i enjoy these coincidences


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summary: the de-aged, smol!Shiro fic no one asked for.
in this chapter: Shiro and the Actual Adult. …ish.

Who lost Shiro doesn’t matter: Shiro’s gone, again. Keith can’t listen to this. “Twenty minutes is too long. We shouldn’t have let him go off without being sure he knew where he was going!”

“But - you agreed!” Lance sputters, incredulous and defensive. “I mean, fine, yes, we should have gone with him, but - I didn’t realize he didn’t know - ”

“How could he?” Hunk groans. He scrubs his hands down his face, distraught. “Why didn’t we think? Aw man, Shiro could be anywhere!”

“Well, it’s done now, isn’t it?” Allura snaps, concern badly hidden in her harsh tone. “Arguing about it is not going to help.”

“Easy for you to say,” Lance says, glaring. “It’s your fault Shiro’s lost, princess.”

Allura’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

read the rest here!

How I Overcame Reader’s Block (And So Can You!)

As a kid, I adored reading.  Okay, more specifically, I enjoyed reading about dragons, but that’s not the issue here.  

It frequently coincided with my equally as intense love of climbing trees, and some of my fondest memories involve being perched in a small tree and reading some hopelessly goofy, dragon-related literature while my mom and toddler siblings used the playground equipment.  If no climbable trees were available, I’d settle for reading under one and drinking a thermos of chocolate milk while they ran around in the park. 

As I got older, my tastes got a little more eclectic as I encountered Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Anne Shirley, the residents of Narnia and Middle Earth, respectively, and much to my mother’s horror, Stephen King, but my passion remained more or less the same.    

Bottom line is, I loved reading.  It was my paramount joy, my primary source of entertainment, and I didn’t think that would ever change.

So imagine my shock when, around my sophomore year of college at the age of seventeen, it occurred to me that I hadn’t really read for pleasure since I discovered the Hunger Games a year or two prior.  Moreover, and equally as horrifically, when I tried to read I found I couldn’t focus;  regardless of the quality of the story and how much I wanted to read it, the investment was gone.

Whether this was due to my first stint with organized education (prior to college, I was homeschooled) or the fact that I’d grown accustomed to the bite-sized chunks of candy-flavored, insubstantial information served up by the internet, the sad and simple fact was that I had fallen out of love with reading, and it looked like it was going to stay that way forever.   

Well, flash forward two-point-five years to Present-Day Brooksie, and since school got out in early May, I’ve read Chuck Palahniuk’s Make Something Up: Stories You Can’t Unread, Ruth Ware’s In a Dark, Dark Wood, Emma Straub’s The Vacationers, Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book, and Celeste Ng’s Everything I Never Told You.  Despite the disappointing lack of dragons, I loved all of them.    

I drink books like nectar again, if you’ll pardon the floral language, and everything from the quality of my writing to the quality of my life has improved as a result of it.  

So how did I fall back in love with reading?  Well, I’ve spent a lot of time pontificating on this, and as far as I can tell, it can be narrowed down to three factors:

1.  Reading every day.

It started with lunch.  Every day, when I’d sit down at my university cafe, I used to get out my laptop and watch YouTube or whatnot while I ate my sandwich – a cool idea in theory, but really sort of gross whenever I rubbed my greasy fingers on the mouse and keyboard. 

When I made a conscious decision to read more, I began taking out my book and reading during the lunch period instead.  It didn’t come naturally at first – I was easily distracted and kept zoning out – but I ultimately found it very pleasant, especially when I listened to some classical music in the background as well (nice for atmosphere, and for drowning out noise and distractions.)  

I kept doing it.  

When that summer rolled around, I rediscovered an amazing little outdoor cafe by the harbor.  It had no wifi, which for my purposes, was absolutely perfect.

I went there to read Good Omens and eat home baked lemon squares, pie, and banana bread, listening to international tourists speak in other languages, and watch the boats go by.  It was a beautiful environment, and that (coupled with the fact that Good Omens is just really fucking awesome) made it easier than ever for me to want to stay longer and become more engrossed in what I was reading.

Afterwards, I’d take out my notebook and work on my own stories and journal.  Overall, I’d say that summer was one of the most intellectually productive I’ve had.  

Once school started again, it got a little harder to read every day, but by then my love of reading had pretty much caught:  it had become an intellectual drug for me again, a source of comfort, pleasure, and inspiration.  Also, it was another viable excuse to procrastinate on my academic responsibilities, which was always welcome.  So I kept reading.  It was still a relatively slow process, as I had to work around my already busy schedule, but the more I read the more adept I became at drinking in the information in hungry, satisfying gulps (a bit more suggestive than I’d initially intended that metaphor to be, but I’m going to go with it.)

But this isn’t to say that there were no bumps in the road back to bibliophilia.  There was another factor that I had to grasp before I reached the point where I could unabashedly adore reading once again.

Which is: 

2.  Reading what excites me.

No, I’m not speaking sexually, you pervert.  I’m talking about books I actually want to read.  

When I first started trying to get back into literature, I started trying to read the classics exclusively, like Around the World in Eighty Days and Little Women.  Let me be clear, these books are amazing (excluding the jarring amounts of racism and endorsements of British colonialism in the former) but after semesters of reading similar works for my literature seminars, they just felt a little like…academia.  

In fact, the only reason I was insistent on reading classics exclusively, I now realize, was because I was a pretentious, pseudo intellectual little shit back in those days with a horrible case of impostor syndrome.  What I needed to re-learn was what dragon-loving, Ten-Year-Old Brooksie long since already knew: the best way to enjoy reading is to read what you actually enjoy.

It was a lesson I slowly but surely remastered, and it took me a while to realize that modern literature is teaming with smart, enriching reads, like Life of Pi, American Gods, Where’d You Go Bernadette, The Twelve Tribes of Hattie, The Help, Everything I Never Told You, and countless others.  

Moreover, these were books I didn’t have to force myself to read;  they were books I found myself reading at four AM because I didn’t want to stop.  

I’ve also discovered classics that I can eat up in a matter of days, like A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Which absolutely everyone should read, by the way:  Francie Nolan is a feminist icon, and way, way ahead of her time, not to mention it’s fucking hilarious and will make you cry like a little bitch), Jane Eyre, and basically anything written by Jane Austen.  I love these books for their sharp wit, applicable and timeless life observations, and striking lack of the pretentiousness that I’d come to associate with a lot of classic literature.

This summer, I my reading list includes Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse 5, Douglas Adams’ The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club, Louis Sachar’s Holes, Anthony Doerr’s All the Light We Cannot See, and Neil Gaiman’s Anansi Boys.  I’m looking forward to reading each and every one of them. 

Ultimately, the point I’m trying to make here is that there’s no joy to be found in pretentiousness:  don’t read to prove yourself as an intellectual.  Read to enrich your soul, read what you legitimately enjoy, and read what inspires you.  

Which brings me to my next and final point…   

3.  Reading what inspires me.

This one might be true specifically for my fellow authors, but since I know a large portion of my followers are fellow authors, I think it’s applicable here.  

Ever since I was an infinitesimally small child, I’ve wanted to write stories.  When I was fourteen I wrote a hopelessly angsty YA novel about a half-dragon girl named Freedom and her misadventures with an ambiguously lesbian vampire and werewolf duo, a seductive and ambiguously bisexual elf (it was a time of self discovery for me), and a talking lion.  When I was eleven, I wrote a middle grade novel about a little boy who befriends a dragon.  When I was four, I wrote *ahem!* drew wordless stories about a winged wolf-creature named Starlight and his (in retrospect, overtly gory) battles with monsters.

It was bizarre, cringey, and I’m not gonna lie, pretty fucking awesome.  

Around the time I started college at around sixteen, I’d just decided I wanted to start writing again.  I had lots of ideas, and I remember in detail getting yelled at by my manager for scribbling in my notebook behind the counter instead of dutifully smiling at customers the way I was supposed to.  

But my writing was…well, to put it bluntly, it was really, really bad.  It only began to improve when I resolved to write every day.  It noticeably and drastically began to improve when I began to read works that I found creatively inspiring. 

While I was revising my manuscript, I read a lot of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, both masters of the kind of urban fantasy I was attempting to write,  and spent a lot of time figuring out what I loved most about their writing and how to best apply it.  This was also around the time I began reading Douglas Adams, which was, let me tell you, a magical experience.  It involved a lot of delighted gasping on my end and thinking you’re allowed to do that?

It really showed me what the barriers were for creative writing, or in this case, total lack thereof.

I think I owe these writers a lot for helping me to create several novel-length manuscripts I’m incredibly proud of, and one that I’m currently preparing to get published.

So in closing, for anyone suffering from reader’s block, feel free to try my approach:  read every day, read what you love and not to stoke your ego, and for my writer peeps, read what inspires you.

Either way, my books and I are enjoying a passionate long-term relationship, and every day I find myself loving them more.

anonymous asked:

hello!! sorry this is so out of the blue but ive followed you i think since i started watching gravity falls which was,, years,, so ive followed you a long long time and i wanted to say that youre such a positive force on my dash?? your art is so bouncy and fun to look at it makes me v v happy!! n im glad our interests coincide so i could continue enjoying your content that much more jcjdjd but anyway!!! thank you so much for creating and everything you do!! 💜

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i get so happy when people tell me they have been folowing me for that long?? and nrjkfnjke positive force omg thank u so much

here a little mabel doodle sheet THANK u for making me smile ,,,,

I happened to have stumbled upon @xxrainbowgirlyxx‘s unicorn designs for a majority of sexualities and fell in love with this lovely thing here. <3

I desperately needed a good warm-up and was this ever fun! Defiantly a challenge to get all of these bold colors to coincide with each other.

I hope you enjoy the surprise fanart, xxrainbowgirlyxx!!

If it ain’t my two favourite wedding crashers. 

I mean seriously, first we have Grover in a wedding dress in Sea of Monsters. Then Alex in a wedding dress in Hammer of Thor. If I finish the Kane Chronicles without anyone getting into a wedding dress for plot reasons, I’m going to be very disappointed. 

Come Back

Originally posted by imnayeonie

Nayeon x Reader


Word Count: 1024

Written by Admin LJ

(Authors Note: hey all! Just a heads up, this is a sequel to “No More”, a scenario I wrote some time ago. Enjoy!)

It was by mere coincidence that you ran into her.

A year had passed since you two had broken up- one year, three months, and twelve days to be exact- of course, not that you were counting.

Neither of you kept in touch- it would have been too hard on both ends- your heart was already in pieces after she had cheated on you, and she couldn’t bare the thought of hurting you any more than she already had.

You had moved to the big city for a job offer you had received, and you had no idea what she was up to. It was probably better that way, but despite that, you couldn’t tame the overwhelming, hollow feeling in your chest every time you thought of her, which, though you hated to admit it, was quite often.

Given the circumstances, you were more than surprised to hear the sharp, confused call of your name as you were sipping coffee at the local cafe, laptop in front of you, furiously writing up a report to present to your boss later that day. Your head snapped up, instantly recognizing that oh-so-familiar voice you had grown to love and hate. Your eyes settled on her, and your chest felt as though it had caught fire.


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Summer Love - Joe Sugg Imagine #3

You and 3 of your friends go on holiday together. But who is this handsome boy asking you to take a photo?
Word Count: 1.4k


I decided to take a walk on the beach alone, as my friends just wanted to chill. It wasn’t a big deal, I loved taking walks alone, to dwell on memories or overthinking some past conversations. Especially before big night outs, like tonight, I loved the calm before the storm. The sun was about to go down and everything was dipped in a gold light. I loved this time of the day the most. Only a few tourists were still here, catching the last sunlight. It was a beautiful, small beach, mostly unknown and natural. My feet were in the ocean and my heart never felt so light. This is everything I needed right then. “That rock over there is perfect! Just lean against it. It’ll look bomb!”, I overheard a conversation a few meters ahead of me. Some guys were eyeing said rock thoughtfully, walking slowly around it. Some photoshoot, I thought, but kept on walking towards them. “Excuse me? Sorry, would you mind taking a photo of us?” Hm, so no professional photoshoot. I looked up, looking at the young men in front of me. One with long hair and a camera, one with short hair. They were british, I knew the accent. “Sure, why not”, I accepted the camera and walked with them to the rock. The one with the short hair climbed up, the one with the long hair just leaned against it. So I started taking some snaps from different angles. They both were very photogenic and the camera caught the golden light perfectly. “Alright, thank you!” I handed the long haired one the camera and smiled. “You’re welcome. Have a nice holiday”, I said goodbye. “Hey. I’m Byron by the way, this is Joe.” “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” I shook both hands and smiled up to them. “I gotta go, I think my friends are already worried about me. Probably thinking I was kidnapped or something.” “So you got plans for tonight?”, Joe asked, returning the smile. “Yeah, my friends and I wanna go out. It’s our first night after all.” “You should definitely check out the Sundance. It’s a bar, but it has a dancefloor, too and if your friends looking just half as good as you, you gonna get in free.” I laughed at the compliment, but promised to keep that in mind. We said our goodbyes and I started walking again.

I arrived at the hotel room, which I shared with my best friend and told her about the boys I just met. “Were they cute?” “Yeah, totally. I mean, I think so. I didn’t really pay attention.” “you know… It would be really romantic if we fell in love on this trip.” I laughed. “Yeah. Romantic. Getting your heart broken at the end of the trip.” “Y/N you’re so pessimistic. Think positive.” “I’ll try.” “So… Sundance  it is?” I nodded. “Yeah, let’s try it.”
As we all had gotten ready to go out, we decided to get something to eat first, chatting away about our plans tonight. “I wanna make out with a hot Spanish guy”, my one friend giggled. “I wanna dance till the sun comes up”, another chimed in. “I wanna fall in love”, my best friend sighed. “I wanna be drunk to not deal with all of your bullshit anymore”, I joked. I really wanna meet the guys again, I thought to myself. But that was something, the other girls didn’t have to know.
The bar was beautiful, the music good and the crowd hyped. They didn’t lie it was a nice place. My friends and I made our way to the bar and everyone was ordering a colourful cocktail. But I wasn’t in the mood for sticky sweet drinks, so my order was an icecold beer. As my friends chatted away I looked through the crowd, searching for a long haired and a short haired guy with extraordinary good facial structures. But they were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they weren’t even coming, they didn’t say that they were after all. So I concentrated on my friends and forgot about them really quick.
We were dancing to some 90s hit, as a hand grabbed my shoulder. “So did you have to pay to come in?” I turned and looked at Joe, smiling at me with a beer in his hand. “No, we all got free entry. Thank you for the tip by the way. It really is a great bar.” “You’re welcome. Hey, do you want a drink? Mine is empty.” I nodded and followed Joe to the bar. “What do you want?” “Just a beer.” “A beer?” “Yeah.” “You really wanna tell me that you are drinking beer?” I laughed. “Yeah.” “Unbelievable. Alright. A beer for the lady.”
After that we literally became inseparable. We spent every waking hour together, talking, swimming, tanning, eating, dancing. He and his four friends and me and my 3 friends became one big group of friends and it couldn’t have been more perfect. But I began to slowly feel more than pure friendship for Joe and as much as I tried to hide that, my best friend was catching on. “You like him. Joe, I mean.” I laughed nervously. “Obviously. He’s my friend.” “No, not like that. You like him more than that. Way more.” “You’re being ridiculous.” “Don’t try to lie to me!” “I’m not!” “You are! And you’re blushing by the way, it’s quite cute.” I tried to hide my face from her. “Stop it!” “Just admit that you like him and I’m gonna shut up.” “ALRIGHT! I like him, okay? I think he’s funny and cute, he’s a gentleman and he looks amazing. And I hate you.” “You don’t!” My best friend laughed and pulled me into a hug. “But, Y/N, that’s so cute. You two are so cute.” “Stoooop. We are not. He doesn’t even feel that way for me. Besides, I’m not gonna make a move. Our vacation is nearly over.” “We have three more days!”, she argued. “NEARLY OVER! It just would be painful. Nothing more, nothing less.” “Ugh, you’re exhausting me. But fine. It’s your life.” “Right! It is. And now give me my lipstick.”
We made a picnic at the beach. All of us. It was the golden hour again, just like the first time I met Byron and Joe. I was comfortable leaning against Joe’s shoulder, resting my head on it. I had my eyes closed and listened to the waves and my friends conversations. But I had no intention of being a part of it. I was tired and the butterflies in my stomach making me feel nervous as Joe gently caressed my arm. We were close for friends who knew eachother only a little over ten days. “Up for a walk?” He asked quietly. I nodded and it took a lot of my willpower to pull myself away from him. We made our way to the ocean and started talking about the first time we met. “You know, I think it’s quite awkward to ask someone else to take a photo of you, while you are posing hardcore.” I laughed. “Well, it is. But you and Byron are both super photogenic. I was jealous as I took the pictures.” “Oh, shut up.” “No, I mean it. Pretty boys.” We laughed and our hands brushed because we walked that close. My heartrate sped up. Damn, this boy will be the end of me, I thought to myself. “You know, I never would’ve thought I would met someone like you on this trip. I mean, Caspar speculated, that we’d have a new girl every night.” “Well that didn’t work out.” “No. No, it didn’t. But I’m not mad about it.” “You’re not?” “Not one bit.” And with that he took my hand and interlaced our fingers. I let it happen and looked up to him. “You know, I always think rationally and rationally is this”, I pointed at our hands, “not very clever. I mean, we’ll leave in three days.” “But Y/N you’re the first girl who drinks beer with me. You’re the first girl who makes ugly faces for selfies with me. You’re the first girl who ever made me feel that way.” The sun was sparkling in his blue eyes and I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I leaned in for a kiss and for the first time I didn’t care if it was clever. It felt right. “I would love to see you again, when we’re back home. I’ll take you out on a real date.” I laughed. “Well, gladly I got accepted at the University of London, then. What a coincidence.” “No coincidence. Faith.”
The next one! I hope you enjoy these. 
I for sure love writing these.
Kat .xx

pain is part of the package, darling

I should be working *cough* WIPs *cough* on so many things but my muse has abandoned me and I couldn’t concentrate so instead this happened. This is one of those Someone-on-the-team-gets-a-wake-up-call-in-regards-to-Tony. It happens in a bit of a different context though…as it turns out my mind really works in weird ways. Let’s just say that not everything is as it seems in this ‘verse. Or I’m way more obvious than I realise, which is entirely possible. Enjoy :)

Summary: IronFalcon. It’s pure coincidence, the first time Sam notices the bruises. And, just like that, he can’t stop noticing them. Read on AO3.

Part I

They haven’t been in a fight in over three weeks, which is the only reason why Sam even notices.

The team has come together in the kitchen on one of those rare Sunday mornings where everyone is accounted for and nobody is in hiding to avoid retribution for their latest prank, which is in itself unusual. So is Tony joining them, not wearing his perfectly fitted bespoke suit but a lose T-shirt and sweatpants.

Which is not adorable at all, because Tony is a grown man and Sam really needs to get a handle on this ridiculous crush he’s been harbouring for his team mate for an awkwardly long time. Even when Tony is glaring blearily at everyone but Clint—who hands him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, which explains the lack of hostility—Sam wishes the genius would be leaning against him instead of the damn counter. He never liked the stupid thing anyways—and yes, definitely ridiculous.

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*Requested* Imagine forcing Damon and Stefan to have a Disney marathon with you and Stefan moving closer throughout the night until you eventually fall asleep, snuggling together, and Damon taking a photo

( I love how Damon rolls his eyes almost simultaneously with the Disney logo in the gif. I didn´t plan on doing that, it just sort of happened. What a beautiful coincident :D I hope you enjoy this one and now happy reading my lovelies!)

Characters: Stefanx Reader (sorta), Damon

Story Title: “Damn you, Y/N.”

Word count: 925

Your name: submit What is this?

It is a rainy afternoon in Mystic Falls and Stefan and Damon are on their way home after being out for a couple of hours, enjoying a calming, yet somehow suspiciously quiet day in this usually busy town.

They have been arguing about which music era is the best as Damon opens to door to their home. Stefan is a huge fan of the 80´s while Damon prefers the grungier 90´s. It looks like they will never come to an agreement.

Damon: “But you have to admit that the music on the radio got a lot worse since-”

He stops talking midway as he spot you standing there in their living room, which you´ve already prepared in advance.

Damon: “Oh god no.”

They look around the room, spotting several staples of DVD´s, a huge bowl of popcorn and a big TV in their living room.

Y/N: “Who´s up for a Disney marathon?”

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