has been in my drafts long enough

AU where instead of going to Samwell, Jack starts a widely successful Publicly Broadcast show for children.

Jack learns that he is great with kids after coaching them for a little over two years. Moreover, kids are good with Jack. There is no pressure to be anything other than who he is.


It all starts with a local news program doing a fluff piece on Jack Zimmermann’s coaching ability. But then it turned into something completely different when Jack skated onto camera and started to introduce every single one of his kids and what was special about them. He was…really enchanting actually. He didn’t ever really talk down to them. Jack just treated them as a tiny friend. 

They ARE his tiny friends, but that’s not the point. 

The footage they got of “snack time” was really the best. Imagine a good 16 kids piled around this massive man teaching them the best way to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

 It should have been obvious that a local channel would contact him. It still surprises Jack. They want him to host a show? Why? Everyone always teased him about how impersonable he was during interviews. Is it because he’s Jack Zimmermann’s son? Or Alicia’s? 

Jack asks all of these questions to his mother and she just laughs. “You made a PB&J interesting to 16 kids just by being you”

Jack figures it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot. 

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dean doing soft and quiet things for cas

  • helping him fall asleep by holding him close and rubbing his back and lightly playing with his hair
  • forehead kisses in the morning as a greeting when he’s already up and awake and cas stumbles down the hall in search of coffee
  • building cas a place he can garden outside the bunker, researching things like seeds and soil and what will grow this time of year
  • picking out little trinkets and knick knacks for cas for no reason other than “i dunno, thought you might like it”
  • giving him a foot massage while they lounge on the couch watching a movie, cas’ feet in his lap
  • fixing his car whenever he hears any sort of mysterious clank or rattle, giving her a checkup at least once a month just to make sure everything’s good and she’s running safely
  • grabbing cas’ hand just briefly and lightly whenever they walk past each other, stroking his thumb slightly before letting go
  • dean saying i love you to cas with his every action, and cas knowing dean well enough to hear it
Writing a Novel: Being Unafraid of Failure

Part of the writing process is definitely about having the courage to sit down and write 200+ pages of a novel, but more than that, it’s more recognizably about being unafraid to write something that could potentially be horrible. It’s something that most of us don’t talk about but it’s all somewhere in the back of our minds, “Maybe my book is unreadable.”

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Trouble Man

Includes: Sam x reader, Bucky Barnes, fluff

Brief Synopsis: Sam leaves Bucky’s texts unanswered to annoy him without realizing that he is also annoying you. Based on this post.

Word Count: 1k

A/N: It has been way too long since I posted a fic, but I hope you all enjoy this one! Now that it’s summer, I’ve been working on some of my drafts and hope to post more often. Thanks for reading!

Originally posted by anthonymackiesource

Sitting up in bed beside Sam, you could not seem to focus long enough to comprehend what was printed in the novel laying open and unread on your lap. You had already asked him to turn the volume down on the television, which had helped, but then his phone began to belch out a portion of his favorite track by Marvin Gaye when he received a text. Eventually, the texts became so frequent that the tone would only play for a second before starting over again, the inharmonious repetition of sound no where near as euphonic as the entire song. 

“Are you going to answer those?” you nearly growled, your words sounding more like a command than a question.

“Nope,” Sam responded, unaware of your irritated tone as he popped another piece of popcorn in his mouth. He didn’t even bother glancing your way, his eyes glued to whichever movie he was intently watching on Netflix.

“Could you at least put your phone on silent?”

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Meeting You (King George III x Reader)

Requested By: Anonymous

Summary: Song-fic based off of “This Is My Idea” from the movie The Swan Princess. For as long as you can remember, your parents forced you to spend time with your future husband, even though you couldn’t stand each other. Throughout the years you both mature, does your relationship?

Warnings: None!

Time Period: Pre-Hamiltime? (It takes place during King George’s life, but it doesn’t have to do with the American Revolution.)

Words: 1983

A/N: Two stories in two days?? Wow, go me!! Anyway, this has been siting in my drafts for a while and I’m finally happy with it. This was super fun to write because I love King George and there aren’t enough reader insert stories about him. Like I said, the inspiration and many lyrics are from The Swan Princess movie. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy and have a fabulous day!!


From a young age, you had been betrothed to George. Before you were even born, your parents had come up with the arrangement that you and George would marry as a way to strengthen your countries.

Every summer, you would be pulled from your home and sail to England. The idea was for you and George to spend time together so you would love each other by the time you were to be married.

There were four of these summers that stood out in your mind when you thought about how you met George.


The first memory was the first time you had ever visited him. You had been told by your parents that you would sailing to England to meet a very important boy who was only a year older than you. At first, the idea excited you. There would be another child to play, even if he was a boy. At the young age of 6, there weren’t many people to play with, seeing as you had no brothers or sisters and the thought of playing with a servant child was unimaginable.

After a long, boring journey, your parents guided you to the castle where you were to meet the King and Queen of England along with their son. The trio stood waiting for you, looking regal, and suddenly you got shy. Hiding behind your parents, you protested as they pushed you forward. George’s parents did the same.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Princes (y/n).” he grumbled.

You went to curtesy just as you had been taught and automatically replied, “Pleased to meet you, Prince George.” However, when you looked up George had turned away from you in a rude manner.

His mother gave him a sharp look and pointed towards you. Begrudgingly, he dramatically stomped to you and looked at your suspiciously. You glared at him before he kissed your hand and instantly pulled away with a “Yuck!”

The first thought you had was not very kind of Prince George, and you could tell that you would never like him, much less love him enough to marry him. “He looks conceited, what a total bummer.”

Both of you turned to your parents and mumbled together, “If I get lucky I’ll get chicken pox.”

After receiving stern looks from both Kings and Queens, you rolled your eyes before turning back to George with the fakest smile you could muster.

“So happy you could come.” he bowed, mockingly.

“So happy to be here.” you curtsied, but put no respect in it.

At the same time, you both crossed your arms and complained. “This is not my idea of fun!”

The rest of the summer was spent fighting with George. Since your parents wanted you two to get along, they believed the best way to do this was for you to spend every day, with him. For some reason, they were oblivious to the feud you and George had.

That summer was one of the longest summers ever. When you finally got on the boat to head home, you were relieved you wouldn’t have to see that boy for almost another year.


The second summer that stood out in your mind was when you were eleven and George was twelve. That past year, you had discarded the dress laid out for you, instead opting to wear pants and a tunic shirt much to the dismay of your parents.

You tried you hardest to tell your parents they had to postpone the voyage, but they wouldn’t buy any of it. They escorted you on the boat and had a trunk thrown together, all in a matter of ten minutes.

Once you arrived in England, you were greeted by the usual; George, the King of England, and the Queen. However, this year, George’s annoying friend, Samuel Seabury, was with him. All summer, they never let you join in their games.

Anytime you tried to play whatever game they were playing, they would run off to their “secret’ treehouse. About halfway through your stay, you had enough. You chased them throughout the castle, trying to force them to play with you. “Wait up guys!”  you cried after them, frustrated that they wouldn’t slow down.

Disappearing out of sight, you almost gave up hope, but luckily you managed to track them down. Now only a few yards behind them, you thought you could catch up. Unfortunately, they reached the treehouse, climbed the ladder, and took away the ladder before you could put a foot on it. On top of that, they hung a sign on the wall that read, ‘NO GIRLS ALLOWED!’

“This really isn’t fair.” you whined, crossing your arms with a pout on your face.

Instead of apologizing, they laughed and said in unison. “We really couldn’t care.”

“Boys it’s all or none!” you thought.

Taking a step to the supporting boards, you kicked one out of anger. Not expecting to cause any damage, you were surprised and horrified to see that kicking that one little board out of place sent the entire structure tumbling.

That summer you got to leave early, but you left with a bruised face and broken arm, and livid parents.


The third summer with George that stood out in your mind was when you were seventeen and he was eighteen. You had finally grown out of your “awkward phase,” and felt beautiful and confident. Your confidence soared even higher that summer when you caught George staring at you a bit too long when you first arrived.

However, if you were being completely honest, you were equally as guilty. Some might have said that you had developed a crush on the future King of England, but that was not true. Although he looked quite handsome, he was still that annoying boy who had never treated you kindly.

The day pigs flew would be the day you had a crush on George.

However, that was the first summer that was different then the rest. In your mind, it didn’t feel like a terrible time. First, you were able to convince George to do what you wanted more easily. Gone were the days where you were running to catch up with him and Samuel. Second, you began to talk to more people in the castle, including the castle gaurds. It was fun just being able to flirt with them, laughing at what they said, leaving your hand on their shoulder for too long, etc, even if it didn’t mean much.

“She’s always flirting with the castle gaurds!” George complained as he and Thomas watched you from afar. That particular day, you were feeling extra flirty. Your arm was lingering on the guard’s shoulder a bit to long and the way you batted your eyes could make any man weak in the knees.

“You’re just jealous because you like her. Fess up.” Samuel teased, elbowing George in the side.

George’s head whipped around as he glared at Samuel, daring him to say another word. Although he would never admit it, George had began to harbor a crush on you. You weren’t the whiny six year old you once were and you most certainty weren’t the boyish eleven year old he had once known, but you were still the annoying girl he didn’t want to marry.

Right?

“I’d like her better if she’d lose at cards.” George countered, still upset over the fact that you always won.

You even won when they boys were cheating. Samuel would stand behind you and glance over your shoulder, mouthing the card numbers to George. When the game came to an end, George laid down his cards quite smugly, prepared to gloat over his victory.

“Four sevens and a ten.”

“I think I won again.” you stated, laying down the cards you had collected on the table.

And even though Samuel had seen your numbers, you had seem to win. Again! The boys could never catch a break.

“This is my idea.” you began, returning George’s smug smile.

“This isn’t my idea.” they pouted.

“Of fun.” all three of you spoke at the same time.


The last summer that stood out in your mind was when you were 20 and George was 21.

For as far back as you could remember, your parents had constantly reminded you that you and George were to someday wed. Every June through September, they would force you to spend time with the boy who you didn’t even like.

You wanted to be in a marriage that was based on love, not politics, and you knew that was something that you could never achieve with George. Even though you tried to explain this to your parents, they acted like they couldn’t hear you.

There would be times that you would beg and plead with them, or even refuse to leave the carriage. If this ever happened, your parents would pick you and drag you to where George was. It felt like their were bruises from their fingerprints.

You could feel the pressure for you and George to marry greater then it ever had been. You knew you were almost passed the acceptable age of not being married, and your parents wanted you to be well off.

When they shoved you in the ball room, you crossed your arms and tried to reason with them. “He is so immature!”

The sound of another door closing on the opposite side of the room caught your attention. You turned and saw that George was standing there, and your knees were buckling slightly. He had grown so incredibly handsome and something about him seemed different.

You could understand why, but some switch inside you flipped and you could see all the great qualities George had in him. He was kind, caring, intelligent, witty, and charming. He was the man you had been dreaming of.

The way he stared at you, made you blush. Unknown to you, he was having similar thoughts of seeing you in a brand new light. While he may of thought you weren’t the prettiest when you were younger, looking at you know you were like an angel.

As if his eyes were finally clear, he saw your beauty, grace, poise, elegance, kindness, humbleness, intelligent, and humor. All of the wonderful characteristics drew him towards you, meeting you half way in the room.

“So happy to be here.” you curtsied, just like at the age of six, but now you meant in with all of your being.

“’Till now I never knew.” he whispered, bowing to you.

“It’s you I’ve been dreaming of.” you both spoke, inching closer and closer to each other until you were mere inches away.

He cupped your cheek in his hand and brought his lips on top of yours. Almost as if a spark had been lit, you felt fireworks booming in your chest as you wrapped your arms around George, pulling him closer to you.

When the two of you finally pulled apart, you couldn’t help the smiles that adorned your faces. You had finally found your soulmate, and he had been standing in front of you your entire life.


“And that is how your mommy and I feel in love.” George spoke lovingly to the bump that was your stomach, rubbing it softly.

You could feel soft kicks from the baby growing inside of you, and you smiled down at the sight of your husband connecting with your unborn child. “I think she liked the story.” you giggled, running a hand lovingly through his hair.

“She?” he questioned, looking up at you with a goofy grin on his face.

“Well I’m not sure, but I think it’s mother’s intuition.” you admitted.

“I love you so much, my little princess.” George whispered, pressing a small kiss to your belly. “And I love you so much, my queen.” he whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to your lips.

Dissipate [DRAFT!]
Sunny
Dissipate [DRAFT!]

OKAY. here is my current draft of keith’s original song which i’ve been working my butt off on for like around 10 months lmao. i’m at a real crossroads with it so i think opening it up will help me - the vocals are just my guide and not the final versions! this is definitely still a big WIP but i really hope it is exciting and maybe it’ll be well received bc i’ve worked so hard on it!! 

i think i’ll aim for an official S4 release of the Actual Final Version, it has a lot of way to go esp with the mix if you compare to my more recent stuff - i’m actually working on a whole new version in a different key! but we’ll see how the final version turns out. for now anyway…. THIS IS DISSIPATE. the song i’ve poured my entire heart and soul into for keith. i haven’t touched this mix for at least 3 months so pls excuse the mess it’s in. BUT YEA. OKAY…. GUESS WE’RE DOING THIS?!!!!!!

Their names are burning underneath my skin
Before i even had a chance to welcome them all in
Something’s clawing at my insides
Stinging at my eyes
Realisation: they’re on my side 

full lyrics below the cut: 

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2

He immediately moves her against the wall, out of harms way. He nervously squeezes her shoulder and smooths her coat, leaning in close to look her in the eyes and holding onto her maybe a little longer than necessary while he makes sure she’s not hurt, but not long enough for him because his hand shakes and he’s desperate to hug her. He and Glenn must have been panicked out there, following the trail she left.

When he hugs her, it’s definitely to comfort her but it’s also to reassure himself that she’s really there, alive and okay. It’s pretty obvious that he absolutely loves her.

When ya realize you’ve been stuck with a fucking lunatic who talks about aliens 24/7 and never knows what he’s talking about after 87 hours of him talking about it then losing trance making the 87 hours wasted and hearing about his damn cats ,,, fucking Kim and Kanye ,, why the FUCK did he name them Kim and Kanye , and have been thrown guitars at, the violence has to end , and ya decide to throw your whole fucking drum kit at Matt bc you’ve had eNOUGH and seen him break his foot twice because this motherfucker doesn’t know what shOES ARE AN-

Voltron Characters as Shit I've Said/Done pt. 5:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Shiro: *Laying on the floor dissociating while 2 children sit on top of him yelling at each other about who knows what* I deserve this.

Keith: I was going to say “I’m not emo,” but I realized that I’m literally wearing My Chemical Romance merch in 2017.

Lance: I have to be the best uncle to these kids so they’ll love me more than the rest. HEY KIDS, WHO WANTS ICE CREAM?!

Hunk: My anxiety is like Donald Trump. It’s there, it’s fucking shit up it’s not supposed to, and I want it gone.

Pidge: Where did that tree come from? Who put it there? Has it always been there? Do I really not go outside enough to know what’s in my front yard?

Matt: I’m older than you so you have to do what I say. I don’t care if I look like I’m 13.

Allura: Yeah I’m royal. A royal mess. Please help, I don’t know what I’m doing 95% of the time.

Coran: Trust me, I’m an expert in this. *Turn computer off then back on.* Problem solved.

Lotor: I have standards. They may seem low to you, but to me they’re pretty high.

anonymous asked:

During Bill's reign, some bored Jagers decide to do a play about the lives of previous Hetetodynes. There is at least one musical episode.

“Hy heard,” says Zoff. He’s leaning over a low stone wall, the kind so ancient it’s old even to Jägers, that looks like it grew up out of the land. Except over the past hour or so he’s melted, sort of, from leaning to slumping to hanging, and now he’s just folded over the wall at the waist, bare feet scraping the ground on one side, hat in his hands to keep it from falling to the ground on the other. “Hy heard dot pipple do dis ting, where dey put on plays about de Masters Bill und Barry, vot dey iz doink like.”

“Vot?” says Ioan, who has not slumped in a similar way since they sat down because he was already lying on the ground by the wall to begin with. His hat is on his chest. “Ve could do dot.”

“…Hyu tink.”

Ioan makes a scoffing sound that sounds like a drain unclogging. “Ve saw dem do lots of domb tings ven dey vas lettink us watch dem. Iz goot material, dot is.”

“Brodder. They wasn’t really lettink us….”

“Whyfor iz pipple tellink stories about de Boyz now? Dey never did dis about any of de odder Masters.”

“Pipple ectually like dem,” sighs Zoff. “Iz different.”

Ve liked dem,” says Ioan. “Und ve saw dem doing domb tings too! See? Pipple iz vaisting an hopportunity.”

*

It just sort of…happens.

They decide to stick to Mechanicsburg, because they’ve been ordered not to leave it. Jenka downright refuses to be involved in any capacity outside of pointing and laughing, and General Gkika snorts at the group of soldiers who lose a draw and go in a clump to timidly ask her if she wants to act and says she thinks she’d better stay on call for when they injure themselves, so all of the woman characters are played by male Jägers in wigs. Because of the sort of people their Old Heterodynes hung out with, were attacked by, and sometimes were, there are also a lot of Jägers in chainmail bikinis. They scrounge a couple choice pieces from the Masters’ collections, and make the rest out of foil.

“No, no!” says Zeff (who normally avoids being near Zoff, for name overlap reasons, but whose mother a long time ago was on the stage, and was drafted for his expertise), standing before the stage the night after their first Preview. “Dere is not enough fire! Trust me, de audience luffs a fire!”

“Hyu sure dat isn’t just when dey isn’t likink de play, and wants the actors to burn op?” asks Minik speculatively. Minik paints, and has been doing the stages. “Hyu better not wreck mine scenery.”

“Ve iz not gon wreck–”

“Hy come after hyu if you wreck it!”

Zeff snorts. Minik growls. They get into a light fist fight.

“Oh, my lord,” mutters Carson, who came for the free entertainment (all public works are free for the seneschal) and has not been disappointed. He tugs on his muttonchops, which along with what remains of his hair have been quickly going to salt and pepper over recent years. His grown son (who had to pay), stands beside him and snickers into his hands. The son’s fiancé, a lovely and ferocious local girl named Arella, is looking on with what can only be described as bloodthirsty glee.

Zeff and Minik knock over a can of purple paint, which goes everywhere.

*

“Velcome back, sveethot!” Zoff greets his great-great-great niece-in-law, a blacksmith who makes a habit of stopping by the Playhouse Monstrosa when she’s in the area. He raises an arm to wave from where he’s hunched over a script spread out on top of an empty barrel. De Goot Heterodyne versuz Efferybody has been surprisingly popular, if more among locals than tourists, and the original group of troth players has doubled in size and is now brainstorming Knife Keeses a Princess und Gets a Haircut (working title). “You see ennyting goot vhile hyu vas out of town?”

“Only a few small uprisings,” says his niece. “And an opera. It was about historical heroes, that kind of thing.”

“Opera?” says Zoff. “Vit de singing, yah?”

He eyes his script (which is one huge piece of paper, folded unevenly a dozen times and then scribbled all over, largely with pictures, with arrows indicating reading order) speculatively. “…Ve could do dot.”

He reaches out and draws some musical notes next to a shouting stick figure’s head.

Drawn To Life

Diego Luna/ Reader

Originally posted by diegolunadaily

Words: 1,639

Summary: You never expected to get a reply at two in the morning, let alone have these marks change your life.

Prompt: “Whatever mark you get on your skin your soulmate gets it too so one day, you just kind of just get a sharpie and start writing on your skin. You definitely didn’t expect to get a reply, but you did. Now it’s five in the morning and you’re just about covered in ink and this will be a pain to wash off later.”

Tagging: @kwaiky, @myfriendmagislit

Requested by: @ly–canthrope

Author’s notes: Oh, shit, this request has been sitting in my drafts for so long. Thank you for your patience, Madison!! I haven’t written RPF in a loong time since I’m always afraid people will come at me with pitchforks and fire bc I wrote RPF. Oh well!


Another sleepless night, huh?

You stare at the ceiling for a few more seconds before you roll over to turn on the lamp.

The clock glows a disappointing 2:13 AM.

You haven’t been getting much sleep lately but found that doodling often calmed you enough to lull you to sleep. Digging into the bedside drawer for a Sharpie, you start to play around with a flower design. Marveling at your handy work on your forearm, you start to notice a mark appear next to one of the flowers.

No. Way.

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Dance With Me Tonight 

banner by eriza


“Whilst on their year (or so) long hiatus young Harry Styles has been drafted into the whirlwind of the Strictly Come Dancing experience, or so the rumours would lead you to believe.

I mean it’s something that my mum would be proud of me doing.” He stopped to laugh, “and I guess it would be a great way to keep up my fitness over the winter months.” Taken directly from the man’s mouth, at the premier of Dunkirk in Leister Square.

Is that enough confirmation for you?  It is for us.’

a OU Harry fic to prove the illegitimacy of The Strictly Curse

//COMING SOON TO 1DFF//

Click on more info for a little teaser below

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poem: in transit

I can tell you what it feels like
to think you are not worthy of love.
You look at people
like they are airplanes,
ready to leave
the moment they touch down
on the runway of your belly.
Arrival is nothing
but the lead-up to
departure.
In the wake of the roar
of the plane flying off to explore
new countries,
for a moment, or two

or days

or months

or years

your body becomes a reservoir,
its dam broken.

Just once, I’d like
to look in the mirror
and see something other than
ugliness.
The bow of my forearm
the River Styx.
My torso a world map,
stripped of all its beauty.
Here, the expanse of an African grassland,
all dried up. Here, the Port of Naples,
cargo boxes carrying the dead bodies
of illegal Chinese immigrants who
fought tooth and nail to stay in Italy
but wanted nothing more
than to be buried in their
homeland.

It’s not that I am searching
for somewhere to call home
but that I want to know what it is like
to have a body that stays a person.
Give me that place between
the sea and the horizon, where
the smell of salt hides
the stench of loneliness.
How do you stand with a spine
that doesn’t believe it has the right
to hold itself straight?
What do you do
when sadness has been buried
under your skin for so long
you forgot what it was like
to be whole without grief?


——–


to see the poem on google docs, click here. (ie to read the poem in the proper formatting…)

constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated!

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anonymous asked:

What about a friends with benefits blurb? Like in the movie friends with benefits which I happen to be watching right now lol. Harry and or her realize they actually do have feelings for each other

Friends with benefits anon here again…I feel like a harry is a little emotionally repressed so I can totally see him taking on a situation like that. Also with his work he might feel like it’s too hard to keep a proper relationship up so that’s a good alternative.

Enjoy, sweetness. ;)

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