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How To: Develop Your Characters

I think we’ve all been in the situation where we want to write about a specific character but have no idea how to approach it. For some reason, despite them being your own character, you have no idea how they would act or what they would say in a certain situation. Sometimes, if you even write about your character(s) at all, when you read it back they seem fake or 2-Dimensional. Unrealistic, if you’d prefer.

In this post, I am going to give you some exercises to get past hollow characters and help develop your writing. 

1) Empty Their Pockets

Pretty simple. Think of what your characters would have in their pockets on a day-to-day basis. It doesn’t have to be anything super extraordinary, of course. Just start writing some everyday items down and think about whether your character would have these items in their pockets. 

Let’s take a look at one I did for my characters earlier. (sorry that just sounded like something from Blue Peter)

For example:

Character A’s Pockets Contained:

pack of gum, empty pack of cigarettes, library card, NOKIA brick phone

So, here a few things you can tell about Character A simply through the items in their pockets. They visit the library often, meaning that they probably have a high interest in reading (this also could be a sign of intelligence). Judging by the fact Character A has both a pack of gum and cigarettes this could indicate a potential smoking habit, chewing gum is a known way for helping people quit smoking. The pack of cigarettes could show that they are not very good at restricting themselves and could in fact be addicted and finding it hard to cope with smoking. Finally, the NOKIA brick phone shows how they may want to feel connected to people or want to allow their friends/family members/whoever to be able to contact them but have no desire to get the latest model of phone or perhaps believe that having such a device would distract them unnecessarily. 

When doing this exercise, think about key objects which portray certain details about your character! Try not to overthink it too much, write whatever comes to mind and put it down on the page! After writing down a couple objects, go back through them and feel free to edit out items you think are unnecessary or add items which you think would suit the character. 

2) Go Through Their Daily Routine

Again, another easily explained exercise. Go through a regular day in your character’s life, try and do this exercise as if it was happening before whatever events occur in your story or novel. This way it makes it easier to understand your character before they met a secondary character in the novel or before whatever events happened in your writing which may affect their routine. You don’t need to include every single detail in your description, just brief notes or key events which occur during their day would be fine. You can make it as short or as long as you wish, maybe don’t just do it for one day in your character’s week perhaps do it for multiple days. 

Does their routine change during the week? What time do they wake up? What time do they go to sleep? Are they punctual with going to work? Do they do any other activities outside their day-job? These are the kind of things you may want to ask yourself when writing it. 

3) Give Them Fears/Phobias

Everyone fears something: whether it be a phobia of spiders or oblivion, everyone has a fear. Giving your character a phobia makes them seem more realistic, it allows your reader to easily relate to your character.

However, just having a phobia for the sake of it doesn’t help develop your character at all. If you give them a terrible phobia of snakes and they come across a snake and suddenly within moments are able to get over their fear just like that, it’s not a phobia. It’s more of a mild inconvenience than anything else. The reader needs to feel convinced by their fears, they would feel more dissatisfied with your writing if they felt the character could dismiss anything and everything than knowing them being confronted by their fears could be a possible problem. Besides, it would give them no reason to motivate or encourage the character if they knew it was impossible for them to be defeated by anything. Still, this does not mean that your character has to be destroyed by their fear. There is a very big difference between simply dismissing your character’s fear and perhaps overcoming it in the future.

An easy way to write your character possibly overcoming their fear in the future is that when they first encounter that fear, add an element of chance or fate into it. For example, if a character were to move to get away from the creature which may be coming towards them; in the process of getting up, they could slip which could cause their legs to lash out towards the creature. The sudden movement may just be enough to scare the creature away, this way it does not appear to the reader as ridiculous or uncharacteristic courage but instead accidental bravery. This sudden revelation that the character’s horrible fear may not be as all powerful as they first thought could be the first step for them to slowly overcome that fear.

Don’t believe me? Let’s think about this for a moment. Imagine your character, let’s call them the Protagonist™, is stuck in a terrible situation. It doesn’t matter what the situation is but let’s say it’s something which involves them being trapped in a room with a snake. I’m going to give you two examples, both involving the same situation.

Example #1:

Protagonist watched with wide eyes as the snake slowly slithered towards them. The snake paused for a moment, it hissed lowly as it waited for Protagonist to move, waiting for the right moment to strike.  Not hesitating for a single moment, they suddenly realised how dire the situation was and jumped to their feet. Their heart pumping wildly as their body was filled with adrenaline, they were terrified yet they had to do something. Protagonist grabbed the nearest thing to them and stepped towards the snake.

“Get away!” They threatened, “Get away!”

Example #2:

Protagonist watched with wide eyes as the snake slowly slithered towards them. The snake paused for a moment, it hissed lowly as it waited for Protagonist to move, waiting for the right moment to strike. The blood in Protagonist’s veins ran cold as the snake grew closer and closer, Protagonist couldn’t move. They begged and screamed on the inside to move away, to get away as far as possible. They had lost all control of their movement, their fear had consumed them. They were frozen to the spot and could only watch as the snake widened it’s jaw, ready to bite down on it’s prey. It widened it’s jaw once, twice - suddenly, Protagonist gained back their instincts. Fleeing seemed like the only realistic option and seconds before the snake could chomp down on their ankle, Protagonist stumbled to their feet. They stumbled backwards into a puddle of water which had pooled behind them and their ankle rolled as they slipped, their legs accidentally lashing out towards the predator. The snake recoiled backwards in shock before deciding that the risk wasn’t worth it: it quickly retreated back to it’s nest, disappearing from Protagonist’s view.

Now, hopefully you see what I mean. I think we can all agree that the second example is a lot better than the first one. 

4) Create Their Flaws/Bad Habits

No one is perfect, this includes your characters. 

If you’re finding it challenging to think of any flaws, try to think of some bad habits. It doesn’t have to be anything so terribly bad that’s it’s illegal. Think simple when it comes to this exercise. It can range from anything between chewing their nails to swearing. 

It might help to try and develop these bad habits into possible flaws or weaknesses. If your character keeps biting their nails that might be a sign of nervousness or anxiety. So, creating bad habits might be a good way to show a certain trait your character may possess. 

Flaws are important as well. Let’s be realistic, if no character had any flaws then every single book we read would be filled with a bunch of characters which are exactly the same. Besides, what’s a hero without it’s villain? 

So, to give you a few ideas, let’s go back to superheroes. Maybe a hero is so set on doing the right thing that they lose sight of what they want? Perhaps it gets to a certain point where they can’t handle that hollow feeling inside of them that they grow arrogant, selfish or even stubborn? There’s a story for you right there. 

Not only that, by giving your characters flaws it is possible that you could work that into your story somehow. This way, not only will you get to show off your amazing character development, but it could also be an exciting point in your storyline.

Write down some ideas, think of flawed personality traits and just write them down! Try to write down at least five straight off the bat, for each one you don’t like you should think about why it doesn’t suit your character. You’re bound to find one flaw you’re happy with!

5) Write Some Scenarios

Now that you’ve developed your characters, go ahead and write them in your story! If you think you still need a bit of practice, try writing something about them being in a certain scenario. It could be anything from ordering their favourite coffee to being trapped in a prison: just write it! Try not to think about it too much, just do whatever feels write (I unintentionally made that pun but i’m not deleting it). 

It doesn’t have to be long either, just a couple paragraphs would be fine. Try to focus on body movements and interior thoughts, it would be ideal if your character was on their own in the situation: that way you can get to know the character on their own a lot better. No other characters means no distractions. It’s just you, the wonderful author, and your character - there is an endless amount of possibilities for you! 


Have faith in yourself too! Nobody knows your brilliantly developed characters better than you do, so here’s your chance to show them off! If you’d like a second opinion, write something about them and give it to a friend/parent/random stranger etc. to read! If they don’t want to, make them read it anyway! 

I hope this helps you all in developing your characters! 

Happy writing!

- jess

what if medusa was a real woman. i mean: what if the woman with snakes in her hair was once a tiny girl with beautiful braids in her black hair.

what if the stories came from her smooth hands. when she was six she could make pottery that looked like flowers blooming in your palms. could carefully create replicas of any plant she saw.

and medusa was smart. ran from home, tucked up her hair so it looked short, made herself into a little boy. besides, they liked pretty boys. medusa at school with top grades, sending her unknowable stares at the other men. because the whole time she’s learning the planes of their faces, the way they look while they’re thinking, the slight twist of their hand that meant they were lying. 

medusa going home to sketch every little figure. comes to school in the morning with her hands caked in pottery clay. medusa learns. scrubs dirt on her face to mimic their planes. tilts her head the right way when she’s thinking. doesn’t twist her hand when she’s lying.

in her back yard, a little garden grows. statues of ceramic boys only three feet tall. at first, she can’t quite get the faces right. men are not the same as plants. there is something weird about the proportions she uses. medusa frowns.

she starts making animals instead for a bit, annoyed and disheartened. she’d always just been naturally good at it, and the fact she couldn’t just make something felt as if she’d lost her gift.

she makes cats and dogs and her neighbor’s birds and keeps going.

the snake wasn’t her favorite. he just wouldn’t leave her alone, so she gave up and let him sleep on her in the cold nights. besides, he was a small garden snake, couldn’t even bite her hard, just wanted a place of warmth. she let him rest on the angles of her shoulders, right near her neck, even if he sometimes forgot and held her too hard. that was okay. when she was little, she forgot too, sometimes, and shattered the slim walls of her pottery. the snake had a lot of growing up to do.

she loved no one. not because she was cold-hearted. just because it wasn’t something she wanted. she was busy with her artwork.

she chose an apprenticeship under a master craftsman. his sculptures made her breath stop. she was careful in the workshop, kept her things simple, kept her mouth shut. he called her stupid often. she would duck her head. sometimes she would make mistakes on purpose. all the while he only made sculptures of men. said there was no beauty in women. often made savage remarks about those they saw in the market.

and all the while, she watched him. she watched him and she went home and sketched. this is how his hands were when he made a vine. this is how they were when shaping a nose.

and her back yard garden would grow. little boys became her master, over and over and over, until she could get his jaw right. ceramic became sculpture.

he was who took her to athena’s temple. who shouted at her about how beautiful the statues were against her own. every week he’d come back and shame her. asked how the women there were smarter than the man she was supposed to be. medusa ducked her head and grit her teeth.

in her back yard, she made them. she made every god and goddess she’d seen in the city. her favorite was athena. she ached over her features. had spent so long in the world of men, was blinded by the beauty of women.

it was a black night. and medusa thought her master had left the temple before her. she loosened all the bindings that kept her from breathing. took her hair out. worshiped in peace. placed on athena’s alter a small and beautiful thing. the goddess, head tilted, thinking.

when he found medusa, what made him angry was not her small frame. it was the statute. a delicate thing. much better than the ones he had ever made.

he took it and snapped it in half. threw it deep in the temple’s well to rot. pulled her by her hair. demanded to know where it had come from.

medusa, angry, tired of hiding, tired of late nights and being a boy and pretending: medusa, athena-mad, spat on him. “I did it,” her voice is strong and full of hatred, “A woman made something better than a man could.”

He meant to kill her. To bash her head into the temple steps, claim it was an accident - or better yet, the spite of a god made flesh.

when he grabs her hair, the goddess bites back. athena, patron of creators, patron of the arts, patron of girls and those who are smart - she turns medusa’s hair into snakes. 

it is a quick little thing, darts out and draws blood, almost falls from her hair as a result. she catches the creature and runs, runs until she feels numb.

and what if - while her master is making up a story about poseidon and athena’s rage, explaining medusa’s back yard full of frozen men as being evidence of her evilness - what if medusa finds friends in blind women. and they teach her how to feel what she is seeing. how to use her hands with her eyes closed to make maps of whatever she holds. she starts with plants again. her snake is big now, and has babies. she moves on to their little wiggling forms, amused when they make tiny rings around her fingers. she does not live in a cave. she dresses as a man again, goes to market, sells her roses and vines and beautiful (simple) things. buys herself and the women a nice house out beyond all the noise of it. fills their garden with frozen men.

when the men come to kill her - because now her name is known, it is whispered, sticks in the throat - they don’t find her. they find a tall man who tells them: look in the mountains. when they don’t come back, it’s no fault of medusa’s. frankly, she thinks they should have brought more supplies than their swords into the deep woods. she’s not cruel. when they leave, she makes a statue of them, as her version of a memorial.

but one man is not like the others. he finds her with her hair down, humming, dancing around a marble stone. her snakes are warming in the sun.

medusa? he asks her. it’s a name she hasn’t heard in a long while.

she is tired of being hunted. she just wants to make art. she waits for the sword point. but he hesitates. looks at her full in her face.

strikes a bargain. if she makes him a head for his shield, he will tell the others that she is good and dead. and he will sell her art to better patrons when he could - although he suggests at least hiding the signature she has with maybe a little less snake-like scrawl - he would make her name known.

but medusa knows men. knows they will chomp down on a horror story faster than that of the artist. she is already permanent. she says: no, here’s what happens.

after many months, he has his shield. she wouldn’t let him leave with the first nine hundred versions, always found something wrong with them. he grows fond of her in this time, agrees to her terms. even he can’t really look at the shield head-on. she has captured a scream, a rage, too much. it is so utterly human and at once not that it makes his skin crawl.

where medusa’s blood drops, serpents sprawl. or at least, that’s the code she uses. when he finds little girls who can make art, he sends them to her. 

medusa does not expect to be known for the school that she starts. she is a women artist in a time of men, and her name is already dead to them. but i know medusa. i know her. she is known for her work.

after all, who can speak about medusa without mentioning how she froze the world?

anonymous asked:

Soulmate AU where your soulmark doesn't only symbolise your soulmate, but also how you'll realise that they are your soulmate. (because unlike the romace novels it isn't always "bond" at first sight, sometimes it takes YEARS to discover what was there all along). Now imagine Stiles so obsessed with his very-much everlasting state of virginity because of his bite mark on his chest and HELLO what else could that mean. (part 2 in the next ask)

Part 2: Or imagine derek trying everything to get rid of his mark, because the bullet shaped mark was the reason his young naive self approached the argents, and KATE, in the first place. And we all know how that went.

The water was cold as it splashed on his face – cold and refreshing – and his hands stayed pressed against his face for a long minute, his eyes closed and a tired sigh leaving him. Slowly, Derek dropped his hands from his face and grabbed the edges of the sink. He hesitated before finally lifting his gaze to the mirror in front of him.

His eyes, blank with a hint of sadness and bags heavy underneath them, found the bullet shaped mark slightly to the left of the center of his chest immediately.

Derek had been five when his mom had sat him down and told him about soulmates and soulmarks for the first time. And because of his soulmark, it had also been when he was told of hunters and how he needed to be careful. More careful than any of his siblings and any of his friends.

He had been five and hadn’t listened. He hadn’t listened when he was thirteen either, nor when he was sixteen and approached the woman he thought he was his soulmate.

It had been years – long and painful years – and he had yet to forgive himself for that. He doubted he ever would,and looking at his soulmark made him feel sick to his stomach.

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continental drift

(#21 off the Super Sappy Prompts list: “I’m better when I’m with you.”)

It’s an experiment based on a hypothesis based on a coincidence. They’re sharing a room on a roadie, and Nursey has been stuck in a dry spell for a week and a half now. The words just haven’t been coming the way he wants them to, and he’s starting to feel dried out, like all the creative juices have been wrung out of him by school stress and lack of sleep. Maybe it’ll never come back. Maybe he’s just done. All washed up by the tender age of twenty.

He’s not even trying to write as he watches Dex from across the room, tracking his fidgets and expressions as he sits hunched over his laptop frowning at the screen. It’s been a while since he and Dex have been in the same room for an extended period of time – a fortnight, about. Dex has been on a project, and Nursey started isolating himself about when the drought hit. But it was nice to sit with him on the bus today, and it’s nice to dump his bag near the bed and just relax, hands behind his head, and drink in his presence. It feels like something he’s been missing for far too long.

Nursey’s not sure what it is that makes the words start coming back, but it’s like a cloudburst on a hot day – a few lines, scattered drops against a parched sidewalk, then all at once he’s drowning.

He writes for four hours that night. His poems are full of microchips and anger, all about the gray morality of man against the rigidity of binary code, and by one a.m., when he should really be getting his beauty rest for tomorrow’s game, he’s starting to formulate a theory.

The theory is that maybe being in Dex’s proximity jumpstarts his creativity. In a phrase, Dex inspires him.

So Nursey resolves to test it.

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Valentines’ Headcanons

Viktor x Yuuri

  • Yuuri and Viktor spend the day at home with Makkachin
  • Viktor makes a variation of a traditional Russian breakfast
  • Yuuri makes katsudon for lunch
  • They both go out to dinner with reservations at a new restaurant they both wanted to try
  • They get recognized and the server brings out a free dessert at the end with a wink
  • They spend the rest of the night scrolling through instagram and commenting on all the happy couples’ photos before falling asleep thanks to their food coma
  • The super athletic but simultaneously cheesy sex is the next morning

Otabek x Yurio (kinda)

  • Otabek spends the day uploading a bunch of his songs to soundcloud while he follows Yurio around to save him from Yuri’s Angels as needed
  • Later they go out for burgers
  • Otabek isn’t going to date Yurio until he has Viktor and Yuuri’s blessings
  • Also until Yurio is eighteen
  • He’s just gonna…aggressively friendship with food and music
  • It’s very cute and highly appropriate, Viktor assures

Mila x Sara

  • Mila wakes up to fresh made coffee and an assortment of fresh bread and jam
  • They exchange handmade valentines over breakfast and giggle at how silly but sweet the poems are on the inside
  • Sara takes Mila around Rome (since they’re staying there for some reason) and they end up at the Trevi Fountain, eating gelato and tossing coins in to the fountain
  • Mila buys Sara a necklace that she sees her girlfriend eyeing in the window
  • Sara sputters, but accepts it, going and buying Mila a purse that she’d be eyeing as well from one of the designer stores by the Spanish steps
  • They take a few selfies over by the Colosseum with more food and their Valentines’ gifts before posting to IG and going back to their hotel in Trastevere.
  • They silence their phones before they “end the night” so that they can’t hear Michele blowing up their phones

Phichit x Seung Gil

  • Phichit spends the day with Seung Gil
  • It’s new and Phichit just spends the day laying on the couch and taking selfies
  • Seung Gil gives him chocolates
  • Phichit happily accepts and live streams trying out each chocolate while Seung Gil is awkwardly happy on the side
  • It’s very cute and Phichit’s fans tell them as such

Chris x Boyfriend

  • Chris’ birthday is on Valentines’ day (and they had a party already) so he gets his Valentines’ celebration a few days later
  • He wakes up to a room covered in flowers and wreaths, freshly squeezed orange juice on his side table with a note saying that breakfast is ready next to it
  • He walks out, grabs his boyfriend who is ready to serve breakfast, and drags him back to the bedroom
  • The food goes cold, but Chris is very happy six hours later, chomping down on the still delicious food while his boyfriend is still sleeping
  • Everyone blows up his phone with EWWWWWWW and TMI after he tells the group chat about his Valentines’ day celebration

JJ x Isabella

  • They get married in a small ceremony with only their immediate family
  • It’s very private for once in JJ’s life because he wants this one moment for himself
  • Isabella looks gorgeous in a simple white gown and JJ wears a matching tux with a pocket square handmade by Isabella
  • It’s over relatively quickly, but them and their families go out for dinner at Isabella’s favorite restaurant and have a good time
  • Phichit is the first to find out about the wedding because social media
  • Everyone finds out a week later and sincerely wish the couple a happy life together

Leo x Guang Hong

  • They’re separated from each other, but they skype at the end of the night
  • Leo ships Guang Hong roses from the USA and they arrive just in time for the call
  • Guang Hong collaborated with Leo’s coach to surprise him with a brand new pair of skates and new iPod because Leo’s commented that he wanted to keep his skating music separate from his iPhone
  • They stay up for six hours just talking while eating boxes of chocolate

GEORGI GETS A DATE AND IT’S SO WONDERFUL AND EVERYONE IS HAPPY FOR HIM

The Seven Days of Hell - LWTM #1

Imagine: Living with the Marauders and when that time of the month comes around, no one knows what to do. Well, except Sirius. He has a plan. Plus, this gif of Sirius.

Originally posted by helloimaginesgalore

Sirius walked into the kitchen, clutching a calendar and a cigarette. He was in scarlet and gold pajama pants, a pair of your rainbow colored toe socks, hair tousled and wand tucked behind his ear. Remus sat at the kitchen table, clutching the Daily Prophet and a cup of coffee. James sat in another chair, eyes closed. Peter sat across from him, lazily levitating the pepper shaker into the air and moving it up and down, occasionally sprinkling some in James Potter’s hair. 

“It is the first day of the seven days of hell,” Sirius announced, holding the calendar up and pointing to the date. The block had ‘the flood begins’ in red marker in James’ handwriting inside it. Remus put the paper down and took a sip of his coffee, staring at Sirius with raised eyebrows. James’ eyes shot open. Peter lowered the pepper shaker. Sirius spoke again, “I fear while this day will be full of terrible, treacherous trials, it will not be the worst of them. Tomorrow, I feel, will be the most intense battle of these seven days of dangerous conflicts. Today, we will prepare ourselves secretly, while also making the day more tolerable for our dearest Y/N.” 

“And how to you propose we do that, Pads?” Remus asked. 

“Ah, Moony, my skeptical mate, I have been up all night preparing,” Sirius answered, tapping the calendar with his wand and making it vanish. “In my eight hours of debate with myself on how to go about this correctly, I have decided the best way to accomplish a twelve hour truce with the bleeding, brooding beast is simply breakfast in bed.”

“Well,” James piped up. “I think that’s a great plan, Sirius. But, I must say that the best way to start off this genius plan is not to call Y/N a bleeding, brooding beast.” 

“My apologies, Prongs,” Sirius said with a smug smirk. “A moment of weakness, my friend, a moment of fear. Now, since this is my wonderfully thought out, foolproof, perfect plan, I’ve decided that I’m captain of this operation. So, with that being said - Moony, get on the eggs! Peter, there’s fresh oranges in the cupboard. Make our girl the best glass of O.J. she’ll ever taste! Prongs, the bacon, boy! Get to work!” 

Remus stood up, depositing his coffee cup in the sink, and moving towards the stove, “And just what will you be doing, Padfoot?” 

“What will I be doing?” Sirius asked incredulously. “I, Moony, will be making the most perfectly toasted, precisely buttered toast for our dearest housemate!” 

With this being said and orders being distributed, the kitchen was launched into a chaos of shuffling feet, sizzling grease, and Sirius marching around with his toast, barking orders at everyone. In twenty minutes, Y/N’s breakfast was done and plated wonderfully. Sirius had prepared a cute wooden tray with a sky blue plate filled with eggs, bacon, and toast upon it. On it also sat a glass of orange juice and tucked under the plate was a chocolate frog, courtesy of Remus. Beside her plate was a small bowl of sliced strawberries and a fork wrapped in a napkin. 

Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus all stood huddled around it, contemplating. Peter let out a sigh, “Do you think this is enough? For a truce?” 

“It has to be,” Sirius answered. “Anything else would be far too much of a risk. It wouldn’t be thought through. Not foolproof.” 

With a shaky breath, James hoisted the tray into the air with his wand, “I’ll go first.” 

“Thank you for your sacrifice, James,” Sirius nodded, following him up the stairs. They walked in a straight, tense line. James, then Sirius, Peter behind him, and Remus taking up the rear. They reached the door much faster than any of them would’ve liked. 

“She likes you the best Moony,” Peter hissed. “You knock.” 

“Oh, absolutely not,” Remus replied hastily with a grin. “She definitely fancies James.”

With a small squeak, James raised his hand to the door and knocked thrice. They all stood outside awaiting a response. Seconds later, they received one. A sleepy voice on the inside croaked out, “Come in.” 

Peter pushed open the door and James strutted through, hoisting your food through the door and over to you, allowing it to land gently in your lap. The orange juice barely sloshed. Remus spoke first as Y/N gawked silently at them. He grinned, “This is our offering, O’ Bloody One.” 

Sirius’ eyes went wide and he kicked Remus in the shin. But, you were laughing. The tension in the room fell and the boys all slumped with relief. You smiled down at your breakfast and back up at the Marauders. “You boys are so sweet.” 

“Anything for our girl,” Sirius grinned. 

Silence filled the room like a gas and the boys just stood there, watching you chomp down on bacon. After two pieces, you rolled your eyes, “Well c’mon then, loves. Are we not going to have a lovely breakfast and make fun of the muggle television this morning?” 

With grunts and giggled, the boys all snuggled into your king size bed. James inched in beside you, snaking arm arm around your waist. Sirius plopped a pillow down on your legs, laying horizontally across the bed, head on your legs. Peter filed in on your other side, laying his head on your shoulder. Remus placed himself in the space between James and Sirius, sticking a pillow on James’ stomach and leaning against it, sprawling his legs out across Sirius’ torso. James turned on the TV with a click of a button. 

A blonde newswoman appeared on the screen pointing at what appeared to be a cold front. You grinned to yourself as James pressed a kiss to your cheek and Sirius started giggling about the misspelling of the word front on the screen. 

“What kind of word is ‘fornt’?” he asked, laughing. 

Faking your period had to be one of the best things you’d ever done.

LWTM #2: https://sleekeazyz.tumblr.com/post/161009704193/the-black-cat-flu-lwtm-2
The Mistake (Prologue) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “The One With The Pact”

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Allison Argent & Reader

Author’s Note: A few weeks ago, @fillthevoid-stilinski and I were talking about her series, Between Us, which is an excellent Scott/fake relationship mini, and she was like, you know what I want to read? A Stiles/fake relationship fic, and I want you to write it. Seeing as her big TWO-OH is coming up on October 18th, and I also worship the ground she walks on, I obliged her. This is my birthday gift to my Posey, the other half of Eat, and one third of the Puppy Pack, and just my all-around across the pond soulmate. I hope you all enjoy this fake relationship, Stiles mini series. 

Thanks: huge thanks to @ellie-bee242 for helping me finally come up with the idea of how this fic was going to go. I literally would never have come up with this without her.

Series Summary: When Stiles Stilinski and Y/n Y/L/N were sixteen years old, they made a pact: if in twenty years, they were both still single and their friends had all gotten married, they would marry each other. At twenty-six, a turn of events and a wedding, change their entire lives.

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Epilogue

Originally posted by dylanobrienaddicted26

“I still feel bad for Isaac and Kira though.” You said, sitting on the counter in Stiles’ kitchen, eating an apple, while he stared at his open fridge. 

Stiles closed the door halfway so that he could look at you on the other side of it. “Are you telling me you were rooting for anyone but Scott and Allison ending up together?” He rolled his eyes and went back to searching for something to munch on.

“Of course not, they’re our best friends, and they’re sickeningly cute together, and she loves him so much, I wanted them to get back together. I just feel bad for, well, Isaac mostly. Kira and Scott were never that serious, but Isaac seemed pretty into Al.”

Stiles closed the door, not having found anything, and stared up at you, crunching your way through the granny smith apple in your hand. “Yea, well, maybe if he stopped wearing those fucking scarves when it’s the middle of May, he would get the girl.” You smirked and rolled your eyes at your best friend, not indulging his irrational hatred of Isaac’s scarves with a reply. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?” Your smirk grew into a smug grin, which you broke when you took another bite from the piece of fruit, and then shrugged. “Oh, well then, I hate you, and you don’t get to eat my fruit.”

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Tantalizing: 05

Originally posted by jikookfantasy

Tantalizing: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08
Ship: Jungkook | Reader
Description: Back in high school, you were nothing more than a nerd Jungkook wanted to deflower, to get a good fuck from. When he sees you at the club, though, things have changed drastically, and his dominance starts to teeter on the edge.
Warning: Sub!Jungkook, Sex Toys, Degrading Names, Choking, Spanking, Slight BDSM, Handjob, Oral, Orgasm Denial, Exhibitionism, Fingering, Gagging, Blinfolding, Slight Violence? Slight Angst?
Word Count: 7,599

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3 Perfect Days In Seattle: A Guide

Day 1

Morning Coffee: Elm Coffee Roasters

240 2nd Avenue South | Seattle, WA 98104

If you fly in take the Link (Seattle Public Transit) downtown.

Right when you get off, you can walk a few blocks until you find Elm Coffee.

This place was recommended by new friends I found from Instagram the wide open space is filled with a white marble bar, and tables accompanied by wicker chairs that seem to fit you just right.

 Petite pastries lay across the bar. The most tempting are the vegan donuts, although you won’t be able to tell the difference.

 The coffee has a light, citrus scent to the roasted beans and the pitter patter of feet fill your ears as customers line up for their morning latte. The ambience is very relaxing, light chatter feels comfortable, and is a sweet spot that isn’t so touristy (like Original Starbucks, you can go there, too!)

Mid-Day Brunch: Biscuit Bitch

1909 1st Ave | Seattle, WA 98101

Walking down to Pike Place, the infamous marketplace is next. To satisfy the itch to try new food in the city, you can get your southern soul food fix closeby.

 The sidewalk is usually lined up with hungry brunchers in line or waiting for one of the (few) coveted tables. The popularity of this place is obvious with people casually walking by end up joining in on the biscuit madness. Biscuit Bitch has all the sass and snarkiness that lives up to its name. The staff has hair all colors of the rainbow, tattoos that dot their arms, and are quirky and loud. I blushed a bit while ordering the “Hot Mess Bitch” but I’ll admit it felt cool to cuss when I ordered.

 The Hot Mess Bitch had me exploring every corner of my cardboard to go box (everything is packaged to go). One bite had me chomping down smooth grits with cheese and the next bite I’d get a flavor whirlwind of sausage, jalapeno and biscuit. Every bite was a new experience depending on which ingredients I wanted to combine next.

The Hot Mess Bitch- Biscuit Bitch

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Growing Pains II

Thank you so much for all your positive feed back guys! here is the very much anticipated Part 2 of my mini series Growing Pains

special shout outs go to @hcrrystvles for editing! also @mizpahes and @instaharry for moral support and inspo ideas 

masterlist   (i.)

dad!harry teacher!harry uni!harry

warnings: super fucking cute fluff, my heart hurts omg

word count: 3,013


The school yard transformed just as the sun went down. It was still full of children as it was during the day, but there was a different whimsical feeling in the air. Maybe it was because all the students were at a school event in which they weren’t faced with the stresses of school itself. Regardless of what it was about it, the celebration had kicked off. All the students from kindergarten to year 6 were invited along with their friends and family to come down, have a burger, have some ice pops, and have a bit of a dance on the blacktop while the DJ blasted music across the premises. Some of the teachers were asked to help with grilling for a portion of the night and of course, Harry agreed. It was meant to be a fundraiser for the school, but also a way to get the kids excited to be back in school for the year.

Naturally, anything that had to do with getting kids excited to learn, Harry was all about. He lived for the moments when kids would look at him in shock when he told them one of his fact of the day, for when they read something on their worksheets that inspired them and the times they’d be reading a book and would come back the next day to tell him all about how cool it was. Being a teacher was Harry’s calling, much like being a father was.

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Vocal - Thomas (The Maze Runner) [Smut]

Authors: @writing-obrien and @dumbass-stilinski

Character(S): Thomas/Reader, Aris/Reader, Brenda/Thomas

Word Count: 3463

Notes: here’s another collab from me and Steff! Here’s some super hot Thomas smut because I’m thirsty for Thomas and you all know it. Oral (both receiving), fingering, handjob, riding, marking, jealous, cheating.



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I Won't Say It

Requested by an anonymous flubble for their birthday. They wanted an Eleven fic based off of the song “I Won’t Say I’m In Love” and I’m pretty sure I nailed it (I even managed to incorporate some lyrics).

And for those of you wondering why Jack Harkness is here - first of all, Jack Harkness is too good to not be here, and secondly, he’s the best person I could think of to be a sassy singing Greek Muse in a toga whose most pressing interest is matchmaking. (Except for maybe Donna, but I don’t think she’d put up with all this nonsense.)

Also, look at this gif. Look at those lips. Just look at the lips. Look at them.

“I’m not doing this with you, Jack.”

“Like you have anything better to do than me.”

You glared at Jack Harkness, Captain of the Innuendo Squad, and wondered how long it would be before Jack got distracted by something shiny and ran off. That’s basically what he did last time. Alright, so last time, the “something shiny” had been a blue alien woman in very revealing clothing (what she was revealing, you weren’t sure, but that was not one bit human at all), but the point stood that Jack could be distracted from this current line of discussion. But, considering the lack of revealing aliens in this situation and how intent Jack seemed to be on having this conversation, you doubted it would happen like that again anytime soon. Shame.

“You’re disgusting,” you said plainly, playfully tossing a grape at him so he would know you weren’t quite as angry as you sounded. He leaned back and caught it in his mouth.

“You love it," Jack said around the grape. He chewed it with a smirk on his face.

You picked up another grape and stuck it in your own mouth. "No. And we’re not talking about this.”

“Oh, so we’re not talking about your very mature, reasonable crush on a really sexy Time Lo-”

“No, we’re not!” you snapped. Now you were angry. Or at least very, very frustrated.

This conversation happened a lot. Every time the Doctor left you and Jack alone in the TARDIS (which the Doctor seemed a little uncomfortable with because he always tried to take you with him and leave Jack behind, but you and Jack weren’t having any of that), Jack hounded you about your ‘crush’ on the Doctor. It wasn’t a crush, though, and you knew that, and you were pretty sure that Jack knew it too, which was why he was pushing it so hard. Because it was more than a crush, way more, and Jack wanted you to say it.

“And we’re not talking about it,” you continued, angrily chomping down on another grape, "because there’s nothing to talk about.“

"Who d'ya think you’re kiddin’?” Jack drawled. “You like him…”

You rolled your eyes. “What are you, four?”

“Nah. I’m six, at least.” Jack gave you that grin, the you-can’t-hate-me-because-I’m-so-cute-and-sinful grin, trying to take the edge off of the conversation. It didn’t work. "Honey, I think the world of you, but this is ridiculous. You love the Doctor. Can’t you face it like a grown-up?“

Hurt stung you. He hadn’t actually said anything offensive, but there had been a veiled accusation of immaturity there, and you couldn’t defend yourself and tell him that it wasn’t like that, not without saying exactly what you didn’t want to say. So instead, you said:

"Get off my case, Jack, would you?”

Jack scoffed irritably. Jack rarely got angry, as far as you had seen, but this was obviously getting to him. You didn’t want to see what an angry Jack was like, but you weren’t going to give in just because he got huffy. There was no good reason for him to get to bully you like this and you weren’t about to let him do it, either.

The grapes were left forgotten on the granite countertop of the island in the TARDIS’s oddly compact kitchen. You had stood up in an effort to regain the upper hand by making yourself taller than Jack, but Jack was leaning forward in his seat, halfway to standing up himself. Oh, he wasn’t going to turn this into an actual fight, was he? You had never fought with him. Why did he have to push this?

“You can’t keep denying this. It’s unhealthy,” Jack hissed. “You’re too proud to say it and you’re making yourself miserable.”

“Oh, please.” You put as much biting sarcasm into your voice as you could, trying to stave back the sting that was making your eyes water. You were going to cry. You didn’t want to cry, not in front of Jack or in front of anybody, but especially not in an argument like this.

“You love him.”

“No way. Nuh-uh.”

“And he loves you too!”

Now that was taking it too far. That hurt.

Jack!” you snapped. A single hot tear welled over and made a scorching path down your cheek. You aggressively wiped it away, trying to save face despite your complete loss of control.

You knew your face was red - you could feel the heat of blood rushing up to your face. Your ears were hot and your mouth felt full of cotton. You weren’t sure how this had escalated so quickly, and maybe it wouldn’t have under normal circumstances, and maybe you wouldn’t have let tears fall so easily, but this was a wound that had been festering for years and Jack had poked at it in all the ways that hurt the worst.

Jack stared at you, stunned by the way you had broken so quickly. He didn’t know what to do - he knew that you needed to face up to this, but he hadn’t realized that it was so bad that you would… well, this. He had never made you cry, not once in all the years since you had met. The Doctor, who could sometimes be extraordinarily insensitive, had made you cry multiple times, and Jack had never failed to give the Doctor hell for it, but this wasn’t the Doctor. This was him. Jack had made you cry, and he didn’t know what to do about.

“I-” He swallowed, trying to find the words. He stood up from his seat, slowly moving to comfort you. “Aw, Sweetie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Just stop, Jack. Okay?” You shuffled towards the sink, purposefully out of Jack’s reach. "Just stop.“

You grabbed a scrubbing brush and began to clean dishes that had been left to soak in soapy water. The TARDIS could do he own dishes very well and didn’t mind doing them, but you liked to extend her the courtesy of doing it yourself. Not to mention it was a good distraction. With your back to Jack, you couldn’t see him and he wasn’t saying anything.

Finally, you heard the scrape of a chair and the quick footsteps of Jack making his escape from the kitchen. You sighed in relief even as another traitorous tear slipped from your blotchy cheek and into the sudsy water. You looked at your murky reflection. Your eyes were already red and puffy, just for two little tears, and your cheeks were terribly flushed.

"Get a grip, girl,” you told your reflection, and then you splashed it away with frothy suds and a tea-stained mug.

Since bringing Jack back onto the TARDIS, the Doctor had been torn about the decision. On one hand, he really liked Jack and was glad to have the man back. On the other hand, you really liked Jack and Jack really liked you and that meant that the Doctor didn’t get you all to himself anymore, which he didn’t like. Since finding you, he hadn’t really bothered bringing other companions aboard for very long, mostly because he liked it best when it was just the two of you, as it should be. But on the other hand, Jack was sort of a good security measure. The Doctor wasn’t a fool - he had lost companions before and he wasn’t so arrogant as to think that he wasn’t in danger of losing one again. Jack was like extra security for you, which was good. But on the other hand, you were spending more time with just Jack when the Doctor wasn’t around, and that made the Doctor terribly nervous, because Jack was handsome and charming and tempting and romantic and a man and you were- were- well, he was a boy and you were a girl and the Doctor didn’t like what his brain came up with when he wondered what went on when you two were alone together. But on the other hand, Jack was trustworthy and the Doctor knew that you were safe with the captain. But on the other hand, you had very pretty lips, and Jack couldn’t resist a set of pretty lips, and the Doctor couldn’t recall seeing you kiss anyone ever in all your travels, so perhaps you were letting Jack kiss you, just because humans got lonely without kisses. But on the other hand-

Oh, goodness, that was more than enough hands. That was at least six hands and he didn’t have nearly enough, even if he used his feet.

But the point was, in the end, that even though the Doctor knew that you were quite safe with Jack, the Doctor hated leaving you with him, because the Doctor would spend his outings thinking of Jack kissing you and you kissing Jack, and the very idea of it made him feel frantic. So he would do whatever errands he needed to do and then scurry back to the TARDIS as quickly as he could, often entertaining the thought that, maybe, if he asked nicely, you would get your kisses from him instead of Jack. The Doctor was lonely too, after all, and it seemed more than fair to him that if you were both lonely, you could be unlonely together. Jack could and would get his kisses from just about anyone else in the universe. The only person who the Doctor wanted was you. Wouldn’t it be fair for you and the Doctor to be together while Jack had the rest of the universe? Yes, that was perfectly fair.

This, of course, was all very ridiculous, and the Doctor knew it.

He had no proof, or even the barest bit of evidence, that you and Jack were anything other than good friends. And he wasn’t so silly as to think that he could just ask you for a kiss, or that he could woo you like a Gallifreyan might, but it was a beautiful fantasy that he liked to entertain. And it was true that humans got lonely. Your species was meant to be in pairs. There were some of you who didn’t need it or want it for some reason or another, but the majority of human beings were much better off when they were in pairs. Romantic pairs, that is, and devout pairs, not the casual sort. And you didn’t weren’t part of a pair, which meant that you could have all the friends in the world, but that would not stop you from feeling that loneliness. The Doctor empathized, to a degree - Gallifreyans didn’t feel that pressing urge to find a bond-mate until much later in their lives (the second puberty, if you will), so the Doctor had gotten through many of his regenerations with some curiosity towards the idea but no sense of loneliness or hurt in his lack of partner. Then he had hit the age when that changed, and since then, there had been a terrible gap that he wanted someone to fill. That he wanted you to fill, if he could have his pick, but he doubted you would agree. So, knowing what it felt like, to be missing the other half of something so dear and yet not knowing how to find it… the Doctor couldn’t find it within himself to be angry or blame you at all if you were interested in Jack

The Doctor opened the door to the TARDIS, arguing with himself over whether or not to find you immediately or leave you in peace with Jack. As it turned out, there was no answer to that debate, because Jack was sitting in the console room, looking awful, and you were nowhere to be seen.

Jack looked up at the Doctor with an odd expression on his face. The Doctor stared back even as he shut the TARDIS door behind him.

“… Jack…?” the Doctor ventured to say. “What’s the matter with you, eh?”

Jack grimaced. “I screwed up, Doc.”

The Doctor blinked in surprise. Jack wasn’t terribly proud, not compared to many of the Doctor’s other companions, but rarely admitted to failure before he was absolutely sure that he couldn’t fix his mistake or at least give another attempt to do better. 'I screwed up’ were not words to be heard from Jack Harkness’s mouth.

“What happened?” asked the Doctor, dreading the answer.

“It was…” Jack sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was just trying to get her to admit it to herself, y'know? It’s been hurting her. I can tell. I thought that if she could say it in front of me, maybe she could tell you, and then you’d both stop dancing around it like it’s not there… you two would be so perfect, and you don’t even…”

The Doctor’s nose wrinkled in confusion. “Jack, what are you talkin’ about?”

Jack scoffed. “Both of you are hopelessly oblivious. Doc, she loves you.”

No. No, no, not this. Jack wouldn’t pull such a cruel joke.

“I mean, she really loves you. She is in love with you. She has been for ages. Maybe even before I met you guys. I dunno.”

Stop. Stop, it hurts. Don’t lie. Don’t tease. It hurts.

Then Jack sighed again, heavily, and pursed his lips. “I tried, and I screwed it up. She got upset. Cried. I’ve never made her cry before, Doctor. And what did you do that has her so convinced that you don’t love her, huh?”

I never said anything. Actions speak louder that words, but I never kissed her, either, and I never gave her a flower or shiny thing or a note full of love words. What I’ve done for her, she could logic away to concern and friendship and the protection of a companion. I never said that I love her in straight words or unquestionable actions. How was she to know?

“Where is she?” the Doctor asked when he finally regained his voice.

“Kitchen,” Jack grunted.


You furiously scrubbed away at a pan that you had already scrubbed twice. You were soaked all down the front of your shirt from splashing yourself. There were suds on your face that itched and your fingers were starting to prune, but you didn’t care. You were too upset to care. You usually knew better than to take anything Jack said too seriously, but this time, that was impossible.

“Hey.”

You paused. When had the Doctor gotten back? “Hey, Doctor. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I love you.”

The pan you were scrubbing slipped from your grip and splashed loudly into the sudsy water in the sink. You turned around so that you could face the Doctor, scrubbing-brush still clenched in your hand.

“I love you,” the Doctor repeated, green eyes large and pleading, "and I… I know that I’ve never said anything about it, or shown you how I care, and I’m sorry. I was… scared. I haven’t, I mean, felt this way, not since… well, Rose, really, but this isn’t about Rose. It’s about you. And me, but mostly you. Or, um, us. Because Jack said, and I- I- I want… I want what he said.“

You swallowed, trying to make your voice come out steady: "And what… did Jack say, that you want?”

“That you love me,” the Doctor whispered, stepping closer to you, “and that we would be perfect.”

“I bet we would be,” you agreed, and the Doctor’s eyes lit up.

“I was thinking the exact same thing!” he exclaimed, and he swept you up for a kiss, soapy clothes and pruned fingers and all.

Lick & Suck

Request: “Hey can I please get a smut piece where the reader gives newt his first blow job but she’s 100% sin (bc newt isn’t sinful enough… yet) and so she teases him so much before and during it??? You can decide if he soon becomes rough or still slightly sub.”

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT! I’M FEELING YES!

The Siberian winds were kept at bay by the thick wood of the lodge, a strong fire crackling softly as two faces were lit up in flickering light. You laid with your top half bare, stomach against the fur rug (which Newt promised was fake), toasting marshmallows until they were black. Newt sat in the armchair nearby, using the fire’s light to check his notes and finish off creature sketches, but found his attention often drifting. His eyes were drawn to the three large gashes on your back which were freshly stitched, the irony of the situation causing a faint chuckle to emit from his throat. For all the dangerous creatures you had both encountered, it happened to be an average snow leopard that wounded you first.

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