but it was in my drafts for months so yeah

Who am I now in this world without her? 
Petty and dull with the nerve to doubt her.
What does it matter, it’s already done. 
Now I’ve got to be there for her son.

If you could have any of the characters that you played or their female versions to be your best friend, your sibling or your date, who would pick for each and why ?

Happy for you, happy with you

At your brother’s wedding, you wonder if you’re ever going to be as happy as he is with your own boyfriend.

this has been a draft in my drafts for months, and today I found it again and was like “oh shit yeah i’ll write that.” so. uh. enjoy???

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

call me prompt for kevin and Wymack pleaseee :-)

Leave a “Call Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about one character asking for another

  • it was late in the night as kevin rushed to the hospital
  • his hands were tightly gripping the steering wheel and some of his fingers were starting to go numb
  • but he kept driving
  • he was most certainly speeding, but couldn’t slow down
  • there was no way he would miss this
  • you will not miss this  he scolded himself
  • but suddenly he couldn’t breathe
  • his lungs were constricting but no air would come through his mouth
  • he pulled off at an exit and pulled into a gas station
  • just as his vision began to blur he pulled out his phone and hit the number 1 speedial
  • it rang for a moment before a woman’s voice lofted through the speaker next to his ear
  • “kevin! how are you”
  • “abby-” he began “need- wymack-”
  • “kevin? hold on, just give me a second”
  • he heard a rustling sound from on the other end of the phone before a deep voice spoke
    • “kevin?”
    • “uhhh-”
    • “what’s up? are you okay?”
    • “she uh, thea”
    • “take a deep breath, use your words”
    • “thea went into labor”
    • “already? isn’t she due in two weeks?”
    • “i’m going to be a father”
    • “son, calm down” 
    • “i– can’t– breathe–”
    • “shhh okay, follow me. in and out”
  • after a couple long minutes, kevin’s breathing evened out and he was able to speak again
    • “what if i’m no good?”
    • “look kevin, will you love this child?”
    • “of course”
    • “will you protect it?”
    • “yeah”
    • “then you’ll be fine, just remember to breathe. you and thea will do great”
    • “okay”
    • “i’m proud of you, son”
    • “thanks dad”
Home Sweet Home

So…..I’m back. Hi.Missed you guys! Even though I tried catching up from time to time, I know I couldn’t with all of you guys, sorry, will try these next few days. If I don’t get to your work in the next few days, please send me a secret message and I will,. (password is *kleptomania*)

I have about 60+ things in drafts 😅( Yeah, I wrote a lot during my break haha) I umm will get to posting those these weeks or months haha. (That’s not counting asks that are sitting in my inbox or things I have to reblog that I couldn’t during my absence) If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or want to talk shoot me an ask or message. I’ll answer them. :) 

Thank you for giving me the best “farewell party.” You guys are the best and have made me feel so at home here and I could not thank you all enough for that. I am so excited to be back! Much love from me to you all! ❤

suddenly, florist AUs
  • So I work as a florist for some time, and one day you walked into the shop and I just fell in love with you at almost first sight?? And in the end when you wanted to walk away with a bouquet you bought for someone, I gave you lavender rose on the house, just because I thought it’d be a nice gesture. But because you liked the flower shop so much, or for some other reason, you started buying flowers at us all the time and consulting with me, and almost every time I gave you a flower, making up excuses for it. But today you walked in, red in face, and told me that your friend saw all the flowers from me that you collected in herbarium and told you all the meanings, and now you ask me if I did meant all of that, and I’m trying to collect all the thoughts in my head, like – what do you think of me now? and did you actually make a herbarium??
  • (variation of the ending for the AU above) I actually had no idea that all the flowers I gave to you had such meanings, because I just work here and am no expert in language of the flowers, but yes, apparently my intuition gave you all the right flowers to explain my feelings for you 
  • Because I really needed money I signed up for a temporary job in a flower shop, since you really needed a pair of hands to help. I have almost no idea how to tend to flowers and compose a bouquet, and you, the strict manager, are really, like, really frustrated with me by the end of first day. I try and try and try, even seek help in the books and internet, and you’re still mad with me because I do a lot of things wrong and you have to help me with both flowers and customers. But instead of firing me, as I supposed, you ask me to stay after work so you can teach me the basics. And it’s so cool, thank you sooo much, you kinda saved my life and you’re not that bad as I thought you were? And are you that short-handed on personnel?
  • You’re this person we had to hire because not everyone wants to have a job as a florist, so we’re short on employees, and on your first day you make so many mistakes it’s embarrassing and I have to help you a lot. A LOT. But I’ve found that you’re struggling with money (not that I’ll tell you that I’ve found out), and you really want to stay on this job, and even found this book no one else in our shop read in forever and tried to make something by it. So I decide to help you. And yes, we’re that short-handed on personnel.
  • You’re this person I meet a lot throughout the last year, and you’re that grumpy, not very social person with whom I have nothing in common with, and we merely had two? three decent conversations? Apart from a few snarks we shot at each other. And one day, [for some reason] I walk into this little  flower shop not too far away from my place of work, and see you. As a florist. Humming something very pretty while you tend to flowers, and you’re such a different person than one I met before, even your face is different, like it’s lit up with some beautiful emotion I can’t describe. And now I can’t help but stare at you with awe.
  • Everybody thinks that if I am a florist, I must know the meaning of every single flower I work with. And now even you, the person I wanted to ask on a date, ask me if there’s a hidden message behind this bouquet I gave you! There’s NOT!!… Apart from that I wanted to ask you on a date. Not the point here.
  • I am a secret agent/thief/[insert anything applicable here] that needs to get into this one place which is heavily-guarded. The only way to seek its faults in defenses without attracting unneeded attention is to apply for work in a flower shop near it. And so I work here for almost a month, and my plan is coming smoothly… except for you, who works here too, and who confronted me right now, telling me what my actual profession is and what I want to do. Who are you to deduce it so well?! This was supposed to be a secret, dammit!
  • I work as a florist for a long time and you are the new employee who’s acting strange. For me, being raised on detectives since I was a child, is not that easy to determine who you actually are, but in the end I’ve done it. And you know what? I want IN, because I really need money [because (insert reason here), optional], so what do I need to do for you (or your group) to accept me as your assistant?

I just remembered I went on a date about a month ago and somehow we got onto the topic of the Cursed Child, so naturally I was ranting about how Harry saying “sometimes I wish you weren’t my son” was SO out of character and SO not what an orphaned adult Harry would ever fucking say to his son, and the girl goes, “yeah! Like, that’s totally a Draco Malfoy line or something." 

… yikessssssssss

did not go out with her again. because of that one thing? no. maybe. moral of the story is that you shouldn’t put one character down in order to bolster another, ESPECIALLY if that character is my moon-child son love of my life, Draco Malfoy. 


By the way guys, just to let you know, if you don’t see your post for like a month or so after submitting it, you have my full permission to bug me about it - I’ve probably accidentally click drafts instead of queue. So yeah, bug me with @thredbare and I’ll try and sort it out for you ;p

I just imagine Dean, 20 something, in one of his years in college. I just imagine him, tired green eyes, messy brown hair, running through the courtyard to his first class of the day, which he’s almost missed completely because of his cheap alarm clock going off at the wrong time. I just imagine Castiel, also 20 something, but older, leaving his fiction-writing class, juggling a cup of coffee in one hand as he shoved his laptop in his bag with the other. I just imagine Castiel, blue eyes widened as Dean runs into him, splattering coffee all over his white shirt, but even worse: knocking his expensive laptop to the floor.
And Dean, he’s so embarrassed, he can’t believe what he’s done. He’s seen Castiel around before, he knows he’s older. He’s going to think Dean’s stupid, immature.
Castiel is angry at first, kind of annoyed, but he understands completely and he’s kind once he’s calmed down.
I just imagine Dean feeling so bad about Castiel’s shattered laptop that he knocks on his dorm door the next day with a wad of cash in his hands. 
And when Castiel opens the door, I imagine him happily surprised, and when he lets Dean in, he tells him he can’t accept the money. 
“It was an accident,” he says. “And I have a warranty, they’ll fix it for free.”
But Dean, he doesn’t care. He wants to give Castiel something. 
So Castiel comes up with an idea: he’ll help him with his writing. 
Castiel was working on something to turn into class, but his broken laptop was making that harder since now he had to go to the library to type. So Dean, he could come with him, read his writing. Give the writer some tips. 
I imagine Castiel in the library with Dean, focused on his work, Dean looking up every once in a while from his homework to read over Castiel’s shoulder. 
Dean isn’t a great writer, he isn’t great at anything involving words, really, but I imagine that he’ll try to be for Castiel. 
And Castiel’s words, they flow like an endless silk string likely to never get tangled, but when it does, Dean is happy to untie the knots. 
In some ways Dean thinks this is all a bribe to get a friend, but he doesn’t care. He can’t believe he doesn’t have that many friends; Castiel is brilliant and beautiful, and so is his writing.
His writing reminds Dean of Castiel a lot, actually. 
I imagine that Dean really likes Castiel, but he didn’t fall in love with him that easy. 
I imagine that first Dean falls in love with his words. His amazing writing. 
Dean subscribed to his blog. 
His writing was the kind that kept you up at night. The kind that could make you cry. 
Dean didn’t even like to read, but he loved to read Castiel’s work, and after a while, reading his work became more and more about reading Castiel.
And Castiel was Dean’s favorite book.
I just imagine that their feelings sprouted like words on paper-and yeah, sure. Sometimes the flow wasn’t smooth, but it didn’t end without some sort of resolution.
Castiel got a new laptop. Dean got a new alarm clock.
And I just imagine that something so simple as a run in on a crazy morning turn into something so beautiful, and I imagine that it happen between Dean and Castiel.


i found these in my drafts from like 5 (?) months ago so

sorry for not inverting noya’s uniform and apparently forgetting the others </3

alienatthedisco  asked:

i'm currently writing a book about artist lesbians who end up happy, and i have a question to you; do you have any ocpd specific writing tips? my current problem is that i have to revisit my first draft but i already know that any little mistake i find will make me want to end the whole project so i keep putting it off. but i'd honestly be thankful for any tip you might have as an experienced writer. if not, thanks anyway and have a nice day!

mm yeah. this is still something i am figuring out because i was only very recently diagnosed (about a month and a half ago, i think) and because i’m still only beginning to understand my symptoms and how they relate to one another.

that said, i’ve found it very useful to consider that people with ocpd tend to think of items on their to-do lists not as things they want to do, but things they have to do, things they’re morally obligated to do. you’ve done it here yourself: “i have to revisit my first draft.” 

and that shift in thought creates unnecessary pressure and transforms the process of writing - something that should be about joy and creation and imagination - into a swirling vortex of stress and guilt. 

and then there’s the whole matter of perfectionism, which is part and parcel of having ocpd; we’re pathologically terrified of making mistakes or being seen as incompetent, and so it can be easier psychologically to never attempt a task than to complete it imperfectly.

but, like, you’re working on a first draft. your first draft is not perfect. literally nobody produces perfect first drafts. you are not an exception to this rule, and holding yourself to this completely and totally impossible superhuman standard is making you unhappy, fucking up your creative process, and not doing a goddamn thing to actually help you write your novel.

so: you’ve written your first draft, and the next step is to edit it. i like to think of it this way: when an artist sits down to paint something, they don’t whip out their most expensive paints and brushes and start painting a fully rendered image. they sketch in pencil first, using the most simple, basic shapes. they lay down flat, primary colour. then they add detail, shading, light. you have to start simple and shitty and basic, and you have to build gradually. writing and editing is like that.

so print out your first draft and go through it with a red pen and strike out anything you don’t like, write in the margins where you’d like to add things, star places where you think you nailed a particular turn of phrase. accept that what you have made is not a perfect thing, and go through it objectively to see where and how you can improve it. try to separate yourself emotionally from it. pretend it’s somebody else’s writing so that you can make the edits you need to without, like, freaking out and thinking you’re a hack every five seconds.

but look, here’s the gag: you’ve already written a novel. if you can do that, you can write a better one. that’s what a second draft is. as a very wise woman once said to me, “you can do it! you’re doing it already! all you have to do is keep it up.”