diving in head first

anonymous asked:

when i write a story i usually have the idea in my mind and then i just start writing it and starting the first chapter as thought i knew where this was going, and then i go with the flow, then edit it, is it bad to do that?

No, not at all! There is no right or wrong way to write a novel, and you should certainly go about it in whatever way makes you the most comfortable and keeps you the most inspired. Some writers like to be carefully structured–I am one of them–and plan out their novels before hand, making detailed notes and charts and character bios. Some writers like to just dive in head first and begin to write and wait to see where the inspiration leads them. Both are completely legitimate ways to write and both have worked wonderfully for writers in the past. Whatever you decide to do, however, there will be things you need to make sure to include, whether it’s something you go back and look for and track in editing, or notes you make at the beginning and decide to follow throughout:

  • Characters must have growth. They should learn a lesson (or fail to learn a lesson) or experience emotional development. They should not be the same person at the end of the story that they are at the beginning. 
  • Everything that happens in the book should happen for a reason. Details shouldn’t be included just to fill space. If you plot beforehand, you may already known which details and interactions are necessary to move the plot along, but if you don’t, that’s okay. While editing, just keep a careful eye out for this; look at each scene and ask yourself if it moves the plot along and if the story can exist without it. If it can, chances are you don’t need that scene. This happens a lot in stories that aren’t plotted; scenes get written that were fun to write or helped the writer to better understand the character, but ultimately they’re not necessary to the story. Remember to kill your darlings. You have to be brutal in editing and remove what isn’t needed, no matter how much you liked writing it. 
  • Look out for rambling. This often happens when we just let our imaginations run wild (and it’s not a bad thing), but in editing, you’ll want to cut back. Make sure that not only does every scene in the book count for something, but every sentence. 
  • Books are like stepping stones. Each chapter leads into the next, into the next, to the next, until you get to the end. This is especially true for mysteries, but all stories can learn from this technique; there should be clues about the end tied into the story all the way up until the beginning. If you already know how the story will end, this is easier to include. If you don’t, that’s okay, but in editing, you want to go back and add these clues in. 

But over all, make sure that you’re enjoying the writing process and following that inspiration where it leads. You can always edit later, so don’t beat yourself up too much during the process. Writing is hard enough as is without inviting your inner editor to the creative process. 

ANCwritingresources is open to submissions, questions, and recommendations. If this or any other message has helped you, please pay it forward by checking out my new book, Permanent Jet Lag, out now! And spread the word here.

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it’s 3 am. i’m watching the falsettos boot for the 500th time. suddenly, i hear knocking on my door. i pause the video and look over. the door opens and out comes andrew rannells. without saying anything, he runs over and shuts my laptop. i can’t even speak any words. he just says, “go watch falsettos in theaters. it’s much better quality than the bootlegs online. and it’s legal. so everyone wins.” before i can argue that it is only showing in north america, so actually not everyone wins, he gracefully exits in a head first dive out my window.

"A LETTER TO MY TEENAGE SELF" by SOLANGE KNOWLES

there will be fear. a lot of it. there will be triumph. a lot of it. there will be constellations you want to reach for but can’t put your finger on. you will trace them like the scars on your body you got from trouble and the times of your life. you will take the long way to get to these Orions. the long way will become a theme in your life, but a journey you learn to love.

you will dive head first without looking into phases that you are certain of who you are.
some of these stages include:

  • the dance-is-life (aka “this leotard is my second skin”) phase.
  • the Bible-thumping-church-camp phase.
    (which coincided and contradicted with the Fiona-Apple-fan-club-president phase)
  • the Nas aficionado-brown-lip-liner-and-Vaseline phase.
  • the Rasta-vegan-thrifter-who-is-determined-to-marry-Brandon-Boyd phase.
  • the football-player’s-girlfriend-who-wears-braided-blond-highlights-and-swears-by-capri-pants phase.

at the time, you are searching. seeking in every corner and pocket of the world for who you are. take your time, baby girl. there’s no rush to get there. you will sow each of these chapters in the land that you become. you will see bits and pieces of them scattered into the skin you grow into. you don’t have to figure everything out now. time will reveal itself. i promise you.

sometimes you push these phases to the max, and when you go out into the world feeling confident in who you are and what you reflect, young folks will call you names and grown folks will call you names. It’s ok. one day you will name yourself, and that name will belong to you. it will not be the ones they ordained: “crazy, ugly, attention-seeking, weirdo.”

i really hate to tell you this, but sometimes you will still get called these things as an adult, except you will actually embrace some of them. you will learn that these are just words. words that only have power if you choose to give them power. every once in a while they will hurt, but you will choose to turn those words into a symbol of beauty.

speaking of words. they might just be your first love. sometimes you can write for hours, just you and the words on the pages. they make you feel understood, even if it’s just you that you’re talking to.

trust in these words, even when you’re feeling wildly insecure. hold on to your journals. cherish them. put them somewhere safe so that they may become a guide for you later, a revealer and a friend.

the lucky stars have been good to you, and there’s a long list of things you’d like to give gratitude to them for, but for now thank them for these three:

  • that you didn’t die when you and your friends drove up a steep mountain in a snowstorm with no experience and bad brakes. that was stupid as hell.
  • that you went to the ensemble theater every summer. i really don’t think you’d be who you are today had it not been for those experiences, teachers, and experimentation with your mind and body.
  • that the universe chose your mom to be your mother.

she is a wonder. you watch her drop off 3 kids at 3 different schools in the morning, pick them up in the afternoon, shuffle each of them to their designated activities, and bring them all back to the salon she owns until she closes up with the utmost grace, love, and kindness.

you realize watching a woman balance being a supportive mother, building a successful business from the ground up that was started in her garage, and giving back to the community will make you feel invincible and like the word “no” is just an echo in the universe that you’ll never know. you often take her for granted, but you know with every joint in your bones that she is a phenomenon and you strive to make her proud. you should thank her out loud more, too; tell her you value her. roll your eyes and your neck less. it’s not as cute as you think. tell her you appreciate all that she does, for she makes the impossible look effortless. she surrounds you with other black women who do the same. you study them, and will constantly think of all their stories, their beauty, their strife and their stride. they break down all of the archetypes and stereotypes that you see of black women on tv and in magazines, so you don’t trust those anymore. you thank them for re-writing the script before it was ever etched in your memory.

because you have your mama’s blood, you are fiercely independent and outgoing. you’ve been starting petitions, building tree houses, and starting clubs since as long as you can remember.

sometimes in the midst of juggling all this, you put a lot of pressure on yourself and often crash and burn. you shut down. you go into your room, lock the door, put on music, and you do not move for 8 hours straight. it will feel like the heaviest and bleakest darkness you can possibly feel, and when you ask everyone to leave you alone and let you be, what you really want to say is “i want you here” and “i need help.”

sometimes it is ok to say just that. it won’t make you less strong or less powerful. no one you love will criticize you or blame you; in fact, they will lift you up.

seventeen will be the hardest year of your life. it will grow you up almost immediately. you will lose your best friend whom you love so much to gun violence in a single moment, and give birth to a new one within a year.

you will be terrified, and it’s ok that you don’t know what the future holds. some people will count you out because of the decision you’ve made to bring another life into the world so young, but you made the decision out of love and will live with the decision in love.

soon enough you will learn how to love and how to exist with love in ways that you never knew. you will learn how to love yourself and how to empathize with and forgive those who may have taken a bit of that pure love away from you.

you have a long life ahead of you, and i’ll tell you it’s not gonna always be easy, but I can promise you it will be fruitful and with much purpose. all the bridges you’ve burned, you had to, so that you could rebuild them to become a stronger and more wonderful you.

there will be pain, there will be doubt there will be beauty, there will be the unknown. there will be so many moments of joy and delight that the whole universe will feel painted in hues of amber and wonder. there will be times you are so sad you can’t lift your head. and there will be times you are so happy that the sensation of life knocks you down. but most importantly, there will be you. a whole, whole lot of it. and you will feel good about who she is and who she is still becoming.

ardently
  • @prettychritty requested: Can I please get a fluffy soulmate au with got7 Jackson, like where their soulmate’s first word is written on their wrist? And he’s an idol and you’re a fan and you guys meet at a fanmeet? Sorry if it seems confusing 😅 Thank you 💕

ardently, adjective

having, expressive of, or characterized by intense feeling; passionate; fervent: ardent love.

Pairing: Jackson Wang x Reader

Genre: Fluff + Soulmate AU

Word Count: 2.42k

Authors Note: I have no idea how this is gonna be, but i hope you like it lmao… i really hope i made it so fluffy that you feel like cringing but still enjoy it o’ dearest one, please enjoy it.

Keep reading

Surprise Christmas Special

My group hadn’t met since a couple weeks before Christmas so this weekend’s 13th Age game turned into a belated Christmas Special.  We were also meeting in a gaming store, so for my minor elements instead of asking the players to supply random minor elements off the top of their heads I asked strangers at nearby tables without any context and whatever they say becomes canon. The party consists of a Commander, a Paladin, a Rogue, a Sorcerer, and a Chaos Mage.  Some highlights:

GM: “Okay, so your mail route will take you through christmas town because woah are there letters to deliver there. Now…” <to someone walking by> “Name an abstract concept.”
Stranger: “Addiction”
GM: “So, Christmas Town is a mess right now because of addiciton. So, if you need to find Santa…” <To someone picking a game off the demo shelf> “Hey, who is Santa visiting at the Christmas Town Rehab Center.”
Stranger 2: “Himself, for his cocaine habit.”

Paladin: “I would like to interrogate the reindeer to find out what happened here.”
GM: “You can find some of them at The Stables. It’s a shitty dive bar, but it’s still the best in town.”
Paladin: “I’ll head there first then.”
GM: “They won’t talk to you much unless you join their reindeer games.” <To someone playing a board game nearby.> “What game are they playing in the bar.”
Stranger: “Russain Roulette.”
GM: “I guess it’s the last round, then.”
Paladin: “Sure, I’ll play that with them.”
Commander: “Can I join too?”

Comet: “It just hasn’t been the same since Santa started on the snow.”
Paladin: “That’s too bad. Who got him into that?” <Fires gun at head. Draws a white chip.>
GM: <To someone walking by> “Hey, who gets Santa his snow.”
Stranger: “Jack Frost.”
Comet: “Yeah, that Jack Frost rolled through town a while back and it’s been downhill ever since.”
Commander: “Too bad. Any idea where we can find Saint Nick?” <Uses a magic item to briefly become a zombie and immune to critical hits. Fires gun at head. Draws a red chip but doesn’t die. Resets bag of chips>
Cupid: “I haven’t seen him in a while, but someone at the…”
GM: <To someone at the next table> “Name a cookie.”
Stranger: “Shortbread.”
Cupid: “Someone at the Salty Shortbread might have seen him lately. That brothel gets most of the traffic these days.” <Draws a red chip.>
Comet: <while picking up Gun from Cupid’s corpse.> “The 34th Street Rehab Clinic might have something on him too.”

Rogue: “I’ll shimmy up the wall and into the window of Santa’s Office. 23.”
GM: “The factory’s walls aren’t tough to climb, you don’t have much trouble. Inside his office are shelves of various decorations and toys, some filing cabinets, and a large pine desk.”
Rogue: “What’s on the desk?”
GM: “There’s a heap of letters next to it where they were carelessly shoved off. Lying on the desk itself is only a single dirty razor blade.”
Rogue: “This is just getting sad.”

GM: “Santa is getting upset that you aren’t here to deliver more blow. He grabs your shirt and threatens you.”
Sorcerer: “I breathe fire in his face. 29.”
GM: “His beard is a bit singed but he doesn’t seem too fazed by it. He punches you in the jaw for 10 Christmas Damage.”
Chaos Mage: “It doesn’t go to your HP, but if you take 30 points of it your heart grows three sizes.”
GM: “That is not healthy for you.”

What Do You Feel?

Who: Jughead Jones
Where: Riverdale

{Decided to try out a jug imagine}


Part One ||| Part Two 

[Y/N] had, had enough. She couldn’t stand the one-sided tension between herself and Jughead. She respected Jug enough to give him space and time for this novel of his. She was thrilled about his idea and fully stood by what he was trying to achieve. [Y/N] would always support Jughead in everything he did because she absolutely loved him for who he was. She would never dare try to change a single thing because that was what made Jughead, Jughead.

But, this summer and the beginning of the school year was driving her insane. She felt second best and despite knowing that Jug needed to invest as much time as he needed into this novel, she just couldn’t’ stand having one-sided conversations. [Y/N] needed to know if anything more was going to come out of their odd relationship.

Nothing was ever talked about what they were, it just sort of happened. It was known that [Y/N] was off limits to any boy in Riverdale and not that Jughead had a line of girls waiting for him but it was clear who had his attention. Even Archie and Betty never talked about it, it was just there. A relationship built without words. But, [Y/N] needed answers. She could deal with the little notions of affection Jug would throw in her direction. In fact, she loved it. She loved that Jughead would reach across the table and gently grab her hand and hold it while he reread paragraph after paragraph; running his thumb over the top of her hand while she worked on her homework or read a book. She especially loved it when he’d just look at her and cup her face and press his warm lips against hers. Or when he’d gently bump into her on their way to her house and swiftly fit her hand inside his. And even the moments when he’d finally put his laptop away and they’d binge watch horror movies and pull her into his chest.

No words. Just actions. And [Y/N] could live with that. But being blatantly ignored and feeling as if she was talking to a brick wall, just wasn’t cutting it. She couldn’t sleep at night thinking that everything she had tried to talk to Jughead about, he didn’t even hear. It was frustrating because she was a human being that wanted to talk out her feelings. Express her everlasting love she had for him and wanting to know if he felt the same.

“Jughead.”

The tone in her voice snapped Jug from his thoughts, tearing his eyes from his screen. His brows furled as he looked at her standing in the doorway of the Blue and Gold news room. “[Y/N]?”

Stepping inside, she flickered a look towards Betty who gave her a concerned look. [Y/N] was never stern, and it was odd that she sounded so. “Could you give us a minute, Betty?”

Betty nodded, ruffling around and gathering papers to sort through in another room. “Of course, [Y/N]. Um, I’ll be back later.” Zipping by her friend, she exited the room.

“We need to talk.” [Y/N] said with the same tone as before, she was fidgeting with her fingers, trying to figure out her next words. It was now or never.

Jughead chose to ignore her strange behavior, “I really can’t, I’m finishing up the last few pages of this chapter.” Turning his focus back onto his laptop, his fingers started typing away. “You understand.” He spoke quickly before diving back into it.

An irritated sigh came from her lips as she turned around and shut the door. Slamming it loud enough to catch Jughead’s attention again. Turning to face him, she crossed her arms across her chest. “That’s the thing, Jug. Your novel is exactly what I want to talk about.”

Sensing that [Y/N] was as serious as her tone, he turned in his chair to face her. Nodding, he motioned towards the air. “Okay, shoot.”

“Am I second best to it?” She asked, her voice faltering a little. Her eyes were drilling into his, glossed over from feeling the emotion building inside her.

“What? No.” His eyes squinted, slightly shocked she asked. “What does that even mean, [Y/N]?”

“Second best, Jughead. Am I a less adequate, less desirable alternative?”

“Why would even ask me that, [Y/N]?”

Tears were brimming her eyes, taking a deep breath, she walked over towards him. Pulling a chair right in front of him. She sat down, her heart sinking further into her chest. Afraid to venture into this conversation. “Jughead, I love this novel of yours. I think it’s great, and if anyone is going to write about this town, it’s you. No one else could ever pull it off like you will.” Pressing her lips together, she looked up at the cracked ceiling. “But, it seems like that’s all you ever do. We used to talk to Jug. Talk all night about everything and anything. And when we would, I forgot where I was for the moment. All that mattered was that you and I were together. And that one day we would leave this town together and embark on this adventure away from Riverdale. But, I feel like you don’t feel the same.”

Jughead took in her words, analyzing them in his head. Taking in her hurt tone and trying to understand them. Was he invested in his novel, of course. Did he want to make [Y/N] feel like she was second best? Absolutely not. As much as he was a fluid with his words on paper, speaking them out loud was a different story. Jughead wasn’t normally one to shy away from voicing his opinion or putting his two sense in something he shouldn’t. But when it came to [Y/N], she took the literal words straight from his mouth and put them in a blender. He could never express what he felt other than by just showing her what she meant to him.

“Can you say something, Jug?”

Biting his lip, he looked down at his hands. “I don’t know what you want me to say, [Nickname].”

Sucking in hair, she ran both hands through her hair. “I want you tell me what you feel, Jug. I want to know what you truly think of me. If I’m just crazy and think what we have is more than what it really is. You write so beautifully, Jughead. I’ve read your stuff and for someone who’s so elegantly articulate, you never use them with me. I want you to use your words, Jug.” Her voice was breaking and it pained Jughead to see her so upset. How did he not see this coming? How could he have been so blind?

“[Y/N],” He started, his mouth pursed as he tried to pick the perfect words from the garden in his brain. “We function without words. That’s how it’s always been. I couldn’t tell you when we started us, because in a way we were always us. Just somewhere along the line, you and I delved into different world and never left. It worked. I shouldn’t have to tell you that I care about you, [Y/N]. It’s written clear as day on my face when I kiss your lips.”

Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. “That’s the point. We never talked about us and maybe we should have because I’m so confused, Jug.”

His brows knitted together, the wrinkle along his forehead becoming more defined. “What are you confused about, [Y/N]?”

Looking at him in his eyes, she calmly asked. “Is your novel more important then what we have?”

Jughead hesitated, the words getting caught in his throat. Closing his mouth, he shook his head. “No.”

“Oh, Juggie.” She breathed, a tear falling from her eye. “If you had to think, then I know my answer.”

“What do you want me to do, [Y/N]! This is who I am, you knew this before you dived head first into my dark waters. I am not the only one to blame for this.”

Standing up, [Y/N] whimpered out. “I want you to fight for me, Jug. I want you to tell me I’m being crazy and that this-whatever I’m feeling will pass. That you’ll make it up to me or that you love me or something.”

Jughead stood up too, his eyes searching hers. “I don’t know what to say, [Nickname]. What I feel for you can’t be described because I really don’t know what I feel. You’ve always just been there, [Y/N]. I care for you, I do. I just don’t know what more I can give you then what I’m already giving you.”

She stepped forward, “What do you feel when you kiss me, Jug? What do you feel when you hold my hand? What do you feel when I’m lying on your chest in the middle of the night? What do you feel when you haven’t seen me all day? Do you even feel anything for me at all? Am I just some girl you can practice on for the real thing?” Tears were falling now, she couldn’t hold them back anymore. “We’ve been best friends since were six, Jughead. I’ve grown up with you, watched you turn into the person you are and fell in love with it all. You’re flaws, you’re oddly humorous morbid personality, everything.”

Shaking his head, and turning slightly away from her. His hand reached up to his forehead, “[Y/N],” he warned.

Taking in a deep breath to settle her tears, she scrunched up her nose and wiped underneath her nose. “I can’t do this anymore, Jug.” Biting her lip, she held back a whimper at his darkened facial expression. The cold look he gave her was enough to shatter her fragile heart.

“So, that’s it, then?” Jug asked coldly.

Avoiding his harsh stare, she softly spoke out. “I asked a simple question and you couldn’t give me the answer. So why should I pretend that I never asked? I screwed up, I had this picture in my head of how we are supposed to be and we are far from that picture.”

“You’re throwing away years of friendship because-“

“-because I love you, Jughead. It’s just like Betty and Archie except in our case, you fed it. You kissed me, you held me, you caressed me. Over and over again.” Moving the chair back to its place, she wiped away more tears. “I’m too emotionally invested in you to continue our friendship right now but maybe when I get over it, we can go back to how it used to be, the days before you first kissed me on my front porch.”

“[Y/N],” he called out to her.

Shaking her head, she headed for the door. Swinging it open, she looked over her shoulder and pressed a smile. “I’ll always love you, Jug. That I have no control over but they say the soul usually knows what to do to heal itself, the only challenge is to silence the mind.”

Jughead watched her walk out of the news room, his heart pounding in his chest. What in the world just happened? Never in a million years would he have ever pictured his life without [Y/N]. She was essential to his life. She had always been there, always. Despite Archie being his best friend, so was [Y/N] but in a different way. She believed in everything he wanted to do, no matter how crazy. She was always someone he could rely on no matter what. And even though she would still be present in his life by going to the same school.

It felt like a part of him had been ripped from his body and thrown away, lost in the cruel world they lived in. He felt empty.

“Juggie?” Betty was leaning against the doorframe, “Everything okay?”

He stood there for a minute, still stunned that apart of him just walked away from him. “No.” He shook his head, “No, everything is not okay.”


Goodbyes hurt when the story is not finished and the book has been closed – jnd

SEXUAL FRUSTRATION pt. 1 - JBB

{synopsis} platonic relationship between reader and bucky until bucky helps reader relieve some stress.

{warnings} lowkey dom!bucky, name calling (positive only), dirty talk, bucky being a really aggravating tease, no actual sex but the visuals will be on point if ya’ catch my drift

{pairing} bucky x fem!reader

{word count} 896

   Even if you were blind, you would be able to see that Y/N had been acting weird lately. Random mood swings, uncharacteristic brooding around, sulking away in her room, and snapping at anyone or anything that came within 10 feet of her. All of the Avengers (except maybe Nat) were in the dark about why she suddenly changed. And it’s not like they could go up to her and talk about it, in fear of their own lives. Everyone was confused, except Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. He knew exactly what was going on with her; he was trained to comprehend body language and human emotions like no one else on the team (again, except maybe Nat), and if he was adding everything up correctly, Y/N was in dire need of a proper fucking. 

   So, being the good friend he is, Bucky wanted to help ol’ Y/N out. He just needed to test the waters first, get her riled up. See if what he was perceiving as sexual frustration was really sexual frustration, before diving head first into a very awkward disaster. 


   It was a very bright Saturday morning, the birds were chirping, Steve and Tony had gotten back from a mutually successful training session, and Wanda had helped Vision make pancakes for everyone. So, when Y/N stepped out of her room and into the kitchen, loaded her plate up with fluffy pancakey goodness, and sat down quietly (without biting anyone’s head off), the Avengers were quiet surprised. Wanda was the first to speak: “Y-Y/N, you’re up early…”

 “Is it so wrong to eat food, Wanda?” she snapped back.

   Ah, there was the Y/N they had grown to love. After that, everyone went back to their eating and small talk. About 10 minutes later, everyone slowly started to file out of the kitchen, onto getting through another day. Sam was the last to leave, and when he did, Y/N breathed a silent breathe of relief. She felt bad for acting like such a bitch, but she couldn’t help it. Ever since she broke up with her last partner, she just couldn’t find any sexual relief. She had tried masturbating, but that’s kinda hard when you live where she does, and it’s not like she could just go out to a bar and pick up a one night stand. She’s a respected public figure, and her reputation is literally everything. So, poor Y/N had been without some type of sexual relief for 3 months. And for Y/N, that was a long ass time. She was out of options, and her patience was running low.

   Being caught up in her own thoughts, Y/N didn’t even notice Bucky enter the kitchen. Bucky smiled deviously, happy that he had caught her alone, and off guard. He sauntered up behind the unsuspecting Y/N, and with one swift motion, had her pinned against the nearest wall with his hand over her mouth. She gave him a ludicrous look, and when Bucky was sure she wouldn’t scream, he took his hand off of her mouth. “Bucky!” she whispered harshly at him, her eyes blazing with anger, “What the fuck was that?”

   He only chuckled at her, “The rest of the team is oblivious as to why you’ve been so moody lately, Y/N. I’m not so stupid…”

   “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she spat at him.

   His face became grave suddenly, and he leaned in so that his lips were touching her ear, “When was the last time you came, Y/N? Since you have been absolutely ruined?” his voice was low and gravelly as he spoke, and he internally reveled at the way she shivered underneath him. “Answer, the question, love.”

   She shook her head defiantly, “I don’t have to answer anything, you prick. And since when is my sex life any concern of - OH!”

   Bucky had interrupted lifting her up by her thighs, and, with her legs spread wide, grinding slowly against her clothed core. Y/N gasped as sparks of pleasure ignited her nerves, a irresistible fire building up in her core. It had been so long since she had felt anything remotely close to that… 

   Bucky smirked and began to grind a bit faster, “I’m gonna take care of you, Y/N. Gonna fucking wreck you, make you come on my fingers, my mouth, and my cock. By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk straight. You understand, Y/N? Don’t need you pouting around anymore, do we?”

   Y/N shook her head vigorously, “No, no more pouting Bucky…” the electric pleasure spreading throughout her body was building, and Y/N couldn’t get enough. The way Bucky was panting in her ear, how dominate he had been, I mean, for fuck’s sake, he had her pinned against a wall. She threw her head back and moaned, maybe she was actually going to come… it had been so long…

   Then, everything stopped. Bucky dropped her to the ground, stepped back and grinned from ear to ear at her shocked expression. “I’ll fuck you, Y/N. But I wanna see how riled up I can get you, princess, before I have any real fun.” The smug bastard ran his hands through his hair, then sauntered out of the room, leaving poor little Y/N a panting, even more sexually frustrated mess.

lol this is short asf but i’m really excited for this mini series thingy. totally inspired by @lenavonschweetz , who is honestly my favorite writer ever

i spent too much time on this– so I’ve been toying with the idea of an RPG!AU! Despite the fact that I know next to nothing about D&D or fantasy/RPG settings… (fhkdjs blame my nerris muse for this…) The colours are in no way final, either. Preston gave me a hell of a time…

They’re all older as well! Anywhere from mid-late teens/early-20s. I have most of the cast’s classes and alignments sorted out; I would’ve started out with the main 3, but Max and Nikki are harder for me to nail a design for.  Hit me up if you’ve got some thoughts on this or would like to know about the other characters before I draw them!

I’ll put all my current headcanons for these 3 under the cut ↓ ↓ ↓ (Classes are loosely based on the many from D&D, but I wanted to keep things flexible so m(_ _)m) 

Keep reading

1. Kissing

Word Count: 462.
A/N: Sorry for how bad this is, but I’m not as good at this as the other writers. Love y'all.
Written by @persephone-is-here-omg

“I’m just constantly in the cusp of trying to kiss you, but I don’t know if you feel the same as I do”

Do I wanna know - Arctic Monkeys

Originally posted by perfectfeelings

Bucky had lost count of how many times he had been just about to give in and kiss you. You were 95% sure that everyone in the briefing room could notice the way you were eye fucking each other. Is, almost, like being on a hypnotic trance: Staring at each other in the most obvious way, but daring to do nothing about it.

That is until the briefing room is empty, save for the two of you, and when you get up to exit the room you hear Bucky calling your name, voice low and deep in typical Bucky fashion. You make your way to where he is sitting, legs spread like he’s inviting you between them, and you stand in front of him, then hop on the table your legs slightly parted too.

“Bucky” You smirk at him and he stands from the chair, taking two steps and standing in front of you, so close that you can smell him, soap and deliciously expensive cologne (one of the few things he indulges in) “So how long are we going to keep doing this?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, Bucky ghosts his lips over yours, barely touching them and when he pulls away you chase him with your lips, earning a low chuckle. Then he does it again, ghosts his lips over yours but you’re ready this time and before he has time to pull away you throw your arms around his neck and brush your lips over his. You hesitate at first, taking it slow. Soft lips over his slightly chapped ones, but when he kisses back you find yourself unable to stop, not that you would want to. You graze your teeth over his bottom lip and Bucky growls lowly, hands gripping your waist and one of his muscular thighs nudging your legs apart so he can stand between them. This kiss is more urgent and Bucky licks your lower lip, then slips his tongue in your mouth. You were right, he was a good kisser, even more so he seemed to really enjoy kissing.

“Fuck… Doll, I’d kiss you all day” you arch your back in response to his words, and kiss him again, this time there’s no hesitation, you dive head first into the kiss and are vaguely aware of your leg hooking around his waist and your hands fisting his Henley. His left hand, cold and smooth, cradles the side of your neck and you kiss harder, lips moulding to his.

“Then do it” you say when you pull away, breathless and wanting more of him.

5

Top 10 Directors and their 5 Films

#7: Lars Von Trier aka the Feminist

1. Antichrist: When people talk about mindfucks, they’re typically referring to plot twist, not the actual plot. Antichrist has a simple plot that’s not filled with twists, but turns. It’s a dark fairy tale that challenges stereotypes associated with gender, the psychosis of a mother who has lost her child, and the neurotic behavior of a husband who decides to treat his grief stricken wife. The movie is littered with symbolism, metaphors, and analogies. 

2. Nymphomaniac Vol. 1: Sex is something people love to do but hate to talk about, publicly. Lars has never hesitated to address the issue and he dives head first in his first volume of a story that follows a young girl named Joe who is obsessed with sex. It’s a reverting film that challenges viewers to step back and really understand the power of sex and the role of a woman’s right to do what she pleases to satisfy her wants and desires. Forget 50 Shades of Grey! 

3. Melancholia: The second film in “The Depression Trilogy”, it’s a science fiction film—for lack of a better description—that Lars fills with his common bells and whistles filled with sex, depression, and symbolism galore. What makes the film a real kick in the nuts is its ability to show you the Earth being destroyed at the very beginning of the film. 

4. Dancer in the Dark: Talk about depressing. A poor mother wishes to help her son get a surgery so he doesn’t go blind while losing her own sight in the process. It really shows American’s in an ugly and greedy light (accurate in many ways), but the film captures the escapism commonly associated with Trier’s films. 

5. Nymphomaniac Vol. 2: I split the Nymphomaniac films as they were released, in two volumes. Now, the second volume unfortunately suffers from a lot of structural issues including a shift in Shia LaBeouf’s character eventually going to a different actor. The film focuses on an older Joe and an uglier side to sex one that involves self-destruction, isolation, and selfishness. 

vanityfair.com
Wynonna Earp Is TV’s Most Ridiculous Show—and It Knows That
Why you should give Syfy’s endearingly silly horror-comedy a shot.
By Jennifer Still

Good TV has never been easier to find, but it’s still sometimes nice to enjoy a series you know you really shouldn’t. Syfy’s new supernatural series Wynonna Earp isn’t just a guilty pleasure—it goes above and beyond into “so intentionally bad it’s good” territory, like no other series on television right now.

The drama, based on the comic-book series of the same name by Beau Smith, is ridiculous even in premise. A young woman—Wynonna Earp (Melanie Scrofano) herself—is tasked with sending Revenants, or resurrected and currently Earth-bound demons, back to hell by shooting them in the head. Of course, not just any gun will do: Wynonna must use the Peacemaker, a comically old-fashioned, long-barreled pistol that once belonged to her great-great-grandfather Wyatt Earp. If that weren’t enough, Wynonna also becomes romantically entangled with Doc Holliday (Tim Rozon), himself immortal since the witch Constance Clootie healed his tuberculosis and damned him some 130 years ago. Having fun yet?

What Wynonna Earp lacks in gravitas, it makes up in camp. There’s no semblance of seriousness within its scripts, storylines, or acting, which makes the show shockingly entertaining and undeniably funny, generally on purpose. The dialogue is punchy and quick; the special effects are endearingly bad, like something out of a B-movie. So far, Wynonna’s second season has featured giant animatronic spiders, a floating smoke ghost known as the “Woman in Black,” and our heroine covered in a considerable amount of sticky, unidentifiable goo. Oh, and did I mention the genie-like monster who launches an attack at a high-school homecoming celebration?

It’s classic horror and kitsch combined, which makes for an intensely watchable show. What’s more, Wynonna Earp’s ability to laugh at itself and the preposterous situations it creates makes viewers willing to go along with it that much more. There’s a staggering lack of pretense but a healthy dose of self-awareness, a combination that clears the path for some really great—albeit slightly silly—storytelling.

While levity reigns on Wynonna Earp, hollow jokes can only take a series so far, and the writers have injected a lot of heart into its characters’ private and interpersonal lives. This season, Wynonna is seen struggling with her decision to kill her older sister, Willa, who would’ve died anyway via giant evil snake squeeze had Wynonna not put her out of her misery. She’s also struggled to come to terms with her feelings for both Doc and her former police partner Xavier Dolls, who is also a genetically modified human and part lizard. (It’s a whole thing.) Meanwhile, Wynonna’s younger sister, Waverly, continues to pursue her budding relationship with Officer Nicole Haught. Their relationship—both women struggle with trusting one another, but are certain about the strength of their feelings—is perhaps the most honest, realistic element of the series, and certainly the most popular; one need only to check out the #WayHaught hashtag on Twitter to see that.

Beyond those small moments of quiet, the characters are frequently snarky toward both one another and the ridiculous situations they find themselves in. In this season’s second episode, for example, after cracking a giant egg that she believed contained some ancient evil—and getting covered in its yolk—Wynonna is asked whether this “made her wet.” It’s a totally valid question; the spider that laid the egg was of the “Krakonos” variety, likely related to the classic Kraken, and it’s typically found submerged in water. (Just go with it.) Of course, Wynonna isn’t aware of this biological wonder and instead cracks, “Well, I love my job, but it hasn’t taken me out for dinner in a while, so …” It’s perhaps an easy joke, but this sort of repartee still elevates Wynonna Earp above its drearier Syfy siblings.

Wynonna is far from the first show to merge horror and humor. Buffy the Vampire Slayer set the standard for quirky fantasy two decades ago, while series like Firefly, Charmed, and Roswell offered additional options to viewers who were hungry for genre entertainment that didn’t take itself so damn seriously.

With very few exceptions, these series—Wynonna Earp included—are a far cry from prestige TV. So credit to Wynonna creator and show-runner Emily Andras, whose show not only embraces its niche (irreverent yet heartfelt fantasy) but celebrates it, diving head-first into the gooey stuff—sometimes literally. You might not remember this show a decade from now, but you’ll sure as hell enjoy it while it lasts.

When Natural Hair Is Life.....

That moment when the topic of natural hair comes up in a conversation.. And I have to hold back my excitement and enthusiasm, because I’m not sure if the other person is as obsessed with it as I am..So I wait and see if they drop a few key terms and phrases only a true naturalista would drop..So I can dive head first into the topic without them thinking I love natural hair too much.

anonymous asked:

Okay angstyy anon here. How about "please talk to me" with injured/hurt ladybug? Thank you!

(Thanks to @edendaphne @hchano and @midnightstarlightwrites for helping me brainstorm this one!) 

Ladybug cradled her arm to her chest and bit back a sob of pain.

It had been a mistake.

She should have been smart, she should have waited for Chat to arrive. He was the melee fighter, not her. As much as it killed her sometimes to watch him dive in head first, there was no denying that there was a logic to their partnership. He was designed to take the brunt of the damage while she was supposed to be the attacker.

She had never really put a lot of thought into how much protection the suit could give her. She had never needed to before.

She heard the hurried sound of footsteps darting into the alley behind her, but she didn’t know if she had it in her to run away.

“Ladybug!”

She would know that voice anywhere. He was the reason she was cowering here in the first place.

“Ladybug are you ok?” Adrien said, his breath coming hard and fast from his sprint to chase after her.

She didn’t say anything, tears trailing down her cheeks as she continued to clutch at her injured arm.

She was a failure.

The footsteps stopped and she could feel him drop to the ground behind her.

“Ladybug?” Adrien said again, placing his hand hesitantly on her shoulder.

A choked sob of pain, and exhaustion, and shame forced its way out of her throat and she huddled down further. He shouldn’t see her like this. No one should ever see her like this. She was supposed to be a hero, not a sad, broken girl who literally almost let her infatuation get her killed.

She felt Adrien pull his hand back as if he had been burned, and then hear him shift around so that he was kneeling in front of her.

“Hey, it’s ok,” he said tenderly, “it’s going to be ok.” He reached up and gently brushed her bangs away from her face and she couldn’t resist the pull of his gaze. His smile was kind and calm, but his eyes shone with worry. “Please,” he begged softly, “talk to me.”

“Adrien,” she sobbed, sagging forward into his arms.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” he soothed, holding he;2r loosely so as not to jostle her injury. “How badly are you hurt, do you need to go to a hospital?”

She shook her head, seeking comfort in his embrace. “No, I can’t. The Akuma-”

“Can wait,” he interrupted. “What matters right now is are you ok?” He pulled away from her slightly, his hands coming to cradle her face.

“I’m… I’m ok, but I think my arm is broken.”

He nodded pulling off his overshirt and wrapping it around her to make a makeshift sling.

“Don’t drop your transformation, it will be worse for you if you do. Luckily it will all be good as new once you use your powers. It shouldn’t be too hard to get the akuma back to you.”

“I need to call Chat,” she said fumbling for her yo-yo, but Adrien grabbed her hand and held her still.

“He already knows, just relax. We need to get you somewhere safer than this.”

A fresh round of tears burned down her cheeks.

“I am sorry, I am so sorry,” she cried, burying her face into his tee-shirt.  

“What are you talking about? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do I failed!”

“What are you talking about? You are a hero, you saved me.”

“And I was so caught up in trying to impress you that I almost got myself killed! Or worse! I could have lost my miraculous! And now I don’t even know if I can fight. I’m letting down everyone! You, Chat-”

“Hey,” he interrupted, “you haven’t let down anyone. Least of all me.”

She let out a small gasp as he wiped the tears away from her eyes. She felt herself flush under the weight of his smile, his thumbs reverently tracing along her cheeks.

“You… you were trying to impress me?” he asked breathlessly.

“I… well I…” the words died in her throat as he leaned closer, his eyes boring into hers, “yes,” she whispered.

“Why would you do that?” he murmured, his lips pausing just a hair’s breadth away from her own.

“Because.. Because I-” she leaned in the rest of the way. Everything faded except for the glorious sensation of his mouth moving against hers, his hands still cupping her face, holding her as if terrified that she would disappear. He tasted like chocolate and mint and cream, like a rich drink that you just want to savor as it warms you. He nibbled hesitantly on her lower lip and she deepened the kiss, losing herself in the feel of him. He pressed forward, one arm wrapping around her back and she broke away with a cry of pain, her arm trapped between them.

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” he stammered, awkwardly petting her upper arm. “This problem isn’t the right time for… well…” he coughed, his face going scarlet.

He stood and helped her to her feet as well. “We should get you someplace safe and deal with that akuma.” He began leading her out of the alley and back towards the main street towards a familiar cafe. He put an arm around her shoulder and she couldn’t resist leaning her head against him as he guided her into the small shop. It wasn’t until he was settling her down into a chair by the shops fire, the various staff and patrons whispering excitedly at her presence, that his words actually registered.

“I thought you said Chat was dealing with the akuma?” she asked, confused.

“He’s been a little preoccupied,” Adrien laughed nervously, “but I think it’s time he got to work on fetching a butterfly for you, don’t you think My Lady?”

“Adrien?” she gasped, eyes going wide as she stared at him.

He smiled- wide, and happy, and just a little sheepish. He brought her fingertips to his lips and gave them a delicate kiss.

“We’ll talk when I get back,” he said with a wink, the turned and hurried out.