i am pretending to write something down

twinkletoestheberserker  asked:

Do you ever write something, think it's awesome, and then get 0 reaction to it? And then just jot something down and people think it's AMAZING? How do you deal with this kind of disconnect between yourself and your audience?

This feels like a question that speaks to two different communities at the same time.

As a professional author, writing books and stories for which I am paid money, I very rarely get zero reaction.  Sometimes I get negative reaction, either sincere (”this didn’t work for me”) or metatextual (”the author is a filthy fucking SJW liberal bitch and I hate her personally and she smells”), and I’m not going to pretend that doesn’t sting.  At the same time, all the negative reviews in the world won’t cancel my checks, so I still get paid, and that takes some of the sting out of things.  I write for myself, for the people who like my stuff, and to feed my cats/pay my bills, so as long as those boxes are checked, I don’t feel the disconnect.

As a fanfic author, writing stories for which I am not paid money, but am paid in “comment cookies” of positive feedback, I do sometimes have things land with a resounding thud.  This can happen for so many reasons.  Maybe the fandom is really small and there are only six people in my potential audience (”Flowers for Barry Ween,” for example).  Maybe the fandom is huge, and I’m not a BNF there, so I can’t find the readership (my very few Harry Potter pieces).  Or maybe people just don’t realize that, as someone who exists in both spaces, I still crave feedback and praise the way I crave candy corn: constantly and in sickening quantities.

You can’t predict the audience.  You just can’t.  I’ve been writing and sharing fanfic since I was fifteen and joined my first ElfQuest fanzine.  You just have to keep going, and remember that unless you’re getting paid, you’re under no obligation to keep writing anything that doesn’t make you happy.

mistakes from loving you

#1 : I saw your smile and looked into your eyes, just a stranger, nothing else.

#2 : I’ve noticed you every time. It seems like my eyes are stuck on one person only. But the problem is… it’s you.

#3 : I have heard the way you laugh and the way you repeatedly say your favorite words. The way you pick just the right words to make me feel butterflies in my stomach.

#4 : I have memorized the way you smile, how you speak, and how you laugh. I have memorized you entirely.

#5 : I have written down words for you, writing them down like we have this epic love story. Then suddenly, my thoughts are all about you. I made you my everything.

#6 : I have accepted the butterflies and the fast beating of my heart all completely and surely caused by you. “I like you.”

#7 : There’s this stupid thing that exists, it’s something called love. But every time, there’s you, and all that’s all that I can see. So I guess… “I love you.”

#8 : I’ve hung on to every piece of hope, so that I’d never have to give up on you, when you have already let go of me.

#9 : Here I am in the middle of night, with you on my mind, lying to myself that you don’t mean anything to me.

#10 : I pretend that you are just a stranger, that you meant nothing to me. But here I am, writing down my mistakes from loving you. Telling the world that I don’t love you anymore. But guess what… I still do.

— P.G.G

answer me

“You wanna talk about it?” Jeff asked, awake at two am because of Kent’s screaming. Again. Jeff sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

“No,” Kent said. He was sitting up in bed, one hand pressed to his forehead.

Jeff frowned, flipping on the lamp. “Dude, I’m – you know you do this all the time, right?”

Kent glanced at him, frowning. “What?”

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Jealous Much?

Requested:  Jealous Scott please! Maybe the reader is in a date or just about to leave and Scott calls her pretending he needs help with something to get her away from her date?Thank you!!

Teen Wolf Imagine- Scott.M x !reader, Stiles.S

P.S: John is a made up character for the story line!

P.P.S: I am soooo sorry I took FOREVER to write this!!! <3<3<3


Today was the day! You were going on a date with John, you’ve had a crush on him since freshman year. It was Friday night and you just got done getting ready when the doorbell rang. Butterflies filled your stomach while you flew down the stairs. Well… went down the stairs as fast as you could while wearing heals. You quickly fixed your hair and pulled down your dress then answered the door. “ Hey John!” you said. “ Hey Y/N, you look gorgeous. As always.” he flirted. You blushed and followed him to his car. He opened the door for you and let you sit down before he closed the door.  

When you both arrived to the cute little restaurant in town. John said this was his favorite restaurant. The waiter walked you to your booth and gave you both menu’s. “Do you mind if I order for you?” John asks. “Sure, you know what’s good,” you said laughing. “We would both like a basket of fried chicken and fries, and one large chocolate milkshake with two straws please,” he said. “Sure thing is that all?” the waiter asks. John nods and the waiter walked back into the kitchen.

Around ten minuets later the waiter comes out with the food. “It smells so good!” You say taking a bite of a chicken tender. “ Yeah, I order this basically every time I come here,” John says laughing. 

When you were about half way through eating, your phone started ringing. You ignored it the first time, but then it started to ring a second time. “You can answer it, it could be important.” John says. You nod in agreement and pull your phone out. Your friend Scott’s name was in bold letters on your screen. 

“Hello?” You ask into the phone. “Y/N you need to come over quick, its an emergency. Me and Stiles found out something about the case! “ Scott said hurriedly. 

“ Scott… is it really that important? I’m kinda on a date right now,” you say quietly. John frowned. Clearly he herd Scott, considering Scott was practically screaming into the phone.  

“Yes Y/N, it actually is important. We need you here NOW!” Scott says. 

“If it’s really important, we can get to go boxes and I could drive you over,” John says sadly. You sighed, John was really just too kind. “Are you sure its important Scott? “ You say in almost a begging tone. “ Yes Y/N! It is very important! “ Scott says, yet again. “Fine, I’ll be there in ten, “ you say hanging up before he could answer. “I’m so sorry John, but he insists that it’s important,” you say frowning. “It’s ok, I understand.” he says.

You both left the restaurant with your boxes of food. John drove you to Scott’s and told you that you can have a make-up date, and to have a goodnight. You gave him a hug, thanking him. 

You knocked on Scott’s door. He immediately answered letting you in. 

“Scott! What’s so important?!” You ask annoyed. You could see Stiles smirking at Scott. “What?” you ask looking at Stiles. “Oh nothing, just that there is nothing that is important. And Scott just wanted to get you out of that date with John because he was jealous! “ Stiles said smiling widely. “Stiles what the hell?!” Scott yells. “Scott! You knew I was excited to go on that date! And why would you be jealous?!” You said with anger. “Come on Y/N! It’s obvious that Scottie boy here has a crush on you,” Stiles says throwing his best friend under the bus. “Is that true Scott?” You ask. Scott scoffs. “Maybe…”

my girl

Fandom: Skam
Ship: Chris x Eva
Summary: In which Chris and Eva end up together.
ao3

For the anon who requested Chriseva <3 (And because writing this was a form of therapy after last night’s plot twist.) Thank you so, so much for the incredibly kind message, hope you like this!

At this point, Eva still hadn’t thrown her arms around his neck, murmured, Of course I’m your girlfriend, Chris into his ear, and kissed him into the nearest wall. Which seemed like an oversight on her part.

That had been, approximately speaking, the greeting Chris had been expecting when he’d picked her up for this party. The one he’d really, really wanted when he saw her in her light purple dress. It had looked soft. Like his his hands should be all over it, all over her. (It still looked like that.) 

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anonymous asked:

yoyoyo you requested a request and i am here to deliver can u write possessive!remus???smut is okay and in fact it is encouraged

  • Sirius could feel Remus’ eyes on him the entire class, burning into him.
  • “Y’know, Black, I’m glad we were partnered up today.”
  • Sirius looked up from the big cauldron and at Casper Bastardith and his smug face. He cleared his throat,
  • “Um, just Sirius… if you don’t mind.”
  • “Ah…” Casper leaned on his elbows, face inching closer to Sirius’ making him desperate to lean back but not wanting to appear particularly rude, “First name bases, then?”
  • Sirius huffed, pretending he needed to step away to write something down on his parchment, “I Just prefer it, actually.”
  • “Well then, you,” he placed a hand on Sirius’ thumb rubbing over the knuckles and making Sirius’ skin crawl, “Can call me, Casper.”
  • Sirius laughed stiffly, sliding his hand out from under the slightly moist one, “I already do that if you haven’t noticed-“
  • “Yes, that’s right.” A new voice to Sirius’ left made his heart soar in relief. Both boys looked at Remus, towering over both of them - but especially Casper - and whose eyes were narrowed, “everyone calls you Casper. I’m afraid you last name is just not one you can say in front of the first years.”
  • Remus smirked as he watched Casper’s ears turn pink, “I told you. It’s pronounced Bay-star-die-th…”
  • “Yeah,” Remus’s fingers laced through Sirius’, squeezing lightly and already pulling them away from the fuming boy, “Whatever you say Bastardith.”
  • Sirius could barely contain his laughter until they got out of the classroom and was practically barking the second they were out of the door.
  • “Merlin’s beard,” He gasped, leaning into Remus’ side, “You saved me. And what a save it was-“
  • Sirius bit his lip glancing up at Remus, noting the way his chest was rising rapidly and his tight grip around Sirius’ waist. In a second Sirius had him pinned against the cold stone of the potion’s lab,
  • “Who knew you were so snarky, Mr. Lupin.”
  • Remus looked down at him, head tilted to the side and a look in his eyes that made Sirius swallow hard, suddenly not feeling like he was the one doing the pinning but instead like Remus was pinning him against a wall with just a look,
  • “I believe the real question - Mr. Black -  is why on earth you allow other boys to fucking flirt with you like that when- when-“ But Remus just shook his head.
  • With a slight growl Sirius suddenly actually was the one being pinned, “I hate watching.. him- them - whoever it is.. God, it’s always someone… someone who thinks they can just come in and steal you away from me.”
  • Sirius waited for the rush, for the heated kisses and tightened grips and grinding hips, waiting for a mood of Remus’ that he loved.
  • He closed his eyes, tilting his head up for a kiss, baring his neck for a bite - anything.
  • But instead he felt a hot forehead drop into the crook of his neck, and lips against his collar bone, and a soft voice,
  • “I just hate watching it… The things it makes me think.. Makes me feel like an animal.”
  • Sirius’ eyes flash open, taken off guard by the vulnerability in Remus’ voice.
  • He hesitates for just a second, before wrapping his arms around Remus’ torso, placing a kiss to his shoulder,
  • “You aren’t an animal, love.. I probably think some of the same things when I see that Ravenclaw girl from Charms all over you - fuck, what’s her name?”
  • “Selene something-or-other.” Remus mumbles.
  • “Right. I think animalistic thoughts about Selene something-or-other, too.”
  • Remus made a disgruntled sound and Sirius laughed,
  • “I meant I think animalistic thoughts about getting Selene something-or-other off of you…” he was silent for a beat, “…then I might think some animalistic thoughts about you from time to time. Or you putting your animalistic thoughts into action on me…” Sirius swallowed, “Y’know… usual things to be thinking about.”
  • “Really?” Remus mumbled.
  • “Really. Actually, that’s probably what I’m thinking most of the-“ Sirius cut himself with a gasp at the feeling of teeth scraping softly at his neck.
  • “Something like this?” Remus’ voice had gone a pitch deeper if Sirius wasn’t mistaken, and he felt two large hands grip his hips under his shirt.
  • “W-what are you a- ah - a mind reader?” Sirius’ head fell back against the wall, eyes fluttering close again, allowing Remus to trail his mouth along his throat.
  • Remus inhaled deeply through his nose, mouth sucking lightly right under Sirius’ ear, “Yeah… Something like that.”
  • Sirius fisted the back of Remus’ uniform as Remus pressed their hips together, pulling a loud moan out of Sirius the echoed off of the stone walls.
  • Remus instantly brought one of his hands to cover Sirius’ mouth.
  • “Jesus Pads- do you want Slughorn to come out here?”
  • Sirius’ eyes were hooded and the only response Remus got was the feeling of teeth against his palm.
  • Remus rolled his eyes glancing at his watch, “Class is practically over, anyway.”
Sirius’ eyes lit up, his voice muffled, “Common room?”
  • Remus smirked, removing his hand to pull their hips together again, “I was thinking Prefect’s bathroom.”
  • Fuck,” Sirius drew the word out, pressing his forehead to Remus’ and grinning into Remus’ palm which was now placed over his mouth again,
  • Remus laughed too, replacing his hand with his lips for a hard kiss and then pulling Sirius away from the hall of classrooms, “Come on, loud-mouth.”
  • Sirius leaned onto his tiptoes, nipping Remus’ ear, “You like it.”


Okay don’t hate me - I would totally include the full on smut but every time I wrote it it just wasn’t coming out right and I’d rather leave it here than give you bad smut. Hope you like it <3

anonymous asked:

Could you be any more of an awful, white knighting feminist? You like to support horrificly sexist characters written by men (take River, who's a slave to the Doctor, or Helen who does nothing outside of screaming she's a feminist) and then claim to be a feminist, instead of actually doing something. You just sit on Tumblr and pretend to be such a powerful feminist, while ignoring the oodles of privlege falling out of your ears. People like you are what got Trump elected.

The bitterness and sheer level of obscure determination in this suggests to me that my presentation of my personal and political beliefs is not the primary concern here, but I’ll treat you as seriously as I can.

And I can’t help further wonder at the choice to send this anonymously. If it’s for fear that my, admittedly very large, number of followers will come after you or something, well, I can’t help but say sorry, that is not something I would ever support. But, I think it far more likely you’re sending this anonymously to be cruel and hide your face. That is, sadly, the way things tend to work online. I’d like to be wrong about that suspicion.

If I come across as pretending to be a “powerful feminist,” clearly I’m doing something wrong. I don’t think feminism is ever about trying to look powerful, and while I do love a good show off from time to time, that’s more when I do a backflip than when I say something about feminism. Feminism, to me, isn’t something I support and believe in to look good. I just do it because, dammit, I want to treat people well, the most hurt and most at risk in particular. That, to me, means a lot. I want to help people, and feminism is one way of supporting people and understanding the various intersecting social forces that hold people back.

I think that’s a rather good thing, but I’m never going to pretend to be an expert. I’ve taken a few courses and it’s something I take very seriously, but I’ll never be able to rattle off names of theorists and write defining essays for critical thought. What I am, above all else, is a person obsessed with media. Feminism is just how I engage with it. And when I find media that I personally feel is empowering, I break down why, and, generally, I get feedback from people saying they appreciate it and find it empowering, too, and like that I put their feelings into words. I don’t want to tell people how to feel, but I will tell people how I feel. And I feel strengthened by those stories, as do many people I personally care a lot for.

I know I’m privileged. I’m also marginalized in overlapping ways, but if we wanna look at a net gain, as though privilege is something you can just add up points to, I’m probably more privileged than not, yeah. I’m well aware of that and strive to not ever shutting down people. Indeed, I hope my tone here is only as dismissive as is fair, and not some condescending mansplaining bullshit. Overall, I try to be open to reasoned criticism. That, to me, is the way privileged people can best be feminists, by listening to the pain and critique of those more vulnerable.

Thing is, I’m not sure your critique holds much weight. I mean, people like me got Trump elected…what? I have always been very outspoken about my political feelings, which are anything but supportive of him. It’s even caused a few fractures in my personal life because of how emphatic I am that he’s cruel and dangerous and a clear representative of the regressive alt-right backlash we are currently facing as a society. I did vote, and I can promise you it was not for him or anyone in his party (nor third party, Gary Johnson was honestly just as bad).

As for your criticisms of Helen and River, I find them reductive and frankly kinda sexist. I’ll absolotely advocate more women write for Doctor Who, hell I was ranting a bit about the lack of diversity in the expanded universe earlier today in my group chat, and I think the shortcomings of diversity in the Doctor Who televised series staff speak for themselves, though I gladly rally behind any women or people of color working on the show. River isn’t just a prisoner, and certainly not one of the Doctor. Sure, she lives in a prison, but she basically treats it as her full service hotel, and has been shown breaking in and out at will, sometimes to go off with the Doctor, sometimes just for her own adventures. She faces a lot of oppressive forces, but to me, what makes her shine is that she always transcends it as a radical, queer, glorious force for her own agency. And Helen, sure, Helen’s a quieter character, less engaged with action. But for me, what’s so important about her is how much her choices matter. She is very well-meaning and very human. For example, letting loose Caleera was all on her, a choice which had tremendously damaging reprecussions, but also was a moment of solidarity between oppressed women that saved the day in the end, which, in my opinion, is a pretty feminist arc to have. That supporting other hurting, marginalized victims of prejudiced institutions is always the right thing to do, and that solidarity can heal and save the day. Helen is strong not just because she’s a feminist, but because she is given the agency to make potentially catastrophic choices (and sometimes they are, Absent Friends exists) based on what she believes and not be treated as weak or a bitch or any other reductive category, just as a very strong and heroic and sympathetic and good.

That’s what I get out of their stories, and it’s what other people have told me they also get out of them, to their betterment. You can get something else out of it, but please don’t tell people who find progressive strength and joy from stories that they’re awful people. Not just for me, but, to get, like you say, “white knighting,” for the many women who are able to keep fighting their fights as a result of such characters. Feminism and queer activism aren’t, in my experience, about the lashing out, though we absolutely do need to fight back against oppressive forces. They’re about a solidarity among the suffering and finding a collective strength to fight that fight together and far, far stronger, and about helping others to listen and support such a cause (part of why I personally admire Steven Moffat so much is that he has listened to such criticisms and made changes for the better). Like, for example, Donald Trump. I will always be on your side to fight that fight. But I don’t think attacking me in my inbox is fighting that fight, or any particularly relevant fight, in any way whatsoever.

how long can we keep doing this?
i’m asking because i want to know.

how long can i go on pretending like i don’t want something more?
how long do i have before i lose you to someone else?
how long until we get what’s coming for us?

sometimes i think of saying things like -
‘if you can’t love me then you should just let me go’
but it always comes out like - 
'it’s okay baby, i am down for whatever’

so i’m asking: how long?
i guess i’m still holding out for forever.

—  letters from drake’s ex; let me go let me bring it home, now and forever 
A Moment Lost- A Romione One-shot

This one-shot is inspired by this post, and @weasleyismyking540 ‘s statement 

“ That day Hermione was packing books in Ron’s room and the way he seemed like he jumped when Harry opened the door and pretended he was doing something led me to believe that they were about to have a moment that Harry cockblocked….as usual, lol”

It sits nicely in the Chapter 6: A Ghoul in Pajamas - Deathly Hallows

Since I am suffering from a maddening bout of writer’s block, I thought maybe writing one-shots will help me get back in action. This scenario is most likely done before, but one more won’t hurt anyone, will it?



A Moment Lost

“Now, Ron, have you cleaned out your room yet?”

“Why?” exclaimed Ron, slamming his spoon down and glaring at his mother. “Why does my room have to be cleaned out? Harry and I are fine with it the way it is!”

“We are holding your brother’s wedding here in a few days’ time, young man –“

“And are they getting married in my bedroom?” asked Ron furiously. “No! So why in the name of Merlin’s saggy left –“

“Don’t talk to your mother like that,” said Mr Weasley firmly. “And do as you’re told.”

Ron scowled at both his parents, then picked up his spoon and attacked the last few mouthfuls of his apple tart.


Ron glared hard at the utter mess that was his room, still furious with his Mum and her paranoia to have every nook and corner of the house cleaned up.

Figuring that it was impossible to manage this herculean task all by himself, he collapsed on his bed on top of the pile of clothes and other random articles that were spread all over it and grumbled under his breath.  

Crookshanks strutted leisurely from under his bed and after shooting him a calculating look like he always did, jumped up to curl next to him. Ron brushed the cat’s fur absentmindedly, and he stretched, scratching his bedsheet with his claws before turning around and pressing his furry belly against Ron’s body. Over the years he had grown fond of the beast, though he would never admit the same to Hermione.

Hermione.

He let out a sigh and rubbed the cat behind his ears earning himself a satisfied purring from the furry animal. It had been a while since Hermione had come down but thanks to his Mum, he had not even managed to get a few hours alone with her. Ron closed his eyes and reminisced about the first and the only day when he had managed to get her all by herself. One glorious hour, when neither his Mum nor his sister or anyone else from his large family had interrupted his moments with her. He placed an arm under his head; the full breakfast was making him pleasantly drowsy.

The knock on the door broke his musings, and he swore under his breath while picking himself up.

“I’m on it! I’m on it!” he grumbled aloud while opening the door. “You can’t possibly-!“ The rest of his angry tirade was cut off midsentence as Hermione entered the room silently and shut the door behind her. It was hard to control the grin that appeared easily on his face, and he ran his hand through his hair and chuckled softly to himself, suddenly feeling a lot happier than before.

“Escaped, have you?” he grinned as she slumped down at the edge of his bed, the only space sans any of his mess. His brain was quick to picture himself next to her, and he cleared his throat and turned away to hide the blush, and sat himself down on Harry’s bed instead.

“Your Mum forgot that we had changed those sheets already,” she explained with a naughty grin before glancing around at the disaster that was his room. “Have you been cleaning at all?” she asked arching an eyebrow.

Ron moved Harry’s sack from the bed and placed it at the foot of the bed before proceeding to pick up all the articles from his bed in a big scoop and dumping them at one corner of the room.

“On it,” he replied quickly.

She stood up and retrieved some of his books from the pile and he collapsed on the now empty bedspread.

Releasing a sigh she placed some of them back in a comparatively empty space on the floor and turned around. His heart squealed in joy as she covered the small space between them quickly and occupied the place next to him.

“I have to sort our books anyway,” she said casually. She indicated him to pass her Harry’s rucksack and he did so silently.  Without another word, she pulled at the drawstrings and began digging inside Harry’s sack. But Ron’s brain had stopped processing. Hermione was sitting way too close, their sides touching and sending pleasant jolts all over his skin.

He cleared his throat and watched her pull out Harry’s books. Quite a few of her locks had escaped from the messy bun and were now framing her face. Some of those brown curls were sticking to her temple.

He wondered if it would be a good idea to help her hair escape the confines of the bun and allow them to cascade down her back. Would that be too much? What did that effing book say about this? He tried thinking but couldn’t, possibly because she was looking at him now; slightly confused perhaps but definitely a little pleased too.

He reckoned that the book did say something about pleasant surprises, and hoped with all his might that he was interpreting it correctly as he allowed his fingers to tuck a curl behind her ears. The blush that crept up her cheeks was hard to miss. He must have done something right. Finally!

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, his finger still tangled in her hair and palm cupping her face slightly. Feeling a little braver he caressed her cheek gently with his thumb. She smiled and averting her eyes nodded a little.

“Yeah, keeping busy helps a bit,” she responded in a sadder voice which she tried to hide behind a small laugh.  He turned a little to face her better and after a moment of hesitation, brought his other hand to cup her face, angling it ever so slightly towards him. She took the hint and met his eyes.

“You’ve done a very brave thing, Hermione. When all this is over, we’ll bring them back.”

She bit her lip and his eyes were inexplicably drawn towards them. He had been craving to taste those for a while now.  Perhaps she noticed because she released them slowly, almost torturously so and Ron was sure no book could prepare him for what was happening now. He noticed how her breathing hitched, and now the sadness in her eyes was replaced with something else. He could almost feel the small gasps of air that escaped her slightly parted lips. He stared openly at them this time, embarrassment long forgotten. And when he finally looked up and met her eyes, he was sure Hermione had been watching his mouth too.

Was this it then? The moment when he kissed his best friend, the girl he had been secretly in love with all this while?

He leant in slowly, giving her all the time to move away- but she didn’t. His eyes almost fluttered shut in anticipation-

“Bloody Hell!” he spat at the sound of footsteps just outside the door. In the silence of the moment, it was as loud as a cannon blast (or perhaps it was the vigorous thumping of his heart?). They shot apart from each other as the door opened a smidge and he bounded off the bed.

“I’m doing it, I’m doing it-!” he barked furiously, but it was not his Mum but Harry who entered through the door. “Oh, it’s you,” he said with a mixture of relief and annoyance and glanced around. Hermione was now sitting on the floor, busy sorting books into two distinct piles. Ron was sure she had Accio-ed some of them from the desk and some from his bed where they had dropped them earlier. Crookshanks, duly playing his part in the act, was busy grooming himself at her feet.

“Hi, Harry,” she said casually, as their friend sat down on his camp bed.  He collapsed on his bed instead, exactly where the two of them were sitting even a while ago.

“And how did you manage to get away?” Harry inquired of Hermione.

“Oh, Ron’s mum forgot that she asked Ginny and me to change the sheets yesterday,” she replied before throwing Numerology and Grammatica onto one pile and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts onto the other.

“We were just talking about Mad-Eye,” Ron told him, eying Hermione and noticing her get the hint. “I reckon he might have survived.”

And just like that, they were back to being just friends as yet another moment was lost.


Martial Hat (a poem)

Martial Hat


If I wade out
into the sunlight today
if I go out and brave the world

it may be that a new moment
will happen to me
or around me

whatever the case may be
something worth remembering
for later on

to compell me to pick up my pen
and pretend I am a poet again
something as easy to do

as a child pretending to be
a pirate on his sofa-ship
inside on a rainy afternoon
and he must play alone

right down to the same kind
of martial hat
we both choose to wear.

What if Person A had to use braces when they were a kid and they have a family photo showing them smiling with braces on their teeth on the bedside drawer and hide it when someone visits but this one time Person B is so mad at them for reasons they mess all over their place and empty the drawers finding this photo and thinking that they were really the sweetest and most adorable person walking the earth and when Person A comes back home Person B just jumps them and kisses all over their face and they snuggle up in bed together


P.S. Smut may ensue because I am a mess of a human being and fell too damn low into the trash pit of Hell, I am so down in it I am a dumptruck, no I am Lord Dumptruck, call me that from now on.

If anyone writes something based on this, with one of the pairings in the tags I would humbly PRETEND YOU SENT ME THE LINK TO IT FUCKER.

Cheers ^_^

Sometimes I really do feel like I have gotten too good at covering things up. I’ve been covering up my personal life for over 6 years. Anytime anything happens I know what to do so that it does not affect me or my emotions on the outside and no one has to know. My parents almost got divorced 3 times and no one knew. They separated and no one knew.

One time I was in sixth grade and they were in a fight. I had been in my room the whole time and I got hungry. Once one of them went upstairs I came downstairs and quietly went to the kitchen to eat something. They came back downstairs and went back to fighting in the kitchen. I felt so scared in that moment because I just wanted to be somewhere else, back in my room and safe. When they were fighting I quietly got close to the back of the kitchen, I was basically standing inside the pantry. Even after it ended I couldn’t make myself move for almost an hour because I was scared. No one knew I was there, they all thought I was up in my room. Eventually I had to find the courage and pretend like I had come downstairs a short while ago to get something and that my dad must have not seen me come down. I took some food and went upstairs.
I guess that’s the worst part I remember.
No wonder I ended up the way I am.

—  writtwithwitt 

anonymous asked:

I love your writing and am somewhat addicted to this tumblr, I must confess. One of my favorites was mpreg Obi-Wan with baby daddy Jango. Wondering if you'd be interested in writing something with Boba -- him sitting with Obi-Wan to feel the baby kick? And perhaps Boba feels inferior because he's a clone and now a natural born kid is on the way, and Obi-Wan and/or Jango shut that thought down with love and fluff and of course you belong to us just as much as this new baby does. Thank you!

Pretending not to notice Boba’s hesitation, Obi-Wan carefully sat down with his milk and his datapad and focused on it. Sometimes it was easy to handle Boba, tell him to come to you and give him a hug.

Other times you had to give him time and let him come to you on his own.

This was one of those.

It was obvious the child was uncertain when it came to the baby. Jango had already told Obi-Wan to take it easy on Boba if the child acted out of character, not that he really had to tell the Jedi.

He smiled when Boba finally crawled in beside him on the couch and looked to him, finding those familiar amber eyes focused on the slight swell of Obi-Wan’s stomach. “Boba?”

“Can I touch? Like dad does?” Boba peeked up at him then back at the swell.

“Of course.” Obi-Wan sat the glass and pad on the coffee table, shifting so Boba could sit on Obi-Wan’s lap instead of beside him. The pre teen carefully placed his hands on the swell, staring at it as if he expected the baby to somehow move.

“…Its only three and a half months old Boba. It won’t be arriving for another five or six. Or moving around for one or two.” The Jedi stroked the soft fluffy hair slowly.

“Dad said they’d have to cut the baby out of you.” He mumbled in return, biting his lips. “Am I still going to live with you and dad when it arrives?”

Obi-Wan blinked then wrapped his arms around Boba. “You are Jango’s first child, of course you will.”

“But I didn’t…I was cloned.”

“And Jango wanted you so much that he asked for you. He asked for you because he wanted to raise a wonderful child and he got you and he is so proud of you. I am too.”

“But I’m not a Jedi.”

“No, but you are turning out to be one hell of a Bounty hunter. Not that I approve of Jango bringing you along for those.” Obi-Wan offered dryly before squeezing the other to him tightly.

There was a slight giggle against his shoulder. “You got mad at dad.”

“Not mad, worried. I care about you.” Obi-Wan countered, nuzzling the soft hair under his head.

“…Oh.”

There was a flash of both embarrassment and utter pleasure going through the young lads aura.

“But as for the baby…think about everything you can teach them. You will be the older brother after all.”

“…I can teach them to hold a blaster!”

“…Well yes, there is that.” Obi-Wan smiled in bemused pleasure. At least the other seemed to be warming up to the coming arrival though Obi-Wan was sure they’d have to assure Boba more in the future.

The Boy in the Space Jacket

Pairing: Phan
Genre: angst
Word Count: 1,100-ish
Warnings: homophobia, bullying, mild bruising/bleeding, one swear (oooh what a rebel)
Prompt: Could you make a fic where Dan and Phil are in high school and Phil gets bullied and Dan stands up for him? -super-phan-locked
*I’m sorry I switched the people I read the prompt wrong*
Disclaimer: This isn’t real (obviously- Dan and Phil are kind of grown men). I am just a lame little teenage girl who likes to write fanfiction. Also the bullies are made up people because I didn’t feel like insulting some YouTuber by making them the bully (although I could have used some abuser like Alex Day or Jason or Sam Pepper… hmm…). Also this is all based around how American schools are because I know nothing about England’s school system except that they’re called “years” or something.
(Wow, world’s longest disclaimer.)

Keep reading

Rae and Finn in bed. Both asleep. She’s frowning, shaking head from right to left, faster and faster, she sarts saying something.

 

-         No, no, no ! Please don’t be ! I’m sorry ! NO PLEASE !

 

She stood up, sweating, short on breathe, almost suffocating. Count to ten, just count to ten.

Staring to settle she remembered where she was, and realised he now was up too, his hand on hers. It was pitch dark but she could feel his glance. Maybe if i just lay back in he won’t ask.

 

-         Rae ? Everything’s fine ?

 

Of course he will. Fuck you Finn Nelson and your endless caring.

 

-         Yeah, i just…go back to sleep, i’m fine.

-         You sure ‘bout that?

-         Yep. You don’t have to worry, i swear.

-         Alright then..

 

They both lay down, his head right in the back of her neck. His breathe seems to soothe her. Not enough though. A tear drops from her eye, then a second, and another one. Soon, she finds herself sobbing. He passes his arm around her chest, holding tight to her hand, getting closer.

 

-         You know i can hear you cry right ?

-         ..I’m not crying, what d’ya mean ? I’m just… i think i might have a cold actually. Got any tissues ?

-         Yeah, on the bedside table next to ya.

-         Oh, thanks

 

She bends to the table, reaching for some tissues. He puts his head on her shoulder.

 

-         Were you having a nightmare ? D’ya want to talk ‘bout it ?  I know sometimes it helps to..

-         I’m okay Finn, seriously. Just go back to sleep, yeah ?

 

How could i even tell you about that ? Where would i start ? Why should i bring something like that when i’m finally being happy ?  Again, she lays down, spooning with him. When i have you by my side..

 

-         You…you don’t have to pretend with me … i don’t care if… i mean…

 

He writes something on her back, ending up kissing her neck. She smiles.

 

Few hours later. Sun barely creeping through the curtains. Rae opens her eyes.

 

-         Holy fucking shit !!!!

 

Finn frowns, still half asleep.

 

-         Shit, shit shit…Where is this fucking shoe ?

-         Always so lovely when you wake up or am i being lucky ?

 

Oh great, and now i’ve woken him. Again. Oh God, he’s even sexier with his hair messed up like this. Her eyes noticed the blanket was hardly covering his lower hip. If he wasn’t stark naked already, i would shred his clothes to pieces and just..Talking about clothes, where did this fucking shoe went for God sake ?!  He looks at her, covering herself with the sheet, furiously searching for her shoe under the mess of all their clothes covering the floor. A cheeky smile runs on his face.

 

-         Maybe you lost it downstairs. We were rushing a bit last night. Not that i’m complaining tho’

 

She laughs.

 

-         Yeah, better check downstairs. Nevermind if i use the barthroom ?

-         Nope. Was it so bad ?

-         What ? What are you talking about ?

-         Dunno, seems like you’re basically running away.

-         Oh. No, no, no, i’m not. My mom’s gonna kill me if she wakes up and finds i’m not home. Told you i shouldn’t have stayed. I overslept.

-         At least i make a good pillow then. Can pillow ask for a kiss ?

 

Rae comes back to him, still covered by the sheet, she sats down and gives him a long kiss. I  never want to leave his lips. But i’m surely never kissing them again if i’m dead. Better go now.

 

- Sorry dear pillow, sheet and i have to go.

- Give me a ring later, just so i know neither of you are dead.

 

They smiled and she rushed to the bathroom as he put his head back under the blanket.

 

 

Rae’s silently closing the front door, looking at the clock. Maybe mom’s not up yet, i’m just gonna sneak into my room, right into my bed..You can do it Rae, yeah, almost there. Stop breathing. Slowly open the door. Here we…

 

-         Mom ? I’m so fucked.

-         Will you please follow me downstairs Rae ?

-         Mom, i’m sor..

-         Downstairs.NOW.

 

They both walked to the kitchen without saying a word.

 

-         Take a sit.

-         Mom..

-         Don’t.

-         But..

-         WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ?! Out to get wasted again ? Thought we already went through it Rae. I forgave you once, not twice, you’ve been warned.

-         I..i wasn’t getting drunk or anything, i..

-         Where have you been all nigth then ?

-         Was with some friends.

-         Oh yeah, same friends as last time ? Will you ever learn ?

-         No, not them. They weren’t friends anyway. 

-         I know you weren’t at Chloe’s, i called her parents.

-         In the middle of the night ?

-         Well, my daughter was missing, what did you expect?

-         …

-         So, not Chloe. And if you were at the pub you wouldn’t be so secret about it. Don’t make me ask again Rae, i’m losing control.

-         Alright ! I was at Finn’s !

 

Linda looked confused and yet, rassured, somehow.

 

-         Are you lying again ?

-         No. You can call him if you want.

-         I sure will. Did his father knew you stayed at his ?

-         Of course.

-         He has no clue right ?

-         … He’s away for a few days.

-         And why exactly did you… Are you and Finn together again ?

-         What do you mean “again”?

-         I may be blonde but i’m not that stupid Rae. So ?

-         Yes.

-         Great. Glad for you. He’s a good guy.

 

I never tought mom would be so cool about it. Maybe she realised i’m not a child anymore. Maybe she’s gonna leave me some space. Maybe i could ask her to stay at Finn’s ‘till his father come back. That would be perfect. Just me and him, for a few days. Kissing and..

 

-         Now you’re going to your room and you will stay in there until i decide otherwise. No more pub. No more gang. No more Finn.

-         WHAT ? You can’t do this to me !

-         I told you never to do that again. And you did anyway.

-         But…

-         Rae, you know it : as long as you live under my roof, you live

-         Under your rules. Got it.  Can i ask you a favor tho’ ?

-         Do you really think you’re in a position to ask for anything?

-         I have to call Finn, just once. To let him know i’m not…to let him know i got home safely.

-         I’ll call him.

 

Rae’s room. She’s writing in her diary.

 

There was not point in arguing. As mom said, i wasn’t in the position to do it. Still, this decision was so unfair ! I mean, she couldn’t have done worse. No more Chloe, no more Archie, no more Izzy or Chop…NO MORE FINN ! And i couldn’t even call him ! I’m so mad at her right now. I understand. But i’m still mad.

Last night was perfect by the way…even more perfect than the other night. Remember how i described it as a sex-quake ? This was even better. What is more powerfull than a sex-quake? We agreed i would meet him at his to have this deep talk he desperatly want to have. He says he want to know everything i went trough. Anyway, as soon as he opened the door, the look he gave me made me want to do him right there, on the porch. He’s so hot, how is he even human? We managed to go inside eventually, and instantly forgot about the talk we were supposed to have. Feeling his body next to mine, his breathe on my neck, his hands all over my skin… Perfect.

That was until i woke up in the middle of the night. It keeps happening. I haven’t talked to Kester about it. I thought now that i fixed things with everyone, it would have stop. But it didn’t. It’s not just a nightmare. There is so much more to it. Much more that i can take.

————————————————————————————————

Let me know what you think, should i continue ?

Again, English ain’t my birth language, it’s the very 1st time i try and write a whole ‘story’ in this language so, sorry for all the grammar & vocabulary mistakes and everything.

“LIFE IS WHAT YOU MAKE OF IT”

I was thinking about it, lately. i was thinking about how much a critic affects us way more than how much a compliment does. Even though a complment is way harder to say. So when someone comes to us and says: “your nose looks wrong” or “your face is so covered in freckles” it will have a stronger impact on us than when someone says: “your hair looks nice today” or “I really like your hands”. When we are talking about abilities and skills then it’s even worse because when someone tells us the tinyest critic we’re going to think bout everything we’ve done until now and give it all up because of just that tiny little negative spot. So instead of pushing us to do better we’ll end up in a spiral of negative thoughts. Why do we let this happen to us? I mean, why don’t we accept we have defects since we are humans and it is statistically impossible to be perfect or for everybody to like us? Why do we let people affect us so much? Why can an only critic destroy years of work? I’m not trying to paternise anyone, but I deeply though about this our negativity. And I was OUR because it would be pointless to pretend I am not like this. It’s all a matter of thinking, of practicing so I decided to start from the beginning, from zero, and try to think positive, which is quite hard to me. I decided I am going to take the good that comes together with the bad stuff. Because there will be bad stuff. I will write down all the good things that happen to me so tat when something not that good happens I could look at them and think that, even though bad stuff happened good stuff happened as well. And I am not saying this because I want to make a cheesy and fake video but because this kind of things hurt me and not just me, and I think I can be the only weapon against myself, or for myself. nd I learned this the hard way. fter all my motto has always been “tomorrow’s a new day” and it has worked quite good until now. Let’s stop being just dependent on other people. We have the power to choose how to look at things so let’s try and use this power. It cannot be that bad. I want to do it, I will do it, and we can kind of try and do it together. it’s a journey with myself I am willing to take. And you?

—  Doyouknowellie

you can’t tell her you left me
because I was unfeeling.
you can’t call me out to all your friends
and act like I was not enough.
you can’t pretend that it wasn’t you,
curled up on your bed at three am,
wondering how you could have
done something so wrong
that the one pure thing you had,
the one person who stood by you
through so many of your ups and downs,
couldn’t stand it anymore.
don’t pretend like I didn’t mean something
when you know I still mean the world.

Poof! The Stans are back to normal.

Stanley: Ugh… my head’s all fuzzy and weird. What in the heck happened? All I remember is somethin’ about Ford bein’ really tall… and I wanted to punch things a lot?

Stanford: You were knocked unconscious, Stanley. You must’ve just been hallucinating while you were out.

Stanley: ‘Knocked unconscious’!? By what?

Stanford: Uh… beavers raining from the sky? Yes, that was it. T’was a strange yet wondrous sight. I told you to stay inside, but you refused. Out you went and one fell right on your head. Knocked you out cold! Luckily, I was able to brave the storm and drag your body back into the house.

And the strangest and most convenient part? I desperately tried to find the one that hit you to seek revenge, but alas; they all retreated into the woods without a trace.

Stanley: *long pause* Are you high, Stanford?

Stanford: I am, indeed, very high! High on science! Now, I’m going to go back down to the basement to do more science! To get more high! Have a good night, Stanley!

*Stanford retreats from the room and runs downstairs. As he descends, Stanley almost swears that he can hear Ford crying and mumbling something about how 'nothing good can last forever’.*

Stanley: I’m just gonna pretend that never happened. Now, to-

Dipper: *walks in* Hey, Grunkle Stan. Notice anything different about me today?

Stanley: https://vine.co/v/Mx6QYwxT5TO