemon or zelda or other awesome old school games
  • waste your time on miniclip
  • play games at additing games
  • or try games at agame
  • calm your thoughts
  • the quiet place
  • it will be okay
  • vent or listen to someone
  • pour out your soul
  • explore the sky
  • look at art from around the world
  • virtually visit museum of iraq
  • explore world with arounder
  • create a music playlist
  • list through rare books
  • scroll useful science website
  • create sand art
  • brain games
  • try out tastekid and discover new favorite band or movie or book
  • interactive 3D anatomy
  • random street view
  • post a secret
  • create a family tree
  • find our what’s the difference between x and y
  • help scientists and become volunteer researcher
  • create your own font
  • read a classic short story
  • In the mood to read, but not sure exactly what book to go for?
  • scribble on maps
  • listen to letters
  • play with acrobots
  • listen to podcasts
  • make a bucket list
  • Ever want to see the most truly useless websites in creation?
  • Prank a friend with this blue screen of death!
  • Zone out watching the colors drip down
  • Sprite generator!
  • Face Generator/Creator!


Even More stuffs;

  • Wanna make a custom minecraft skin?
  • Well then these’ll work!
  • This one too~
  • Wanna make a custom error pop up?
  • Or a custom blue screen? 
  • WELP, what about making some ASCII art?
  • Here ya go!
  • And another one~
  • WAIT-last one…
  • OH, and here’s a HTML to image converter!..You’re gonna need that!
  • How about a pixel text bubble generator
  • Here’s a photoediting website that’s free and pretty awesome to mess with!

Ok, maybe none of these peeked your interest. 

Maybe you’ve been wanting to create an o.c, but never really knew how to start, or you just enjoy making O.C’s.

This  part of this list is specifically for OCs and Oc building. It can also apply to developing RP characters~


Gemsona stuffs;

  • Just a straight up character gemsona creator
  • Here’s another
  • Not sure what gem to go with, or where? 
  • OR maybe your unsure about more than just that?

Credit to http://spacetravels.tumblr.com/post/78602010683/so-you-want-to-make-an-oc-a-masterpost-of-ways For the majority of links here!

 ((I added a couple of links! In the appearance, details, and the whole of item names section, and the Gemsona area-((above))! 

As well as the couple of Transformers/Southpark character builder links, and Undertale/TMNT below..

Basically every link I made bold I added, because I am complete fandom trash…

..Seriously, Go check her wonderful blog out~!!!

How to Write Better OCs:

  • basic tips on how to make your oc even better
  • tragic backstory? learn how to write one/make yours great
  • writing specific characters
  • a wordier, great guide on how to develop your character
  • kick out those vague descriptions and make them AWESOME

Character Development:

  • how to actually make an OC
  • Q&A (to develop characters)
  • more Q&As
  • giving your character a backstory
  • how to write an attractive character

Need an Appearance idea?

  • Humanoid generator? check
  • Here’s another one
  • and maybe if you didn’t like those this’ll work
  • Need Monsterpeople?
  • Well, then here ya’ go
  • Maybe you need Cats?

Diversity;

  • adding more racial diversity
  • avoiding tokenism, AKA, how to add diversity to your cast not just because you “need” it
  • writing sexuality and gender expression(doesnt include non binary, if you have a good ref to that, please add on!)
  • masterpost on writing more diversity into your story
  • cultures of the world
  • guides to drawing different ethnicities(not just a great art reference, but also really helpful in appearance descriptions!)


Mary Sue/Gary Stu;

  • Test to see if your character is a Sue
  • Explains subdivisions of Sues/Stus
  • Powerful Characters Don’t Have to Be Sues


Villains;

  • villain generator
  • need an evil sounding name for your evil character? bam
  • villain archetypes
  • what’s your villain’s motive for being a villain?


Relationships;

  • character perceptions(What your character thinks of themselves and what others think of them)
  • how to write strong relationships between two characters
  • 8 ways to write better characters and develop their relationships with others
  • OCxLove Interest Handbook
  • develop your couple with good ol’ Q&A!
  • how to write realistic relationships
  • how to write relatives for your characters(this is more OC related to a canon character, but will help in writing family members in general)


ARCHETYPES;

  • 12 common archetypes
  • 8 archetypes for male/female characters
  • female archetypes (goes pretty indepth from two main categories)
  • a list of archetypes


NAMES;

  • how to name your character
  • random name generator
  • most common surnames
  • surnames by ethnicity


APPEARANCE;

  • tips for better design
  • basic appearance generator
  • pinterest board for character design (includes NSFW and images of skeletons/exposed muscle (?) so tread carefully!)
  • clothing ref masterpost
  • Clothing generator
  • Another clothing generator
  • More clothing generator
  • Aaaand even more
  • Steam punk clothing
  • Char Style preference
  • Dress Generator


OTHER DETAILS;

  • give your character better powers
  • a list of professions
  • proactive vs reactive characters
  • positive and negative traits
  • interest generator
  • skills generator
  • motivation generator
  • 123 ideas for character flaws
  • list of phobias
  • Oh shit someone died
  • Backgrounds and stuff? yep
  • Quirks
  • Personality. you need that shit
  • Need something fandom related?
  • City generator hell yeah
  • location? got ya
  • World-building?
  • make your own god damn laws
  • Landscape.


Need Item names?;

  • Fantasy/sci-fi/etc. medicine names
  • Stuff to make things more interesting.Weapons, clothes, treasures… whatever your characters need.
  • Item & Artifact Generators



Other story stuffs!

  • Genre, Plot, & Story Prompt Generators
  • How did your characters meet?
  • Fanfic plots. you bet your ass!



WAIT!…if none of that worked, then maybe you want to make a SouthPark style character?

  • Here!
  • Well, this one’s nice too~
  • And another..
  • Aaaand another!


What about Transformers Characters?;

  • Here’s a Transformers name generator~
  • And a Character builder!


UNDERTALE STUFFS GUYS;

  • Undertale character speech box creator!
  • Want inspiration for an Undertale Oc?
  • OR a super Edgy Undertale Theory generator?
  • Maybe you just want to read some funny Sans Puns!


TMNT STUFFS;

  • How about a TMNT creator?
  • Or a TMNT meme generator..


If any of the links have any issues for whatever reason, HERE’S THE LINK TO THE SAME LIST I COPIED TO MY DA ACCOUNT JUST IN CASE;

http://ladyevel.deviantart.com/journal/Mega-List-for-Boredom-and-Inspiration-577571203

5 Reason’s Why Supernatural is the Gayest Show on Television (That’s Still Stuck in the Closet)

To start with, I’m not delusional.  I’m fully aware that the studio and execs have settled into a comfortable pattern with Supernatural, and especially considering it’s heavily mixed demographic (interestingly, it was ranked a favorite among republicans and democrats in 2016) they’re unlikely to rock the ship with a canonically queer relationship between two of it’s main characters.  

However, it’s important to understand exactly how much queerness is bubbling beneath the thick surface layer of “no homo:”  from the orgies of male-on-male eyesex to the inspiration for most of its main characters, Supernatural is queer to its very core. 

Here are five (blaring but stubbornly unacknowledged) reasons why:


1.  Dean’s gratuitously bisexual inspiration. 

Whenever someone claims a queer interpretation of Dean is baseless, I’m always happy to direct them straight to his flamingly bisexual source:  Dean Moriarty, his namesake and direct inspiration, a la the novel On the Road.  

Admittedly, I read On the Road and didn’t particularly enjoy it, as I found it to be a somewhat masturbatory reassertion of masculinity for its narrator, Sal Paradise.  Sal idolizes and fixates the charismatic Dean and his promiscuous lifestyle, openly having sex with and impregnating multiple women, and is all around a heterosexual power figure…right up until the point at which Dean propositions a male prostitute.  

Though he’s never shown doing anything gratuitous with male characters (since the book was published in the 1960s, it wouldn’t have been legal to) it’s clear that Dean is very much bisexual, not ashamed of it, and in terms of personality, very similar to Dean.  There are a few key differences (Dean Moriarty, for example, legitimately gives zero fucks about anything, whereas Dean Winchester is secretly a little ball of anxiety with the weight of the world on his shoulders) but it’s clear where Eric Kripke got his inspiration from.

Moreover, Dean Moriarty was in turn based off of the real life bisexual counterculturist Neal Cassady, who among other things had a twenty-year sexual relationship with a male poet.  Here, he is pictured in a Denver mugshot: 

So next time someone tells you the homoerotic subtext of Supernatural exists only in the imagination of rabid fangirls, remember that Dean is the direct descendant of two ragingly bisexual icons.

2.  Castiel (or at least his wardrobe) was also based off of a bisexual character.

For a show so aggressively devoted to a “no homo” interpretation, it has a real propensity to drawing inspiration from queer characters:  everyone’s favorite baby in a trench coat, for example, was modeled after the demon-busting John Constantine from the Hellblazer comics.  Yup, another bisexual.   

Though in true assbutt fashion, his love of men is censored in movie and TV adaptions, Constantine unabashedly swings both ways in paper form – a.k.a. where Kripke found inspiration for Castiel’s look.  Here, we see him platonically receiving a man-hug from one of his bros:

So I’m not saying the fact that two out of three main characters are modeled after canonically queer figures could have anything to do with Supernatural’s gratuitous queer subtext, but y’know.  It might.

3.  Cas himself is sexually complex (and literally cannot be straight.) 

Dean has made reference to the fact that he “doesn’t swing that way” (ironically, both of which times he was literally in the midst of blatantly flirting with men.)  

Cas, however, has no such reservations:  he’s never indicated, vocally or otherwise, a preference towards either gender, so much as outright declaring that he doesn’t give a damn.  

He reacts to male and female flirtation much the same way:  just try and tell me his suspicious glower and Mick wasn’t similar to Mandy the waitress (and try and tell me they both weren’t acting like they’d like to eat him for dinner.)

Moreover, the only time we’ve seen him ever achieve some kind of intimacy with female characters is when they’re literally throwing themselves at him.  Hey, he’s an aesthetically pleasing fellow – or rather, an aesthetically pleasing something.  

Which brings me to my next point that he isn’t really a fellow at all:  Cas not only gives zero fucks about sexual orientation, he also gives zero fucks about gender.  Sure, he’ll spend seven years in the same ill-fitting trench coat, but he’ll also rock a petticoat like nobody’s business.

I’ve discovered that the writer for “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets,” Steve Yockey, is a gay man, which honestly makes it all the more perfect:  not only does it establish the Orlando-esque flexibility (or nonexistence) of Cas’s gender, but it eliminates the possibility of his straightness.  

And I want Destiel to be canon as much as anybody, but am I opposed to Cas being a genderfluid lesbian?  No.  No, I am not.    

4.  Dean can textually be interpreted as bisexual (and probably should be.)

For anyone who questions whether Dean not being straight as an arrow, I’m happy to point out some very canon things that happened on the show:

(Examples courtesy of @some-people-call-it-tragic!)

And yes, when feeling threatened, he’s professed not to swing that way.  But you know how many queer people I know who have at one point felt compelled to lie about our sexual orientation?  Every single one.  And I live in the bluest of blue states – Dean was raised in Bible Belt America and spends most of his time in the Southwest.  Not to mention the fact that he was raised during the heat of the AIDS academic.

In other words, he has every logical reason to be wary at the prospect of coming out of the closet, or even acknowledging same sex attraction at all.

Moreover it’s been canonically established that Dean has a habit of lying about himself to protect his image of masculinity:  according to Dean, he doesn’t do shorts, chick flicks, cucumber water, skinny jeans and sunglasses, and Taylor Swift music.  You know how many of those things he loves?  All of them

Finally, not every member of the cast or crew might agree (though I know for a fact that some of them do) but their interpretations do not effect textuality.  And Dean can textually be interpreted as bisexual.  

5.  Dean and Cas make a better couple than any of their love interests.

I’m going to state something I feel is obvious:  Cas and Dean have more buildup, tension, chemistry, emotional connection, and romantic history than literally any of their other interests.  

Take Lisa, for example:  she’s Dean’s longest lasting introduced as female partner, and she’s introduced as the “bendiest weekend of his life.”  

Furthermore, I’d argue that sexual attraction notwithstanding, Dean was never romantically in love with Lisa.  To him, she epitomizes his desire for a mother figure, a home, and his lost childhood, as is best demonstrated in his fantasy from “Dream a Little Dream of Me:”  Lisa isn’t a seductive or romantic figure here – she’s a maternal one. 

Though since Dean has never had a long lasting relationship (or, to my belief, been completely in love with a girl) it’s easy to see how he’d misinterpret these feelings as romantic love. 

Then we have Cas, who’s introduced by pulling Dean from the depths of hell, who makes most one-on-one scenes with Dean look like a soft core porno, and who recently (canonically!) declared his love for Dean.  

I don’t dislike Lisa, but it’s easy to see which of the two relationships is more three-dimensional, more original, and more worthy of screentime.

Friendship Comes First:  What (Good) Fanfiction Can Teach Us About the Romantic Subplot.

I love all forms of storytelling:  television, books, movies, you name it.  As long as it’s quality, its ripe for the picking.  

It’s so easy for me to become engrossed in the lives and psychologies of fictitious characters, to care for them as though they’re people I really know.  Which, on some metaphysical level, I suppose is true, but that’s a topic for another essay.

However, in the midst of all my possibly Asperger’s-fueled hyper-fixation and nerdery, there’s one inevitable aspect of seemingly every plot to which I will almost always role my eyes and click the fast-forward button:  the goddamned romantic subplot.

So many times have I seen the exact same variation of romantic love between fifty homogeneous couples, and each time, I failed to see the appeal:  in books, the smirking, obnoxious male love interest will woo the object of his desire through flagrant disrespect, the same toned bodies will copulate furiously on my television screens (typically at the exact same moment my parents or small siblings will walk into the room), the same vapid, flirtatious stares and generic dialogue will be exchanged. 

But where’s the basis for it?  Yes, these people are stressed to be attracted to one another to the point of obnoxiousness, but do they even like each other as individuals?  Are they even friends?  Is there any three-dimensionality to their relationship besides sizing each other up and deciding to bump uglies? 

Simply and also sadly, the answer is very rarely.  And so, it seemed to me that romance was not my cup of tea, both in the fictitious world and out of it.  Or so it seemed.  

Because it was then, at approximately seventeen, that I discovered a remarkable phenomenon that would change my life forever:  fanfiction.  

Never before had I been so enraptured in the relationships of fictional characters, and I was baffled as to why.  Yes, I’ve read a tremendous deal of fanfiction that is, in fact, book quality, but as an avid bibliophile, I was perplexed as to why I’d never been so captivated by the romantic endeavors of a published author as I was by the passion-projects of writers not much older than I was.     

After a lot of time, careful consideration, and the illuminating words of some of my fellow bloggers, however, I believe I can finally put words as to why. 


1.  Give your characters a narrative purpose (besides being The Love Interest.) 

Do you ever wonder what inspires Supernatural fans to tirelessly churn out fics about their favorite human-on-angel pairing?  I have, and this is someone who’s a proud proponent of the stuff.  

The sheer magnitude of free literature available, constantly repositing the pair in all manor of situations and walks of life, is absolutely baffling, and undeniably impressive.  Indeed, some of the best works of romantic literature – and yes, I do consider fanfiction to be a form of literature – I have ever come across were starring none other than this specific pairing:  from the infamous Twist and Shout (which I don’t recommend if you ever want to listen to Elvis Presley music, visit a beach, or feel joy ever again) to the charming Have Love, Will Travel (probably my personal favorite), some truly beautiful love stories have blossomed from a pairing that has never even been confirmed onscreen to have romantic connotations.  

Perhaps just as baffling is the other end of the spectrum:  Lisa Braeden.  Lisa, for those unfamiliar, is basically posited as the love of Dean’s life, with whom he lived for a year before being forced to give up his dream of a family life and return to full-time demon busting.  They’ve canonically kissed, had sex, shared a bed, and everything typically associated with an onscreen couple.    

Yet comparatively no fanworks exist about them.  When Lisa does appear in a fic, she is usual Castiel’s rival for Dean’s affections, or simply a hapless bystander. 

Why is this?  Well, a disillusioned observer might point to straight women’s apparent predilection towards fetishizing male homosexuality (I, for the record, am not straight myself;  I’m a proud bisexual who, thus far, has only dated women.)  I’m inclined to retort that this isn’t giving female fans nearly enough credit. 

For starters, remove all context from each relationship and examine them with a critical eye:  on the one hand, you have Castiel, Dean’s angelic savior from forty years in perdition.  Castiel is clearly fascinated with Dean, appearing in his bedroom, somewhat suggestively (advertently or otherwise) inquiring about his dreams, watching him sleep, routinely invading his personal space, and ultimately rebelling against heaven in accordance with Dean’s wishes. 

On the other hand, you have Lisa, a perfectly nice character who’s introduced as “the bendiest weekend of (Dean’s) life” and…well, that’s about it.  She’s later shown as a sort of amalgamation of Dean’s subconscious desire for a mother figure and normal life, but she, as a character, remains somewhat underdeveloped and hollow. 

You can’t expect fans to hold the two relationships to the same caliber and then cry internalized misogyny and fetishization of gay and bisexual men when they don’t.

The fact of the matter is, onscreen “friendships” are typically much more developed, much more three-dimensional, and much more ideal of what a truly epic romantic plot should be.  A character with a clear place in the narrative and three dimensional characterization all their own will almost always be more charismatic than a character who’s introduced as exclusively The Love Interest.  

This is not to say that what makes fanfiction so great is that it sexualizes or romanticizes friendship.  In fact, I’m inclined to believe it’s the other way around.  

Which brings me to my next point…

2.  Make sure your characters are friends.

It’s a romance for the ages.  A love like no other.  They’re soulmates, yin and yang, a match made in the stars.

But do they enjoy each other’s company?  Laugh at each other’s jokes?  Take part in each other’s interests?  Are they even friends?  

The sad fact of the matter is, romance and erotica are, as a whole, starved for values of friendship and camaraderie. 

This is something I realized only after my love of fanfiction took root, when I tried to return to my normal sources of adult entertainment (romance, erotica, and porn) and found them, by comparison, almost bafflingly lacking in warmth and camaraderie.  

What I think makes fanfiction so addictive is the fact that it’s built upon the established relationships of two or more characters (the Onceler and company notwithstanding) who, typically, care for one another as friends and compatriots.  

Look at some of the internet’s favorite pairings:  Dean Winchester and Castiel remain a classic.  Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers are always crowd-pleasers.  Kara Denvers and Lena Luthor are seeing a rise in popularity.  We all know Sherlock has somewhat fallen from grace, but the union of its two main characters still retains a devoted following.

This is no accident:  despite lacking onscreen confirmation, these characters have proven themselves to care for one another as more than objects of their sexual desire.  They’re friends, with relationships based in loyalty and warmth that are, unfortunately, sorely lacking in typical fictional romances.  

Once you get a taste of this brand of friendship-infused romance, in fanfiction or otherwise, it’s hard to go back.  

This isn’t just limited to quote-unquote “fanon” couples, either:  couples such as Mulder and Scully, Bones and Booth, Yuuri and Victor, and Ladybug and Chat Noir can all attribute their popularity to this strong basis in friendship, camaraderie, and mutual respect.

This is also the leading cause as to why the formerly booming 50 Shades franchise, and other arguably sexist, abusive dynamics, are struggling at the box office.  

Which reminds me… 

3.  Make sure your characters are equals. 

Unless you’re writing a Lolita-esque social commentary, it’s probably your best bet to keep your characters on fairly equal ground. 

I mean this in every sense of the word, too:  I have a difficult time getting invested in a romance when there’s a pretty blatant power imbalance, which oftentimes occurs due to the implicit sexism of the entertainment industry.

Disproportionately young actresses are assigned as love interests to much older men, such as Emma Watson’s twenty-something-year-old character lusting over a man almost twenty years her senior in Irrational Man.  

Physically mediocre or average-looking male characters are frequently pared with stunningly beautiful women who like them because they’re “nice,” fueling the existing mentality of all self-proclaimed “nice guys” who think society owes them a hot girl.

Furthermore, @popculturedetective just released an amazing video explaining the “Born Sexy Yesterday” trope, in which hopelessly naive, beautiful women are seen swooning over their more savvy male lovers.  (Found here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=2&v=0thpEyEwi80)

I love Splash and the Fifth Element as much as anybody, but both films incorporate all these tropes in ample proportions, and it’s frankly ridiculous. (On the topic of Splash, however, I’m greatly looking forward to a subversion of this trope in its remake, starring Channing Tatum as the titular merman and Julianne Belle as his human love interest.) 

On the other hand, you have fanfiction.  I’ve read numerous essays professing that fanfiction is becoming increasingly popular due to the fact that same-sex relationships tend to be implicitly devoid of these sex-based imbalances, and I’m inclined to agree.  

However, I’ve read others stating that male-male pairings tend to be so popular because male characters are typically more well-developed by writers, making it perfectly understandable that fans would be more invested in a possible romance between two characters of equal multidimensionality (see point 1) than one that is sorrowfully underdeveloped.  I’m inclined to think that this theory is even more on point.   

Because look at some of the successful onscreen relationships I listed prior:  we root for Bones and Booth’s inevitable union the same way we swoon over slowburn fanfiction, delighting in Mulder and Scully’s banter and craving their interaction.  

These are, in my opinion, some examples of straight couples done right, because they’re portrayed as friends (see the previous point), and just as importantly, as equals.  

Last, but certainly not least, the male characters in both pairings are depicted as having nothing but respect for their female compatriots, depending on their intellectual know how and not being ashamed to say so. 

A more contemporary example that gets this wrong?  Well, not to offend any fans of the pairing, but Mon-El and Kara, a la Supergirl.  Mon-El was, at the beginnings of his arc, consistently disrespectful towards Kara, putting her down and insulting her in the very same episodes in which her female compatriot – Lena Luthor – is shown vocally admiring and praising her.  

Mon-El has since improved on his behavior, but the damage is done:  I still have a difficult time seeing him as a likeable character, much less a suitable love interest for my beloved Kara.   


These are just a few recommendations, based on the ways in which my somewhat obsessive love of transformative literature (i.e. good fanfiction) have helped me as a writer and helped me view the implicit problems with mainstream romance with a more discerning and critical eye.

Here, I could provide a counterpoint with the recurring problems I’ve noticed in fanfiction, or I could go into some recomendations for writing explicitly gay and lesbian relationships.  Both of these, however, are topics worthy of another essay.

Disclaimer:  I am assuming that any and all readers are trying for an enjoyable, healthy romantic subplot with equally charismatic, consenting, and likable characters.  Dysfunctionality can be just as interesting from a literary standpoint, but again, this is a topic for another essay.


There will be essays like this published at least once every other week, so be sure to follow my blog and stay tuned for future writing advice and observations! 

It'll Last Longer (Bucky Barnes x Reader) One-Shot

It’ll Last Longer: After being gifted a Polaroid camera, Bucky becomes infatuated with taking pictures. Reader finds out that Bucky likes to take pictures of her, leading them to discovering Bucky’s camera kink.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minor kink shaming. Minior humiliation. Come play. Camera kink. Extremely NSFW!



When Steve brought Bucky to the tower for the first time, you were curious about him. He was a bit reclusive. When you held out your hand for him to shake, he stared at it as if it were some kind of deadly insect. The man hardly looked at you more than twice after that. Steve assured you that Bucky did like you, it was just going to take some time for him to get used to being around females.

“He hasn’t seen a dame that wasn’t running for their life since back in the day,” he explained.

You understood completely, figuring if you just gave the poor guy some distance, he’d come around at some point. It was only the first day, so it was no big deal. You made sure to give him a smile each time you saw him and even exchanged good mornings at breakfast. It took a while, but he began coming out of his shell bit by bit.

However, nine months into his stay at the tower, Bucky still wasn’t ready to go on missions yet.

There were days when he was stuck at the tower by himself with absolutely nothing to do. He watched movies on Netflix, worked out in the magnificent gym, and even tried drawing like Steve did. But the boredom was becoming unbearable. That’s when Steve took it upon himself to get his best friend a hobby.

“What is this?” Bucky asks, curiously fiddling with the device in his hands.

“It’s a camera. Y/N used to have one growing up, so I figured you’d like it.”

Steve took the camera from his friend’s hands and turned it towards him. After a bright flash, the mechanical sound of the picture printing made Bucky’s eyes widen with shock. They watched as the small Polaroid picture ejected from the camera.

“Holy shit!” he gawked as he stared down at the camera.

“Language, Buck.” Steve laughed and tossed the camera back to him.


The camera became Bucky’s new obsession.

He began snapping pictures of small things at first. He got ones of the birds as they flew over the roof of the tower, he got some of Steve as he polished his shield in the armory, and he even managed to get some of Tony’s suits in his lab.

As time went on, and he came out of his shell bit by bit, he began taking pictures of the team (with their permission of course.).

Everyone had gotten used to the small mechanical sounds of his Polaroid camera. He had a small collection of his team mates covering the walls of his room.

The ones of Sam consisted of the man doing everyday things like playing video games or singing along to Marvin Gaye. His favorite was the one he snapped of him wearing his wings right before a mission. His back was turned, the lighting casting a shadow over the mechanical wings, making it look like it belonged in some action movie poster.

The ones of Nat were mostly of her outside. He thought the sun made her hair look fiery and complimented her skin perfectly. He got some of her lounging by the pool as she read a book. Some were of her doing yoga on one of the mats by a large window in the gym. His favorite was the one he took a couple weeks ago; she and Steve were at the park and he managed to catch a photo of them kissing secretively. Bucky still smiles every time he sees it.

The ones of Clint consist of the archer doing the dorkiest things. There were far too many ones of him aiming one of his arrows at one of the team members, making silly faces behind their backs. There was some of him playing guitar hero dramatically and even one of him trying to balance a vast amount of graham crackers on his forehead; that one was Bucky’s personal favorite.

The ones he got of Wanda, usually Vision was there with her, and so he just combined the two of theirs into one section in his room. Most of their pictures consisted of them cooking in the kitchen (Vision finally learned how to properly make paprika!) with the two covered in flour and laughing. There was some of Vision by himself, putting together the many puzzles he owned or helping Tony in the lab. The ones of Wanda consisted of the woman sculpting clay with her powers (which became a hobby of her own.) and covered in various colors of paint from head to toe.

Somehow, he was able to get some selfies from Thor when he came down from Asgard. He got some of the demi god placing his hammer on Steve’s shield with Steve struggling underneath it. His favorite was the one he got of him calling Heimdall to open the portal.

The ones of Tony were almost always from afar. He still wasn’t comfortable with the man just yet, but that didn’t stop him from snapping a few pics of him as he tinkered away in his garage. And he has one of the men secretly playing the grand piano in his basement. He made sure to hide that one.

Out of all the pictures he had in his room, he found that the ones of you took up the most space. And for a totally valid reason. Bucky would take it to the grave if he had to.

He was a little bit obsessed with you. Just a little bit.

Some of the pictures of you consisted of you working out. He found you the most beautiful when you simply weren’t trying to be. Your eyebrows were drawn together in focus, your hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail, and you were completely unaware of your natural beauty. The other half were of you in your combat suit before a mission. There was something about your pre-mission aura that made you look amazing. You were standing next to Steve during a mission briefing, your eyes were focused on the paper in front of you. There were some of you doing your make up in the mirror of your bedroom, your hair in rollers as you applied a coat of mascara that you really didn’t need.

On top of all that, Bucky Barnes had a secret that nobody knew. He had an entire separate collection of Polaroids of you hidden in a small box underneath his bed and they were for his own eyes only. Steve had been the only one to notice that majority of the pictures Bucky took of you were ones in which you were wearing less clothing than usual. He nearly had a heart attack when the blond brought it up one day. But being the pure, wholesome soul Steve was, Bucky was able to argue that the pictures were taken in the summertime.

In the hidden box, there were various photos.

Some were of you in the swimming pool, wearing your bikini. The first picture was your breasts, he didn’t even bother to get your face into the shot. It was the first day of summer and it was your day off. The next picture was taken seconds later, but the shot was of your ass as you reached for the beer Nat was handing you. The material of the bottoms hugged around your curves amazingly, how could he not snap a picture?

The third photo was the main source of Bucky’s masturbating material, as it was a photo of you lying on one of the lounge chairs. The position Bucky was in gave him a perfect view of your clothed crotch. Your feet were planted on the chair, giving him the opportunity to snap the picture and slip it into his back pocket.

There was a second group of pictures from the one time the power went out during a thunderstorm, causing everything to shut down, even the water. Luckily for him, you were in the middle of a shower and had to step out into the common room wearing only a towel. He just HAD to get a picture of that. There were only two: One of you sitting on one of the stools. He purposely chose to sit on the couch to get a view of your slightly open legs, but alas, you crossed them as soon as he sat. The second one was of you crossing your arms over your chest, unknowingly causing your breasts to push up.

The third stack was taken during a Halloween party that Tony was throwing. You decided to come dressed up a Little Red Riding Hood, wearing a rather revealing corset and skirt that showed off your legs. The entire night, Bucky stealthily followed you around, snapping picture after picture of you. There were some that he was able to get up your skirt as you re crossed your legs or bent over. He got some of your breasts as you leaned over the pool table and some of your mouth as you bit into one of the candy apples Wanda made. Steve couldn’t figure out why Bucky was grinning like an idiot as he walked back to his room after the party. To sum it up, Bucky had a very good time in his room that night.

There was the downside of it all, though.

Bucky was taking inappropriate pictures of you without your permission. When it all came down to it, he was technically a peeping tom. It was wrong, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop, not matter how perverted it was. It was almost like an addiction. He longed to finally get a picture of you completely exposed and vulnerable. It was his biggest fantasy.

But honestly, he would be terrified if you somehow ever found out about his little perverted game.


Tony was perhaps the dumbest smart person you’ve ever known.

One of the greatest minds in the twenty first century, somehow managed to ‘accidentally’ cause a malfunction in one of his suits, causing it to explode in his workshop. The same workshop that was right next to the giant air conditioning unit, causing the entire tower’s air conditioning to go out in the middle of July.

You were in the common area, trying to read one of your beloved Harry Potter books, despite the scorching heat coming from outside. You tried to go swimming, but that only made it worse, hence the sun was still directly beaming on you. Giving up, you toweled off and plopped onto the couch, flipping through your book.

After a while of flipping through the book, you got the sudden feeling of someone watching you. It was probably nothing, as you were the only person on the floor. You focused back on the words of your book, scanning the paragraph for the place you left off.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, it never went away. In fact, it only got stronger. Glancing up from your book, you caught the sight of Bucky Barnes watching you intently from the small kitchen area. The way he was positioned, the average person wouldn’t have been able to spot him, but you had grown used to his stealth.

Setting your book down, you gave him a smile. How long had he been there? Bucky was a pretty cool guy from your encounters, but this was creeping you out a bit. He blinked a few times, before pretending to do something. Unsure of how else to handle the situation, you went back to your book, ignoring the intense gaze from the kitchen.

After finishing your book, you closed it and rolled onto your back. The bikini top you wore tightened around your chest, but you couldn’t find yourself to care the slightest bit. You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. You really, really, missed the air conditioning.

For the second time that day, you felt the feeling of being watched creep its way into your mind. The sound of footsteps alerted you that you weren’t alone in the living room any more.

“Why don’t you take a picture, Barnes?” you tease, smirking. “It’ll last longer.”

Turning your head to the side, you caught the sight of Bucky peering down at you from behind the couch. In his hand was the small Polaroid camera you’d seen quite a bit. Trailing your eyes down his body, you noticed how handsome he was. Those darn super soldiers…

“I already have some of you,” his voice is soft, yet reluctant. Each one of his words were chosen carefully, you could sense it. “You’re just…very photogenic. I can’t help but admire.”

You’ve been called a lot of things by past boyfriends and lovers. Hot, sexy, etc.; but there was something about being called photogenic by Bucky that made your heart flutter and a blush break out on your cheeks. You sat up, propping yourself on your elbows.

“Photogenic?” you ask. He nods, eyes trailing down your body. “That’s one I haven’t heard before.” It was meant as a joke, but you both knew it was the truth.

“If it’s alright with you,” he says, holding the camera up for you to see. “Can I….take some pictures of you?”

The question catches you off guard.

You knew he took some snaps of you now and then, but he was technically asking you for a photoshoot now. You knew he wouldn’t post them or anything – he barely could operate the remote for the TV.

“Alright,” you say, standing and walking over to him. 

“Where do you want me?”


It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

You were in the pool, floating around on Clint’s little duck floaty as Bucky snapped picture after picture of you. It was almost as if you were some A-list celebrity. You felt like Marilyn Monroe without the extra craziness that came along with it. It was flattering, to say the least.

“Is this okay?” you asked him as you took a sip from your beer.

“It’s perfect,” he says, snapping another picture. “You look gorgeous.”

He looked like a kid at Christmas. Maybe he was just excited that someone had took an interest in his hobby? He always got that way when Steve asked him about his pictures.

After a couple of hours, you began to grow tired. The beaming sun on your body mixed with your hands turning wrinkly were draining you and Bucky had run out of film. He had used an entire roll; scattered all around him from his lap and onto the concrete were pictures of you.

“You said you had more of those,” you mention, peering up at him. He hums a yes while taking a sip of his own beer. You can’t help but stare at his jawline. Man, you could cut diamonds on that thing. “Can you show me?” His eyes light up at your words.

“Anything for you, doll.” He grins, setting the beer down and helping you out of the pool.

You’d always wanted to see this so called collection that Steve talked about. He said that Bucky had a whole wall dedicated

to it. You had to see this for yourself.

Bucky’s room wasn’t as dark and gloomy as you thought it would be. In fact, it was pretty well decorated.

The first thing you caught was the Polaroid’s, which covered an entire wall. You gaped, standing in front of it. There were pictures of everyone doing all sorts of things.

You saw one taken on Sam’s birthday; Clint had smashed some cake into his face. You saw another taken of Peter, who was dangling upside down on a web, grinning at the camera. You giggled when you saw one of Nat as she was angrily swatting at the camera, her face covered in a facial mask. There was even one of Vision giving the camera a thumbs up as he stirred whatever he was cooking.

But the one that caught your eye the most was a peculiar one on his desk. If you hadn’t of glanced there, you wouldn’t have noticed it in the first place. Moving the random book that covered half of it, you held it up so that you could get a better look.

And you weren’t sure if you should’ve done that.

It was a Polaroid of you a couple months back. You had spilled a glass of soda on your white sleeping shirt during movie night and your nipples were almost visible through the material.

Thinking back to that night, you remembered that there wasn’t anyone else in the kitchen with you either. How did he even get that pi-

Before you could react, Bucky snatched the Polaroid from your hand and held it behind his back defensively.

“What…how did….why?” you stuttered. If he’d taken one picture like this, there surely must’ve been more, right? He was far too skilled when it came to it.

Bucky stared down at the floor shamefully.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he says quietly. You frown.

“Find out what?” You ask, glancing back at the photos. “That you’re taking perverted pictures of me?”

“That’s not what this is, I swear!” he cried. “I like you, Y/N. A lot, actually. I didn’t know how to approach you. I’m not used to being around…women.”

“But Nat…”

“Nat’s well….she’s Nat,” he says with a nervous chuckle. One that he immediately stops when he sees your eyes grow colder. “She’s not really a traditional dame, if you catch my drift. She’s like one of the guys.”

You had no idea what to say. You were frustrated, not because you were embarrassed, but because somehow, deep in that dirty little mind of yours, you found this to be the sweetest thing. But you couldn’t figure out if it was because it was Bucky, or because it was the situation. You were utterly confused.

You stood in front of Bucky, holding the picture in your hands. 


“This has got to be the creepiest…” you began. His face fell into a frown. “….cutest thing anyone has ever done for me, Bucky.” You placed the picture back into his hand and placed a small kiss on his lips.

“What do you say we take some more? Maybe without all these clothes on?”

His eyes nearly shot out of his head at how wide they were. You watched his face as you reached behind your back and slowly undid the bikini top and dropped it onto the floor. His mouth fell open at the sight of your bare chest. You licked your lips before crashing them onto his. His hands felt their way to your hips, hooking underneath the bottoms of your bikini and tugging them down your thighs forcefully. Once he rid them from you, he gave your behind a playful swat. You moaned into his mouth. He pulled away, staring down at you with darkened eyes. This was far better than any picture he could’ve taken.

“C’mere,” he says, gently pushing you back onto the bed. He picked your legs and spread them wide, setting both your feet on the bed. You felt so exposed and it was the hottest thing you’ve experienced so far. You rested your hands on your stomach as you patiently waited for Bucky. The sound of clicking was the only thing audible as he replaced the film in his camera.

“Okay, doll,” his Brooklyn accent now, and it sent a wave of arousal to your core.

You picked your head up and peer up at him. He held the camera in his hands, but his eyes were glued between your legs. You could feel yourself dripping onto the comforter, just imagine how it must’ve looked to Bucky.

He cleared his throat before looking back into your eyes. “Can you spread your legs for me?” he asks.

You can’t help but giggle at how chivalrous he was even when he was horny. You nod, spreading your legs farther apart, giving him a full view of your pussy. You could hear his breath stutter, he cursed under his breath.

“Like this?” you ask innocently, sliding your hand down your body until your fingers are resting on your lips, spreading them apart. Bucky lets out a small groan at the sight and nods.

“That’s perfect, angel.” He says, looking into the camera and pressing the little red button on the side. You watched as the picture slipped out of the camera and onto Bucky’s hand. Setting it on the dresser, he turned back to you with a grin.

“You look so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he says, leaning down and pecking your lips. “Can you try something else for me?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, darling.” You didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but you couldn’t help it. You were being showered with affection and compliments, you were lost in Bucky at the moment. 


Bucky held the camera with his flesh hand and brought his metal one to your mouth. His fingers brushed your bottom lip, running along the pink flesh. “Can you get these nice and wet for me, sweetie?” you groan at the nickname and take two of his fingers into your mouth, lapping them up with your tongue.

Bucky watched you as you did, licking his lips hungrily. Pulling them out, he leaned forward and pecked your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

Leaning back between your legs, he slowly ran his fingers along the slit of your core, making sure your lips were spread. He placed the camera between your legs and pressed red the button again.

“Fuck,” you whispered. His metal fingers were cold, but you didn’t mind. They felt amazing.

You began grinding your hips into them, eager for some kind of friction. Bucky smiled down at you, one that showed nothing but pure admiration.

“You want my fingers, honey? Is that it?” he asks. You nod furiously.

“Please, Bucky.” Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head when he inserted his first finger into you. But it wasn’t nearly enough. You needed more.

Placing the camera back between your legs, he added another finger; earning a moan from you. Clicking the red button, you let out another moan as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you faster. You grabbed onto his arms, spreading your legs even wider.

“Oh my god,” you whimper. His fingers began creating an obscene sound as they entered you over and over again. It was so damn filthy, but you fucking loved it.

Suddenly, Bucky pulled out his fingers from your dripping core, making you whine.

“We’re not done yet, doll,” he says. He placed the camera on the bed and slowly pulled the black boxers he wore down. You watched as they traveled down his toned thighs until they were nothing more than a heap of material on the floor.

He gripped his member in his flesh hand and slowly began pumping himself as he stared down at you. That’s when you got the brightest idea. Reaching beside you, you grabbed the camera and aimed it at Bucky and pressed the little red button. You turned the camera towards you and held the Polaroid in your fingers. You couldn’t see his face, but you could had a perfect view of his cock, leaking precum onto his hand. Smiling innocently, you placed the picture on the dresser.

“Y/N,” he smiled. “Did you just….?”

You reached forward and pulled him on top of you. You threaded your fingers in his hair and crashed his mouth onto yours. He let out a moan into the kiss, licking inside your mouth with his tongue. He tasted so damn good, just like you knew he would.

Your legs found themselves wrapped around his waist and you could feel him sliding across your heat. You reached down between the two of you and gripped his member, guiding it to your entrance.

“Not so fast, sugar,” he teased, reaching for the camera. He leaned back, aiming the camera between your bodies. He gripped himself once again and slid the head of his cock against your dripping hole. You threw your head back, letting out a cry of pleasure. You ached for him, yet he tortured you. It wasn’t fair.

The sound of the camera snapping pulled you back to reality.

“Bucky,” you hissed. “Enough already. Just fuck me!” He chuckled with amusement.

He slowly pressed the head inside of you, stretching your walls farther than they’ve ever been. It hurt, but it was amazing. His head fell onto your shoulder and he let out a shaky breath. He pulled out all the way and peered down between the two of you. The sight of his cock covered in your juices nearly made you orgasm right then.

Without telling you, he slammed his hips into yours, making you scream out in both pain and pleasure. His thrusts were brutal, causing the bed to slam against the wall. You wrapped your arms around him. His mouth found its way to your shoulder, biting gently onto the flesh. He felt so fucking good, you felt like you could cry.

Shifting his weight onto his knees, Bucky pulled your legs over his waist and began thrusting harder into your abused hole. Your head fell back onto the bed, you could feel your clit rubbing against his abdomen in such delicious way.

It was all too much for you. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, your body was trembling with pleasure. Bucky’s hands began kneading your breasts, pinching your nipples softly. He let out a loud groan as he felt the head of his cock hit your cervix. The sound of your skin hitting his filled the room, along with your screams.

“Bucky,” you cried. "I’m gonna come!”

He let out a shaky laugh, amused at how much you loved this, before grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. He gently sucked on your neck, nibbling into the delicate flesh.

You let out a scream as your orgasm ripped through your body. You dragged your nails down Bucky’s back, making him let out a gasp. His thrusts are becoming sloppy, you can feel him trembling against your body, but you’re too out of it to even care. You just came your brains out.

“Fuck, Y/N!” He growled into your ear. “Im gonna come.”

You gently pushed him away from you, he let out a whine. Placing a kiss on his cheek, you force him to stand. You kneel in front of him, opening your mouth for him.

Taking the hint, he grabbed the camera and aimed it at you, while pumping himself curiously with his metal hand.

He’s chanting your name over and over, thrusting into his fist and its the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. You can’t wait to taste him.

FUCK Y/N!” He shouts, his orgasm ripping through him.

You lean closer as he coats ribbon after ribbon of come onto your mouth and breasts. It was a lot, far more than any of the few guys you’ve been with could produce. He tasted sweeter than them, too. You licked your lips, gathering some of it with your tongue.

You looked up at Bucky innocently, smiling at him.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this, Y/N.” he breathes. He lifted the camera and aimed it at you. With a nod, you smile seductively as he clicked the little red button.

Tossing the camera onto the bed, he helped you up from the floor and set you on his bed. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he ran to the bathroom. You could hear the faint sound of a faucet running. He made his way back to you, a small washcloth in hand and a sheepish smile on his lips.

He gently wiped your face, making sure nothing was left, before making his way to your chest.

“Y/N,” he says, breaking the silence. Your eyes met his.

“Yes, Bucky?” The corners of his mouth twitched at the sound of his name coming from your mouth.

I love you.” You can’t fight the grin that spreads on your face.

“I know,” you say, placing a kiss on his lips. “I love you, too.

- Fin!

Maggie Stiefvater talks 'All the Crooked Saints,' and here's a first look at the cover

Maggie Stiefvater may have concluded the Raven Cycle just last year, but the author already has a new stand-alone YA novel hitting shelves later this year.

The book, titled All the Crooked Saints, takes place in the 1960s in Bicho Raro, Colorado and follows the lives of three members of the Soria family-each of whom is searching for their own miracle. There’s Beatriz, who appears to lack feelings but wants to study her mind; Daniel, the “Saint” of Bicho Raro, a miracle worker for everyone but himself; and Joaquin (a.k.a. Diablo Diablo), who runs a pirate radio station at night.

Adding to the mystery (and magic) of the book is the book’s intriguing cover-which EW is pleased to reveal exclusively below.

“There are owls in the book because owls are a very scientific creature that gets credited with a lot of magical superstitions,” Stiefvater tells EW. “There are roses in the book because roses are a very magical flower that take a lot of science to truly understand. Put that together and well - as the kids say, that’s it. That’s the book.”

With Stiefvater’s latest novel set to hit stores on Oct. 10, EW caught up with the bestselling author to find out more about what’s in store for readers, her process, and of course, her upcoming Ronan Lynch trilogy.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: All three of your characters are looking for a miracle. What do miracles, or the idea of miracles mean to them?
MAGGIE STIEFVATER: Miracles! Miracles! Miracles! This book is full of them. I was taught by nuns for the first dozen years of my life, and so I was raised with a pantheon of peculiar saints: decapitated saints who carried their own severed head through the streets of cities, saints who exorcised demons from the bottoms of milk pails, saints who flew unexpectedly.

The Soria family are saints as well, and the miracle they perform for pilgrims to Bicho Raro is as strange as most miracles are: They can make the darkness inside you visible. Once the pilgrims see their inner darkness face to face, it’s up to them to perform another miracle on themselves: banishing the darkness for good. It can be a tricky business to vanquish your inner demons, even once you know what they are, but the Sorias are forbidden to help with this part. They’ve all been told that if a Soria interferes with the second miracle, it will bring out their own darkness, and a saint’s darkness, so the story goes, is a most potent and dangerous thing.

The three cousins in the story all have their own relationship with the family miracles: Daniel, the current acting Saint of Bicho Raro, wants to help the pilgrims overcome their darkness through holiness and empathy. Beatriz, on the other hand, would prefer if the Sorias approached the miracle from a more logical and scientific place. And Joaquin is less interested in miracles and more interested in broadcasting rock & roll from a pirate radio station in the back of a battered box truck.

How did you come up with the name “Bicho Raro”?
I’d just finished writing the rather heavy final installment of the Raven Cycle, and I thought it would be nice to switch things up with something playful and - dare I say it? “Feel good”? Does that sound like a Stiefvater novel to you?

So I tried to be as playful in my language as I could. I figured if my words were frolicking, readers might too. “Bicho raro” (“rare bug”) is just a little way to speak fondly about odd people, like “strange bird” or “odd duck.” It’s less about the Soria family themselves and more about the varied pilgrims who come to Bicho Raro.

What inspired the novel’s setting?
Three years ago, I convinced Scholastic that instead of flying to all of my tour events for Sinner, the companion book to the Shiver trilogy, I would instead drive my 1973 Camaro to them. Seven thousand miles, coast to coast, just an American girl in a muscle car, seeing the breadbasket of our fine country while hawking a novel about burned-out werewolves - nothing could go wrong.

Spoiler: Everything went wrong. I spent my time evenly divided between meeting readers and repairing the Camaro by the side of the road.

At one point, the brakes went out (for the second time), and I coasted into an auto repair shop in Del Norte, Colorado. The sun was white, the air was dust, and the mountains were sharp as hell all around. While I waited for the mechanic to take a look at my brake lines, the receptionist told me tall tales and ghost stories about straight-arrow desert roads and demons dancing in the dust and strangers appearing in the night.

I thought to myself: This is where my next novel takes place.

What made you decide to set All the Crooked Saints in the 60s? Is there something in the history of Colorado at that time that speaks to you?
Music! Music! Music! When I was growing up in the 80s, my father always had the radio set to the Golden Oldies - I didn’t realize, in fact, that it wasn’t contemporary music. I thought Del Shannon and Patsy Cline and the Byrds were everyone’s current groove. Even after I discovered differently, it didn’t matter; that music had become the sound of my childhood. There’s something about 60s music and the 60s in general that I think pairs perfectly with a novel about the teen experience - 60s America was going through an adolescence in a lot of ways, and it was a time of mystical joy, innocence lost, increasingly uncomfortable self-awareness of the limitations of tradition, and colorful agitation for change, all of it emotional and urgent. If that’s not a description of being a teen, I don’t know what is.

I’ve been dying to write a novel steeped with the music of that time for about five years now, and for this one, it made sense. I had an incredibly grand and self-indulgent time listening to the music Joaquin and Beatriz spin in their covert broadcasts.

Your work has always been infused with aspects of magical realism. What would you say are some of your influences?
Magic! Magic! Magic! For this book in particular, Isabel Allende, Gabriel Garca Mrquez, Erick Setiawan, Ali Shaw, and maybe even John Irving - I have read a lot of wonderful magic realism and wry, intimate family stories over the last decade, and Saints is my affectionate nod to them. It was also informed by movies, though - I really wanted to capture the mood of films like Big Fish, Chocolat, and Amlie. That whimsy and magic and nostalgia. These are strange, hard times that we’re living in, and I wanted to write about magic - I always do - but I also felt like I wanted to leave readers with something that made them happy, hopeful, and excited about all the odd miracles that exist in the world and in themselves.

Of course, I have to ask one question about the upcoming Ronan trilogy. Is there anything you could tease about it?
Insert, Stiefvater said, an enigmatic smile here.

All the Crooked Saints will be available for purchase on Oct. 10.

This article was originally published on ew.com

Hello, Gentle Reader. This is Fan Fiction.

Recently, I’ve seen some rumblings across my dashboard about fan fiction again.  

I don’t want to dive into a debate because all the information that I have to go on are second hand sources and there’s always going to be a bit of bias there, because one person can see it in one way and another person can perceive it in another way.  

I’d rather explain to you, New and Gentle Reader, what fan fiction is, if this is the first time you’ve heard about it.  

Fan fiction is what happens when you walk out of the theater, turn off the TV, the radio, close that book or whatnot for the first time and ask yourself  “What happens next?"  Or:  "What if it happened THIS way instead?"  Fan fiction is what happens when you are six or seven years old and you take your dolls, your action figures, your stuffed toys and various household items as props and send them all onto adventure.  Maybe Barbie rescues G.I. Joe from Cobra or Optimus Prime fights the Evil Transforming Kitchen Thingy that Mom uses for making meatloaf but should really be the Evil Transforming Dark Lord of the Sith.  

Fan fiction is what happens when you are ten and you’re discovering how to really write for the first time and you put words on the page, in your math and English notebooks, one sentence after another, style be damned, painstakingly bringing forth to life the images in your head of your cartoon and movie and book heroes.  

Fan fiction happens when you are in your teens and you want to be the hero or the heroine of the story and you want to fight alongside Captain America and the Avengers and go on the Quest to Erebor or save Frodo from the effects of the Ring.  

Fan fiction happens when you are in your twenties or your thirties or beyond that and you are still writing because you just enjoy and love telling stories.  There’s a new maturity to your writing and that happens because you’re a bit older, though maybe not wiser, but you still love telling the stories anyway.  People tell you that you should write for money and sometimes you think, hey I could try that and you dream.  And sometimes you just smile and say, "I just like telling stories” and that is more than enough for you.  

And sometimes people fall in love in your stories, regardless of sex or gender.  Sometimes they fight.  Sometimes they laugh.  They cry.  They hate.  They die.  Sometimes they kiss.  Sometimes they make love.  Sometime it’s just sex.  You keep writing.  You can’t help it.  You get that idea and you just need to write it down.  Word for word.  One sentence after another.  Just like when you were a kid and you’d wear your pencils to stubs and let your pens run out of ink as you shape the letters.  

That’s fan fiction.  Sometimes, the best stories in the world start because they were fan fiction.  Ask Shakespeare.  Ask Jules Verne.  Ask Neil Gaiman.  

Gentle Reader, if this is your first time in here, then I hope you might find the time to read my stories.  I humbly ask, because a fan fiction writer’s currency is in the feedback of his or her readers and we’re happy to hear from them when it’s good and devastated when we get hate from those who don’t even have the courage to sign their names.  If it’s not for you, then I understand.  It’s all right.  Move on, that’s okay.  These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.  Maybe there’s something else you’d like.  It’s fine.  

And this is what I hope for if you do decide to venture in.

I hope you smile.  I hope you laugh.  I hope that you ended up snorting coffee out your nose in the middle of Starbucks.  (Here’s a napkin.  Sorry that I’m not sorry?)  I hope that I made you giggle in the middle of the subway or the bus stop and you get weird looks from folks passing by.  

I hope you cry, because sometimes I write sad things and that makes me cry too.  Here’s a tissue.  It’s okay.  Sometimes there are no happy endings.

I hope you are frightened, but only in a way that a good, scary story can make you feel frightened.  Sometimes there are dark and terrible things out there and they’re part of the Story too.  Hold my hand.  It’s all right.  I’ve got you.

I hope you blush and maybe smile a little later when love and romance and sweet things are told.  Love is a gift and true love is meant to endure.  And sometimes there’s hurt and pain and grief in there too, but you already know that.  You’ve lived that.  Sometimes we do have happy endings after all.  There’s always hope.  

Are you ready?

It doesn’t always start with “once upon a time” or “a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…” but every story starts somewhere.  

Turn the page.  Click the button.

Here we go.    

What traveling has taught me:

-It’s not a race. I was always so bummed about the number of countries I’ve been to compared to other people my age until I understood that the number of places visited is not what traveling is about at all. It’s not important about how many places you’ve been but the depth you’ve explored them. I have been to some beautiful places all around the world that I am insanely grateful for. We can not compare our journeys to others.

-Read books you normally wouldn’t read. Question each line. Watch movies you normally wouldn’t go see. Study the cinematography. Order the meal on the menu you can’t pronounce. This is how you discover new parts of yourself.

-Take care of our earth. We are destroying it faster than we even know. Humans need places that have not been altered or rearranged by man.

-Simplify. Clean. Get rid of shit. We don’t need a lot to live. Oh, and, pack light.

-Walk barefoot. Harden the bottom of your feet. Wear less makeup and dress the way you want. Be comfortable with your natural body. Drink more water. Take care of yourself.

-You have the power to choose love. Love the sky, the stars, the animals, the people, the trees, the street corners. Always choose to love.

-Going alone is okay. If we all waited for someone to travel with us, we’d be waiting for a very, very long time. So, please go even if you have no one to go with. There are millions of people all over the world that are just waiting to meet you. Some of them you’ll meet in a hostel room and you’ll end up spending the night walking through the street markets, some of them you’ll meet at a bar and discover new corners of a city you didn’t know existed, some of them you’ll meet sitting on a bench at a bus stop and you’ll end up sharing the best coffee you’ve probably ever had, some of them you’ll meet watching the sunset on the beach and you’ll end up sharing stories and laughing with them until the morning and some of them will end up being your best friends. And sometimes you’re going to be alone and going on tours, to the movies, or to restaurants sounds scary to do by yourself at first but soon enough you’ll learn that it is completely okay to be alone. Solo does not mean lonely.

-Don’t say you don’t like anything until you try it at least three times.

-Save your change.

-Spend less time on social media. It’s no secret that social media is addictive and it’s really good at taking away precious moments. It’s important to not be glued to your phone or laptop while abroad. Social media will always be there for you when you get home.

-Traveling is overly romanticized. It is very hard work. It does not solve all your problems that you have at home. And traveling is not what it looks like on Instagram.

-When you’re eating, really taste your food. Talk to the locals. Immerse yourself fully into this new culture. When you’re out hiking, let go of your phone. This is how you’re going to get the best experience possible. Live in the moment.

-Take photos. It is physically impossible to remember all these moments in your life. Someday down the road, maybe when you’re feeling a little depressed or bored, you can grab your camera and scroll through these photos that’ll remind you of some of the best times of your life.

-It’s okay to look like a tourist. It’s cool to make mistakes. Don’t be afraid to ask a questions. If you make a mistake, do or say something offensive then and apologize and move on. Your life won’t be over.

-Cheesy souvenirs are never worth it. Collect sea glass, your train tickets, plane tickets, maps, stickers and coins. Chances are those colosseum magnets you bought in rome were really made in china. Support the locals if you’re going to buy souvenirs.

-People are good. I’m sure you’ve heard or experienced this before but the people with nearly nothing are the most giving. We can all learn something from them.

-The world is not as bad and scary as the news makes it out to be.

-Nothing will ever go as you expect it to. Plans go out the door. I learned this the hard way. In fact, I am sure every traveler has learned this the hard way. You’ll miss flights, you’ll get flat tires on road trips, you’ll end up spending a lot more money than you expected, you’ll miss buses, you’ll have to run to trains to get to them on time, I promise you’ll have a dead battery when all you want to do is call mom to make you feel better, the hostel you wanted will be full, your dumb airline will lose all your luggage, things will get canceled and you’ll spend many unexpected nights crying but despite all the struggles that traveling brings upon us, it is always worth it. The tears, sore shoulders and blistered feet are always worth it. There’s no point in getting mad that your plan fell through.

-Everything happens for a reason. If you get an opportunity, take it and if something comes along in your life to change it, let it.

Riverdale Imagine: Panic (Jughead x Reader)

Request by Anonymous: can you please do a jughead x reader where y/n has really bad anxiety & panic attacks (jug & everyone already knows this) & one day y/n has a panic attack out of the blue when she’s with jug, archie, betty, kevin, & veronica while they r all watching a movie together jug gets everyone to leave the room & tries & calms her & is actually the sweetest person in the universe & gives her kisses & its just UGHH so much fluff….

Summary: ^^

A/N: I don’t have anxiety and I have never had a panic attack. I have done some research for the purpose of this fic but if I have gotten something drastically wrong please message me, I only want to be my best for you guys!

Approx. 1730 words

Even before waking up that morning, you knew that you were having one of your bad days. Your sleep had been plagued with nightmares and, although you couldn’t remember any of them in the morning, they had left you visibly shaken. As you sat in front of your mirror, wrapped in a towel with your long wet hair dripping over your shoulders, you couldn’t help but pick fault with your appearance. You hated the bags under your eyes, the ghostly-pale completion that made you look permanently ill, and the way your stomach curved out too much. Today you just hated everything about yourself, you felt like throwing up at the thought of having to go to school, the thought of people looking at you. Why are you so fucking ugly? You screamed at yourself silently. You let out a deep breath as you reached for your medication, tipping a single shiny-white pill into your hand.

 After three attempts at doing your make-up with shaking hands, changing your outfit numerous times, and repeatedly checking your school-bag to make sure you had everything, there was a knock at the door. As you opened the front door, pulling your bag over your shoulder and grabbing the cereal bar that your mum had left on the side for you, you were greeted by the smiling-face of your best-friend and long-time crush Jughead Jones. You took another deep breath before smiling brightly back at him, attempting to hide how you really just wanted to slam the door and curl up in your bedroom alone.

 “Hey Y/N, you alright?” he asked casually. You felt a spark of panic, you didn’t want Jughead to know how you were feeling today, and you began to think how he had realised you weren’t okay until you remembered that he asked you that question every morning before you walked to school.

 “Hey Juggie, I’m good thank you.”

__________________________

 Getting through the school day had felt like physical torture. You felt as though everyone had been watching you and you didn’t feel as though you could do anything right. You had almost burst into tears when you couldn’t answer one of the math questions in class. Thankfully, it was the end of the day and it was a Friday so you could spend the weekend in your room and not have to put on a show for anyone. You were just closing your locker, when you noticed Jughead leaning against the wall next to you, you smiled at him weakly.

 “What are you doing tonight?” he questioned. Your heart sank, it turned out that the show wasn’t over after all.

 “Um…” you couldn’t think of a convincing excuse and silently cursed yourself, “nothing I guess.”

 “Great! We’re having a movie night at Archie’s. Shall I come and pick you up at about 7pm?”

 “Jug, I live next-door!” you rolled your eyes.

 “I know! But I know you and I know that you will probably get lost on the way over” he said mischievously, winking at you.

 __________________________

A few hours later, there was a knock at the door for a second time that day. Grabbing your jacket, you opened the door and smiled at Jughead, the butterflies in your stomach returning after a feeling of numbness all day. Over the last few hours, you had succeeded in quelling your anxiety slightly by going for a run and having a long shower, determined to have a good night with your friends. They were all aware of your anxiety, but that didn’t mean their evening had to be ruined just because you couldn’t get a grip on yourself, you wondered for a moment if you should stay at home.

 “I brought some onion rings especially for you” Jughead said smugly as he held out a take-out bag from Pop’s, he knew onion rings were your favourite. You smiled at him as you took the bag and held out a paper bag of your own.

 “I made cookies for you” you said proudly. You knew that Jughead loved eating cookies while he was watching a movie.

 “Coconut?” he asked excitedly and you nodded. “And that is why you are my best friend, because Archie cannot bake like a goddess!” he exclaimed, throwing his arm around your shoulders and guiding you down your drive-way in the direction of Archie’s house. You were thankful that it was already dark outside; so that Jughead couldn’t see you blush. He always showed physical affection to you – by hugging you, or putting his arm around you, sometimes he even held your hand – but you knew that it meant something more to you than it did to him, how could someone like Jughead like you anyway? You were broken.

 Everyone was sprawled in the living room when you arrived, the opening credits of the movie already showing upon the screen. Veronica was snuggling next to Archie on one of the sofas – they weren’t official yet but everyone knew that they were falling for each other – and Betty and Kevin were sitting on beanbags on the floor in front, leaving the other sofa empty for you and Jughead. Archie tried to grab the bag of cookies from Jughead as he passed, and Jughead quickly snatched them away laughing, pulling you onto the other sofa with him. You were surprised when he kept his arm around your shoulders, causing you to curl up next to him on the sofa, he usually lay down with his feet on you but you didn’t mind, it felt good to be close to him.

 It was about half way through the movie when your heart started racing and you began to feel very hot. You hastily pulled away from Jughead, bringing your now-shaking hands to your face and squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of dizziness washed over you, but it wasn’t a gentle wave, you felt like you had been hit by a tsunami. You sensed the feeling of dread drop in your stomach like a stone, it was as if you were falling.

 “Y/N? What’s wrong?” Jughead asked, the pitch of his voice rising with concern.

 He got the answer he was looking for from the sound of your fast and shallow breathing; he could practically hear the panic rising.

 “Guys, go to the kitchen and give us some space” he demanded, “I think she is having another panic attack.”

 You could hear the sound of people moving, but it seemed miles away. You cried out as the sensation of a sharp pain spread through your chest and you began to dig your nails into your temples. You could feel someone pulling you, but the dizziness made you feel disorientated and you couldn’t remember where you were. Suddenly, the pain in your chest receded and instead you could feel something warm on your back, rubbing your skin gently. You looked up and found yourself in Jughead’s lap, protected by his strong arms that encircled your quivering body. He was breathing deeply next to your ear, encouraging you to match your breathing with his own, calming you. You looked up at him through your tears and he carefully wiped them away with his soft fingers, but he didn’t remove his hand from your face. Instead he leant towards you and, after a moment of hesitation where you could feel his breath on your face, he kissed you softly on the mouth. After he pulled away, you just stared at him in shock, had the boy you had been in love with for years just kissed you? Jughead took your surprise the wrong way.

 “I’m sorry Y/N I didn’t mean –”he began. You cut him off by pressing your lips to his again, this time more forcefully, and shifting in his lap so you were straddling him, pushing your body into his chest. He moaned and pulled away from you chuckling. “I think we have company.”

 You peered around and blushed as you noticed Veronica standing in the doorway, looking extremely smug. She was holding a glass of water and a blanket and – as you arranged yourself into a more acceptable position on Jughead’s lap – she walked over and handed them to you. As Jughead draped the blanket over you and you snuggled into him, a feeling of exhaustion took hold of you and you yawned.

 “I know how tired these attacks make you, go to sleep princess, I’m not going anywhere.” Jughead whispered in your ear before he kissed your temple sweetly. You smiled and laced your hand in his as your eyes drooped and sleep took you.

________________________

As Y/N was sleeping, everyone else had crept back into the living room and were now lying across various pieces of furniture with mugs of hot chocolate.

 “I hate seeing her like that” Veronica sighed, “I feel so helpless; I can never calm her down.” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration, Veronica prided herself on being a problem-solver but as much as she loved her friend Y/N, she could never figure out how to help her and that broke Veronica’s heart.

 “Nobody can calm her except Jughead; they have some kind of connection.” Betty said, smiling. She had always thought that Jughead and Y/N would make an amazing couple and she was delighted that they had finally discovered their feelings for one another. Everyone else had known for years of course, both of them could be read like a book.

 “Now they are finally endgame!” Kevin squealed excitedly, Jughead tore his gaze away from you for a moment to roll his eyes. “I shotgun being the vicar at their wedding!”

 “You’re not the only one who feels helpless Ronnie” Jughead said quietly, “I know I have dealt with her panic attacks before but that doesn’t make them any less scary. I hate myself for not realising that today was a bad day for her, if I had known then I never would have asked her here tonight.”

 “It’s not your fault Jug, she’s good at hiding it” Veronica reassured him. “At least she knows that you love her now, that will make tomorrow easier.”

 “Maybe I should have told her when I first realised, it might have helped.” Jughead sighed.

 “When did you realise?” Kevin asked eagerly.

 “In the seventh grade, it was the first time I tasted her coconut cookies” he laughed.

TAGLIST: @kelly27crickett @cjhorseback @rory-is-in-ravenclaw@littlefearsdoodles @happyyjensen @dr-tardis-who

ch. 4

Bad Habits || Jaebum

Originally posted by jjaenyoung

Reader (you) x Jaebum ft got7 members

Word Count: 2509

Warnings: SMUT !

note: rip this is super late. the chapter was originally 6000 words long but i cut it down to 2500 and i’m pretty proud of myself for that lmao. editing was a pain but here you go! happy reading everyone and take care! -admin


Everything stopped for a second. It was like pressing pause on a movie and everything just went silent. There was no reaction after seeing Jaebum get shot down. For some odd reason, I felt like crying after hearing the gunshot. My heart dropped and as soon as I saw Jaebum fall to his knees. However, my instinct knew Jaebum wouldn’t be defeated that easily by just an injury. Just like he read my mind, Jaebum opened the door of the car and climbed in while grabbing the side of his waist. Without a word, Jinyoung stepped on the gas petal and began to drive away. 

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THINGS I’VE LEARNED FROM TUMBLR ABOUT YA BOOKS I HAVEN’T ACTUALLY READ

Disclaimer: There might be spoilers but also all of this could be wrong.

Shadowhunters: Teenagers covered in tattoos fight evil ninjas. The TV show is apparently better than the books and the author is an asshole. Everyone ships the blond guy and the redheaded girl even though they seem to be siblings, and a dark-haired guy called Alec at some point made out with a glittery Asian DJ?

Divergent: Teenagers also covered in tattoos fight mysterious dystopian government which sorts them into sci-fi versions of the Hogwarts Houses and apparently has sumptuary laws about not wearing anything that isn’t black. At some point you jump off a building in a very extreme game of parachute. Somebody dies at the end and nobody talks about it.

Eleanor & Park: Chubby freckled redhead and skinny Korean boy meet on a bus and probably fall in love? Earbuds.

Percy Jackson: Summer camp for bastard offspring of various Greek deities. Chapter titles look like Fall Out Boy songs. The movie was terrible. Rick Riordan is milking this for all it is worth.

Grisha Trilogy: Everyone is Russian and into BDSM. Also, antlers.

Throne of Glass: Girl assassin is supposed to protect somebody from something and has sex in a closet with somebody named Chaol?

The Selection: Fairy tale version of The Bachelor with a really annoying protagonist.

The Maze Runner: Hunger Games/Lord of the Flies slashfic sausagefest.  

Vampire Academy: Vampire royalty need personal bodyguards at their fancy prep school for some reason. People fight with sticks. Stakes? I don’t know they just look like sticks.

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe: Gay boys indistinguishable in fan art from the gay boys in Song of Achilles go on a road trip and wear Chuck Taylors. One of them is Latino? I think there’s a pool involved.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone: I thought this was part of the Grisha trilogy and now I know it isn’t but that’s all I know about it.

Lunar Chronicles: Cinderella is a mechanic and everyone really hated the cover art with the apple.

The Raven Cycle: Asian girl named Blue babysits a group of gay boys in a weird Southern town called Cabswater or Carpswater or something. One of them dies but doesn’t seem to actually go away? Someone turns into a tree.

The Fault in Our Stars: Kids with cancer fall in love, one of them dies, and they tell each other stuff’s okay even though it’s pretty obviously not okay. Everybody forgets about the blind friend. The cigarette is a metaphor but I’m pretty sure John Green doesn’t actually know what a metaphor is.

Stephanie Perkins’ books: Cutesey heterosexual rom-coms which take place in Romantic with a capital R European cities and one of the boys is named after a bug.

Okay how did I do?

I owe the life I live today to fandom. It’s a bit complicated.

I am an artist in her late twenties, working as an illustrator full time (meaning somehow I actually convinced people to pay me for drawing all day). I own a decently sized flat in a big city and while I struggle with mental health issues, I am coping and getting better. I get to see the world and work with international teams and have close friends I can count on. And that’s all because I was brave enough as a teen to post some fanwork on the internet.

Let me explain myself some more. 

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Colors. 

When Jace was young he longed to see colors. To know what everything looked like. To not just see constant blacks and whites and grays. 

His father had told him it was a silly dream, that seeing the world in black and white, that was what was right. Colors can blind you, make you weak and vulnerable. Just like love. (Love is weakness. Jace refused to be weak.)

Jace believed him. 

He didn’t think about colors anymore. (Not even when he was covered in blood and bruises, no, he didn’t wonder how they looked with color. He didn’t. Not once.)

x

The first color Jace saw was brown. 

It was after he got back from Valentine, after he got kicked out of the institute. He was staying at Magnus’ apartment, Magnus and Alec had left, mentioning something about ‘alone time in Italy.’ Jace wasn’t really paying attention.  

Jace had crashed on the couch, staring at the tv without really taking anything in when Simon entered the apartment. 

Magnus was mentoring him and must’ve forgotten to mention to Simon that he wasn’t home that day. 

“Oh,” Simon said, after Jace told him Magnus was off with Alec somewhere in Italy. “Well, in that case, I guess I should, um, be going.” 

“Stay?” Jace wasn’t sure why he suggested it. But being alone didn’t sound too great. “I mean, if you want… We could watch one of those star movies you’re always rambling on about?”

“Really?” Simon looked shocked. 

Jace shrugged. “Yeah,”

Simon grinned. “Alright,”

So Simon joined him on the couch after setting up the first Star Wars movie.

Jace didn’t really pay much attention to the movie, instead he watched Simon, as the vampire rambled excitedly about different things that were happening in the movie. 

It was about an hour into the movie that when Jace glanced at Simon, he noticed his eyes. They weren’t black, or gray, but a softer color. Something warmer. Gentle. Like melted chocolate. Jace couldn’t help but stare. (Don’t fall in love. Don’t fall in love.)

He didn’t say anything about it to anyone. 

x

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Stop the press!

Forget everything you’ve ever learned about the tale of how the propane bombs were planted at Columbine High. We all know how slick and cool REB and VoDkA  came across in the famous scene of Zero Hour. They strolled into the Commons with fierce purpose shrouded in their uber school shooter dark aesthetic: black trench coats, combat boots and shades carrying their pièce de résistance bombs in their “bags of terrorism” (yes, they referred to them as that).  Casually kneeling down and setting their instruments of terror with ease right in front of their peers. 

But in reality?  

Well, reality paints a very different picture demonstrating how banal the entire thing looked. Amazingly ordinary and casual..yet as we’ll later learn, they almost look a little too slow pokey considering their very tight schedule.

I lightened these images up and sharpened them as well.

‘Eric’ approaching the column from the left
wobbling a bit with his orange gym bag held in his right hand

A wild ‘Dylan’ lopes forth approaching the column from the left
carrying his navy blue gym bag in his left hand

slowed down…

Here be some ordinary looking dudes hauling their heavy but lethal gym bags near the columns in the cafeteria. ‘Eric’s’ small frame is struggling a slight bit barely managing to prevent the bag from coming into contact with objects or people walking by. The two are having no trouble being themselves, looking effortlessly awkward yet casual af while ironically implementing something deadly.. 

Of course, we didn’t really expect that level of dramatic professionalism from Eric and Dylan now did we?  Nah.. Not really.  

This is going to be long. so read on under the cut. :)   

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There’s No Place Like Home (3)

Avengers x Reader x Bucky

Summary: What happens when a fictional world comes to life? Drama ensues.

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 800+

Part 1 Part 2

Originally posted by imaginingbucky

“What do you mean that there’s no information about her?” Sebastian–Bucky snapped at Scarlett–Natasha. “How is that even possible? There has to be some trace of her somewhere!”

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anonymous asked:

Did Gaston Leroux see the 1925 Phantom movie? I feel like I've seen stuff in the past that says he did, but I'm not sure. If so, do you know what his opinion was on it?

We can’t say for definitively certain, but the prevailing rumor is that yes, he did!  He certainly knew about the film being made before it was, as he sold the rights to Universal.

Carl Laemmle, Universal Pictures producer, said in 1924 in a radio interview with WOR Radio Los Angeles:

When I found that there was no Opera that seemed suitable for screen presentation - and by that I mean one that would make the kind of picture people of today would want to see - I set about looking for books written about life at the opera.  I was stumped, until I met Gaston Leroux, the famous French author, in Paris about three years ago.  He told me I need search no further.  Leroux had written a book which had become a best seller almost overnight.  The name of it was The Phantom of the Opera.  I remember buying a copy and sitting up all night to read it.  It is a marvelously interesting story…  It was just the book I had dreamed of finding.

In his book The Making of the Phantom of the Opera, Philip J. Riley claims that Leroux not only saw the completed film, but even worked on a sequel film a little bit:

When the original release of the 1925 The Phantom of the Opera reached France in 1925, Gaston Leroux was riding high on the world-wide fame that had come to him from the 15 year old novel.  The book sales had assured him a steady income to care for his family.  [He was ill and would only live another 2 years.]

When Leroux saw Erik disappear under the waters of the Seine instead of dying in the Opera Catacombs - alone, Leroux’s imagination went to work again and the result was a sequel called “The Return of the Phantom.”  The rights were eventually bought from Leroux’s widow, in 1929.

From Gaston Leroux’s files and some speculation to fill in the gaps, the outline was interesting, but it could have also been a joke by Leroux that was taken seriously.

While Christine and Raoul are on a train taking them away from Paris and the Opera to live a quiet life, the Phantom’s body washes up on the shores of the Seine.  It is found by the Persian, who discovers that it is not Erik.  Erik was still alive!  The Persian goes back to the Phantom’s hideout to discover that all of Erik’s clothes, music and instruments are gone.  The Persian begins his search for Erik.  It appears that Erik is leaving clues purposely leading the Persian out of the country.

Christine and Raoul are living happily in Madrid, where he is on leave from his post with the military to attend Christine’s premiere at the Opera house in Madrid.  Meanwhile the Persian tracks Erik to Madrid and finds out that Erik put his cape on one of the unfortunate mob members during the confusion on the steps at the river bank and escaped underwater using his reed.

That was about as far as the Leroux idea went…

Riley’s book has a lot of good information in it but does not clearly mark its sources, so it’s hard to tell where this exact tidbit came from or how credible it is.  But I think we can all enjoy the amazing concept of a sequel movie that is solely dedicated to the daroga chasing Erik around Europe while Raoul and Christine hilariously never even notice the fact that the Phantom keeps trying to interfere in their lives only to be tackled at the last moment by the Chief of the Persian Secret Police and knocked out of the frame before they see him.

Or, as Riley speculates, it could be a joke Leroux wrote down in response to seeing the movie version of his book, and the old man could be delightfully trolling us from beyond the grave.  Frankly, I love both possibilities.

They Wanna Make Me Their Queen

( Prompt: princess diaries style “I grew up not knowing I was royal and suddenly my royal grandparent showed up out of nowhere and told me I was so now I guess I’m the heir to the throne and you’re my crush from my pre-royal days but I still have a crush on you” AU ) 

PART 4

A/N: Two words: Lip-sync battle. SLAY TOM, SLAY. I WAS WEIRDLY TURNED ON BY HIS PERFORMANCE?? LIKE. I WOULD DO HIM IN THE SUIT, AND I WOULD DO HIM IN DRAG, AND I AM CRYING. That being said, if anyone wants to fangirl with me over Tom, please hit me up. I need more friends to fangirl with!! ( I also need a date with him ASAP. ) In other news, this was very heavily influenced by that scene in Catching Fire. Matt Murdock, the dumpster ninja, will be showing up in a few more chapters, and I cannot wait. :)))

Taglist (temporary): @theactualscarletwitch | @moonlight53 | @intohook | @alaskayoung-x | @kubby14679 | @clean-and-claire | @fandoms-broke-my-life | @johnmurphys-sass |@queenofthelavalamps | @sharenaloveyoux | @mcheung0314 | @lionfart | @skorii

Taglist (permanent): @mainspidey | @x-wing-starwriter | @tomsleftbrow | @tryn25 |@tanglefire |@midnight-memorial | @tiny-friggin-human | @tacklemyackles | @fangeekkk | @beamagtuto | @captainaudreystark


You leave the room – and the after party – without delay. Your walk is more of a stagger as the amount of champagne you’ve consumed just minutes before becomes apparent. Too much. And yet, not nearly enough. You move as calmly as possible towards the archway leading to the hall … To escape.

Or as much of an escape as you can manage with a limitless number of guards keeping watch over your every move.

You press a hand against the wall to steady yourself. Once you find an exit to the balcony, you grasp hold of a railing and try to calm yourself. A sob rises in your throat. You clamp your lips together to force it back.

No one told you the life of a princess would be this hard.

No one told you that you would have to give up your friends.

No one told you that a crown could weigh so heavily upon your head.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” Light and good-humoured – not to mention vaguely familiar – a voice greets you from the shadows, you jarringly realise that you aren’t alone.

Normally, you would be thrilled – or shocked at the very least – to have New York’s very own Spiderman hanging from the fire escape only several feet away. It’s becoming a trend at school – all the girls are bragging about how Spiderman had saved them from robbers/harassment/bullying, and they’d proceeded to make out with Spiderman in some dark corner to ‘thank’ him.

And now he’s here. Real and alive. You could add on to the flood of wild stories, but you hardly need the added popularity. As it is, you could claim that you’d discovered Atlantis and people would believe you.

You manage a faint smile that comes across as more of a grimace on a pale and strained face that not even M.A.C and Elizabeth Arden can hide.

Willing your voice not to crack, you speak slowly, attempting to compose yourself, “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“What is your thing, then?”

He’s talking to you like he’s known you all your life. It’s warm and familiar and comforting somehow, to be talked to like a normal human being. No, “Yes, Your Highness”, or “As you wish, My Lady”. No airs, no treading on eggshells. Just … Normal conversation. You could cry. You want to cry.

“I enjoy horseback riding and embroidery.” Your voice sounds dead, even to your ears – it sounds like something you’ve memorised from a textbook. “I volunteer at soup kitchens in my free time, and I donate generously to churches and shelters.”

“I mean the real things.” His gaze is heavy on your face, so piercing that you think he can see all the way down into your soul. “Not the princess things.”

“I like watching movies,” You say, softly, carefully, after making sure that your grandmother isn’t going to jump out of nowhere to chide you for not giving the appropriate response. “I always watched them with my best friend.” There’s a sour taste in your mouth, almost like curdled milk, when you remember that you haven’t been to Peter’s in weeks, and that you haven’t been speaking to him for about as long. Swallowing, you continue, “I like books. Reading. Listening to music. You know. Teenager stuff.”

“Teenager stuff,” He repeats. “So why are you saying that other stuff?”

You let out a half laugh that sounds more like a hysterical hiccup. “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

It’s what people want to hear. It’s what they expect from a princess. But your all your lies are piling up, one after another, and you’re afraid that soon they’ll collapse over you and will bury you under, and you won’t be able to climb out of the hole that you’ve dug yourself into.

“There’s always a choice.”

Not for me, you think, both angrily and wistfully. If you had any choice, you would abandon all your duties and run off to Antarctica to chill with the Penguins. You’d turn in your crown immediately. You’d become normal again. A regular girl, in a regular school, with a regular life.

You’d never thought you’d miss normalcy.

“You need a break.” Spiderman says, shaking his head in mock – or is it real? – disappointment. But then, his voice changes, takes on an edge of boyish excitement. “C’mon, let’s go!”

“Go?” You wag your head hysterically. “Oh no no no, I can’t just … Go.”

“It’s not like I’m taking you to Aspen. Just around the city.”

Spiderman’s looking at you hopefully, almost child-like in his excitement. He holds out a hand, and you stare at it, wanting to take it, but still, unable to. What’s the harm? A voice whispers. Tomorrow you’ll have to go back to your life. All the press, the attention, the loneliness …

“Okay.”

Your cheeks warm. This is like something from a fairy tale – you the princess, and Spiderman the unconventional knight. You take his hand. It’s surprisingly warm and firm, and your own hand feels like it was made to hold his.

You try to think past these unwanted thoughts.

“Hold on tight. Okay?”

Before you can respond, you feel hands on your waist, and Spiderman’s lifting you up carefully, gently into his arms. He’s skinny, but a lot stronger than he looks. You accidentally slide back against his chest, breathing in the scent that clings to his skin – something warm, like cinnamon, vanilla, and the night air. Your heart inches its way into your throat. You’ll admit that you’re unusually nervous, but you chalk it up to being near to Spiderman. One breath is all you get the chance for though; he runs up to the edge of the roof and leaps right off it.

A loud scream escapes your lips. Your stomach plunges into a freefall, and your arms, once hanging limply at your side, now fly to wrap around Spiderman’s neck. You’re not sure if you’re strangling him with how tight you’re grabbing onto him, but right now, the only thought on your mind is holding on so that you don’t become a spot on the pavement.

You make a mental note to add ‘heights’ to the list of things you aren’t good at.

He has to shout to be heard over the cars honking, and the wind rushing by. “C’mon, open your eyes!”

“You’re crazy!” You squeak, praying that you won’t throw up all over his shiny new suit. “This was a bad idea!”

“I’m not going to drop you. You’ll be safe with me, I promise.”

It’s hard to doubt the sincerity that rings true in his voice, but still, you glare suspiciously at the direction of his voice before opening your eyes.

Your breath catches in your throat. Wow. It looks absolutely stunning. New York at night, from the sky … It looks otherworldly, surreal. To your surprise, a laugh bubbles forth from you. Your hair streams back from your face, and a smile makes its way across your face. You’ve grown used to the strange, but not all together unpleasant feeling, of being weightless and free and infinite, of flying through the air.

You could get used to this.

“I – I, uh, saw the press conference.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

Your mood had been rapidly improving, but now, the weight of all your mistakes comes crashing back down, hard, onto your shoulders. You’ve been teetering on the edge of tears all day, and this is all it takes for you to break down completely.

You cry Peter’s name.

And then you just cry.

His name, Ned’s name, Michelle’s name, in one desperate stream of sounds that you can’t separate from one another. You want someone to make things right; you want someone to make you not feel as if you’re constantly being pulled different ways by your heart and your head. Most of all, you want someone to tell you that everything will be alright; to promise that your friends won’t be hating you with every fibre of their beings.

Shit shit shit,” Spiderman’s saying from somewhere far away, panic and fear vibrating through those three words. “I said something wrong.”

Vaguely, you’re aware that the crisp night winds have stopped rifling through your hair, aware that you’re no longer flying through the air, have the vague sensation of being set down gently onto gravel. The cold and the damp press against your legs.

“My friends hate me,” You sob, scrubbing at your streaming eyes with the back of your hand. “My crush hates me. I said some things that I didn’t mean just now.”

Through the tears that blur your vision, Spiderman freezes, goes impossibly still, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Then why did you?” He asks softly.

“Because – Because I wanted to keep them safe,” You confess. Your throat aches as a horrible black ball of fear lodges itself under the roof of your mouth. “This – The Princess job isn’t safe, there are horrible people who want me dead, and if they manage to get to my friends, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“I get it.” Spiderman says, just as quietly, his voice suddenly sounding heavy and weary. “Believe me, I do.”

“No, you don’t!” You cry. It explodes out of you before you can stop it. You don’t know why you’re suddenly so angry, but you could shake him or cry. “You have no idea – No one does – I thought this would be fun, but it’s not! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, and I’m in over my head, and I just want my friends back, but I can’t have them, and I just … I don’t know what to do anymore.”

The tears come in a flash flood. Exhaustion and self-pity roll over you. You’re sobbing even harder now, hunched over, and trembling in pain and sorrow and grief, with barely a pause to breathe as your frame is racked with the release of so many built-up emotions.

You think Spiderman’s left, but suddenly he’s holding you, warm and reassuring and real. You find yourself with your head buried in his shoulder, sobbing. He lets you cry it out, keeping you pressed tightly to him, and he’s making little noises into your hair, sounding positively pained that you’re miserable and he can’t do anything to help.

“I’ll take you home, okay?” He asks, once you’ve stopped crying.

All you can do is nod, still keeping your face buried into his neck.

He carries you into your room, through the window. He helps you to wash your makeup off, waits as you change out of your dress, helps you into bed, smoothing the covers over your still-trembling frame. Spiderman says goodnight, but you catch his hand and hold him there. You don’t want him to go, especially not when you feel so awful.

“Stay with me,” You whisper plaintively, like a small child. “Stay. Please.”

Fingers ghost through your hair, and you think you feel the brush of lips against your forehead. You think you hear Spiderman whisper a word back, but you’re too far gone to make it out.

Not Like This

so like idek what this is. college has given me some inspo. it gets kinda ~sad and like ~:( but like i think it’s pretty okay?? maybe??? idk.

lemme know what you all thinkkkkkk<3 


     You weren’t necessarily the frat party type, but since your boyfriend was a Sigma Chi, you often found yourself at the frat house just about every Friday night. You were never a big fan of alcohol, but if there was one thing your boyfriend, Will, knew how to do it was get drunk. He and all of his buddies would stand on the coffee table in the living room and funnel as many beers as they could before they’d puke or see who could slap an entire wine bag by themselves, meanwhile you usually stayed put in the kitchen until you decided that it was time to cut Will off.

     Tonight was no different. Will and his brothers were all in the living room with a cooler full of Budweiser and you were comfortably sat on the counter occupied by your phone. It was only 11 pm, so you were going to give Will about another hour or so before calling it time to go, so you decided to pull out your book that you were almost done with. You always carried a book with you to these things, just in case you ever found a moment of peace to read. Most of the brothers in the frat have gotten used to it by now. At first they would tease you a little bit, but would stop when Will would come up and make a joke about how he “likes his women a little bit nerdy”. You never minded the teasing and eventually they got too drunk to notice.

     You were perched on the counter next to the fridge, since you liked the humming that it made—it drowned out the incessant trap music that you always hated. People would come and go, grabbing ice or more booze and the occasional snack. However, this time after a boy grabbed a beer from the fridge, he lingered longer than usual. You looked up at him, confused because you don’t recognize him as a frat brother but they usually don’t let outsider guys into their parties.

“I take it you aren’t really the party kind of girl,” the boy says to you after he closes the fridge door.

“Not really my thing, I suppose.” You reply, still trying to figure out if you’ve ever seen him here before.

“Mine either. I’m just here visiting one of my buddies. He’s giving me the ‘real college experience’ while I’m in town.” He explains to you, and you nod your head, finally figuring out where this mysterious guy came from.

“Is it everything you could’ve dreamed of?” You ask sarcastically, earning a chuckle from the boy.

“Oh yeah, totally. Sticky floors, sweaty dudes, beer being dumped on me. What else could a guy want?” He leans against the counter that you’re sitting on, obviously deciding that he’s gonna stick around you for a while.

“Welcome to the American FratBoy Dream.” You say, turning your eyes back to your book, not really wanting to start a conversation with this boy, especially since your very drunk boyfriend is in the next room.

“I’m Shawn, by the way.” He tells you. Props for his persistence, you think.

“Y/n, nice to meetchya.” You reply, closing your book. It’s obvious that this kid isn’t going to let you do your reading in peace, so there’s no point in having your book out anymore.

Keep reading

3

You’re 27. Here Are Millions to Stage Your Musical.

The New York Times, Feb. 18, 2007

IT was late and cold, and outside the nightclub Pacha in far west Midtown a boyish-looking man in a suit and sneakers was walking up to the front doors. Inside, the club was crowded: an eight-piece Latin band was playing, people were dancing and drinking tequila cocktails; it was, as little as the scene may have looked it, an opening-night party for a new Off Broadway musical.

The young man approached the large bouncers out front. “Let me in,” he said, laughing like an under-age teenager who knew he’d get away with it. “I’m the guy who wrote the play.”

Lin-Manuel Miranda was in a good mood, and for good reason. In the Heights, a Latin and hip-hop musical set in a block or two of the Latino neighborhood of Washington Heights, had just opened, after seven years of work, in a $2.5 million Off Broadway production.

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It’s Impawsible

Imagine Percival Graves was turned into a cat before the events of Fantastic Beasts. Grindelwald wants him to stay at MACUSA because he knows Percival hates being helpless, and what’s more helpless than him being a cat and not able to tell everyone the truth, even though he sees them every day? Also, it can explain how Newt knew Grindelwald was impersonating Percival. Not that that happened in the movie. I think. Anyway, I must give a shoutout to @funkzpiel for inspiring this, because some of their headcannons and writings made me think about writing something this ridiculous lol. Also shoutout to @questionartbox because she’s an amazing artist and her art inspired me to write something that would be fun to draw. I have zero regrets about turning Percival into a cat. Enjoy!


The cat appears the same time Percival Graves returns from Europe.

That’s the first thing Tina notices. The second thing she notices is that the jet black cat with elegant white markings around its paws and furry chest very much dislikes the Director, but the strange thing is that Mr Graves seems terribly amused by this, and allows the cat to remain in the MACUSA building. Tina thinks it’s odd how the cat will hiss and scratch at Mr Graves but all the man does is nudge the cat away with his polished shoes; she doesn’t recall him having a particular fondness for felines, or just animals for the matter.

The other Aurors aren’t as perturbed by the cat’s appearance as they are by how aggressive it is. The first few days are an absolute horror; the cat alternates between destroying individual desks and upending paperwork, and running around their feet in circles. Complaints to Mr Graves about how the cat is affecting their productivity fall on deaf ears; their boss is insistent that the cat will remain at MACUSA and all the Aurors can do is grumble about it under their breaths and continue to try to shake the cat off.

Keep reading

I have a lot of thoughts on ignorance and privilege which unfortunately go hand in hand.  This post is mostly in response to that conversation between Isak and Sana which still makes me mad, but the whole takeaway lesson of how it is the responsibility of the oppressed person to educate ignorant people is nothing new to me.

There are some people who may have started out willing to educate ignorant people, but they grew tired of it.  Sometimes people who come from a position of privilege do not wish to be made uncomfortable even if discomfort is part of the learning experience.  If they are ever called out on anything (in a respectful way, not in an attacking way), instead of taking that as an opportunity to grow, they get super defensive.  I think that if more people who are coming from a position of privilege decide to humble themselves, then they will find that many marginalized people will meet them halfway.

I think that one of the safest ways to learn about people different from you is through media.  That is why it is super important to pick up books and movies and TV shows by and about people in marginalized groups.  They can help you understand experiences different than your own that that helps you understand people who have lived through things that you didn’t know about.

(Sidenote: One of the reasons why I started watching Skam is because I saw that it wasn’t in English.  I am an American who cannot speak any language other than English fluently, but I am also aware that I live in a world where American and English language media is privileged before all other media.)

I notice that even when people have the option of learning about people different from themselves in the most comfortable way possible,with books or movies or media or whatever, there are still people who are resistant to that.  I don’t watch as many booktube videos now as I did a few years ago, but I remember that people would track their reading by making pie graphs of the race of the authors that they read.  They did this because they discovered that when they looked at all the books that they had read and talked about on YouTube and goodreads, they discovered that 90% of the authors of the books that they had read were white.  They rarely read any books by people who were nonwhite.  So some people talked about the need to read diversely but continued to read mostly white authors while some people tracked what they read and reported back with updates (according to my piecharts, now 25% of the books that I read this year were by POC).  It was an imperfect solution, but an improvement.

Anyway, whenever people would talk about the need to read diversely, there would always be those “colorblind” people who would argue that by actively trying to read books by people of color, you are being reverse racist.  Instead you should just ignore things and continue passively reinforcing the status quo as you were.

There are also those people who complain about relateability which still pisses me off.  If you come from a position of privilege and you read about somebody who is marginalized and they’re speaking with their own voice which is distinctly different than your own then that’s… good.  It’s good to have that experience.  Even if it makes you uncomfortable.  Even if the experience that the characters are facing are radically different from your own.

The learning process is often uncomfortable but it’s worth it  I think people have to recognize how their privilege and ignorance has shielded them from the discomfort that comes from the learning process.