craft along

Is there anything more perfect though than knowing Aaron and Robert have kept their own surnames as far as the rest of the world is concerned.

But that they’ll spend the rest of their lives referring to each other as Mr Sugden and Mr Dingle behind closed doors?

2

                                  ❀ Orange Brightlily Corsage

9 Merciless Serial Killer Movies That Every Hardcore Horror Fan Needs to See

1. Snowtown (2011)

Why you should watch: Snowtown (also known as The Snowtown Murders) presents Australia’s most notorious killing spree with grim realism and a no-holds-barred display of graphic violence. This movie will reach into your mind and …

When you’re in the mood for: A bleak and psychologically disturbing true story with an all-consuming sense of dread that will leave you rattled for days.

2. Dahmer (2002)

Why you should watch: A creepily mesmerizing Jeremy Renner delivers an unforgettable performance as one of the most brutal serial killers of all time.

When you’re in the mood for: The chills and unsettling terror that comes from seeing inside the mind of a psychotic killer (but without all the gore).

3. Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer (1986)

Why you should watch: Simply put, it’s the movie that caused the MPAA to famously tell filmmakers that absolutely no recut of the footage could lead to an R rating. The terror comes from more than just the graphic scenes, it’s in the movie’s blood.

When you’re in the mood for: A low-budget but impressively realistic depiction of a deranged serial killer that aims to shock and disturb.

4. Martyrs (2008)

Why you should watch: Martyrs is a brutal and relentless film about abduction, torture and revenge that leaves most viewers divided. However you end up feeling, you won’t escape Martyrs without an opinion.

When you’re in the mood for: An unconventionally mind-bendy and gruesome tale that covers many subgenres of horror and always keeps you guessing.

5. Peeping Tom (1960)

Why you should watch: Everyone knows about Psycho, but far fewer have seen the cinematic masterpiece of voyeurism known as Peeping Tom. Originally, the fact that it was told from the perspective of the killer scandalized the entire United Kingdom and destroyed the career of the previously revered director. These days, it’s considered a must-see predecessor to the slasher genre.

When you’re in the mood for: An influential classic that pioneered the kind of psychological horror and voyeuristic camera work we’ve become so used to today.

6. Maniac (2012)

Why you should watch: Maniac compellingly features first-person point of view filming that, like Peeping Tom, forces you to see through the eyes of a killer. It’s the kind of gruesomely violent movie you put on when you’re trying to add some style to your stomach-churning experience.

When you’re in the mood for: A remake that exceeds the original with a commitment to more experimental filming and a seemingly never-ending supply of gore.

7. Chained (2012)

Why you should watch: Chained explores what happens when a kidnapped little boy follows the instructions of a serial killer in order to survive. It has a strong (but hard to swallow) message about violence that will definitely end up causing conversation.

When you’re in the mood for: A movie that will disturb you with the human side of a serial killer and a claustrophobic environment of abuse.

8. The Midnight Meat Train (2008)

Why you should watch: With the same in-your-face tone as its title suggests,The Midnight Meat Train makes for a tense, bloody, and surprisingly well-crafted ride-along with a psycho killer. Some people have hated the ending, but even the critics found enough excitement along the way to make this a worthwhile trip.

When you’re in the mood for: A visually sophisticated and straight-forward thriller with over-the-top kills and a maddening pace.

9. M (1931)

Why you should watch: Without M, there would be no Psycho or Silence of the Lambs. Even for those who don’t care about its influence, M is an engrossing and deeply unsettling film that creates one of the most tense atmospheres ever on screen. For history buffs who see horror as a window into the social dynamics of a time period, M is also a fascinating dissection of mass hysteria in pre-World War II Germany.

An important part of any artistic endeavor is consuming as much of your craft as possible. Photographer? Check out other photography, and not only people that photograph what you enjoy photographing, but other photographers as well. The more we see, then more we are inspired and the more we learn. It makes us better. Gives us ideas and perspectives we wouldn’t gain on our own. The same goes for writing, poetry or prose. Read more, and gain knowledge and insight. Do you paint or craft other works of art? Take in as much as possible of your given craft, along with all other forms of art. Take what you see and apply it to your own craft.

None of that is anywhere close to a new idea. Far from it actually. 

Last night I had a conversation and applied those lessons above to life. In friendships and relationships it’s important to take the lessons from other friendships and relationships and apply them to what’s in our lives now. Progress, not perfection, towards being a better person.

I am an introvert, as such, I consume my surroundings. I observe with my eyes and my ears. Taking in as much information as possible, and giving little away. I need information from my relationships. I need to understand how people work, people I care about. Not just how they work with me, but I need to know how they work with other people. There are endless nuances to people, and I need to know them all. 

Midnight Luxe (Part 3)

Originally posted by hobilu

(Part 1) (Part 2)  (Part 4)  (Part 5)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: University AU/ Angst / Smut

Summary: Your life was nothing but a drag until you met Jeon Jungkook. The alluring and beautiful fashion design student who asked you to model for his upcoming runway show, the man who turned your life upside down. Soon you find yourself pulled into his eccentric group of friends and their enticing world of fashion, sex and music, a world that may ultimately leave your heart in pieces. 

Inspired by the anime/manga Paradise Kiss :)



Light poured in from the library window as you sat hunched over a large pile of books. You’d only been studying for an hour and already your focus was wavering. Your staying power while working used to be impeccable, it wasn’t like you to be so easily distracted.

You tried so desperately to carefully read the words written down in front of you, yet your mind wouldn’t stop wondering.

Of course, you knew whose fault it was: Jeon Jungkook’s. Lately he was all you could think about. Every large and small detail about him was haunting you, from the sound of his laughter, to his arrogant smirk and surprisingly hardworking nature, he seemed to refuse to get out of your head.

You sighed heavily and slammed your head against the book laid out before you, an older woman sat at an adjacent table gave you a funny look before returning to what she was reading. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about how odd you must have looked. The only thing you cared about was Jungkook and his friends.  

How had your priorities changed so quickly? A few weeks ago your only goal had been to get into your top choice of university, and now that dream seemed so irrelevant it was almost laughable. You’d never wanted it that much in the first place you supposed.

Three days. That’s what he’d told you last night. He’d asked you so earnestly, and as he had spoken, behind the look of determination in his eyes there had been something more, a softness to them that hadn’t been present before, almost like he was pleading.  Every time you thought about that look, you could feel your heart going wild in your chest, beating so quickly it felt as if it could burst out at any second.

You realised you’d completely lost focus again and did your best to bring yourself back, staring intently at the large unappealing blocks of black text. The words just seemed to merge together.

About five minutes later you heard the sound of a chair dragging against the wooden flooring. You glanced briefly upwards to see a man sitting down opposite you at the table, however you quickly looked down in disinterest. He had a baseball cap and sunglasses on which you couldn’t help but find odd, why would you need all that on indoors? Without giving it too much more thought you tried to focus back onto the book in front of you, you had been staring so intently you didn’t even notice the man take off his hat and sunglasses.

When you looked up and caught his eye, you swear you felt chills running down your spine. Deep brown eyes interlocked with yours, his gaze as fiercely intense as ever.

“Oh” you both said in unison, he raised his eyebrows in shock and gave a half smile.

“Jungkook….what are you doing here?” you mumbled quietly, the library was so silent you didn’t dare raise your voice any higher.

Keep reading

Step 6: Preparing The Doll Head for Glass or Acrylic Eyes

Materials: Exacto knife, pencil, tweezers, course sanding needles, googly eyes, Goof Off, Q-tips

I like adding glass eyes to my monster high dolls, because I feel like they add a certain level of detail in their 3-dimensional aspect that you can’t get with paint. You don’t have to do this, and if you want to just paint or draw on eyes, that’s okay too! You can completely skip this step and go on to Step 7.

Note: I would also like to mention here, that because I am doing glass eyes in this tutorial, I will not be re-rooting the doll- but doing a wig instead. While it is possible to re-root a doll that you’ve done eyes in, it can be extremely difficult and it doesn’t usually take well.  If you guys really want a re-rooting tutorial, let me know and I’ll be happy to make one for drawn/painted eyes and re-rooting.

Using a pencil or pen, draw on the shape of the eyes you want. You’ll want to make them a little smaller then your end goal so that you have room to trim and sand them.

(You can see some discoloration on Frankie’s head. I’m not sure what causes this, but it does happen frequently, especially with used dolls as she was. It’s totally normal, don’t panic. You won’t see it at all once the painting is done.)

Next, take your exacto knife and perforate around the edges of the lines you drew. Do this using only the very tip of your knife; you don’t want to try going straight to cutting out the eye holes because you risk the straight edge of the knife giving you odd, geometric eyes. Unless you want weird box eyes.. then, by all means, cut away. Once I have carefully perforated all the way around my eyes, I carefully start connecting them, again using just the tip of my knife. Repeat this step until you can remove your eye holes.

Try to make them as even as you can as you use your knife to round them out. Carve thin sheers of vinyl and use the tweezers to remove stubborn pieces.

Never try to remove too much at once. Once you have them the general shape you like, use the fine sanding needles to smooth out your eye hole edges. Be careful and gentle that they don’t get away from you and get too big! I have found that the soft vinyl doesn’t take well to sanding. You’ll want to squeeze the head to make it a little easier.

Once you’re happy with the shape of your eyes, you’re going to cut a hole in the doll’s head that you’ll use later to insert the eyes. On monster high dolls, there’s usually already a circle around the top of the head, and I usually use that as a guideline.

I notch my doll scalps when I cut them out- I do this because it makes lining them back up and putting them back on easier, in my opinion.

You’ll notice when you’ve cut open your doll head, that inside might still have glue and bits of hair in it. Use your tweezers, Q-tips, and Goof Off to clean that out so the inside of your doll head is clean.

Now, I like to use 8MM doll eyes for my Monster High Dolls, but I’ve heard a lot of people prefer the 10MM- this is all based entirely on preference, I have bought a pack of 8MM and 10MM cheap googily eyes that I use to get the size right before ordering the more expensive glass eyes (There’s no worse feeling then ordering your special eyes and getting them in the wrong size! Save yourself the headache with this simple test.)

Now that you’ve tested it, you can go ahead and order your doll eyes, by the time you’re ready to put them in, they’ll probably have arrived! (I like glass eyes over acrylics, and I’ve found ebay to be the best place to find them).

Stay tuned for Step 7: Base Painting Your Doll!
This step is currently on hold as I await the arrival of the paint in the mail, thanks for your patience!
Note: I am uploading as I work on this doll- which is not every day! I will try to keeps posts coming at least once a week, but please be patient – this is something I do for fun.

ALL STEPS TO MY CUSTOM MONSTER HIGH TUTORIAL CAN BE FOUND UNDER #monster high tutorial

EDIT: Recently unrepentantly-weird​ and I opened our own shop. Check us out HERE and our blog HERE.

Hyde Park, London. 1968
Claire.

“You can’t catch me, Da!” shouted Davie as he ran past me. Jamie snatched him up and tossed him over his shoulder with a playful growl, making our five-year-old son shriek with delight.

The afternoon was warm, almost unbearably so, but there was a slight breeze here in the shade. I shifted in my seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. The pressure of the hard, wooden slats of the park bench combined my perspiration adhered the fabric of my sundress to my skin. I peeled the damp cotton away from my lower back, looking out at the idyllic scene in front of me. I smiled to myself, perfectly content. It was a splendid afternoon for a romp in Hyde Park.

Not only was the weather fine, but I also had all twelve of my children together at the same time. The eldest three Frasers, having begun their adventure as independent adults, had come home to celebrate their father’s birthday.

The birthday boy had one son over his shoulder, another with his arms wrapped around his waist, and a daughter clinging to his left leg. He was in his element. Feigning injury, he carefully collapsed to the ground with a dramatic groan. A cheer went up from all of the children, making Jamie laugh.

Out on the pond, the boys were in one boat, the girls in another. Julia and Brianna sat at the oars, younger sisters in the bow, guiding the craft along the peaceful shoreline. Their brothers, on the other hand, were far more interested in the family of frogs living among the reeds and had managed to get themselves stuck for a third time. A loud splash told me Gavin had decided to get out and push the boat free.

I looked down just in time to see two-year-old Neil try to feed a leaf to his sister.

“Babies don’t eat leaves, darling,” I bent, and moved his hand away from Abigail’s face. Trading him the leaf for a toy, I continued, “And neither should you.”

Becoming bored with the shaded tranquility and his infant sister, the towheaded toddler waddled towards the wrestling match on the grass. I picked Abigail up and, draping a cloth over my shoulder, began to feed her.

It was a wonderful experiment in genetics and heredity, I thought: six of our twelve children had Jamie’s red hair and ten inherited his blue eyes. They ranged from average height to tall, unsurprisingly. Alexander, at eighteen, was a solid inch taller than Jamie, and Robert, at fourteen, was showing signs of outgrowing them both. Julia and Maisie had been cursed with my unruly curls, although neither seemed to mind. All twelve managed to simultaneously resemble each other and look completely different.

Jamie had given me a set of Apostles’ spoons when we found out we were expecting Julia. We had joked then about having a child for each spoon, never dreaming that we would someday. My minds eye saw the spoons, nestled safely in blue velvet, and I mentally paired each child with an Apostle as I listened to them the brood chatter and giggle.

St Andrew.

Julia: my first born, child of my heart. At nearly twenty-four, she showed no outward signs of her childhood illnesses. Her auburn curls were vibrant, her skin healthy and lively. She was the same height as me, with rich brown eyes that held great depths of emotion. She preferred to let her sister Brianna take charge when the situation warranted, but was fiercely protective of her eleven younger siblings.

St Peter.

Brianna: the rock on which I stand. So like her father in both looks and temperament, she was the leader of the pack. She was my right hand man, so to speak, in many ways. I missed her terribly while she was away at University and always looked forward to her detailed, weekly letters.

St Matthias.

Alexander Brian: our philosopher and eldest son. Ever the brilliant mind, Alex was following in my medical footsteps. His dark brown hair and clear, blue eyes made him a favorite with the girls at University, but I had it on good authority that he had no time for that sort of thing. Yet.

St Jude.

Janet Helene: our peacemaker and comforter. Jenny, seventeen, was the glue that held our unruly brood together. In her own pragmatic way, she was able to discern what was at the heart of her siblings’ many quarrels and often had the conflict resolved before it came to a head. I’m sure I would have gone insane without her.

St James, the greater.

Robert Ian: my comedienne. Four years younger than knight-in-shining-armor Alex and only twenty months older than troublemaker Gavin, Rabbie was often stuck in the middle. He chose to find the humor in life and could always find a way to make me smile.

St James, the lesser.

Gavin Murtagh: my headstrong instigator. Born right on the heels of his brother Rabbie, he was a sweethearted scalawag from the start. He had good intentions but somehow his plans always went awry.  For example, just last week he got Maisie to help him smuggle home a squirrel in his coat pocket. The poor thing had injured its tail, but before they could carefully confine it, it escaped and spent the next six hours loose in the house.

St John.

Anne Elizabeth: our old soul. Annie was ten going on sixty-nine. She loved nothing more than a good book and a quiet room, something that was hard to find in the Fraser household. Annie loved her siblings with abandon and somehow always knew exactly what was needed in a moment of emotional crisis. She was also my resident baby whisperer.

St Mathew.

Stephen James: our champion. Loyal to a fault, Stephen was a best friend to everyone. He was the encourager of the flock and the only one who could convince Maisie to do something she didn’t want to do, which was often.

St Bartholomew.

Margaret Clara: my spitfire. At six years old, Maisie was something of a character. She could sell ice to the Eskimos and walk away with them thinking it was their idea. Oh, that girl could talk. She had an abundance of auburn ringlets that could never be tamed and a personality to match. Heaven help anyone who stood in her way.

St Simon.

David Michael: our engineer. Everything was new and exciting to Davie. He was constantly taking things apart to see how they worked and seldom managed to get them back together again. He’d learned the hard way not to experiment on any of Maisie’s toys.

St Thomas.

Neil Thomas: the toddler. Almost two and a half years old, we were still discovering new things about Neil’s personality. He still had the chubby cheeks and fine hair of babyhood, but liked to remind us he could do things himself, thank you very much.

St Philip.

Abigail Marie: the baby. It had taken her only a week to have each and every one of us wrapped around her little fingers. She was now six months old and completely spoiled. She had a fake cry down pat, making her siblings run to her in hopes of cheering her up. It was always comical to me to watch her older brothers carry her. Having no hips to speak of, they awkwardly carried her in various positions against their chest or shoulders.

As if she knew I as thinking about her, Abigail stirred against me. I peeked under the cloth to find her smiling up at me, milk spilling from the corner of her mouth.

A perfect dozen of my very own, I thought.

“Are you done, baby girl?” I asked in a sing-song voice. She kicked her arms and legs, cooing, in response.

Suddenly, a sharp, piercing pain shot down my arm. I cried out, making Abigail cry with me. Jamie stopped playing with the boys and was instantly by my side.

“What is it, Sassenach?” He asked, looking worried.

“I don’t know,” I answered and tried to brush at my shoulder. “I think I’ve been stung by something.

I pulled my hand away and saw that it was covered in blood. A warm, tickling sensation told me I was bleeding but I had no idea why or how. I stared at my hand, trying to process what on earth was going on.

When I looked up from my hand, I found that we were no longer sitting in a park but standing in the middle of a battlefield.

Jamie pulled me by my good arm and we ran for our very lives. The sounds of mortar shells exploding above us made me go deaf, leaving me with an eerie ringing in my ears. The sun went behind a cloud and I started to shiver with cold.

We were hiding in some sort of bunker now, crouched low against cold bricks. Jamie wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. He said something to me, but I couldn’t understand him.

“What?” I cried out to be heard above the ringing.

His voice was garbled and muddy as he repeated himself.

“I can’t hear you!” I tried again.

A torrential downpour came out of nowhere, leaving us soaked to the skin. I could hear distant thunder rumble over the constant ringing and lightning danced around us. Jamie’s hand was as cold and clammy as I was and I squeezed it, desperately needing his reassurance.

He brushed the wet hair out of my eyes and said, “Are ye awake, Sassenach?”

I blinked at him stupidly. His voice was quiet and yet I could hear him above the roar of the storm and ringing of my ears.

Awake? Of course I was awake, how could someone sleep thru this?

He slowly started to move away from me and I panicked. I tried to grab hold of him, but he kept slipping out of my hands. The water was pushing us apart and I wasn’t strong enough to fight against it.

“Jamie!” I screamed, trying to keep my head above the water.

Something, or someone, was holding me down. I closed my eyes and thrashed and kicked. Shockwaves of pain reverberated with each movement, but I fought against it.

“Claire!” came Jamie’s voice, closer this time. “Wake up!”

I opened my eyes to see the anxious face of my husband two inches from mine, his hand gripping my good shoulder.

In a sudden bolt of clarity, I realized it had all been a dream. Every bit of it.

My body felt hot and heavy as I lay in Jamie’s arms, sobbing and unable to speak.

I wept for what might have been, but could never be. The children we might have created, the love I knew we could give.

I wept for Julia and Brianna, the daughters I had carried within me but would never see again. Never to tell them just once more how much I loved them, never again to hold them in my arms.

I wept for Jamie, who I had lost but to whom I had now returned. The man I had so deeply loved was once again mine until death do us part.

Somehow, in the depths of my heart, I knew he was enough.

Now that I had him by my side, I could begin to live again.

Klaine one-shot - “Starting Something Ghoul” (Rated PG13)

Kurt and his son meet a special little boy and his father while out trick-or-treating. (2722 words)

A/N: I’m kind of in the Halloween spirit, so I thought I would get a jump start with a re-write that was cute instead of depressing this time around xD Tell me what you think :)

Read on AO3.

Knock-Knock.

“Trick or Treat!” a chorus of high-pitched voices commands. Then silence consumes them as their tiny owners wait, bags and plastic pumpkins and pillowcases in hand, for the opening of the door. A heartbeat passes, then another, with no sound or movement from within. The young beggars shiver in unison when a stiff breeze winds its way through their ankles, causing the metal wind chimes hanging over their heads to toll. Finally, the door slowly creaks open, excitement rising to a fever pitch in anticipation of what comes next.

It’s an old house, but a familiar one. A house that always has carved pumpkins sitting on the porch at Halloween and handmade wreaths hanging from the railing at Christmas. A house that generations of children have run up to and knocked upon for candy or with carols. Those children grow up and bring their own children back to visit its grandmotherly inhabitant, who never seems to age, and who always has a smile on her face and a tray of homemade candied apples wrapped in wax paper waiting for her guests.

Keep reading

Hey guys! I just published chapters 2 & 3 of my book! Links are below!

This series is fictional but is heavily influenced by real witchcraft- especially MY craft. This book would be wonderful for all baby witches to read. Not only is it an adventure, it also contains real knowledge of the craft, along with some great tips.

I will be releasing chapter installments every other Monday. Chapter 2 will be released on Monday,  August 28th around midnight. If you read it and like it, I recommend turning on notifications for my posts, so you won’t miss the next release.

Summary:

It’s set in the present and in Kansas City, Missouri.

In this universe, there are witches, vampires (of the energy variety), and a group called Relics.
The witches are separated into two categories: The Pansophic and The Activated. The Pans are witches that are born a witch with realized abilities due to both of their parents being realized witches upon conception. The Acts are witches that are born witches like all other humans- but don’t realize their abilities until after they are born.
Most vampires are unaware that they are such, but rather seem just like normal people. They are toxic to witches and other people around them. However, some witches have taken to being active vampires that stalk witches and try to drain them of their well-source- the seat of the soul and the place of power for all witches.
The Relics are an ancient sect of witches that came together as a Coven of 32 and used their abilities to remove themselves from time-space as a collective. They then took on the burden of protecting time and space from witches who get too big of a head.

The book follows a 25-year-old man named Derrik, who struggles to find his place in this brave new world.

Warning: This book is aimed towards mature audiences only. Contains drug use/abuse, mental illness, A LOT of cursing, homoeroticism, hetero and homosexual intercourse,

BOOK 1:

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

From what I remember (this was from a DC comic compilation my brother owned a million years ago), Superman’s first super suit was made from unraveling his baby clothes (from the rocket ship).  So, canon handweaver Superman.

(I can’t remember if Martha did the weaving or not, but I’m sure she did not let Clark get out of Smallville without knowing how to make, at least, a nice table runner.)

Then, imagine Wonder Woman checking out Superman.  Not because of his physique or whatever, but because she knows weaving.  (It is a master craft of Themyscira, along with spinning, pottery, and metallurgy.)

Imagine Wonder Woman and Superman talking warp and weft, threadcount, wool vs silk vs cotton vs linen, and comparing types of looms.

Imagine Batman taking up knitting (secretly) to try to get in on the craft talk.

Whispered Words - Inquisitor/Iron Bull

Iron Bull’s mouth is as dirty as his mind. 

Luckily for him, the Inquisitor’s is too.

(Also available over on AO3)

The Inquisitor was a woman who wasn’t afraid to made demands to fulfill her needs. If the Inquisition needed elfroot, a scouting party would be on their way to the Hinterlands by sunrise. If she required a stronger sword before venturing into the barren Hissing Wastes, Harritt would be at the forge posthaste, sweat pouring from his brow as he crafted her the finest sword they could afford.

Yet when faced with making a demand to one particular qunari, she found herself trembling and nervous, like a child asking their parent for another slice of pie when they had already eaten three.

With Bull, she was becoming greedy.

She doubted that he was bothered by this.

In his usual chair she spotted him, tankard of ale in hand, posture wide and relaxed. He had that way of appearing comfortable regardless of his surroundings. It was part of what made him both imposing and attractive.

For a fraction of a moment, she slipped into the shadows to watch him. In his element he was even more confident, yet his eye darted around his surroundings; comfortable, but not unwary.

Through the shadows his eye fixed on her, and the fire that passed between them caused moisture to pool between her legs.

Slowly, calculating his every move, he placed his tankard on the table, lifted himself with the power in his broad shoulders, and approached her, his sharp eye never leaving hers.

He stepped before her, blocking out all light from the tavern, and, with his wide hands on her narrow wrists, pushed her against the wall behind her, his breath hot on her neck.

Into her ear he whispered, “Meet me in the undercroft at midnight.” He bit her earlobe playfully before pulling away, giving her no more words or signs of affection.

She was positively soaked with anticipation.

(Really NSFW below the cut)

Keep reading

Some thoughts on being a fanfiction writer

1) Never let anyone tell you that being a fanfiction writer is bad. The Bronte sisters wrote fanfiction about the Duke of Wellington and they just happened to also release beautiful books like Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights - it’s not a new art form, and it’s not a bad quality one either. 

2) Fanfiction is a great way to write when you don’t have your own characters yet. Simply being able to say ‘what if this happened’ and then write it gives you a real understanding of plot, and more flexibility when it eventually comes to the world you will create. 

3) Fanfiction allows you to write lots and lots of words without even realising what you’re doing. Did you know the first Harry Potter book was 76, 944 words? If you can write near that amount, imagine what you could do if you created your own universe. 

4) You have been practising your craft all along. Even if you started recently, you’ve been practising and improving your writing. Read the first thing you ever put up and read what you’ve most recently written - I bet you’ve improved. 

5) However, you are not limited to writing fanfiction, no matter how hard it can seem to break free from the limits you have put on yourself. You want your own world to play with, but you feel like you don’t have the creativity to do so. Sound familiar? Well you’re wrong when you say you don’t have the creativity to create your own world. 

6) You’re comfortable with characters you are familiar with, right? Well, become familiar with your own characters. Start simple - what do they look like? What’s their name, what age are they, what’s their job? Imagine what they’d do in situations you’re in. With a little bit of work, you’ll be as familiar with them as you are with your fanfiction characters. 

7) Maybe making a world is harder, but you don’t need to begin with your own Hogwarts or Middle Earth. Set it where you live, and if you get bored of that, then set your sights higher. The only limit you have is your confidence. 

8) Let other people read it. The chances are, with your fanfiction, you’ve posted it somewhere and people have read it and given you feedback. There’s no reason to stop that now - show a friend, put it on a blog, send it in here, or you can even send it in to literary magazines and journals. But spread your work so you can get feedback. 

9) You don’t need to write a novel. Start with a bit of flash fiction, a short story, or in fanfiction terms, a one-shot. But if you want to write some original fiction, starting with a novel can be daunting, so start small and increase to that. 

10) You can still write fanfiction. Writing isn’t black and white between fanfiction and original work, and it hasn’t been for years. Did anyone else watch Death Comes to Pemberley or Dickensian? Just because it’s on tv doesn’t mean it’s not fanfiction, and just because you have the capability to write your own stuff doesn’t mean you can’t write about other worlds any more. As they say, the only limit is your imagination. 

anonymous asked:

can i have a spell that will get someone to contact me

Items needed:

- Envelope
- Piece of paper
- Marker
- Running body of water

Mark the envelope with the person’s name of which you wish to speak to. Then, on the piece of paper, craft a sigil along the words of “I expect to hear from you soon.”

Fold up the sigil and put it in the envelope. Seal the envelope with a kiss and set it to float down the stream; visualize your person receiving the spell while doing this.

If your letter sinks in the stream, then it is probably not meant to be.

The first chapter of my book is now on Amazon for $1, unless you have Kindle Unlimited then it’s free!

This series is fictional but is heavily influenced by real witchcraft- especially MY craft. This book would be wonderful for all baby witches to read. Not only is it an adventure, it also contains real knowledge of the craft, along with some great tips.

I will be releasing chapter installments every other Monday. Chapter 2 will be released on Monday,  August 28th around midnight. If you read it and like it, I recommend turning on notifications for my posts so you won’t miss the next release.

Summary of book 1:

It’s set in the present and in Kansas City, Missouri.

In this universe, there are witches, vampires (of the energy variety), and a group called Relics.
The witches are separated into two categories: The Pansophic and The Activated. The Pans are witches that are born a witch with realized abilities due to both of their parents being realized witches upon conception. The Acts are witches that are born witches like all other humans- but don’t realize their abilities until after they are born.
Most vampires are unaware that they are such, but rather seem just like normal people. They are toxic to witches and other people around them. However, some witches have taken to being active vampires that stalk witches and try to drain them of their well-source- the seat of the soul and the place of power for all witches.
The Relics are an ancient sect of witches that came together as a Coven of 32 and used their abilities to remove themselves from time-space as a collective. They then took on the burden of protecting time and space from witches who get too cocky and try to mess with space or time too drastically.

The book follows a 25-year-old man named Derrik, who struggles to find his place in this brave new world.

Warning: This book is aimed towards mature audiences only. Contains drug use/abuse, mental illness, A LOT of cursing, homoeroticism, hetero and homosexual intercourse,

Also, if you’re at all homophobic, transphobic, racist, sexist, or just an overall piece of garbage human being, this book might not be for you.

amoonmermaid  asked:

Omg, 36 from the drabble game with Sicheng pretty please(?

Ahh yes! Finally something for my son~

36.)  “In a completely hypothetical situation, if I told you that, I don’t know, that the roommate I found on Craigslist turned out to be a ghost, what would you say? It sounds crazy, right? Like, ghosts can’t start an eBay store out of their room and pay rent…but apparently, they can.”

Originally posted by nakamots

Characters: WinWin

Warnings: None

Word Count: 780

In need of some help with the rent, you put an ad on Craigslist for a roommate. You had received many calls and emails, but each person had something about them that rubbed you the wrong way. Then, Sicheng contacted you. He was a young business owner, only at 19 years of age, and over the phone, he seemed like he would be the perfect roommate for you. You two met in person and hit it off immediately, then you had yourself a roommate.

At first, nothing about you struck him as odd. He took a while to warm up to you, being shy and all, but that’s as deep as it went. Now, the business he owned, that did strike you as odd. He ran an E-Bay store out of his room. He seemed to make all sorts of crafts, knickknacks, and drawings that apparently were very popular, popular enough that he was able to pay rent just from the income he made off of those.

You began to notice something was wrong when you came home early one day. You had forgotten your wallet at home, and when you entered your apartment to look for it, you found Sicheng stretching in the living room. Nothing out of the ordinary, he always did daily stretches. Something wasn’t right, though. You focused on his body and you could faintly see through him. It looked as if he had a bit of transparency to him, you honestly thought your eyes were playing tricks on you. You accidentally kicked a shoe by the door, then the transparency he had disappeared and you could no longer see through him. You believed in the paranormal, but you had never had anything paranormal happen to you. You stood there, unmoving, waiting for him to say something—anything.

“We… Need to have a talk.” He told you the story of how he died. He had died in a freak accident while trying to get the perfect view of a sunset for a painting. Happening during the sunset, no one found his body until that next morning and by then, he had already passed on.

You called your sister up a few days later, you were dying to tell someone about your roommate. You knew your sister wouldn’t think you were insane, so you knew you could tell her. “In a completely hypothetical situation, if I told you that, I don’t know, that the roommate I found on Craigslist turned out to be a ghost, what would you say? It sounds crazy, right? Like, ghosts can’t start an eBay store out of their room and pay rent…but apparently, they can.”

“Wait, what? Sicheng is a ghost? And what kind of store does he run?” You had told her about Sicheng ever since he had contacted you about your ad.

“Yes! He is a ghost! I saw him with my own two eyes, he looked like someone had him on 40% transparency. I looked up his obituary, he didn’t lie to me. He really did die.” Being as paranoid as you were, you searched for his obituary just to be 100% sure that he really had died. After finding his obituary, you had confirmation that he really did die. After hearing that he died from a fall, you thought about how he seemed to be deathly afraid of heights. He wouldn’t even so much as step out on his balcony, he avoided it at all costs. He also refused to take the elevator in one of the shopping malls, the walls were made entirely of glass so you could see all around.

“He does art projects. He makes crafts, knickknacks, paintings, things along those lines. He’s also very good at it, I have to admit. He’s extremely talented.” Sicheng had given you a portrait he drew of you, his attention to detail blew your mind. He had every small detail about your appearance in the drawing, he had to have studied you for days to see that much detail. While others would find it creepy, you found it extremely flattering that he thought you were worthy enough to draw.

You and your sister didn’t discuss much of Sicheng after that, the paranormal always weirded her out so she without a doubt didn’t feel comfortable about talking about your roommate that just so happened to be a ghost.

As you arrived home, you noticed Sicheng carrying a bowl of popcorn into the living room. He asked you to come watch a movie with him, so you sat down beside him and grabbed a piece of popcorn out of the bowl.

“What movie are we watching?”

“Casper.”


Thanks for requesting~

Drabble Game: Closed