i got up at like six am to get this edit done

My kid does 13K in damage to studio equip, we handle it like lunatics.

[Part 1]

Some background:

I’m an audio engineer and score arranger full time in my self-owned business. It’s how I provide for myself, my fiancée (also CF), and my mother. I record, mix, and master for bands, voice-overs for local commercials, and write music for people’s weddings, college films, indie games, etc.. It was my passion since I was a child and every day I ask myself why I get paid to do what I do.

You know, until today.

I had a woman schedule to come in because she wanted me to record her monologue for an acting class. I thought it was going to be easy enough. I set up a mic and a music stand in the sound booth and got my workstation prepped for tracking. She was supposed to show up at 3:30, so when 4:00 came around, I called her to ask her if she was still coming. It was my last contract for the day and I was wanting to get home to my fiancée, dogs, and dinner.

“Oh, sorry sweetie, I’m going to be there soon. I just had to get my son from ex-boyfriend.”

Uh oh.

4:12, she showed up with her child.

To preface, I’ve never really wanted kids, and don’t really hate them either. But I’ve been childfree of mind for a decade now in league of several bad child experiences in public.

Anyway, I sat her down at the conference table and tried to talk to her about the contract and billing, etc., and just couldn’t because of the six-years-old pile of ovary droppings next to her.

“Mommy it’s cold in here.” “Mommy, I’m bored.” “Mommy, that guy has girl hair.” “Mommy, I want to play on the phone.”

The incessant whining went on for the entirety of the discussion. She did nothing about it. I had an ache in my stomach that this might be a rough session.

I was right.

I showed her to the sound booth, positioned the mic at face level, told her the basics of mic use, and then she floored me with a question.

“Can my son stay in there with you while I do this?” I insisted that he wait in the conference room (across the hall from the control room) because the control room wasn’t a very kid-friendly place considering the 120K of equipment at arms reach.

“But he’s a little angel.”

I shouldn’t have taken her word for it. I SHOULD NOT have taken her word for it. This kid was ANYTHING but. I let him in, told him to sit in one of the office chairs and don’t touch anything. Needless to say, he touched. I queued the recording arm and signaled her to start. She got three lines into her take before I hear a deafening screech and crash.

That little shit machine had just knocked over a $4,000 Korg into a rack with $9,500 of equipment. Completely shattered the touchscreen on the Korg, busted the dials off of half of the effects, and totaled my distressor that I use for almost all the vocals I track.

All of this, by the way, was the room’s length apart from where I told the crotch goblin to stay.

The kid, because of the loud noise, started full-lung screaming. Not crying. Not yelling. Screaming.

The mother, with no hesitation, ran over to the control room and DEMANDED to know what I did to her child. She cussed at me and accused me of hurting her little snot monster. Threatened to sue and even swung at me. When I told her that her precious angel had just racked up at least twelve grand of damages, she said “good”, spit on me, then stormed out, slamming every door on the way. So I pulled the security camera footage and had filed a police report. Grand total: $13,504.25. I also mailed her the bill for her session for good measure.

Of six years in the studio, this is my only truly terrible experience. Fuck mombies. Fuck having children. Thanks for making my vasectomy decision that much easier on me.

[Part 2]

Keep reading

YOI Fan Rec Friday

Originally posted by yuris-on-ice

(24/2/17)

I got so many lovely recommendations this week! Thank you! Read until the very end for an announcement!

If you do not see your recommendation it means that it will be on next week’s list! 

Rec’d by anonymous:
lie to make me like you by cityboys, Mature, 80k
Victor is a retired actor looking for love, and Yuuri happens to be the (un)fortunate soul to unwittingly ask him out at the beginning of the month. Except relationships don’t come with a script, and it’s much harder understanding love than roles.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Each Sip Like Starlight by cloverfield, Mature, 13k
There are two beds here – both identical, made up neat with hotel linen and pillows piled high. They’re only going to need one.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Winning Hearts by Dawn on ICE (Dawn_Blossom), Teen, 19k
When Victor Nikiforov is 17, he meets Yuuri Katsuki, and they become quick friends.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Until You Return to Me by BatMads, Teen, 35k (WIP)
Yuuri and Victor are in St. Petersburg together at last, but when Yuuri has difficulty adjusting to the transition and tragedy strikes, it seems as though they may be separated forever. Now they struggle to find their way back to each other when the universe seems to conspire against a happy ending.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by @scarlet99 :
never tasted rubies by ebenroot, 16k
In which Yuuri is an unwilling radio host and Victor won’t stop calling in to chat with him.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
even Time by DiAnna44, Mature, 18k
In which yuuri and victor get it wrong until time comes in and allows for them to get it right.

Pomegranate (Never Let Me Go) by loving_mellark, powerandpathos, Gen, 4.1k
Viktor and Yuuri skate to the Underworld myth of Persephone and Hades.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
High-Flying, Adored by terra_incognita, Gen, 26k
Yuuri is new to this whole superhero thing, but he thinks he’s more or less got the hang of it. Moonlighting as Eros, he’s taken up the mask to protect the people of Hasetsu from a surprising wave of organized crime.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
An Inch Too Much by AgapantoBlu, Mature, 5.7k
An unwanted flashback of his past was the last thing Viktor needed before Yuuri’s Rostelecom Cup and in between that, the pressure of being back in Russia and Makkachin suddenly hurting, he feels crushed.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Entwining Fates by rinsled05, Teen, 27k
Imagine, then, if a young Japanese wizard by the name of Yuuri Katsuki had transferred to Hogwarts to escape his past, just in time to meet a Russian Quidditch player who would blow open the very doors he was trying so desperately to close.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Helpless Magic by Shermanshire, Teen, 4.8k (WIP)
AU where Viktor becomes Yuuri’s magic tutor, and Yuuri begins to fall helplessly in love because he’s a little adorable dork.
Helpless! by Icelette, Gen, 681 words (locked to Ao3 users)
Woke up and started imagining Viktor and Yuuri as Eliza and Alexander from Hamilton, at the ballroom, and ended up replacing/rewriting the lyrics for Helpless from the Hamilton musical.
Love Doesn’t Discriminate, Between the Winners and the Fakes, It Skates and It Skates and It Skates by TheSecretUchiha, Gen, 35k (WIP)
Yuuri opens his eyes and there’s an angry man speaking Russian at him and a crowd of expectant fans waiting for a performance by the best skater in the world.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
We Close At Six by beAUtiful (future_fishy), Explicit, 5.3k (WIP)
Yuuri works at the rental desk of an ice rink. Viktor is a business man who happens to go to said ice rink every day after work. Throw in an adopted son, a gossipy best friend and a lot of mutual pining and you get this.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by @ever-so-nice:
when the ice melts in the snow (that’s when you’ll love me) by lilithiumwords, Explicit, 47k (WIP)
Katsuki Yuuri is the worst incubus in the Underworld. Viktor Nikiforov is his human target.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
With The Engine Inside by RC_McLachlan, Explicit, 2k
Victor brought this on himself.
Immaculate Dream, Made Breath and Skin by RC_McLachlan, Explicit, 2.8k
Almost half his life has been spent training for the day that Victor Nikiforov takes him to bed, so when it finally happens after the Grand Prix Final, Yuuri’s prepared. More than prepared: he’s ready. No one’s ever touched him as a lover, sure, but there’s nothing that he hasn’t already dreamed about doing or having done to him to make anything that could happen a shock.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by @skatinggays:
Fatum ad Momentum by maydei, Teen, 18k (WIP)
A re-evaluation of everything, from day one, the real day one. From, “Be my coach, Victor!!” And how trust, friendship, and love were built from there. Through Victor’s eyes, the story unfolds—the journey and experience of knowing Yuuri.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Tale of Sleeping Prince by LittleSnow00, Teen, 49k (WIP)
From when he was 5, Yuuri Katsuki knew he was different.
And he chose to ignore his gift until he met a certain spirit under the cherry blossom petals.
My Sanctuary by sophia191203, Mature, 17k (WIP)
Omegas are rare… like super rare… Male omegas, even more so. Yuuri is one. How is he going to tell Victor?

Rec’d by @harlequinade-13:
Rise Above the Tides by Kashoku, Explicit, 34k
Yuuri was going to go out on top, just like Viktor had. He was going to win gold in his third World’s appearance and then retire to spend the rest of his life with his husband. But when a freak accident during his finale free skate leaves him blind, Yuuri finds himself spiraling into a world darker than the one in front of his eyes and he must learn to Rise.


Thank you for all your recs! ₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎

P.S. I am opening submissions for YOI Fan Rec Friday art/gif/edit banners! Please don’t feel pressured to make anything if you don’t want to, but if you love creating art/gifs/edits and want to create a YOI themed (preferably Victuuri, but I don’t mind!) banner for my YOI Fan Rec Friday posts, send it into my submissions box and it may be selected! 🎉 To thank you, I’ll make a whole fic rec list of whatever you would like (as long as it’s within my fic rec guidelines!) and infinite thanks and internet hugs from me ☺️

Never Have I Ever

So this is for my lovely girl and soulmate @aarondingel for her birthday!

So because I am an epic fail this is a nonnie ask from someone else’s dash but I don’t remember who (if you know the post let me know in an ask and I’ll link it) but it was brilliant and it tickled my brain…so here we go…

anonymous asked:

You could never play ‘never have I ever…’ the sex edition with Robron. They’ve had sex everywhere. I bet they’ve even, with some degree of difficulty, done it on their spiral staircase…

AO3

Robert wasn’t sure how this had even happened, but somehow the quiet night in he’d planned for him and Aaron had turned into, well… this; Pete, Adam, David and Cain all sitting around the kitchen table in the Mill, chatting away. An odd mix to be sure, but the conversation was light and full of laughter. Windows thrown open and sun rays danced across the titanium surfaces, beers all round. Robert couldn’t stop himself from smiling when he saw Aaron, as he scoffed and gwaffed with Adam over some ridiculous crack.

It was a sight he had missed so much in those months apart. That kind of free happiness in Aaron, was not easily won and even threatened to be nonexistent in Robert’s life for a moment there, but now things were good, really good.

If anyone asked him, Robert couldn’t have said what the group were talking about because everything else faded into the background when he watched his husband light up. He felt his heart stutter and stop for a second as their eyes to met across the room, his smile getting bigger, if that was possible. Aaron pulled a face at his husband, one that said; Thank you, I love you and I’m sorry for these idiots, all in one hit.

No one had ever known him so completely as Aaron. Even though they struggled with their words, sometimes afraid to use them in case they became uncontrollable weapons, in this they were always fluent. Robert could read Aaron like a book and Aaron just got him right back.

Taking another sip of his beer, he crossed one foot over the other and returned his attention to their friends.

“…and when I came home they were all in their pyjamas drinking wine straight from the bottle playing that ‘Never have I ever’ game, you know the one? ” David said, clearly amused by the memory.

“I’ve never played it,” Aaron confessed, shrugging his shoulders.

“What? Mate, really? Never? Oh, we so have to play,” Adam said, his eyes full of dancing glee at the very prospect.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not drunk enough for this,” Robert interjected and he wasn’t at all surprised when Cain grunted in agreement from his perch on a breakfast stool.

“We need shots,” David said, getting up from the table and making his way over to their liquor stash. He gave it a once over before asking, “You got any Whisky?”

“No!” Aaron and Robert both said at the same time and Robert cast his eyes back over his husband to see if his mood had changed but Aaron was still smiling back at him, and Robert felt his own lips twitch in a subtle response.

“Okay, this’ll do,” David said, returning to the table with a mostly full bottle of rum and six shot glasses.

“Well, get on with it then, since you were so eager to play and all,” Aaron said, when they all held a shot of rum in one hand.

“Hmm, okay. Never have I ever…kissed another guy,” Adam said, eyes crinkling in amusement.

Keep reading

Best Friend (Adam Cole One Shot)

Originally posted by smakager

Submission for @wrasslesmut‘s 14 Days of Valentine’s

Sexy times with the baybay ahead =) I hope you all enjoy <3

Tags: @daintymissdevitt @iloveenzoamore @ang-78 @legitlunatic @fan-fiction-galore @imaginingwwesuperstars @tooweirdforlifex @darwarsnoam @alexispoo @shadow-of-wonder @mindsetcalamity  @omgmissmillie @skyrina @lifeoutofcontrol @laigy2213 @bulletbaybay @thedeboniardevistation @doitwithcole @sarahmatthews7 @waynscastle @mermaidfett @laziestgirlintheworld @alexahood21 @thathpchick @valeonmars @xxmaddhatter39xx @laochbaineann @jenn0755 @wrasslin-x @megan-monroe @brooklyns-scumbag @phlebotomyprincess1 @squirrel666 @effy-christine @wweximaginesxd @pjanina13 @awkward-potato-imagines @jazzytoosweet

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Hit It Fergie

I had to get this fic out of my system!

Fic Request.
  “OKAY BUT READER, ETHANS GF, GETS LINKS TO THE FERGILICIOUS VIDEO AND SO SHE BEGS HIM TO DO IT SO HE DOES AND SHE’S BEHIND THE CAMERA FREAKING OUT AND IT KEEPS MAKING ETHAN LAUGH SO HE HAS TO START OVER AGAIN AND AGAIN AND IT JUST KIND OF ENDS IN A MAKEOUT SESH BECAUSE READER WONT SHUT UP ABOUT HOW CUTE HE IS”  

(Y/T/N)- Your Twitter Name

Originally posted by ethan-support-group

“@(Y/T/N) you need to get Ethan to do this!”

“Please convince him to remake the video!” 

“I’m begging you! Get him to remake the vid!” 

The Tweets and messages flowed in like a flood. Complete with pleas and beggings from your boyfriend’s audience, plus a link to a very old video. 
As soon as you clicked play, your eyes lit up and you were running up to the office where Ethan was editing. 
“Ethan!” You cried as you rushed over to him. “I have an idea for your 1st of April video.” 
“Oh yeah? Let’s hear it,” He replied, his gaze still on the computer in front of him. 
You positioned the phone in front of Ethan’s face and pressed play. 

“Listen up, y'all, ‘cause this is it-”  

“Noooooooo!” Ethan slapped the phone out of your hand. Slamming a finger onto the screen to pause it. “No! That is not happening!” 
“Please, please, please!” You begged, wrapping your arms around him. “It’ll be so funny to see you do it!” 
“I’m not singing to that damn song,” Ethan grumbled irritably. You squeezed his shoulders, shaking him gently. 
“Come on, baaabe. It’ll be fun!” You whined. “Everyone wants to see it.” 
He crossed his arms and shook his head, “Nope. Never! I refuse!” 


“I hate you,” He snapped, only half angry. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.” 
You couldn’t stop the massive smile that crawled across your face as you stood behind the camera. He sat down and had the laptop on with his old video up and sighed. 
Ethan’s eyes set on you standing behind the camera, “You are so not going to watch me do this.” 
“Oh I so am,” You replied with a chuckle. “I’m not missing this for the world.” 
“You can watch it when I’m done!” Ethan half yelled. 
“Nope, I’m staying here!” You stubbornly sat your ass on the chair behind you. Crossing your arms and smiling when he groaned. 
“Fine, but if you laugh I’m throwing you out.” He mumbled, fixing his hair before starting the recording. 
When the music started and Ethan began to sing, it took all of your strength not to burst into a fit of giggles. 
His mouth moved fluently with the lyrics, his body gently moving to the music. 
You were able to contain your laughter for a few moments, but as soon as Ethan did the “ I blow kisses” your body shook with stifled laughter. Ethan’s eyes flickered to you for a half of a second and his mouth curled in a smile and his lips fumbled with the words. 
“Goddamn it, (Y/N)!” Ethan laughed, pausing the video. 
“That was adorable!” You blurted through your giggles. “Oh my God!” 
Ethan shook his head, flicking his hair in annoyance. 

More than once Ethan blurted out with laughter because of your grinning face. Especially when the chorus came on and then Ethan motioned lifting weights. 
He sighed, only a little annoyed. Your giggles were making him smile too much to concentrate. 
“Go get a paper bag or something,” He joked as he restarted everything. 
“No, you’ll lock me out!” You said. “I promise I’ll hold on. I won’t laugh.” 
“You said that six takes ago!” Ethan exclaimed. “One more time, and if you laugh, I’ll get Tyler to carry you out.” 
You nodded, seating yourself down on the chair and holding onto the sides. 
Ethan managed to get through the whole song without looking at you and you got through most of the recording without so much as giggling. 
But when the song started on the final minute and Ethan started bobbing his head, you found it very difficult to control yourself. 
You started grooving behind the camera, silently dancing to the music. 
Shimming and crumbing as Ethan wiggled his shoulders and weaved his arms about. 
Just as the song came to a close, Ethan burst out laughing as you stood and started waving your hips in a ridiculous fashion. 
“I was so close!” He howled. “No, you’re so out of here!” Ethan launched himself at you as you crumpled with laughter. 
You tried to scramble away but Ethan grabbed hold of your waist and spun you around to face him. You squealed when his fingers dug into your hips, making you cry out and swat at him.
He drowned out your giggles with a kiss, ignoring the “is everything ok”’s from outside the door. 
“Now, get out of here before I do something else to keep you quiet,” Ethan winked, slapping your ass as he nudged you towards the door.

kcg4  asked:

Hi Charity as you are an ENFP I wanted to ask you how to do you see Si and Te in you? How was it clear for you that you were Ne dom and Fi aux and not the contrary? You said in the past that you cinsidered yourself socially introvert or shy, which I think is my case and I'm not sure about INFP or ENFP for me. Thanks a lot

My main way of recognizing my status as an extrovert, beyond my need for external stimulation all the time (NOTHING HAS HAPPENED IN TEN MINUTES, MY LIFE SUCKS) is that I am not a Fi-dom. So excuse me, while I once again travel into the land of indecisive Ne to illustrate my point; then I will return to your initial question.

If you compare the INFPs on this blog to the ENFPs, you will notice that the INFP’s Fi is often very prominent and “runs the show.” This is also true with real life INFPs, who as judging dominants, have and express very strong opinions. Since they are in contact with their inner self most of the time, they often know what they like and dislike, what they want to do or refuse to do, and how they FEEL about most things. There is rarely indecision on that point, especially when it comes to the strength of their inner moral focus.

While I have extremely strong opinions in a few areas, in the broader scope of reality, I am far more indecisive and disconnected from my feelings, to the point where half the time, I rationalize them out with Te, or question my “right” to feel this way at all, rather than just use them. Something I admire about INFPs is they tend to be more decisive than I am, especially in their likes and dislikes. As a Ne-dom, my likes and dislikes can change from day to day.

An INFP I know had a fight with her friends once and door-slammed all of them. She knew how she felt, that they were dissing her opinions and not respecting her true self, and after she had enough, she was done. And she did not waffle on that decision. She just quit. She made up with them much later on, but only after her temper cooled, and she had space and time to mature in her own way (and they matured also). She knew what she wanted: them gone. For now.

I complained the other day to my mother about Elizabeth of York in Philippa Gregory’s novel / miniseries, The White Princess. She is so indecisive. She changes her mind from one chapter to the next about who she is, what she wants, and answers “I don’t know” to half the questions posed to her. Some days she likes her husband, some days she doesn’t; she intends to give up on him, then turns around and falls for him again. It’s seriously annoying.

Once I got done with my rant, my mother smiled and said, “So she’s basically you, in literary form.”

Gee, thanks mom.

My mouth hung open for a couple of seconds, while my Fi had a little tantrum, and then my Te immediately snapped in and I went: “I guess. But I’d make a BAD heroine. Heroines need to be decisive! Books need plots! Heroines need to know what they want, or at least figure it out, and get there, not be lost in indecision! The plot must move forward!”

Unlike me. =P

Ne-dom makes me changeable. And it annoys me. One day, I might want this. The next day, I might not. One day, I might decide that this friend sucks. The next day, I might think I was wrong and they’re awesome. They did not change. My Ne flipped the situation around for a different perspective. It runs right over my Fi and what it wants, all the time. This means that I either do not KNOW what I want or cannot ADMIT to myself what I want, nor give myself permission to want it. It annoys me, it annoys my parents, it annoys my friends, and it annoys my cat. But that’s how it is.

I WISH I had some Fi to haul Ne’s ass into a chair and decide: NOPE. But no, instead Ne hauls me around with Fi going “Um… I don’t know how I feel yet?”

But anyway, rant aside: back to your question.

How do I see Si and Te in me?

I see Te a lot when I ‘temporarily loop’ in order to avoid dealing with my feelings. I do not LIKE my feelings. I consider them a major pain in the butt. When my grandpa died, I was a wreck before it happened. I didn’t even know him that well, but it took him a long time to die. His organs slowly shut down. I was so immersed in the pain of what was happening to my loved ones, that I cried way more than any of them. But after his death, my Te immediately kicked in. Mom wanted to clear out his house. Like, immediately. That’s how she copes.

So we did. I put aside my emotions, went into that house, and went through all my grandparents’ stuff. We filled a dumpster. I organized everything we decided to keep in piles for the family to choose from after the funeral. A lot of my decisions were people-motivated – my cousins loved playing these games with Grandma. Shall we keep them? I’ll make sure they have all the pieces and put them in nice piles. I did the funeral video. Everyone needs a Ne-dom for that. It wasn’t just about Grandpa, it was about his life. His dreams. His parents. The culture he grew up in. I managed the voice-over, without falling to pieces.

And then, I moved on.

My Si is very poor. I may be adverse to CHANGE when people announce it (and I have to deal with it a lot, my parents literally cannot live six months without changing their house around, the yard, etc) but I am not stuck in the past. Half the time it never comes to my mind. The past flows beyond me. A day can seem a week ago, and three years ago can seem like yesterday. I gaped when a friend showed me a picture recently with 2014 stamped on the bottom. That was that long ago!? My grasp on time sucks. My awareness of time sucks. My own carelessness with time… sucks. A Si-friend recently said, “You should take more pictures with your cat. You will want them when she’s eventually gone.”

I stared at her. “I will?”

See, I don’t think like that. When people, places, things, are gone, I miss them. I love them. I still think about them sometimes, but they are gone. I do not pour over pictures. I do not sit and endlessly talk about the past. I do not want to think about the past. I moved on.

Sometimes, people tell me I should slow down, or take more time with that, since they do not want me to “look back one day, and regret this moment.”

Thing is, that probably won’t happen. I rarely go back.

Unless I hurt someone badly, and never received their forgiveness, or am beating myself up about something I should have done to stop something bad from happening, I don’t look back and regret. You cannot drive a car staring into your rear view mirror. In that way, I am careless. But I don’t know how to NOT be careless. Things matter right now, and then they’re gone. I loved that show, but it’s canceled. There’s new stuff to watch. I take in so much of it (as a Ne-dom), only a few things stick longer than six months.

And sometimes, I desperately want them to stick. I sit with someone or something loving it, immersed in its beauty, and think, “How can I hold onto it? I already feel it slipping away! WHY CAN’T I APPRECIATE THIS MORE?”

Inferior Si.

This is going to sound weird, because it is weird. But, under stress… I start obsessively tinkering with sensory elements. I’ve been editing and rewriting a book for what seems like forever (forever to me is four months, but I don’t want to talk about how this is the eighth draft of the fourth version of this book in two years) which is very tedious, Si-driven work. My Te is happy to help out with deadlines, and charts, and word counts, and I have a nice little sheet of paper with things marked on it, where I enter my progress each day to keep myself motivated. But I swear on my soul, yesterday when I opened the file, my Si went nuts and said: I don’t like this font. It curls funny. Change it.

So I did.

And then I sat there for at least ten minutes, changing the font, again and again, then the sizing several times. I printed out a page to see how it will look in book form, then promptly forgot which configuration I used (poor Si!) and had to print several more sheets in different sizes. I never did figure out which was the font and what size I used for that first sheet. (Shame, I like it the best.) Then I resized the file across my screen, to try and get the font to ‘curl’ how I like it, so I could read it. I cannot read it, unless it’s the right size. And font. And I must edit so there are no paragraphs that end with one word on the next line.

(Are you laughing yet? Is that not pathetic? Welcome to my life.)

Screw inferior Si. It’s bullshit.

I never know how to say this without hurting feelings but… Fi-doms are sensitive and since INFPs have higher Si, they do not forgive you fast.

Think about two terrific insults against NFPs (from future husbands) in literature and compare them to how you process things.

Gilbert Blythe pulls Anne Shirley’s braid and calls her carrots. The little INFP smashes her slate against his head and screams at him in class. She then tells Diana “the iron has entered my soul: I shall never forgive him,” and proceeds to ignore him, compete with him, and refuse to speak to him. For years. Gibert has to grovel to get on her good side, many times. She is super sensitive and her emotions flare up immediately. “You hurt me EXCRUCIATINGLY,” she says. She means it. He DID.

Mr. Darcy insults Lizzie’s appearance (she is not handsome enough to tempt me into a dance – ie, she’s not that pretty) in Pride & Prejudice. ENFP Lizzie gapes at him, then promptly turns it into a joke. She never brings it up again. She’s mad, but more mad about what he does to Jane than his insult. She finally confronts him when he proposes, but not about that. No, it was not the insult that hit her; it was the impression she formed of his character, based on it. And when he writes her a letter that basically calls out her family for being loud, obnoxious, inappropriate trash, she is pissed but has enough high Te to realize: he has every right to feel that way about us, based on what he saw. Once she realizes WHY he thinks how he does, her anger cools. And her mind changes about him. The anger dissipates.

Did he hurt her? Sure. Deeply? Not so much.

Someone walked up to my INFP the other day and insulted her appearance. It hurt. A lot. She will probably never speak to him again.

A person insulted me to my face at dinner a few years ago. He basically implied the people I work with and the caliber of their work is poor, and I should do a better job selecting the material we work on together. (IE: Wow, you suck.) I bitch-slapped him good with a Te-snarl comeback and … promptly moved on. I was mildly annoyed by it, and it certainly colored our interactions from that point on, but I wasn’t hurt by it so much as annoyed. We stayed “friends.”

I can count the number of times people have actually hurt my feelings on one hand. My Te is strong.

How do I know this?

I’m one of the first people to come up with a rational, non-emotional “fix it” to problems. I often discount my own feelings or put them aside entirely, to get a job done. I remember one time, a friend PM’d me after I wrote a movie review and said, “But did you LIKE it?? You wrote an excellent review, but it was so non-emotional I don’t even know what YOU thought of it.” I criticized the poor elements and talked about the good ones, but there was none of “me” there.

I admit, I was a little more emotionally reactive as a child / young teeanger, but Fi still wasn’t running the show. Most Fi-dom children are very sensitive. When asked what I was like, various family members (without consulting one another) have laughed and said, “Your focus was on being a comedian. You wanted to make people laugh. But you were not especially emotional.”

I’m not. It’s true. Sometimes to my own determent.

- ENFP Mod

PS: If you get to the end of this certain you are an NFP, but you don’t know what you do in a situation in order to compare it to Lizzie or Anne’s emotional reactions, congrats: that’s shitastic inferior Si. You are an indecisive Ne-dom.

Superman Love

Originally posted by the-jedi

Clark Kent x Reader

Request: Reader is like Batman and is part of the Justice League. She’s engaged to Superman and one day she gets hurt which causes him to get angry/upset but then he takes care of reader.

Word Count: 2467


Y/N L/D or also known as Raven to the public of Metropolis. She was just like Batman but she wasn’t dark and gloomy like him. Unlike Batman, she came in the day not just the night. She usually teamed up with Superman, she was his eyes and ears on the ground or occasionally up in the skies.

She wasn’t always a partner with Superman; it used to be just her trusty gadgets that she had made over the years. But that changed one night when she was fighting a man who had just broken into a jewelers and it turned out he wasn’t all human. When it started getting bad to the point where she barely could stand on her own, she started to worry; she still fought, she was taught never to give up. The man landed a perfect right hook to the side of her face, her head shot to the side, still looking back to catch her breath. Y/N just waited for the next blow but that didn’t come. When she finally looked back up, Superman was floating just right above her a few feet a ways, there in front of her laid the man that she was just fighting moments ago unconscious and on the ground.

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Here’s the book meme thingy I was tagged in by the exquisite @batmanisagatewaydrug.

1. Which book has been on your shelves the longest? I’ve owned my copy of The Eyes of the Dragon since I was in second grade, and it’s not going anywhere any time soon. I’ve also owned my Harry Potter books for fuck-all ever, to the point where they’re literally falling apart. Like, to the point where Chamber of Secrets has been held together by packing tape since like, middle school.

2. What is your current read, your last read and the book you’ll read next? I’m bouncing between The Graveyard Book, The Wizard and the Glass, and The Collected Short Stories of H.G. Wells. I just finished Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs and reread Coraline. Next is… oh gods, I have so much sitting in my Audible library. On the physical book front, it’ll be Wolves of the Calla, since I want to finish The Dark Tower before the movie comes out. On the listening front… probably between Wuthering Heights and Four Past Midnight. But that could easily change on a whim.

3. Which book does everyone like and you hated? I have never and will never understand The Hunger Games hype. They basically put me off YA for like four years. Also, I know this isn’t exactly novel (HAH), but FUCK Ernest Hemmingway. Fuck your old man and his shitty boat and his shitty fish. I love To Kill a Mockingbird, but absolutely detest the way it’s taught in schools. As a social commentary, it’s worthless. As a coming-of-age novel, it’s practically perfect.

4. Which book do you keep telling yourself you’ll read, but you probably won’t? So many. Soooo many. Anything by Isaac Asimov, a whole lot of Dickens (I really like Dickens, but that “paid by the word” thing did the man no favors), uuuuuum. I keep telling myself I’m going to return to Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye, which I started and never finished and SWEAR I’M GOING TO GO BACK TO SOMEDAY BUT OH GOD IT’S BEEN FIVE YEARS I’MMMMMM SOOOOOORRY TONI. A whole lot of poetry (here’s looking at you, Dickinson). A bunch I’m forgetting. Oh, and The Vampire Chronicles. Still, now that I’m working overnights and can listen to audiobooks eight hours per night, my rate of reading has practically quadrupled and there’s a good chance that I’ll use that as an excuse to finally get around to all of these.

5. Which book are you saving for “retirement?” I’m dying by twenty-six, so I gotta shove all those words in now.

6. Last page: read it first or wait till the end? 

Not since I was a little kid reading Goosebumps and had to know what bullshit twist R.L. Stine’s ghostwriter of the week would come up with this time.

7. Acknowledgements: waste of ink and paper or interesting aside? It’s a popular misconception that writing a book is a solo endeavor, and it’s self-indulgent bullshit. No book is an island, and the people that surround it deserve credit.

8. Which book character would you switch places with? Oh frick. Maybe not switching place with a specific character, but I want to be friends with the Hempstocks from The Ocean at the End of the Lane.  

9. Do you have a book that reminds you of something specific in your life (a person, a place, a time)? Matilda reminds me of when I was a little kid and books were the most magical thing in the world. Like, they still are, but there’s something about it that just recalls the innocence with which I could view literature as a kid. Hard same for A Series of Unfortunate Events. Jurassic Park was the first “adult” novel I ever read, and introduced me to a whole new idea of what books could be. IT reminds me of middle school summertime, devouring books on the beach while I wiggled my toes in the sand. The Eyes of the Dragon made me love fairytales, and years later Stardust reminded me why I love them.

10. Name a book you acquired in some interesting way. Um… I have a bunch of classics (Lord of the Flies, Brave New World, 1984, a few others) that I nicked from a storage room in my high school of books that used to be part of the literary curriculum but hadn’t been touched in about twelve years.

11. Have you ever given away a book for a special reason to a special person? I gave a really nice gold-leaf fancy-pantsy edition of Huck Finn I got from my Nana and Papa to one of my old friends because I forgot to buy him a birthday present. I also stole like, a dozen Discworld books from him, so it more than evens out.

12. Which book has been with you to the most places? The Eyes of the Dragon has been with me on at least five or six trips as a kid (I used to travel a lot with my dad for business), and has been with me everywhere I’ve lived.

13. Any “required reading” you hated in high school that wasn’t so bad ten years later? The opposite, actually. I read Gatsby for the first time on my own, absolutely loathed it, reread it my Senior year for AP Lit and loved it.

14. What is the strangest item you’ve ever found in a book? I found an old bus ticket from the early Nineties in my copy of A Confederacy of Dunces

15. Used or brand new? Both. Books. Just… books. Both have their own unique smell and feel that I love for different reasons.

16. Stephen King: Literary genius or opiate of the masses? Don’t know, don’t care. All I know is that he’s my book dad and always will be. He was the writer that made me believe that I could actually be a writer through On Writing. The Eyes of the Dragon is my favorite book and the one that’s influenced me more than any other. A lot of his books kind of blow, but when you’ve put out the sheer amount of words that he has, you’re bound to have a few stinkers. When the man hits the vein of a story, he hits it hard. I can’t imagine my middle school years without The Talisman or Firestarter or my high school years without Misery or IT. Speaking of, I’ve been waiting for the new IT movie since it was stuck in development hell however many years ago, and I’m absolutely going to cry in the theatre if it sucks. I don’t even need it to be good, I just need the relationships between the kids to be done well. They’re my children, dammit, and I love them so much.

17. Have you ever seen a movie you liked better than the book? American Psycho is unequivocally better than the book and nothing will ever convince me otherwise. Ditto for Fight Club. I don’t know if I’d say that Stand by Me is technically better than the book, but it’s also tied for my favorite movie of all time. A Clockwork Orange is in a similar boat. And Holes. OH. I can’t believe I almost forgot The Silence of the Lambs. I adore the movie, but the book runs almost entirely on the “male author wants to fuck his lady protagonist” trope, and eeeeeeew.

18. Conversely, which book should NEVER have been introduced to celluloid? Um… now seems like as good of a time to shit on the majority of Stephen King adaptations as ever. Like, I get that this is by no means a new observation, but fuck. Speaking of, I am so confused by the “dOnT rEmAkE iT tHe OrIgInAl WaS a CLASSIC” crowd. The miniseries is ass and the only redeeming factor is Tim Curry because, well… Tim Curry.

19. Have you ever read a book that’s made you hungry, cookbooks being excluded from this question? See my previous comment about wanting to be friends with the Hempstocks. I want that blackberry jam, dammit.  

20. Who is the person whose book advice you’ll always take? Um, I’ll basically read anything that @batmanisagatewaydrug throws my way. She’s like my only book friend (and my best friend) so I sort of figure out what I want to read on my own. Oh, I have been working on some of Neil’s recommendations from The View from the Cheap Seats, which has been rewarding so far (@Diana Wynn Jones, where were you all my life?).

I tag no one because I don’t have book friends (ahem ahem, HINT HINT IF YOU HAPPEN TO SEE THIS AND LOVE BOOKS FOR THE LOVE OF GODS HIT ME UP), but I will tag back @batmanisagatewaydrug just to prove I actually did it.

On delays, the rest of season one, and being whelmed.

Before I get to the post-proper, this is me offering a cyber high-five to anyone who got the “whelmed” reference!

Hello all!

Alex Brown here! Your friendly, neighborhood co-showrunner. First, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for supporting our show - when we released our first episode nearly a year ago, I figured it would be a fun side project to do with my friends, and that maybe some old college acquaintances who knew us would listen.

I’m over-the-moon ecstatic that I was wrong. Your response to our episodes, our characters, our music (which is the best part, let’s be real), and the humor we try to put in our stage directions is beyond anything I could’ve ever dreamed of. Throughout this past year, we’ve seen spectacular fan art, amazing fan fics, lots of fantastic theories, moodboards that fill my heart with more joy than I can express, and lots of other great things. As someone who’s lived the past six or so years as a frustrated writer who has struggled to get published, it’s been ridiculously fulfilling to see that I’m capable of helping to create something that people can genuinely connect to.

With that said, I want to let you all know where I’m at with a few of our processes, because, for me, the struggle right now is quite real. It’s not really a secret that one of our mini-episodes, Home, was influenced a lot by my own experience with depression. It’s certainly something that Etta has, too - but a lot of what’s in there are things I’ve felt for a long time. And, for me, some of those things still linger. 

I have mechanisms in place to help confront these thoughts. Other than on-going therapy, I like to put a lot on my proverbial plate to keep busy when I’m not in an introspective mood. My day job helps with a lot of that - during the school year I’m often in late-night meetings, or meeting with student groups on the weekend. I was hoping to have a little more free time this summer, but my day job seems determined to keep adding to my growing to-do list.

I’m also stage managing a show this summer, which has been lots of fun (and is totally my jam - I’m a way better stage manager than I am a stage actor, lemme tell ya). But the theater I’m working with is about an hour away on a good day, so there’s a lot of driving involved at the moment.

There are other things I’m trying to balance as well - getting another book written (as that’s been on hold for…about a year now), trying to make sure that my friends stay connected (being scattered around the country makes that a bit harder), trying to just… have some downtime and read a book, or watch The Bachelorette. All of these things are very important to my mental health - and all of these things haven’t been happening nearly as much as they should.

That was a very long-winded explanation of what’s going on with me, but I wanted to share that with you all, because I want you to know that I take this show seriously. It’s pushed me creatively, taught me new skills, made me a better writer, certainly a better actor, and I hope a better friend. I truly adore the community that’s been built around this podcast, and I can’t wait to see what you all think of the rest of season one!

And that’s what the point of this post is, I think. I have most of what I need for episode 11, but what I don’t have right now is a lot of time. As we’ve said lots before, I get individual audio from each actor, have to sift through all of their takes, and piece the puzzle together from there. It can take hours - sometimes, most of the time, it winds up taking days. Which is not a problem if I didn’t have lots of other time consuming obligations tugging me in their direction - but, here we are. I’m writing this note at 1:46 in the morning because I didn’t get back from rehearsal until 11:10 PM, caught up on The Bachelorette, and now have time to craft this note.

So, what I’m getting at is that we have sixteen planned episodes for season one, and we are very close to getting episode 11 out to you. I promise that I’ll try my best to get that done before June, but the show I’m stage managing opens right at the end of the month, so things might be a little hectic.

Once episode 11 goes out, we’re going to take another hiatus to prep the rest of the episodes. This time, I don’t plan to lift the hiatus until the rest of season one is edited and ready to be released. Unfortunately, I don’t have a timeline for you yet - and, seeing as how release dates seem to be a bit flexible when it comes to this show - I think it makes sense not to speculate right now. Once we know when episode 11 is coming out - and when the rest of season one will happen - we’ll let you know. I promise.

In the meantime, I’m hoping to get some admin stuff straightened out so we can start to sell our wonderful merchandise! The response we got to our designs was amazing, and I want to make sure that you all have access to that if you’d like to rep the show somehow! (And props again to Em and Eliza for the rad designs!). Once I get a handle on that, we’ll also launch our Patreon - but I want to make sure we have cool rewards for all of you, because you deserve the best! I don’t want to try to rush into things for the sake of having/doing them anymore - and I think waiting on these things will help us in the long run.

Wow, this note was much longer than I anticipated. Uhhh, so, yeah. We’re still here, and we will continue to make content and tell what we hope is one kick-ass story. It just might take us a while, and that’s 100% on me. I am but one person, and there are but 24 hours in a day. But we’ll get there together, one way or another.

So thank you, thank you, thank you for your support! You’ve made this whole experience into probably the best thing I’ve ever done, and I’m so glad you’re here. 

If you’re going to stay for a while and would like some chocolate fondue, I hear there’s some overflowing in the kitchen.

#Ketta4ever

-Alex

Sidney Crosby #2

shalanos said: Could I request a Sidney Crosby imagine where he, and y/n, who works for the team, supposedly “hate” each other, and don’t get along, but they both actually really like each other, and they don’t confess that until they get into a huge argument, and they end up kissing? Thanks, love 💕

A/N: apologizing for the wait on requests has been my thing as of late, but hey i got to like all of them!!! so sorry but thanks for another request! i’ve been loving them :) hope you liked it!

Word Count: 2,078

Originally posted by faulker

“Do you ever get day off?” Geno asked you as you were going through your purse to find your lipstick that was unfortunately wearing off between each video being recorded. You chuckled at the large Russian, who’s broken English always managed to put a smile on your face, but you were quick to shake your head in response. 

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anonymous asked:

I CANT WAIT FOR THAT JIMON FIC OMG I HOPE ITS DONE SOON IM SO EXCITED

who is this???? i love you thank you for inspiring me to finish this <3 <3 <3

04.10.17 edit: found the anon!! inspired by @caqtis

introducing you & me || (jace/simon, coffee shop au, 5k+) || read on ao3

Maia ‘discovered’ Simon’s musical act through her girlfriend Clary, and decided that she’d torment Jace – who is technically her boss – by letting Simon do a gig for their live music nights. Jace hates him so much. He’s loud, and obnoxious, and wears bright graphic tees that stretch over his broad chest and are fucking annoying. He never shuts up, and has apparently made it is his personal challenge to piss Jace off as much as possible by calling him names and bringing in increasingly ridiculous things for his sets. 

“You have a crush on him!” Maia had gleefully accused after Simon’s first night playing. Jace, leaning against the counter and watching the packed audience listen to Simon’s soft, crooning voice, had frowned and spluttered out “I do not.”

Jace definitely does.

.

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MATT // MASTERLIST


Request: Hello, I really love your writing!! And I also really miss Matt the radar technician! So I was wondering if you can write a modern!matt where the reader and him are close friends that have feelings for each other and she sticks up for him bc he gets picked on. Idk something like that. But yeah! You always know how to make your stories amazing! Thank you!!

A/N: I’m so glad I received Matt requests bc I miss that son of a bicth……thank you, anon, for the request! Enjoy :) [gif not mine]

Word Count: 2.5K+

Warning: None


Matt was, what you called, your average ‘nerd’. His glasses were as big as his head, the silver rims and thick lenses that hugged his nose. His attire was always neat and in place–although the opposite went for his bright blond hair. Now that was a mess. It was hard to keep the curls looking nice. Brushing them weren’t an option and neither was jelling it, so he let it be.

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Shadowhunters Timeline

I’ve been going over timeline stuff in my head the past couple weeks since SDCC, where Matt made a point of emphasizing that Magnus and Alec have only been together for about six weeks. I was curious to see how the show would actually break down if I tried to build a timeline based on what clues we have on hard and fast dates, and what cues we get regarding how many days pass during and between episodes.

We have only TWO hard and fast date indicators.

The first is for 1x01—Clary’s birthday—which if the show follows book canon occurs on August 23.

The second is in 2x16. Yom Kippur in 2016 took place starting the evening of October 11 and ending the evening of October 12.

This means all the events between 1x01 and 2x16 occur in the space of SEVEN WEEKS. 

Which would indicate that Matt was being generous when he said Alec and Magnus have been together for six weeks. If you go from 1x12 to present it’s more like five weeks. If you start counting from their first date in 2x06, it’s less than a month.

Anway. Someone else has probably done this better than I have, but I thought I would sit down and sort things out. You can find the timeline after the cut.

Keep reading

A Playbutton or This?

You remember how you said you wanted a YouTuber AU for Captive Prince.
Well.
I have been thinking.

I can hear the fandom declaring Laurent as a fashion vlogger, beauty guru type person, because he’s got the face for it, and the holier-than-thou attitude that you might expect from a model, and to them I say what book series have you been reading. If anyone is going to be gently judging other people’s clothes for a living, it’s gonna be Damen. 

Therefore, I declare Damen a beauty guru who focuses primarily on clothes (though if you don’t think he has Things To Say on other stuff, you should watch search through his channel for a series he calls The War of Makeups). Everyone assumes that he is, at first glance, some online fitness instructor, or at a stretch maybe a DIY person. Someone who wears a lot of flannel and films himself as he hikes around swinging axes impressively at trees.


Everyone is wrong, and Damen kind of really enjoys the double-take everyone always does when he introduces himself. Because, like, his channel name is pretty recognizable. CaptiveDamnen (he is so proud of that channel name you have no idea) is a big deal in the community, it’s just the person that no one is expecting.


Laurent, on the other hand, is definitely a sketch comedian. Probably writes and performs everything himself, very clinical, very professional. He’s a competent video editor, because he’d never enter into a project without at the very least understanding every aspect of it, but he also probably hires a film major named Jord to help him shoot and edit so that it looks perfect. Whenever he shows up to meet and greets he manages to leave without a hair out of place.


Damen spends like half a live show the night after a big YouTube event trying to answer people’s questions about what products Laurent must use to be able to mingle with literally a thousand fans and still look like he’s ready for a professional photo shoot.


Damen, on the other hand, is very home-grown YouTube. Not that it’s shittily done, not at all, but it doesn’t have the slightly unrealistic veneer that Laurent has all over his videos. He shoots and edits himself ninety nine percent of the time.


While Laurent does excel at playing every single part himself, he also has a common costar by the name of Nicaise. No one quite knows why, because while Nicaise is a good actor and quite frankly stunning to look at, he’s probably the most evil person in the world in real life, and he makes absolutely no attempt to hide it. Fans have spent years trying to figure out the puzzle that is Nicaise and Laurent’s relationship, ever since Nicaise appeared in one of the earliest videos as a tiny, angelic looking, extraordinarily bratty child of nine. He’s not related, Laurent has never made any mention of any sort of deal between them, and Nicaise was there from the beginning so he can’t possibly have been looking to ride on Laurent’s coattails, because that was long before Laurent, and indeed the YouTube platform, had any pull anywhere.


Damen, on the other hand, most often collaborates with a fellow YouTuber, a-

____

Shit. Dude. Shit. Like, the sketch comedy thing makes sense because Laurent is, like, the king of wearing a different face, but I’ve already written an actor AU, and, like, Laurent would also totally be a gamer.


Like, he doesn’t look the type at all, but he is absolutely 100% the kind of person who would adore the competitive, strategic world of online gaming and he would kill as a cool, sarcastic commentator navigating his way flawlessly through level after level of the most complicated, mind-fucky games.


He still edits everything with surgical precision, his entire setup is always crystal clear and perfect, and he still gets an obvious professional to edit the videos. Nicaise is still his incredibly bratty occasional costar who nobody can figure out the purpose of, other than to look pretty and call Laurent names and purposefully get him killed.

COMPLETE REWRITE IN MY HEAD DONE. MOVING ON.

____

Damen most often collaborates with a DIY YouTuber, Nikandros, who helps Damen out with the more crafty projects that require equipment that Damen doesn’t really want to go out and buy, in exchange for Damen going through Nik’s closet and finding him good date outfits while Nik stares bewilderedly at Damen’s back and very clearly does not absorb a single tip Damen gives him. Their combined audiences apparently adore watching him quietly putting a pillow over his head and giving up in abject defeat while in the background Damen keeps up a light patter of information about how it’s not his closet that’s wrong, it’s the way he’s pairing his clothes.


Damen claims that he’s an expert strategist, which is why he’s able to work the magic that he does. He says that it’s not so much an inborn “girly” knowledge of what colors suit each other as it is understanding the component parts of an outfit and how they all play together.


Damen says this at a YouTube event panel, where he and maybe fifteen other YouTubers with completely different channels have all been herded onto a stage to discuss the common links between them as members of the YouTube platform, rather than as individual creators. Nik is sitting beside him, and makes furious cutting off motions as Damen declares himself a strategist, to the amusement of the whole crowd, leaving Damen to let his sentence trail off in confusion as he looks left at his friend and doesn’t notice the icy glare coming from his right from the probably rightfully proclaimed king of strategy himself, Laurent of the channel PrinceVere.


He keeps on not noticing until Laurent leans into the microphone and says, “Expert strategist?” with enough polite poison in his voice to make the entire audience go OOOooooooooooooo as one.


Damen turns around, still so incredibly confused, and says, “Yes, I am a strategist,” and then, looking rather derisively at Laurent’s clothing choice, “You might not think of clothing as a winnable venture, but I do.”

Keep reading

Skin to Skin

Part 2

Jughead Jones doesn’t know how the crimson crescents ended up on his palms.


Betty Cooper is clueless when it comes to the messages on her arms.


Soulmate AU where all the little marks and injuries belonging to Betty and Jughead start finding themselves on each other’s skin.

A/N: Here’s part two! as you can see, I write Jughead’s point of view and then Betty’s at one go, so I usually post two chapters together. Thank you for all your support!


Part 1
Link on ao3

Chapter iii

Jughead shoves his keys into the lock of his apartment door and enters, a bag of groceries in in hand. Don’t get him wrong, he can’t cook, but there’s only so much ramen and takeout he can endure.

Although, he can make a mean sandwich, but that can’t really be called cooking, can it?

He’s exhausted. Working at B&N might seem easy, but he was on re-stocking duty today, which meant hauling cartons of books to and fro. In addition to dealing with self-entitled middle aged adults.

Plus, he contract of his book was finally signed today, which meant that he was getting an advance of maybe fifteen thousand dollars, which was a freaking lot. He could quit his job and get a library at home.

But then, his mind drifts to hospital bills, student loans and debts to pay off, so he temporarily forgets that idea.

He dumps his groceries on the tiny kitchen counter and unpacks them with slow movements; he’s tired, but he can’t go the sleep unless he’s eaten. His stomach will not let him.

He takes out some shredded chicken, lettuce, a tomato and mayo- simple, yet so, so tasty.

Yes, Jughead is very easy to impress if one’s talking about food.

He slices his bread (He loves the type with seeds in it, Archie thinks he’s crazy,), spreads mayo over it, and moves to slice the tomato. He vaguely remembers an article he’d read awhile back about a legal battle over a tomato. 1887, was it?

Jughead suddenly yawns; he’s dreaming of his bed, but his stomach is protesting, and all of a sudden, the knife slips and slices his thumb, instead.

“Shit,” He says, shaking his hand, which only results in a little blood behind splattered on the wall plaster.

He runs to the sink and turns on the tap, watching the cut bleed as cold water falls on it. Eventually, after, say, five minutes, it clots up and the bleeding stops.

He needs to find a band-aid, as soon as possible, so he rummaged through some cluttered cupboards to find one. There’s an old Hello Kitty one he finds, which he remembers getting free with some snacks, but it’s the only band-aid he can find. So he puts it on.

He won’t ever admit it, but blood makes him slightly queasy.

He makes himself a cup of coffee as well, and goes back to finishing his sandwich.

Unfortunately, the tomato’s covered with a dark red liquid that is not tomato juice, and he’s forced to ditch that part. He’s too lazy to take out another one.

Finally, he settles down on his battered couch, switches Netflix on and savours the blessing that is shredded chicken and mayo.

Jughead rewatches three episodes of  Black Mirror, his favourite ones. He doesn’t may too much attention to them, though, as his mind wanders to all the things he has to do.

He considers going to bed; but his phone starts dinging. JB is calling on FaceTime.

“Hey, JB.” He answers.

JB is sobbing, and Jughead’s alarms start blaring. He brings the phone closer.

“What happened, Jelly?”

“Dad… He’s been arrested. Again.”

Shit. Oh no.

“Over what?” He asks, biting his lip.

“He’s been accused of involvement in murder.” JB hiccups, wiping away tears from her face.

This hasn’t been FP Jones’s first stint in jail. Hell, even Jughead’s spent some time in Juvie. This family is screwed up.

But murder? It’s never gone that far. FP was the leader of a gang, called the Southside Serpents, back in his hometown of Toledo, which meant getting involved in shady business, behind-the-dumpster type of weed exchanges, and whatnot, but it’s never been this bad.

“Tell me everything, Jelly.” He sighs, mind already scanning through possible ways to help his dad.

He learns that FP’s home was ransacked, that very night, to find incriminating evidence of the murder of a sophomore in Toledo High. The Sheriff had received an anonymous tip-off, and they’d found a gun in FP’s tiny trailer.

FP had been dragged to the station and questioned.

The worst part was, he’d confessed.

“I don’t think he did it, Jug.” Jellybean whispers later. “I know. He owned up to it… But I know he hasn’t done it. I just know, okay?”

“Jelly… I'm​ not sure. He did confess.” Jughead’s eyes are misting up. “I know he’d cleaned up his act for a bit, but if he’s confessed, then I don’t know what to believe.”

JB shakes her head. “Jughead, I’m going to have faith. I will. I know daddy, and he isn’t capable of- of murder.”

All Jughead wants to do is give her a hug.

“I’m going to come home.” He says, opening a new tab to book bus tickets.

“NO!”

He startles at that, and shifts the tab back to FaceTime. “Why not?”

“Jughead, your book is being published. You have meetings to attend, covers to decide, edits to make. You cannot simply put all of that in hold to come over here. It’s your debut book. Your first book!” Jellybean says, throwing her hands up in the air. Her black sheet of hair whips around.

Jughead’s not convinced. “I could do all of that from there, JB. Face to face meetings are almost redundant with the invention and development of technology. How am I talking to you right now?”

Jellybean just shakes her head. “No. I won’t let you come.”

“JB, are you hiding something else?” He knows when his sister is keeping something under wraps. She’s a terrible liar, just like him.

His sister stays silent, evidently trying to think up of another reason why he shouldn’t come.

“Jellybean.”

“Okay,” she caves, shoulders slumping. “Jughead, you know that I love you, right? Dad loves you, too and so does Mom, even if they have weird-ass ways of showing it?”

Jughead nods, eyebrows scrunching up together in confusion.

“And I didn’t want to tell you, because you’d get hurt, but…”

His sister is stalling too much, and Jughead gets impatient​.

“Jellybean, what happened?” He says, curtly. His thumb is still throbbing, and he watches Jellybean sigh and wring her hands together.

“Mom… said she never wants you back. She, well, she thinks you remind her too much of Dad.”

“Oh.”

Jughead’s fingers trace the scabs of the fingernail imprints on his palm, processing this information.

“Also, Jug, she still kinda, um, resents you because you chose to stay with Dad, all those years ago, instead of coming with her.”

He stays silent this time, not making eye contact with JB, and unseeingly staring at his palms.

Gladys Jones and Jughead Jones never really had a great relationship, if he was being truthful. It was his Dad that Jughead often went to.

FP Jones had been an alcoholic for most of Jug’s childhood. The boy grew up watching his father drown out his sorrows one bottle after another, and witnessed it only get worse when Jughead got put into juvie for attempted arson at ten and JB was hospitalised for her kidney at six.

But despite that, Jughead always saw the good in his father. He may not always try, but Jughead had faith in the older man. So much, that he stayed behind with FP when Gladys Jones had had enough, taking JB with her.

But during that time, FP showed no attempt at righting his wrongs, and if anything, he got worse. He had been perpetually drunk, and eventually, even Jughead reached his limit.

So he’d moved out, braving homelessness for about six months. When his best mate, Archie, found out, he’d hosted Jughead on his couch for a few weeks, but the brunet hadn’t wanted to overstay his welcome.

Finally, FP had gotten his act back together, and Jughead had moved back in.

When he shifted to New York, though, FP kind of lost it again and got himself arrested for minor transgressions. He’d had been able to bail himself out each time, but a murder accusation was not something you could easily escape from.

But his mom, well, he’d never been that close to. Yes, he’d inherited his Mom’s skill in writing, sense of humour, and some of her facial features, maybe, but that was where the similarities ended.

But not wanting him back at all… that was harsh.

“Jug?” Jellybean whispers.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, wanting to change the topic. “So I’m getting my book advance soon, I could send the money over if it helps with getting a good lawyer, or something.”

“Jug, you don’t need to…” JB starts.

“No, no, it’s okay.” he puts his hand on his forehead, like he’s trying to recall something. “They’ll assign him one, but if we want the court to think he’s innocent.. We’ll need a good lawyer.”

“Which will be easy, because he is innocent.” JB says, stubborn as ever, just like him.

Jughead runs a hand through his dark hair.

“Remember when you used to wear that beanie everywhere?” Jellybean breaks the silence. “Even when you were seventeen?” She sniffs, laughing at the same time.

“Yeah,” He smiles. “I still wear it sometimes.”

“Well, you’ll get all the girls if you don’t Jug. They appreciate a nice, good, mop of hair. Coupled with the leather jacket I gave you, maybe some girl is currently fawning over you.”

Jughead blushes. “No girlfriends at all, JB, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No boyfriends either?”

“No, considering that I’m not into guys…” Jughead says, fighting back both a yawn and a smile.

“Oh, well.” Jellybean says, and then pauses. “Listen, Jug, don’t forget that I love you, okay? Despite what Mom says, she loves you too.”

Jughead nods. “I know,” he says, simply. “I’ve gotta go sleep, it’s 2 am, JB, and so should you. Don’t you have school tommorow?”

“I’m not going.” She says. “I’ll help where I can with dad.”

“Okay,” He says. “Call me if and when you need anything. I’ll be there, okay?”

“I will.” JB replies, and Jughead moves to end the call. “Nice band-aid, bro.”

He grins and switches his phone off.

He gets under the covers, after completing his bedtime routine and closes his eyes, drifting off into a slumber.

The whole time, he traces the crescent marks on his palm.

Chapter iv

When the alarm clock blares, Betty Cooper does something incredibly rare- she doesn’t snooze it, and instead, actually gets up.

She was going to go to the gym before her shift, on the insistence of Alice Cooper.

Her mother. Betty hasn’t spoken to her since Monday, three days ago, after she’d slammed her laptop shut. She’d ignored all of Alice’s calls, FaceTime requests, and messages, and maybe Betty is running the risk of being cut off. But if and when that happens, she’ll deal with it.

And skipping a day of gym won’t do her any harm.

She sits up, stretching her arms above her head and yawning- she got a good night’s sleep, for the first time in weeks. Tying back her hair, after smoothing down her bedhead, she puts her legs over the side and slips her feet into slippers.

She notices a blood stain on the sheets- and for a moments, she’s afraid she got her period way too early.

But the stain is towards the headboard, and her thumb also happens to be covered in the dark red liquid, which has now dried.

Betty moves towards her bathroom and washed the crusty blood away- only to reveal a cut. It’s pretty long, and deep enough to cause more bleeding than usual.

She’s utterly bewildered. Betty’s not a clumsy person, and considering the fact that she would remember cutting herself like this…

What if it’s a repeat of the random message written on her arm three days ago?

Perhaps it happened when she was sleeping. Yeah, that’s the most plausible solution.

She walks back to her bed, inspecting her bedside table for any such sharp object which could be the cause. There’s a letter opener on the table, but Betty hasn’t touched that in weeks. She’d just forgot to put it back in the stationary drawer.

Her phone back-up alarm blares, and she jumps. Her shift at Starbucks starts in forty-five minutes, and she needs to get ready.

Maybe she’s just making a big deal out of this, she thinks, as she showers and puts a band-aid on the cut. Maybe she was too sleepy yesterday to notice.

Donning her Starbucks uniform and tying her hair in a loose ponytail, unlike her highschool days, she locks her apartment door behind her and sets off to work.

She enjoys working as a barista. Sure, sometimes she wants to throw something at anyone who orders another unicorn frappuccino, but she likes the borderline banal and mundane work- it gives her time to think.

She clocks in, puts her apron on and begins her shift. With this job, she ends up smelling like coffee all the time, but it’s not something she particularly minds.

A brunette comes in, with two toddler twins in tow- they’re noisy, but admittedly adorable, and Betty is reminded of her sister’s kids. Eliza and Cliff.

Polly Cooper eloped when she was in high school- got pregnant in her junior year, and had the babies in her senior year. The special man, and now Betty’s brother in law, was Jason Blossom- the son of Clifford Blossom, who owned an incredibly successful maple syrup business in Vancouver. Jason was set to inherit this giant empire, along with his sister, Cheryl, and so they, along with Polly and the kids, were moving up there this fall. Therefore, Betty had limited time to spend with her niece, nephew and sister.

Having eloped at seventeen, Polly was almost disowned by Alice Cooper and Hal Cooper. They’d almost sent her away to a house- ‘The Sisters of Quiet Mercy’, when they found out that she was expecting. Polly almost ran away with Jason, they almost drowned in Sweetwater river, and basically, the Cooper family was a shitstorm during that particular period of time. It was a soap opera, worthy of the silver screens.

But, eventually Alice Cooper gave into her soft side once the babies were born- and they were the cutest little things. They still are, Betty thinks, smiling as she prepares the machiatto that the woman has ordered.

But of course, Polly’s mistakes only put pressure onto Betty to up her game and be perfect. Which is why Betty wasn’t allowed to have boyfriends in high school (not that she didn’t, behind their backs).

She was also put on birth control and performance enhancing medication, which, in Betty’s opinion, was excessive, unnecessary and too much. But no one says no to Alice Cooper.

Well, except Betty, after Monday’s debacle.

The thing is, Betty still has nightmares. She’s always afraid of failing, she’s always afraid that she won’t be successful in life- her mother has turned her into a two dimensional human being who only worries about being perfect.

Which she definitely did not want to be. She’s grown to detest that word.

She puts a fake smile onto her face and hands an espresso to a teenager.

At least now she has more time on her hands, after quitting. She’s put in a lot more hours into studying these past few days, and she’ll do well this term. She knows it.

Being a journalist is something Betty’s always wanted to be, since she was a pre-schooler. She watched her parents in their office when she was little, and always eagerly awaited the day she would write her first article.

That day came when she was fifteen. She’d reopened her school’s newspaper- the Junipero High Herald, and she’d taken over it, writing exposes about all the minor scams that went in in her school.

That newspaper helped her get into this journalism course here at NYU. At least here mom didn’t interfere here.

Betty realises she has a lot of mommy issues.

Her attention snaps back into reality when someone comes up to the counter.

“One Cafe Americano, no sugar, please. To go.” He says, glancing down at his phone. He’s tapping his foot, biting his lip. He’s in a hurry.

The first thing Betty notices is the Hello-Kitty band-aid on his thumb, and fights back a grin.

“Love the choice of band-aid there,” she says, punching in his order.  

He grins. “Thank you, I happen to have a thing for anthropomorphic beings.” He says, shoving his phone in his pocket. He nods his head towards Betty’s thumb. “ I see you have a band-aid, too, but so boring.”

“Well, not all of us have Hello-Kitty or disney themed band-aids at hand.” Betty says, picking up a marker. “So, what is your name, oh Sanrio stan?”

Jughead chuckles. “Jughead.”

Betty audibly laughs. “Are you serious? Are you one of those people who come in and tell me their name is Voldemort or Primrose Everdeen, or something?”

‘Jughead’ shakes his head and runs a hand through his dark, wavy hair. “Completely authentic, don’t worry.”

“Alright, then, Jughead,” Betty says, jotting his name down on on plastic cup. “Coming right up.”

Her eyes follow him as he moves to the side and wait for his order, eyes glued to his phone, an iPhone 3, which Betty hasn’t seen in years.

His name, by far, is the weirdest one she’s ever had to write.

She gets his coffee ready and calls out his name- saying it with a lilt in her voice, her blatant amusement on show.

He takes it from her with a thankful smile, and Betty notices the marks on his palm. Tiny arcs pepper both his hands- they’re fingernail marks, and if there’s anyone who knows them well, it’s her.

Maybe she stares at them for longer than necessary.

Betty Cooper thinks of her own fists, scarred by her own fingernails. She keeps her fingernails short, but yet she manages to hurt herself. She hates herself for doing it, because the aim to be perfect has been ingrained in her, and this is a weakness.

But, doesn’t she hate ‘perfect’?

Still, her fists curl against her own volition when she’s sad, angry, hurting, and Betty Cooper feels a wave of sadness for this man in front of her. She wants to help him, so that maybe, just maybe, she can help herself.

But, before she knows it, he’s gone, lost in the sea of people, indistinguishable amongst thousands of others.

anonymous asked:

Hi Wrex! I'm just transitioning from short stories into long form fiction (fanfic), and I keep getting stuck on my draft because I don't feel like it's any good, especially compared with the beautiful stories I see others write. I know I'm supposed to just let go of that, trust that it'll get better with editing, and most importantly, that I will get better with practice. The reason it's difficult is that I'm not sure that's true: I know practice works for art, since it's a physical skill, 1/2

2/2 but with writing it just seems different. Like, what are some concrete ways in which you–or any followers–have been able to improve their writing by practising? A lot of people I see just starting out, often younger than me, are just so good. I’m also more a thinker than a feeler, and maybe to be a good writer, you need to be the latter? Emotion and atmosphere are really hard for me. Anyway, this is like ten questions in one, sorry about that :) Thanks for your inspiring blog!

This is a very good question! First of all, I don’t actually think that’s true about art - I literally just saw a post about the problem with telling young artists to “just practice” without any hint of how to practice. So it’s an issue for both art and writing. Art might have a larger kinesthetic component than writing, but both skills fundamentally involve your perception and judgment, each of which need experience and training to develop.

This more than most is a question I’d like to kick to my followers. But I can tell you two things I’ve done to practice:

1) One thing I do a lot is reread writing I like (pro or fanfic) and try to figure out exactly why I like it. The key here is to stay very technical in my observations and not to get swept up in “well it just makes me feel all these things!” and similar judgments that just make me devalue my own work even more. I try to figure out exactly what they’re doing, word to word. If you’re concerned specifically with emotion, look at a story you like and analyze a paragraph with an eye toward emotion. How does the writer convey the character’s emotions? How often do they even mention emotions? Are they using key emotion-related words? Pick that paragraph apart. Then see if you can extract one little technique they’re using that seems really cool and effective to you and try it out in your own work. Don’t worry if it feels wonky at first. And - this is important - don’t think of that other writer’s technique as “the right way to do it.” Think of it just as a tool you can put in your toolbox. Other writers undoubtedly use different tools, which you’re free to borrow as well.

I mean, look - writing may seem magical, but it’s also highly technical. I have often calmed down my inner freakout of “but they’re all just so much better than I am!” by really breaking things down to a technical level and seeing exactly how my favorite writers are making their gears mesh together.

2) Another thing I do is the exact opposite of this: I freewrite, or as close as I can get. This just means I set a timer for 30 minutes and write literally whatever’s in my brain at the moment. If I’ve got a specific project brewing, I might think about that project and spew out the first things that come to mind, no matter how stupid or irrelevant. Or I’ll ask myself “what do I want for this story?” and crank out an incoherent paragraph of unrestrained wishes and ideas that reads like a six-year-old wrote it. This is actually super hard, because of course my impulse is to judge it all. So sometimes I will do something to distract a part of my attention (music with lyrics usually does the trick) so that my brain just does not have the bandwidth to write and judge what I’m writing at the same time. 

Very often, when I’m done, I’ll just throw this writing away. Or I might save it if it turns out to be useful rough notes for the project. The point is, I wasn’t trying to make it good, so I don’t reread it hoping for it to be good. It’s just an exercise. And the point of the exercise is merely to disinhibit myself as a writer, to gain access to that layer of unpasteurized thoughts, phrases and ideas that I usually filter out when I’m trying to write well. Because frankly, that filter can catch what’s good as well as what’s bad. And the more you filter yourself, the more difficult it is to reach that spontaneous, irrational, interesting part of you that’s purely creative instead of just correct.

It might seem kind of weird that I do both of these exercises: one devoted to removing the filter of judgment, and one oriented, in a way, toward strengthening it. I’m not sure why it works for me, but the two exercises seem to operate in a kind of dialectic. I know that writing is a technical skill, and that one way to acquire good technique is to become aware of techniques and employ them consciously. But I also know that writing has an accidental, unconscious, one might say id-driven aspect to it, and if I spend too much time obsessing over technique, I risk overinhibiting myself. So that’s why I do both, I guess.

Followers, weigh in with whatever you’ve got!

The Difference Between Snape and Dumbledore

Can be summarized by the following exchanges:

“You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?”

 “Don’t be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?”

 “Lately, only those whom I could not save,”

And

“But this is touching, Severus. Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?”

“For him? Expecto patronum

“After all this time?”

“Always”

Dumbledore loves freely and openly, cannot shut up about the power of love, and acts like a wise and genial Grandfather to almost everyone. Snape’s a harsh, abrasive dick to most people, generally doesn’t care much about anyone’s feelings, and has a few empathy issues. But Dumbledore is the one who’s accomplished in screwing people over to take advantage of them (like sending Harry to the Dursleys, the way he used Snape), sacrifice them for the greater good, and be disturbingly cold about it. Snape isn’t.

“Don’t be shocked, Severus.” Why shouldn’t he be shocked at this revelation? Instead of saying something like “Yes, this is awful, but it must be done to defeat Voldemort”, Dumbledore is kinda trivialising it. In fairness, Dumbledore might have thought that given Snape’s overall character (cold, aloof) this was the best way to break the news to him.

“How many men and women have you watched die?” Meaning that Snape shouldn’t be shocked at Dumbledore deliberately raising another person to be killed, since he’s seen so many others die? Meaning that Snape shouldn’t be horrified at seeing people killed in general? And he’s referring specifically to the people that Snape sees killed as a Death Eater, implicitly bringing up that Snape’s a Death Eater, something to shame him.

And “Lately, only those whom I could not save”. As it happens, Snape is ashamed of being a Death Eater. He is horrified at seeing people killed. So much that he’s willing to risk his cover to try to save them, and he cares about saving them. What happens if he blew his cover, and Voldemort found out? Well, he’d be tortured both as punishment and to get information on the Order, and then killed. The Order would lose its spy, so there goes their MAIN source of intelligence as well their buffer against the Death Eaters (remember, it was Snape who worked out the DoM plot and he’s the one who sends the warnings). Basically, the Order loses one of its most critical members and a fair bit of their secrets. So Snape’s not just risking his life, but essentially the war effort by saving complete strangers who have nothing to do him, with Lily, or with the war effort.

He’s under no obligation to, he’s already risking so much by spying against a mind-reading psychopath, and his only job is spying and keeping his cover. If his Occlumency slipped, if he left tracks behind, if another Death Eater saw him or ratted him out (Bellatrix wasn’t the only one who suspected him, there were several who “carried  false tales of his treachery”) or if Voldy was just feeling a tad too paranoid that day, Snape would have met an agonizing death.  But he’s obviously disturbed by seeing people die and saves them if he can, putting himself (and by extension, the war effort) at an even greater risk. He probably doesn’t even think it through, he just feels compelled to do so. Dumbledore was the one who reminded Snape to “play his part” over Little Winging, and what does Snape do? Risk his cover to try to save Lupin. If Snape had been discovered as a spy then, his death would mean that he couldn’t protect the students as Headmaster, and he couldn’t deliver the message of Harry needing to die. Basically, if he had been found and killed then, Voldemort would have won since Horcrux-Harry would still be around.

The line “For him?” in response to “Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?“ is used to demonize Snape, saying that Snape never cared for Harry for his own sake. But Dumbledore is the one who cares for people on a personal level while still being able to use them and sacrifice them. Snape hardly cares for anyone personally, but he’ll risk so much to save people, and he’s horrified by how Dumbledore raised Harry to be killed. Not caring for someone personally is worlds different from caring if they die, especially since Snape’s been saving complete strangers.

Snape checked up on Sirius to make sure he wasn’t captured at the ministry. Would he ever admit to “caring” about Sirius? Ahahaha, no. He risked his cover trying to save Lupin at a time when keeping his cover was THE most important thing he could do. Would he ever admit to “caring” about Lupin? No. He brought Ron and Hermione as well back to the Hospital Wing from across the grounds in PoA (despite his head wound), saved Katie Bell’s life when she got cursed, and when he heard that a student had been taken to the Chamber he “gripped the back of a chair very hard”. He spent most of DH trying to protect the students from the Carrows whenever he could, like how he sent Neville, Ginny and Luna to Hagrid for detention (after they tried to steal the sword) to protect them from the Carrows. Would he ever admit to “caring” about Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Luna, Katie or any of the students? No.

Unlike Dumbledore (or most people) Snape’s extremely selective about people who he loves or personally cares about. This is partially because of his natural personality, but largely due to the way he’d been abused and bullied. That we can be reasonably sure of, the people he personally cared for (long term, at least) were Lily, Dumbledore, his mother (most likely), Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco. That’s only six people over 38 years of his life, and most of these relationships were dysfunctional on some level (and given the circumstances for each of them, that mostly isn’t his fault). That also helps explain the “Always”. Snape did truly love Lily, but it was a broken, painful love, based on the fact that she was one of the few people who showed him kindness when he’d been rejected and abandoned by almost everyone else. He clung to it because it was one of the few good things he ever had, and yes, it was unhealthy. He can’t get over Lily, and this is tied to how damaged he is because he never recovered from the way he was severely abused, neglected and bullied, with hardly any help and no support system.

Note how Dumbledore got teary eyed at the “Always”, but he didn’t comment on the “Lately, only those whom I could not save”, elaborate on asking Snape to protect the school, or even acknowledge all that much on what Snape did as a spy. I’m not entirely sure what to make of this. But earlier, Dumbledore trusted Snape to protect the students as much as he can, so he recognizes that Snape is wholly on the Order’s side, and that he’s not just doing it for Lily. The “After all this time?”, and Dumbledore’s honest surprise at Snape still loving Lily suggests that Snape and Dumbledore barely discussed Lily after she died. Dumbledore was deeply touched at Snape’s love for Lily, but all his comments on Snape spying, seeing people die, sending Harry to his death, and protecting people proceed as business as usual.

And Snape was horrified at sending Harry to his death. “I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter’s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter”. Now Snape knows that his commitment to Lily is rendered null and void, that he has to send Harry to his death. He does, when he gave Harry his memories.  And knowing this, he still followed through on the most difficult stages in the plan, being killing Dumbledore, trying to protect the students as Headmaster (while still spying and being in complete isolation from the Order and his colleagues), likely forfeiting any chance of his own future, and dying as a Pariah. When Snape had to choose between his commitment to Lily (along with his tendency to save people despite endangering the war effort), and ridding the world of Voldemort, he chose to rid the world of Voldemort. He’d already been fighting for the greater good by spying and saving people while spying, but when the “greater good” ran contrary to his commitment to Lily, he chose the “greater good”, a painful as it was.

Unlike Dumbledore, he was sincerely and openly disgusted by what had to be done, and he didn’t treat sending Harry to his death or watching people die as coldly as Dumbledore did.

Bottom line is, Dumbledore’s a manipulative asshole who does legitimately care for a lot of people, but that doesn’t stop him from using them as pawns and he’s scarily cold about it. Snape’s an honest asshole who personally cares for very few people, but he’s far less cold than Dumbledore about seeing people die, tries to save them if he can, and he isn’t an easy utilitarian. 

Edit: I made this post a while ago, and now it seems to be gaining popularity. Just to be clear, I am not saying that Dumbledore didn’t love Harry or that he didn’t care that he was sending Harry to die. Just that his lines towards Snape regarding Harry (and others) in the Prince’s Tale were surprisingly cold, which has more to do with his relationship with Snape than his love for Harry.

In my daughter’s eyes (7 of 12)

- The first sequel to The best mistake -

Summary: Six months after the birth of their daughter Mae Oliver and Felicity live in Boston as a young family. Going to college and raising a baby is more difficult than either of them could have seen coming. Especially Oliver seems to have trouble settling down in the new city. When he finally finds new friends, he soon finds himself being dragged back into old behavior. Will he realize before he risks everything he built the last months?

Rating: Teen

Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 or read everything on Ao3

Special thanks to Diva Alex @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl for editing this story!

Felicity stared at the alarm clock on her nightstand, forcing herself to breathe in and out as evenly as possible, while she was waiting for her alarm to go off. She hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night. Instead she had lain awake, making sure her breathing made it look like she was asleep though she doubted that Oliver bought it even for a second, while she had tried to get past her anger and disappointment.

It was much easier said than done, though.

Keep reading

Guys my age

Warnings: I might swear I dunno let’s just assume I always swear. Also age gap ( but like it’s legal ) if you’re not into that. 

 Summary: Where Y/N is scared to fall for Tom in fear of the dreaded age gap 

 A/N: okay so I’m like five years YOUNGER than Tom so let’s test out writing where Reader is five years OLDER than Tom. Also I have no idea how to be an adult so I’m sorry. I always try to not gender my writings so I tried to do the same when I referenced parents sorry if that came off a little weird in some places. (Hi its me editing on desktop??? why is everything here so much harder???)

Originally posted by tom-hollcnd

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I’m Fine Update #18

Hello! It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written an I’m Fine update, for reasons that I will explain, but I’m back to working on this project after my little break.

If you’re unaware, I’m Fine is my contemporary novel about family, grief, and maladaptive coping mechanisms (oh and poetic angst). 

I finished the 4th draft of this novel around three weeks ago, and decided to put it aside. My enthusiasm was starting to wane, and more than that, I felt like after reading the book intently back to back three times (draft 4 required two readings) I was starting to memorize the words.

Originally I planned a two week break to work on short stories (which I did, and it was lit) but ended up being super productive with that, so started editing Someone Will Save You. I was going to just edit up until my two week break was over, but by that point it was going so well and I was almost done, so I just finished that draft of SWSY and now can start my next draft of I’m Fine with the peace of mind of that project being where I want it to be for the time being. Also, that book is edited! Amazing! After seven months my friends and family can finally read it.

So, let draft five begin.

The first part of this draft is the fun part: writing new stuff. Near the end of draft four I had a rush of epiphanies about new scenes I needed to add. I have six new scenes, and two smaller edits, so I’m attending to those before I go in for another round of line editing. 

Got that mywriteclub chart going because ah, motivation.

Manuscript length: 74 147

And look at that, my word count is rising again. Nice to know I cut crappy words and am now replacing them with less crappy words.

What did I do today: Today wasn’t super productive or anything, but I’m pleased with the quality of what I got done. I wrote one of the new scenes (which is short, 697 words, since Andie is the only character in the scene). The hardest part was actually figuring out where exactly to place this new scene in the plot. This scene was also just a bunch of nature descriptions so uh yeah…that’s my shit. My speciality is nature descriptions. 

Now, I need to rant about something. Brace yourselves.

Writing this scene was so freaking easy and the prose is so nice and it sounds so mature and pretty and complex AND YET. Oh, and yet. I’ve been struggling to get my old shitty 2015 prose to be that good for like six freaking months AND IT’S NOT. Why. Why is it that writing new stuff is like ha! bam! nice writing! but editing old stuff is like nah. No. You must suffer in an eternal winter. Your prose will always be cringey and melodramatic. And when you make it less cringey and melodramatic it’s just bland and bare and yet you fail your usually grace with metaphors and it remains so boring. Suffering. 

Writing these new scenes is going to be such a breeze because that voice be flowing and those descriptions be lit but then…I go back…to the line edits. This is prose that’s been edited three times, and it’s still not as strong as a random new scene I just dashed off.

Why.

Now, you might say, “Shaelin, just re-write the whole book! That will clearly solve all your problems based on objective evidence you’ve just presented!”

No, I say. Because just…no. 

While in draft four I felt really stilted with my prose, I wasn’t happy with it, not because it was bad but because I felt like it wasn’t getting better. I felt like I’d lost Andie’s voice, or that maybe she didn’t have one anymore after I’d cut so much from the book, but not re-fleshed the writing out. Yet, new scene: so voicey. So pretty. If I can somehow imbue the rest of the book with this prose then I will actually love the state of this novel, finally, after three years. 

Music: I was in a Ben Howard mood (for some reason, but it happens every so often) so listened to his album Every Kingdom. What a great album. 

Excerpt:

The paper birches aren’t golden; they’re naked, like bones fleshed with the pines that grow between and overhead them.

That’s all for now folks!

–Shaelin