i can never finish one book at a time

the thing about ‘draw it again’ is that no one fucking tells you that as a kid

or ok they didn’t tell me, not until I was in college

but look you’re a kid and you see artwork in comics, you see animation, you see illustrations in books and on posters and just everywhere and no one tells you how much fucking work went into those things so you assume they just sprung from the ether fully formed and then you try to mimic that, to do everything perfect the first time, so you never build the habits of doing the Steps, the long planning process, because you don’t fucking SEE that part, you see the finished product

its why I love social media because now! now you can see how much FuCkING wORK people do to make comics and animation and illustrations. People post their works in progress and its so fucking validating to know that the shit they do isn’t just perfect the second they create it. It Takes Revisions and Planning, and that still blows my mind, I’m still unlearning so many goddamn assumptions about how this shit gets made and that just adds to my fucking problem, because on top of having all these natural deficiencies that contribute to my inability to Do Thing, I’m also still learning how to do thing

its like I taught myself how to sprint and got pretty good at it but what I needed to learn is how to survive a fucking marathon

how??? do you fix years of focusing on the WRong Shit??? on top of having no motivation, throat-closing anxiety and the attention span of a gnat???

Marauder’s: A Naughty Fiction (Part 1)

Masterlist 

Requested?: No

Prompt: Y/N has always been a student at Hogwarts but has gone through her years practically unnoticed by anyone that caught her eye. This year, she expects that to change. Instead of shoving her nose between the pages of books someone will be begin to take quite the interest in her. Watch her finish off her last year of schooling while fucking around with guys along the way.

Warnings?: Extreme flirtation? Other than that, none… yet. 

Words: 1,110

Originally posted by nellaey



Contentment, I believe, is one of the hardest things to accept. After a 6 long years of sadness and a never ending sorrow which has occupied my life immensely, I have finally seemed to have reached a peak of happiness. Sadness, I assume, can only last so long, but I believe it’s only a matter of time, a matter of seconds where anyone is truly happy, and right now i’m am caught in those few seconds, I better make sure not to blink.

I have reached my last year of schooling with nothing too eventful to fall under my name. My summertime is coming to an end and i’m willing to accept the fact by this time next year, I will by no means have to attend Hogwarts anymore.

I’m a pureblood, in Gryffindor house, but not a pure-blooded Gryffindor. My mother, Y/M/N, is a ravenclaw, my father is nothing more than a Slytherin, and frankly he was ashamed that I wasn’t sorted into either. My best friend is called Lily Evans. She has bright red hair and beautiful blue eyes, she’s been the only thing to keep me sane during my time here. Mainly, my focus has been strictly on schooling, maybe I’d have a little fling here and there but nothing too spontaneous. This year, I expect that to change.

I would like to put in a effort of making myself more appealing, more noticeable. Not that no one didn’t notice me, because Merlin knows they did, I have a handful of admirers but none of them I admire back equally. This time, maybe if I tried, the ones I’d like to get to know would take a liking to me as well.


Me and her sat on the train, gossiping, going on and on about our summertime. She had been writing letters to the Potter boy all summer, and I had been working on myself.

“You look stunning Y/N!” She continued to say, and I smiled my cheeky smile, looking off into the gray distance.

We continued talking, blabbing on and on, until a loud knock pounded onto the window of our train box. The boy behind it mouthing, “Open up”

She obliged, picking up her wand and unlocking the door, Potter and three others piled into the car.

“Lily!” James yelled, his eyes suddenly landing on you.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m James.” He said, fixated on you. You smirked slightly, reaching your hand out to meet his.

“Y/N.” You reply, gazing into his eyes, trying your hardest to seem mysterious, flirtatious.

“James, Y/N’s a gryffindor, like us.” Lily said, smiling at you.

“That so?” Another husky voice said, your eyes wandering to the source.

“Sirius.” He continued, holding out his hand.

“Hello Sirius, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You said back.

“The pleasure is all mine,” He smiled cheekily, then continued. “I thought girls like you turn up in slytherin–no offense Lily.”

“None taken.” She said, smirking at you, knowing your plan.

“Girls like me do, and I would be, my father’s a slytherin, yet they put me here.” You sighed dramatically, the other chuckling. 

“He must not be too happy then.” Sirius added back, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“He isn’t happy at t’all.”

“Were one in the same.” He finished, smiling at you flirtatiously.

“Remus.” One said, nodding at you, smiling brightly.

“Y/N.” You added again, reaching your hand out once more.

“How have I never seen you before?” Remus asked.

“I’m asking myself the same.” Sirius added, looking at you up and down, you could tell he wanted to devour you.

“Well, y’know I tend to hide myself in the shadows within my textbooks.”

“First time I met her she was talking to herself.” Lily added, giggling.

“Pretty and crazy, I like it” Sirius said, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m not crazy.” You said back, smiling, poking your tongue into your cheek.

“I find that hard to believe.” He countered, crossing his legs.

“I second that.” Remus agreed, laughing.

All you did was smile and look back over to the gray sky outside the window, you knew this was going to be a good year.

Everyone continued talking, Remus, Sirius, and Potter and exchanging looks with you from time to time. You also introduced yourself to Peter but he seemed a little distant, yet he watched you intently as well.


The train whistle screeched as the machine stopped abruptly on the tracks, all of us plopping into one another, Sirius holding me steady with his hand around my waist.

“Easy, Love.” He said to me winking, I began to roll my eyes, scoffing at him. I bet he does every girl this way, tries to lure them in at least. We all quickly piled out of the car, still joking around with one another, bumping into other students on the train.

“Oi, look.” Potter says, bumping Sirius in the ribs, catching Remus’ and Peter’s attention as well.

“What is it?” I asked, searching the snug train isle way.

“Severus.” Sirius said, his attention now fully on him.

He had greasy black hair down to his shoulders, and deep purple bags resting under the crinkles of his eyes. He seemed sullen, as if he never smiled once in his life, he seemed almost content with his sorrow.

“What about him?” I asked, genuinely interested.

“He has a mad crush on Lily, and I mean mad.” Sirius says.

“Thinks he’s in love with the girl.” Remus Adds. 

“Oi, let the boy like who he wants, not my fault I have admirers.” Lily said playfully, winking at James.

“I should toy with him, have a little fun.” I said daringly, Sirius giving me a mischievous smile.

“I like where this is going.” He said.

“I could be a little flirtatious with him, see how he reacts. Seems like he’s never had a woman before in his life.”

We all continued walking, all the way up to Hogwarts. Foolishly, and mercilessly playing around with one another. I made sure to sway my hips each time Sirius walked behind me, making sure he saw the curvatures and how the plateaus of my body danced. He was hypnotized, I could tell, his mouth practically watering at the sight of me. Yet, each time one of his fellow whores walked passed him he made sure to say hi, and they did the same back, then giggling away with one of their friends. I laughed to myself, twirling my hair around my finger. I could put a spell on him, I just had to play him right. I had to play them all right.

[Note: If you have a request for an event you would like to happen in this series just message me, and yes, there will be smut. ;)]

4

ADDICTED FOR 15 DAYS // day-13: favorite cousin dynamic

(Jane Cobalt & Maximoff Hale)

Even though he’ll never have siblings, he’ll have her. And I bet he’ll look after her too. If he’s anything like his dad, he’ll want to keep Jane safe.

Tag Game

(Tagged by @ghoulishfigure)

Rules: tag 9 people you want to know better.

How old are you? Oh jeez lol. I probably shouldn’t answer this one. I will say that I’m older than Admin Maddie, though. 

What are you talented at? I’ve never really considered myself talented at much, though most people would tell me it’s drawing and/or writing. (I will say that I’m pretty kickass at finishing a 8-900 page book in like a day or two.)

What’s a big goal you’re working towards (or have already achieved)? For the longest time, ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to model and act. I don’t think I’m quite pretty enough to model, but I’m hoping I can bring something to the entertainment industry via acting. 

What’s your aesthetic? Rainy days and summer thunderstorms and spring peepers that come out after a nice warm evening and fill the stuffy silence with their harmonies. Classic cars and spring leaves and summer sunsets. The color of blood against silk, or on tile or steel; sitting at a pond and fishing where no one can see you, listening to the birds scream hornily above. 

Do you collect anything? Books. So many books. 

What’s a topic you always talk about? Supernatural! I’m always talking about that, or ideas for fics and stories, or I’ll assault Admin Maddie with memes for a while. I also frequently talk about my brother and a few other members of my family, but generally only to those that I’m pretty close to. 

What’s a pet peeve of yours? When people rip out your headphones while you’re listening to music. Being awoken during a really nice nap. Having someone continuously interrupt me while I’m trying to talk. Hearing degrading comments that are malicious and uncalled for. (Basically just assholes in general.)

Good advice to give? Rage against the dying of the light. Don’t let yourself become so callus that you no longer love without limits– but always be wise, be intuitive, be aware. Love, but love without recklessness. 

What are three songs you’d recommend? Oh, dear. I listen to, like, mostly Classic Rock, so. Dream On by Aerosmith. Wanted Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi. Hey There Delilah by Plain White T’s. Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd. 

I guess I’ll tag… @ohmychuckitssamanddean @impalaimagining @adoringjensen @marril96 @sam-winchester-admiration-league @kittenofdoomage @webcricket @willowing-love @doktorswho

(These are all awesome blogs and if y’all don’t follow them you really should, btw.) 

anonymous asked:

What do you do when you finish a book/movie series and you feel sad that it's over

Okay well i usually sit there for like 5 minutes feeling really sad, then I open tumblr and follow every fan account I can.


Or you know, I just re-watch/re read it.

I had this with All The Bright Places by Jennifer Niven, I’ve never read a book as many times as I’ve read that one ahah.

Per request by readers and professionals: I won't close the books.

Someone talked me into not closing the books–including members of the Mythopoeic Society. So I won’t close them here. I won’t use fan art that I never have–I used film stills–so people will stop spreading stories at the most critical time for Book II:The Saga of Thranduil. I am not being watched over here–I’m being watched by the world and one wrong word can screw up the book people want published–not to mention any other things that might come from it. I don’t know where anyone assumed someone with an attorney that specializes in intellectual properties would be dumb enough to use something without credit or permission. I am writing a story with canonical characters from Tolkien. That is a lawsuit–only if I was trying to make money which I’m not and if I were, is anyone stupid enough to think I wouldn’t take an artist with me into negotiations? What if the Estate liked your work? What am I going to, not tell them? I post credit at the end of every excerpt I post. I’ve told people a thousand times if they know an artist to tell me. I have proof of that from a few weeks ago. Come to me first– don’t make assumptions over a rumor. I’m not fake news. I’m not a fake person. I’ve even told you about fan art thefts because my attorney told me about it and I passed it on. If you’re more interested in rumors versus facts, I can’t stop you but don’t drag me through the mud because you are too lazy to ASK me a question or politely send a message so I can make a change if necessary. My word and my honor is far more important than popularity. I don’t write to me popular. I write because I love it like a painter does. My sister is an artist, for the love of God. I know better. I would think others would too.

Originally posted by roseguuurl

3

Sunday Progress Update:

Not my best week. I have been exhausted this week, and I’m sure the overwhelming political shit show that’s been going down hasn’t helped. But, today, we went on a wonderful family bike ride in gorgeous 68 degree, sunny weather, and the break I allowed myself the past two days worked wonders. My legs felt fantastic despite a couple solid hours of riding and plenty of hills.

Now, I’m spending some time with our current book club book (not really my thing so far, but at least I do plan to finish this one). Everything I Never Told You, though? That one, I recommend.

The Boo Boos is thrilled that I left a canvas bag on Walter’s nighttime kennel so he can get even closer to stare at me when I’m reading. 😂 I gave Walter one more piece of pepperoni than him at dinner and he hasn’t forgiven me yet. 🙄

Seeking Writers!

I am looking for people who love to write it doesn’t matter whether you write fanfiction or poetry, writing is writing. I have started a new little project for myself, a literary magazine, though at the moment I’m only thinking of one issue, future issues depend on how well things go this time round. I need your help, I am searching for submissions of: Book reviews, Personal Essays, Poetry and Short Stories. You can submit several pieces of work, all the same type or you might want to send in one short story and a couple of poems, that is perfectly fine. The magazine will be published online and each person who contributes will receive a copy, likely a PDF, of the magazine in its entirety for personal use. Previously I didn’t have a closing date for submissions in mind but I would love to have this all finished and ready to go for the start of July, so the deadline for submissions is June 17th.

Please e-mail submissions or any questions to spilledinkmag@hotmail.com

Things I Love About LoK

Goal: Write 1 thought every day re: why I love The Legend of Korra until I finish rewatching the series.  

#144: Lin comforts Su in “The Ultimatum.”

I can’t remember when I stopped suspecting Su was a member of the Red Lotus during my first time through Book 3.  But it may be that my lingering suspicions of Su let me to miss the touching moment in “The Ultimatum” when Lin comforts her sister, who is worried about Opal’s safety at the Northern Air Temple:

Korra: Did you have any luck getting through to Tenzin?
Su: No one’s answering. What if Zaheer is already up there? I should never have let Opal go.
Lin: It’s going to be okay, Su.
Su: I hope so.

Remember, this is LIN we are talking about. That gruff, tough no-nonsense woman, who isn’t about to get touchy feely with anyone.  And just look at how she physically comforts her sister in this scene: she actually looks like a big sister. Her actions speak louder than her words here, particularly in light of the fact that just five or six episodes ago, Lin and Su were duking it out in an all-out metalbending fight.  Wonderful character development for Lin here. 

see that’s my problem, I get addicted. I watch one show of a a season and I’m hooked, I have to finish it, in the shortest about of time possible. I sit down and read a book and I have to finish it all in a few hours without stopping, because I have to soak up every word on every single page, and not a page can go unread. I like to take it all in, I have to take it all in. it was no different with you, but I promised myself it would be. I promised myself I wouldn’t get attached but here I am, craving you and your presence after ten months of missing you, ten months of facing your absence and yet if you came back, my addiction would not falter, I would still be so stuck on you. and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I get stuck on every one I meet and I really should come with warning labels but how can I warn anyone when I’m silent? when I love so silently while my mind is screaming “don’t let them go” “they’re leaving you.” “you love them so fucking much.” and it screams, but I’m silent and I want you back, and I want to not be so stuck on you and I want so many things but for fucks sake I want to be rid of you, I want your toxin drained from my body so my bones are no longer surrounded by poison but by love, but the thing about addiction is you never see how deep you are in until it’s too late, and you never see the toxins because they are disguised by good, and that’s you. and I’m addicted to storms and sunshine and books and coffee and poetry and so many other beautiful things and yet somehow, you’re my worst one, and somehow you’re the only trivial one I’ve got stuck on. I’m so stuck on you.
—  I miss you please come back // ig writingmyself

Even now, after all this time, I can remember the sound of his laugh. I remember his six smiles too. One when he was talking about his family or friends, another when he got to choose what we watched, one when he wanted people to believe he was okay and leave him alone, another when he would kiss me or hold me or telling me he loved me, one when he was reading a comic or a book and that precious smile he had whenever he heard a song he loved. 

I hope he has still has those six beautiful smiles, even the one he had whenever he kissed me or held me or said that he loved me. I just really hope he’s happy. No matter what. Whoever he’s with, I hope he’s honest when a strange look appears on his face and his heart aches because our song just played on the radio. I hope he tells her that he still thinks of me as a friend and that he checks in with me every now and then because secrets are deadly and it could ruin whatever it is he has now.

When a text pops up from him on my phone I can’t help but smile. Today is a special day and I knew he’d remember. On this day four years ago we met. ‘Thank you for bumping into me, literally, four years ago. It changed everything for me. You brought me back to life. Long live the memories.’

I feel the need to cry and I manage not to but my heart aches with familiarity and gratitude and love. The need to cry is overwhelming and so I’m walking towards the door. THUD. Instead of walking out the door I’ve walked right into some gentleman. This feels like deja vu. When I move back, instantly apologizing, I see him, it’s him. Just like it was on this very day four years ago. “I had to,” he tells me. “I needed to be here.”

“I know,” I find myself telling him, silently willing myself not to cry. “I know.”

And suddenly, I feel like I’m home again, after months and months of feeling anything but.

—  Home is where the heart is darling and without you I’m homeless

ff

Pairing: Gray/Juvia
Title: Point Me at the Sky
Rating: T
Prompt: “This is a five-hour plan ride, we’re sitting together and you’re deathly afraid of flying” AU
Dedicated to: my dear friend, endingsarenotalwaysbad
Requested by : Anonymous
Author’s Note: So I actually started writing this a long time ago and intended for it to be a sort of Christmas gift to Xenia ^^ But work got in the way and I never really had time to finish it up until now. When I read through the requests, I was pleasantly surprised to find that one coincided with the idea I’ve had and I was inspired to finish the draft. This oneshot is inspired by Sophie Kinsella’s book Can You Keep a Secret? I’m clueless about American/International clothes sizes so my apologies if they’re a bit wonky.

“So, what can I get you, miss?” the bartender says as Juvia slumps into the counter. Her hair’s in a frizz and the blazer she’s wearing is draping off her in a really awkward way so she doesn’t feel too offended when the guy gives her an odd look.

“White wine,” she says but then the flight announcement about Glasgow comes again and her stomach does a violent little flip-flop. “Er…on second thought. Give Juvia a vodka and tonic, please.”

The bartender gives her an amused smile and she just groans and buries her face in her hands because oh god, she’s started talking in third person again. That usually never happens except for when she’s upset or sad or angry or stressed. And she happens to be all four right now.

“Rough day?” the bartender sympathetically says.

“You have no idea,” she mumbles. 

The very first meeting she’s set up as a Marketing Executive basically ended in disaster. She was supposed to finalize a promotional arrangement between the company that she works for, Mirukobicchi Sweets and the new cranberry-flavored juice from Nongchang Farm but Nongchang ended up pulling out of the deal at the last minute. She attempted to salvage the situation by giving this really amazing speech about Mirukobicchi and the brand that they represent and embody and it would’ve been really great too if she hadn’t knocked all of the cupcakes from the stand and sent them all flying towards Nongchang’s executive.

The deal’s botched, basically and now she has to go back to the company and tell everyone that they’re going to have to call off the whole promotional campaign they’ve got planned. She knows that the whole marketing team is going to be pissed when they find out, especially her boss Laxus, so she’s not exactly excited to go home.

Well, that and the fact that she has to ride a plane to do so.

See, Juvia has a little secret.

Okay, actually she has a lot of secrets. Which is perfectly normal. Everyone has secrets. There are certain things that she’s never and will never admit to anybody. Like how she likes sweet sherry (the least cool drink in the universe) and that the Kate Spade bag she’s given to her friend, Lisanna is actually a fake. Or that she’s lied to her boyfriend Bora that she’s a size 3 instead of a size 4 (although in her defense, she was totally planning on going on a diet when she told him that. And to be fair, it’s only one number different). Or that she’s once had this weird, sexual dream about her flatmate, Gajeel and actually replaced his pet goldfish with another one because his cat, Pantherlily ate the real one.

Or that she’s horrendously afraid of flying.

No one knows, not even her boyfriend or Gajeel. It’s not something that she wants to announce to the world because her job requires her to fly off to places to attend conferences and secure deals and Bora works in an airline company so he’s always springing her with surprise vacations. It’s really sweet except that it takes her at least a week’s worth of mental conditioning to be even barely functional on a plane. It’s stupid because obviously, nothing’s going to happen to her. Gajeel has once told her that more people die from car accidents or whatever than plane crashes.

But still. She just doesn’t like it. She’d really just rather stay on the ground.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” the bartender says.

Juvia takes the drink and immediately downs a big gulp, her face screwing up when she hears another flight announcement. Maybe she’ll have another glass, just so she can calm the jumpy feeling in her chest.

By the time her flight is called, she’s already drunk two and her nerves are nowhere near soothed. Laxus has just texted her about the deal and if she has the contract with her already and she just texts back an evasive reply about the weather. Honestly, this whole botched deal thing really isn’t helping her. If she doesn’t get a grip on herself, she’s going to do something stupid like jump off the plane mid-flight.

The flight attendant leads her to the first class area and when she sees the big, wide seats and comfy footrest, she immediately feels a wave of guilt for not telling Laxus yet. The company’s paying for her entire trip and since she’s an executive now, she basically gets first class amenities. Laxus was the one who campaigned hard for her to be promoted, so she feels really bad for letting him down.

“Is everything okay for you?” the flight attendant asks her.

Juvia beams at her. “It’s perfect! Thank you very much!”

“Would you like some champagne?”

Well, she’s already had three glasses of vodka. But surely having a teeny glass of champagne won’t be too bad.

She’s not even the slightest bit buzzed anyway.

She nods her head and the woman smiles at her and bows before leaving.

Juvia sinks back against her seat and tries to make herself as comfortable as possible. There’s a Cosmo magazine and one of the articles that catches her eye is the “30 Things to Do Before You’re 30” one. She’s 27 so she’s about to hit the big number and she wants to see if she’s done a lot of cool, fun things before she you know, gets old. Midway through, the plane starts taking off and her hands start to shake. Outwardly, she’s trying to look like a relaxed business-class, top marketing executive. But really, every tiny sound is making her jump and she swears that she’s breathing even louder than usual.

When the plane finally takes off, she’s unable to hold a little squeal and to keep herself from looking like an idiot, she grabs the nearest thing her other hand could find which is the laminated safety instructions. There are drawings of brace positions and maps of safety exits—and oh god.

Safety exits.

She swivels around in her chair and wildly starts to look for one. Where are they? She looks at the map and sees that the safety exit is somewhere in the economy class. She pinches the bridge of her nose with a shaky hand and quietly moans. Why did they have to get her a first class ticket? Why did she have to get promoted? Now, when the plane crashes, she won’t be able to make it to the exit in time and she’ll die before getting married or getting a tattoo or saving a life or—

The flight attendant comes back to give the guy sitting next to her a glass of brandy and a leaflet entitled “Executive Facilities.” He’s around her age, tall and well-built with dark hair and serious gray eyes. He doesn’t look up from the laptop he’s engrossed in, muttering only a small “thank you” when the woman hands him the leaflet and the glass. He sounds Japanese, just like her.

She’s not going to lie. He’s not exactly unattractive.

“How about you, ma'am? Would you like anything else?” the flight attendant asks her. “Another magazine perhaps?”

“No. Juvia—I mean, I’m fine actually,” she mutters.

“Are you travelling on business?”

She starts feeling the same guilty twinge again.

“Um…yes.”

“Would you like a flier about our new business lounge in Thailand?”

“Oh no, it’s fine.” The flight attendant smiles at her and makes a move to walk away. Juvia grabs her hand and tries to keep an outward veneer of calm. “But while you’re here, Juvia—I mean, I would just like to ask. Is that sound normal?”

“What sound?”

“You know, that sound. The one coming from the wing.”

“I don’t hear anything.” She gives Juvia a sympathetic look. “Are you a nervous flyer?”

“No!” She quickly looks away but instead finds herself staring at the gray-eyed guy who just gives her an odd look. She turns back to look at the flight attendant and shakily smiles. “Just wondering. Out of interest.”

“I’ll be sure to check it out for you,” she kindly says.

She walks out of the first class area and Juvia gulps down the rest of her champagne.

The plane suddenly jolts.

Juvia grabs both her armrests, a sudden rush of fear  engulfing her. Here she is, sitting several miles off the ground, in a tiny, enclosed metal box with no way out if a disaster happens. The whirring sound from the wing intensifies and the bumping seems to become more frequent—even the guy beside her has noticed. He’s shut his laptop off to look outside the window and frown. Vaguely, she hears the captain say something about turbulence but she’s too busy counting in her head to notice.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—

The plane bumps again.

Juvia’s head jerks up. What was that? Did they get hit?

She takes a deep breath and tries to relax the grip she has on her armrests. It’s going to be okay. She’s just exaggerating. The plane is totally fine. They probably just hit an air pocket. Or they were struck by lightning. Or hail. Or a thunderstorm. Or—

The plane makes a huge dip.

And at that moment, everything fragments.

Screams start erupting everywhere. Air masks start dropping. The plane starts falling, plummeting downward like a stone. The flight attendant who’s just come back has stumbled forward and banged her head against the floor. Juvia starts grasping at her seat, trying to hold on but she can feel herself being wrenched upwards, like someone’s tugging her, like gravity has somehow stopped working—

“We’re going to die!” she screeches.

The plane has stabilized a little but the stewardess has a little blood on her forehead and the man next to her is grasping his seat just as tightly as tightly she is. The captain starts speaking over the intercom, something about how the plane has some clear-air turbulence and how the rest of the flight is going to be a little unsteady. Juvia can’t bring herself to listen because she’s too busy trying to calm her shuddering heart.

“I’m sorry?” the guy next to her says.

“We’re going to die!”

The plane dips again and she gives an involuntary shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” he calmly says. Juvia blinks at him and tries to calm herself long enough to form a coherent sentence. He’s staring at her with concern, a tiny notch in between his brows. She thickly swallows. He could be the last person she’ll ever see.

“The plane is crashing!”

“The captain said it was just turbulence.”

“Of course, he’s going to say it’s just turbulence! He’s not gonna say "sorry folks, you’re all goners” or tell us that we’re currently about to crash in the Atlantic Ocean—’’

“We’re nowhere near the Atlantic Ocean,” he soothingly says. “And we’re not going to die.”

The plane gives another swoop and Juvia involuntarily grabs the man’s hand. “We are! Juvia just knows that we will! We’re not going to make it. This is it. Oh god. Juvia’s not ready. She hasn’t achieved anything. She’s never had children. She’s never saved a life.”

Her eyes fall to the “30 Things To Do Before You’re 30” article. “She’s never gotten a tattoo or seen a sunset or gone to Antigua.”

“Antigua?” he says, confused.

“Juvia just messed up an important business deal and now, she’ll never get the chance to make it up to Laxus-san. She’ll never get the chance to be Vice-President or fall in love—”

She abruptly stops because what she’s just said was so ridiculous. She is in love. With Bora. And okay, fine. Maybe she doesn’t get butterflies whenever she’s with him and maybe she always zones out whenever he goes on to one of his long speeches about how rich he is or how great his job is. But they’ve been going out for a year now and they’ve hardly had any problems. In fact, they haven’t really argued at all. Not once. 

See? They’re the perfect couple.

“I’m sure you’ll still have plenty of time to do all those things,” the man nicely says.

“Juvia won’t because the plane is going to crash any minute!” The guy opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off before she can. “Juvia’s never going to get the chance to make her parents proud. Well, they can’t exactly see Juvia right now because they’re dead. They died when Juvia was still a little kid. But still, Juvia likes to imagine that they’re up there in heaven or wherever, watching her. She’ll never get to say goodbye to her best friend Gajeel-kun or Lisanna…”

Oh god, why is she still talking? She tries to shut up but she just can’t. Every time the plane jolts, a torrent of words pours randomly out of her mouth.

“…the Kate Spade bag Juvia gave Lisanna is actually fake but Juvia didn’t want to tell her because it was her birthday and she really wanted a Kate Spade bag…”

“…actually a size 4 but Juvia was going to go on a diet. Honestly…”

“…awful woman called Karen. She sits beside Juvia and keeps bossing Loke around. Sometimes, when she’s not looking, Juvia waters her stupid spider plant with orange juice, just to serve her right…”

“…met Cana on Juvia’s gap year. She has really nice clothes so when Juvia goes out she borrows from her because Cana’s dresses make Juvia’s boobs look bigger…”

“…awful presents but Juvia has to pretend that she likes them…”

“…wear G-strings because they don’t give you VPL. But they’re so uncomfortable…”

“…nice girl called Lisanna. Juvia and her have this secret code where she comes in and says, ‘Can I run through some promos with you, Juvia?” but actually, we just go to the Starbucks down the street…“

”…office has the worse coffee ever. Laxus-san refuses to change the coffee machine…“

”…lied and placed that Juvia knew how to speak conversational Mandarin in her CV even though she only knew three words so now she has to keep watching Jackie Chan movies just so she can keep up because Laxus-san keeps sending her to Beijing…“

”…first time Juvia saw him she thought 'Wow, he’s really good-looking.’ He’s very tall and blond because he’s half-Russian. Cana’s always bugging Juvia to introduce them to each other…“

”…size 4 and didn’t know what to do so when Bora-kun bought Juvia underwear, she had to say 'Wow, so lovely’ even though they barely fit her…“

”…spoke in third person when Juvia was a kid and it never really went away. Happens whenever Juvia is nervous, like right now…“

”…didn’t know what happened. Juvia was very sure that she kept the goldfish in a place where Pantherlily couldn’t get it…“

”…never cried in The Notebook but Juvia always cries whenever The Lion King or Anastasia plays because they remind Juvia of when she found out that her parents died…“

Juvia literally has no idea what’s happening around them. It’s as if it’s just her and the stranger and her mouth, spewing out her innermost secrets and thoughts. 

It’s almost like therapy.

”…had this weird, sexual dream with Gajeel-kun that involved bananas and whipped cream…“

”…plays the guitar and writes songs but Juvia hates them all because he repeats the same words over and over again but he’s her best friend so she has to pretend to like them…“

”…got into a fight once because he took the last Pillows ticket and Juvia really wanted to go see their concert…“

”…has a girlfriend who ropes him and Juvia into jazz concerts but we hate jazz and Gajeel-kun loves her too much to tell her so now we have to sit through every jazz concert she invites us to…“

”…lost Juvia’s virginity to Totomaru while Juvia’s uncle was watching Rashomon…“

”…Bora-kun’s like Toto except he talks more and never wears the gifts Juvia gets for him even though they cost her two paychecks…“

”…nervous that Juvia might not know any tricks in bed…“

”…sometimes when we’re right in the middle of passionate sex, he does this one thing that makes Juvia laugh…“

”…can’t expect the initial passion to last but Juvia didn’t think it would fizzle out this quickly—’’

“Excuse me, ma'am?”

Juvia blinks. The stewardess is smiling at her.

“Yes?”

“We’ve landed,” she cheerfully says.

“What?”

“We’ve landed.”

“But the plan was crashing,” Juvia dumbly says.

“We did encounter a fair bit of turbulence but we’ve landed and are in the airport now,” she patiently explains.

“Oh,” Juvia says. “We didn’t die.”

“Yes, we didn’t,” the man says.

Juvia turns to look at him in horror, painfully aware that she’s just blurted out every single secret she’s ever had to a complete stranger.

“Juvia—I mean, I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “You should’ve stopped me.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “It was a little hard to.”

“I feel so embarrassed,” she says, mortified. She quickly tries to run over every thing she’s ever said to him but she’s coming up with a blank.

“Don’t worry about it. We were all stressed out. That was one hell of a flight,” the guy says.

“Er…right! Yes! Now, if you excuse me, I’ll just go and –”

“Um, miss?” the man says, clearing his throat.

“Yes?”

“You’re still holding my hand.”

“Oh!” Juvia quickly grabs her hand back. “Sorry!”

“It’s okay,” he says.

He stands up and takes a suitcase from the overhead compartment bin.

“Will you be okay going home?” he asks her before leaving.

She gives him a weak smile. “Yes.”

Thank god they’re strangers. At least, she’ll never have to see him again. She’s just remembered that she talked about losing her virginity and she doesn’t think she’s prepared to interact with someone who has that kind of knowledge about her.

Keep reading

Reading books in Japanese and French

I think I was quite productive today (and last night…)

After two pages those ten words were the only ones whose reading (!) I couldn’t remember immediately. But I may still forget the reading when I see them in another context~ ^^;; I re-read the text from time to time until the last sentence I have broken down.

Each group of words belongs to one or two sentences of this book. And yeah, there are so many words I might never use actively… but everything that has to do with science is way easier for me to remember. When I finish reading this essay I’ll give one of my other books a go. They’re about raising children.^^

Aaand, twenty-something French vocab. I finished the first chapter and can still read and understand everything~ Pretty cool feeling ^-^

5

I’ve tried Moleskine journals several times, but never managed to finish a single one. It’s something to do with the way it becomes so full/fat by june that the pages won’t open flat anymore, making it difficult for me to write. Apart from that I like the paper, the faded lines (can’t stand bold/thick lines on notebooks, urgh), the size… I will be posting a few pages from my old books here; they’re a bit messy and over the top but whatever, documenting history. (blurred text mainly due to ugly handwriting, haha)

Advice: Writer Doesn’t Like to Read

Anonymous asked:

Any tips for a writer who doesn’t enjoy reading? I have a bunch of books which I have chosen out of genuine interest but I can’t sit there for more than 15 minutes reading. I’m never wholly engrossed. I prefer movies, video games, and cartoons if that means anything.

I am a firm believer that reading is essential to being a good writer. You can be a good storyteller without being a reader–after all, we absorb stories in other forms besides print–but you can’t write good books if you don’t have experience reading them. Trying would be like trying to design a car when you’ve never driven one. (And by design, I don’t mean how it looks but how it functions.)

That said, reading fifteen minutes at a time is better than nothing, especially if you do it every day. Even if it takes you three months to finish a book, that’s four books a year, and after five or six years that will make a difference. :)

Something else to keep in mind: you might begin to enjoy reading more with time. Some people don’t enjoy reading when they’re younger but become avid readers as adults. So, do the best you can–read for that 15 minutes a day and see how that goes for awhile. You might also look into short story collections and there are some amazing middle grade books out there which are much shorter than books for older readers. :)