i had to start over too many times

I once got into a grudging Nice Off with a neighbour.  This crotchety old bastard had moved in across from my grandma and within a week became legendary for his sniping about every tiny thing.  Kids sitting on their front steps weren’t respectful.  Someone’s cat got into his yard.  The mailman stopped in front of his parking space for two seconds.  The man was impossible.

So I baked him a cake.  Not like a Duncan Hines box cake either.  I made an angel food cake with whipped cream and strawberries between the layers and lemon buttercream frosting entirely from scratch.  I was and still am crap at cake decorating, but pale yellow frosting with star shaped sprinkles on top looks pretty good no matter how uncoordinated you are.  Then I put on my nicest clothes, marched over, and apologised for not welcoming him to the neighbourhood sooner.

He slammed the door in my face.  Then the next day he came over with cookies.  I offered to mow his lawn.  He told me he wouldn’t pay me then invited me in for lemonade.  I took him cupcakes I had “accidentally” made too many of.  He loaned me a book on Irish history.  I read him the newspaper.  He (rudely) told me how to improve my English presentation.  I raked up his leaves.  He told me stories about his time in Korea.  Eventually the fucker gave in and actually started being half-way pleasant.

Hamilton Characters as ‘My Immortal Quotes’

Alexander: “OMG wut r u doing fuker he shooted angrily I don’t kno wut da fuk r u DOING I SHOUTED ANGRILY.”

Lafayette: “Every1 in the room stated to cry happly- I had saved them.”

Mulligan: “STOP IT NOW YOU HORNY SIMPLETONS!”

Laurens: “I wuz so turned on cuz I love sensitive bi guyz. (if ur a homophone den fuk of!)”

Burr: "If thou doth not kill him, then I shall kill him anyways!”

Eliza: “He took of my top and I took of his clothes. I even took of my bra. Then he put his thingie into my you-know-what and we did it for the first time.”

Angelica:  "Im good at too many things! WHY CAN’T I JUST BE NORMAL? IT’S A FUCKING CURSE!“

Madison: “”.” he said.”

Jefferson: He had a really big you-know-what but I was too mad to care.”

Washington: “You dunderheads!1111111111” screamed Dumbledore wisely as we went.”

Peggy: (AN: if u don’t know who she is gat da hell out of here!)

Phillip: “They chased me but I threw my wound at them and dey tripped over it”

Maria: “Why couldn’t Satan have made me less beautiful?” I shouted angrily.

King George lll: “I started to cry tears of blood down my pallid face.”

anonymous asked:

Question: does Keith ever actually agree to a cutesy nickname? Also, how quickly did Lance decide Keith needed one? I'm guessing, like, immediately, and when Keith hardcore refused to be called "babe", he just started being ridiculously gooey and gross with the nicknames because "I-actually-want-you-to-pick-one-because-I'm-sappy-and-romantic-that-way-and-also-this-embarrasses-you-which-is-now-one-of-my-top-priorities-in-life-so-honestly-it's-a-win-win" XDD

It took Lance and Keith about three weeks to settle into their status as “boyfriends.” 

After coming down from the high that was a romantic space ball, Lance found he had no clue how to be a boyfriend, and sort of floundered in awkwardness a lot, trying to hold hands but then changing his mind and doing things like pretending to pick lint off Keith’s jacket sleeve. 

Keith had moments of weird insult-compliments because he thought that maybe they shouldn’t fight anymore? So he’d start with, “Lance, you’ve gotta stop running your mouth … except, uh, it’s nice, sometimes, and I like looking at your lips saying stupid stuff?”

They got over this eventually, but Pidge and the others got so much amusement out of it that many inside jokes developed as a result. (“Hey Pidge, you know I love you ‘cause I’m constantly grooming your clothes!” “Aw, thanks, Hunk, I think you’ve got a funny face, but it’s nice to look at it!”)

There was some awkward maneuvering during meal times, too. (Do they sit together? Across from each other? “Okay, make up your minds, Lance, Keith, at this point you’re both just playing musical chairs.” “Bite me, Pidge.” “Insert obligatory innuendo about your boyfriend here.” “Wow, Keith is really red now — nice one!” “Hey, only I’m allowed to embarrass him like that!”). 

And, first kiss aside, there was a lot of: 

“Um, Keith, can I kiss you now? Is this a kissing moment?” 

“That was a pretty awesome shot you just made, so I think yes …” 

Also: “Keith, is there some kind of rule for making-out? Do we just agree together that this couch is a make-out spot?” 

“I don’t mind kissing you anywhere — I mean, anywhere on the Castle, not like, anywhere on your not yet at least, and Lance, stop freaking laughing and kiss me, you asshole.”

Not to mention they had to figure out where their boundaries were during super-important-Voltron-missions-and-meetings, as well as when they were just hanging out with the others during casual-nobody-is-trying-to-kill-us times.

Eventually, they both became at ease with certain levels of PDA, and they learn how to read each other’s wordless cues, and talk about other things that are important, like the how and when of personal space, how much time to spend in each other’s rooms, etc.

So, almost a month has gone by at this point, and Lance is comfortable and content, and just has to call his boyfriend something other than “Keith” or “Red.” But when he lets “babe” slip out, Keith immediately says, “Uh, no. Never say that to me again.” 

Lance took that as a challenge, and started tossing increasingly terrible names at him randomly and with much eyebrow waggling. Keith got annoyed, but he never took Lance aside to seriously ask him to stop, so Lance kept right on embarrassing him (and the others, secondhand), for about two weeks. 

And yes, romance was fifty percent of his enjoyment, but blushing Keith was absolutely the other fifty percent of his motivation — even if half of these blushes were less I’m-so-embarrassed, and more next-time-we-spar-I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass.

During their pirate encounter, Lance lets “querido” slip out — partially deliberate, partially a natural fall back into his native language, but as soon as he says it, Keith has a very visceral reaction, and that is it

Lance uses querido and cariño all the time. After they’ve been dating for even longer, mi amor slips in too. And maybe, further down the road, mi vida comes into play.

Point being, Lance cannot believe he’d neglected to use Spanish with Keith, especially considering that words of affection were the first he’d learned, since they’d been said to him by his parents and older siblings since he was a baby. He starts speaking Spanish not only with Hunk, but with Keith now as well, and it’s fun to whisper things into Keith’s ear, watching him turn pink, even when all he’s saying is, “Querido, next time you use my face cream without asking first, I’m going to flush your fingerless gloves down the toilet.”


And holy crap, I’m sorry! What a freaking roundabout way to answer your question. *sweats* Sometimes my brain does stuff without my permission. Damn. You’re awesome for asking stuff, and I’m sorry for being so damn long-winded! *hugs*

Purple Jewels (M) | 04

Word Count: 6242
Member: Jimin x Reader x Jungkook
Genre: Smut, Supernatural, Fluff & Angst

Genie!Jimin ⇢ Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Ongoing

When you fall in love with Jungkook and he isn’t there to catch you, a sudden surprise shows up to give you a little bit of help.

cr.

Keep reading

Never Ever

Summary: 

“What’s your ideal type?” Eric, one of the hosts of After School Club, asked Mark. 

“Y/N,” he admitted. The other GOT7 members exchanged looks, and Eric laughed – but then his smile faltered when he realized Mark was serious. 

“Wait, really? Y/N? You know the stories about her, right? What, are you looking for trouble or something?”

Now it was Mark’s turn to smile. “Definitely.” 

Pairing: Mark x You (Idol!Reader) 

Genre: Humor and Angst 

[Mini Masterlist

HUGE thanks to @the-porcelain-doll-xo for beta reading this for me! And go check out her writing okay she’s such an inspiration, and if you love GOT7, she’s got you covered!!

SPECIAL FEATURE ALERT: This is a reader-interactive fic, so in the box below, if you enter a name (yours or a character’s, for example), and click “submit”, it will swap out “Y/N” for that name. Y/L/N stands for “your last name.” None of the information entered is stored. This feature does not work on dashboard/feed/mobile app unfortunately.

Your name: submit What is this?

Your last name: submit What is this?

Y/N’s POV

“Hey.

The voice was unfamiliar so you ignored it, still mostly passed out anyway from all the alcohol. But apparently, the person wasn’t going to take the hint because a moment later you felt a hand gently touching your shoulder. “Hey, wake up. You can’t sleep here, honey.”

“Wanna bet?” you murmured and turned over.

“Oh, let me handle this,” another voice, this one’s clipped tone all too familiar, snapped, and then someone was slapping your face and saying into your ear, “Get the hell up, kid, before I tell Jason to drag your ass out of here.” Jason, your bodyguard, who had actually forcibly carried you out of places many times before. This wasn’t an empty threat. You groaned and pried your eyes open, and your bleary gaze landed on the bottle of Jack beside you. Despite the awful taste in your mouth and the headache you were starting to feel, you snatched it up and took a swig as you sat up, tossing a slow grin at the two men standing before you with heavy disapproval. One was your manager, Kevin, and the other was…a preacher?

That’s when you noticed the morning light falling in colors through the stained-glass windows, the rows of wooden pews, the crucifix hanging above you…because you were sprawled out on the altar of a church sanctuary.

Wow. Wild night.

“What time is it?” you yawned, about to bring the bottle to your lips again but Kevin seized it from your hands, shooting you a look.

“Seven AM,” the preacher said. “I have to start getting ready for service, so if you could kindly—”

“Sure,” you nodded. “I’ll give a sermon. That’s basically just a rant about how we’re all going to hell, right? I love reminding people that they’re all damned.”

The preacher gaped at you and your grin widened, but then your manager caught you by the arm and yanked you roughly to your feet.

“Excuse us, Preacher,” he apologized and you winked as Kevin towed you down the aisle and out of the sanctuary. Your legs were a little wobbly – but after so many years of drinking, you’d built up a pretty strong tolerance for liquor, and considering how many shots you’d thrown back last night, you were impressed at your stability. Although your headache was starting to intensify now.

“So,” you swallowed against the pain as the two of you made your way out of the church, “what’s the plan for today? I vote for a day off – oh, I know this little breakfast place that has the best pancakes you’ve ever eaten—”

“You really think you deserve a break after your little stunt last week?” Kevin snapped.

Your face hardened at the memory. “Look, that photographer was a sleazy dick. He kept brushing his hands over Lucy when he thought no one was looking! That’s disgusting as it is, but she’s only sixteen! I would punch him again, given the chance.”

“No, you absolutely will not.” You reached the parking lot, and Kevin waited for you to get into the back of the car before sliding in behind you himself, as if making sure you didn’t run away. Jason nodded at you from behind the wheel. “Anyway,” Kevin said briskly as he gestured for Jason to start driving. “There’s been a change in your schedule.”  

“I’m not doing another fan meet, if that’s what it is, unless you want my head to explode. Migraine,” you clarified at Kevin’s confusion. You had never minded those events.

He shook his head and handed you his phone as Jason pulled out of the lot. You glanced down at the screen and found a video waiting for you, an After School Club episode from a few days ago.

“What is this?” you asked and when you looked up, Kevin was grinning at you.

“Just hit play.” So you did.


Mark’s POV – A few hours later

Mark wrinkled his nose, trying not to sneeze as his makeup artist patted the concealer on his face into place, adding the finishing touches. Beside him, Jackson and Bambam were also trying and failing to remain still as their hair was carefully patted into place and their clothes smoothed. It was dark in the wings of the stage, but only a few feet away, bright light bore down on the talk show set. He could hear the chattering of the live audience and the cacophony of the tech crew getting things ready. They were going live in just a couple of minutes.

“You ready?” Jackson asked as he came over, picking a piece of lint off Mark’s shirt.

Mark rolled his shoulders and flashed Jackson his best aegyo smile. “Oh, yeah.” In reality, he was exhausted. They’d been on their feet for the last sixteen hours, running through airports, in the studio, doing last minute promos for their upcoming album. They were lucky they’d even managed to shove some food into themselves in between the chaos. Once this show was done, they could finally get some rest. Mark was already half-asleep behind his camera-ready smile.

People were getting into place now. The host, a loud and amicable man by the stage name of Alex, was settling into his armchair, and Mark took a final sip of water from the bottle he was holding, feeling the reflexive nerves tighten his stomach. At least this was only a short interview, and a laid back one at that. Alex was known to be pretty chill. It wasn’t like a variety show where they would have to do a lot. Just talk, and with Jackson and Bambam here with him, Mark wasn’t too worried about getting tongue-tied.

“Everyone ready?” the head cameraman called, but it was more of an order than a question. “We’re live in five, four, three, two…” He gave a thumbs up, and Alex’s face lit up as the cameras rolled. Here we go, Mark thought.

“Hi guys, welcome back to another episode of Afternoon With Alex,” Alex beamed into the camera. The crowd applauded, and Mark handed his water bottle to a passing PA, clapping Bambam on the shoulder as he came to stand with him and Jackson. “Today we have three members of a certain group you all know and love…you could say they usually ‘got 7’ members…” The three of them groaned but then immediately smiled as they were ushered onto the set, “Here they are – GOT7’s Jackson, Mark, and Bambam!”  

They walked across the stage and waved to the crowd, bowing to Alex before taking a seat on the plush sofa resting opposite his armchair, Jackson sitting between Bambam and Mark. The set was nice – small and spacious, giving it more of a living room feel than a stage.

“Hi boys, how are you?” Alex turned his thousand-watt smile on them. At their chorus of ‘Good’ he continued, “So, you have a new album in the works, correct?”

More promotions, Mark swallowed a sigh and sat back, letting his friends do all the talking.

He’d contented himself to dreaming about his bed, and it was only when Jackson nudged his shoulder that he snapped back to attention.

“Mark hyung is the only one,” Bambam said in response to some question Alex had asked.

“I’m the only…what?” he laughed to cover up his embarrassment for zoning out.

“The only one who might have plans for Valentine’s day,” Bambam finished with a naughty smile. Valentine’s Day? Why—

Oh wow. That was today. That’s what the vase of roses on the coffee table next to them was for. And the pink balloons hovering behind them. And their red outfits. In the midst of everything, Mark had forgotten all about the holiday.

“They’re just kidding,” he shook his head with a laugh. “There’s no one in my life right now.”

Alex raised a brow mischievously. “That’s not what I heard.”

Oh boy.  

“You mentioned in an After School Club episode that your ideal type is Y/N,” Alex prompted.

Ah, there it was. It was Valentine’s Day, after all, and what decent host wasn’t going to bring up a hot topic like celebrity romance? “I did,” he smiled bashfully, picturing her. Y/N. An idol among idols. Her face was on thousands of websites and billboards, on posters and in magazines, and yet the image of her that came to mind and made him warm was completely different.

“That was a good episode,” a voice said from behind, and Mark felt the blood drain from his face as he and the members jerked their heads around to see—

Y/N. In the flesh. Standing half-hidden in the wings of the stage. At the sudden attention on her, she grinned and walked onto the set as the audience went wild. Bambam clapped a hand over his mouth, Jackson was in hysterics, and Mark…

Mark couldn’t seem to get his heart to restart.

The three of them watched as she bowed to Alex before coming over to the sofa, and Jackson half-knocked Bambam onto the floor in his hurry to make room for her. Laughing, Y/N settled in between Jackson and Mark. There wasn’t much space, so her bare thigh was pressed flush against his – and that was another thing. As part of her image, she was almost always dressed in all black, usually jeans and leather, but today she was in a red dress and tight denim jacket. And Mark was not unmoved.

“So, unless you’ve been living under a rock,” Alex addressed the audience, “you’ll know that this lovely young lady is none other than Y/L/N Y/N, the main rapper and vocalist of the popular girl group, 7/11.” Another cheer from the crowd, and Alex turned back to her. “Thank you for joining us today, Y/N.”

“How could I not?” she said with a sly look at Mark. He could feel his face burning as he ducked his head. Well…he was wide awake now. He’d figured there was a chance she would see the ASC video, but he’d never imagined this would be the result.  

“Yeah, tell us about your reaction to finding out that you’re Mark’s type.”

Y/N nodded. “I called Jia, one of our other members, and I was like, ‘Jia-yah, there’s this cute boy who likes me!’”

Cute. Mark could feel Jackson looking at him smugly but all he could focus on was her. She’d called him cute.

“And what did Jia say?” Bambam asked eagerly.

“She told me to stop drunk-dialing her.” They all laughed at this, and Mark couldn’t help but marvel at her. This was the same girl who was as famous for her temper as her charm. Not a month went by where she wasn’t the front page of some tabloid, busted for a new bar brawl or gambling or getting wasted in public. The media called her a catastrophe, but man, did she clean up nice.

Alex was having a great time either way, apparently. “What’s your ideal type then?” he asked her. “We already know Mark’s. Jackson likes healthy girls, and Bambam likes a girl with a pretty smile. What do you look for, Y/N?”

“Oh, a heartbeat, usually.” She shrugged, pleased at their second round of laughter. “I don’t know, really. I don’t think I’m girlfriend material, so I don’t give it a lot of thought. And c’mon, which parents are going to approve of me for their son?”

“Aw, you’re not a bad person,” Jackson said, and she shot him an amused look.

“I didn’t say I was bad. I’m just not good. There’s a difference.” Mark watched her carefully cool expression with intrigue.

“I’m sure that’s true,” Alex said quickly, clearly hoping to regain control of the conversation before they crossed into controversial territory. Teenagers loved Y/N’s rebellious, screw-the-rules attitude, but their parents were less than happy to patronize her and her group’s music. “Anyway, I was hoping we could end our show with a little Valentine’s day game.”

Dammit. Mark plastered a smile on his face to hide his apprehension. A game? Not only was he going to have to do something most likely embarrassing, but he would have to do it in front of Y/N. “You all remember the Kiss The Radio event GOT7 did in 2016, yes? The one where the members put on lipstick and kissed Bambam?”

Mark felt his stomach drop. Where was Alex going with this? They nodded, and he continued. “Right. I was thinking we could do something similar – the GOT7 members will put on some lipstick again but instead of Bambam, they’ll give Y/N a kiss and one of these roses,” he gestures to the vase. “And then she’ll consider of all of you and choose one member to be her valentine.”

Before Mark could die of horror and excitement, Y/N raised her hand. “I have a suggestion,” she said, and Alex nodded in encouragement. “Since the boys have already done this, why don’t we switch it up a bit? I’ll give them a kiss and a flower, and they can decide amongst themselves who will be my valentine. Maybe rock, paper, scissors or something,” she chuckled.

“Oh, I like it!” he clapped, and Mark felt a fluttering in his stomach. To be kissed by Y/N…

The four of them stood up as she began to prepare. She was handed a tube of liptstick from a PA, and as she walked over to the camera to use its reflection as a mirror, Jackson elbowed Mark playfully. “I should take a leaf out of your book and tell girls I like them during interviews,” he smirked. 

When Y/N was done, smacking her lips at the excited audience, she came back and plucked three roses from the vase, one pink, one red, and one white. That’s when I Like You stared playing in the background, and after pausing to sniff the flowers, she turned to the boys with a gleam in her eyes.

It was time to begin.

The GOT7 members lined up at the center of the stage, and Y/N made her way casually to Bambam first.

“Hi Bambam,” she dimpled, holding the roses behind her back. She looked like a shy schoolgirl.  

“Hey,” he tried to say coolly, but he just sounded flustered. With an affectionate smile, she offered him the white rose and he accepted it, grinning nervously. But there was an uncharacteristic softness in Y/N’s eyes as she touched his face, and it seemed to put him at ease as she pulled him down to place a kiss on his forehead. Bambam looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry after she let him go, and she chuckled.  

When Y/N stepped towards Jackson, however, her entire demeanor shifted. Mark watched with fascination – and something else – as she tilted her head back and stared up at him from beneath hooded eyes, a lazy smile on her face as she playfully dangled the pink rose in front of him. Jackson took the rose with a squeal – which was abruptly cut off when Y/N tore her jacket off, threw it on the ground, and yanked Jackson into her arms before pecking him on the cheek. When she released him, he collapsed dramatically on the ground in a heap, earning a laugh from the audience.

 And then it was Mark’s turn. His heart pounded behind his ribcage as she moved into his bubble of space. Somehow, up close, she was even lovelier, and Mark fought the urge to brush her hair back and hold her close until whatever rage was driving her reckless behavior faded. Instead, he just beamed down at her as she shyly held out the red rose. His eyes never left hers as he took it, and then her hands, surprisingly cool for the hot weather, were on his face. Gentle, she was so gentle, as if she was afraid she would break him. Y/N stretched up on her tiptoes, and for the briefest second that also felt like an eternity, her lips hovered over his.

And then she moved higher to kiss his nose.

The audience might have been cheering, but Mark couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears as she drew away. Unlike him, Y/N didn’t look flustered or excited or affected at all. She just looked…exhausted. But the smile never left her face.

Before Jackson, Bambam, or Alex could say anything, Mark hesitantly reached for her hand, and she gave it with surprise.

“Y/N…” he tried not to sound like a nervous twelve-year-old, “will you be my valentine?”

She looked at him, really looked at him, and then with the most heartbreaking smile, she said, “Yes.” But it wasn’t her smile or her answer that broke his heart – it was her eyes.

Because her eyes were saying no.


A/N: So this was supposed to be a completely different oneshot, but my brain kept screaming, Make it longer, you heathen!! BUT I’m not sure if this was a good idea, so if you guys don’t like it or it doesn’t get any notes, I’ll delete it and just write the oneshot :)

UPDATE: Part 2 posted [here]! 

Tagging my frens who probably don’t want to be tagged but idc because this is part of being my friend: @hoegiwa, @nunchiwrites, @kpopfanfictrash, @tousdae, and @lizardsoo - thanks for constantly inspiring and motivating meeee

Hey so the VLD fandom has made several of my friends feel like shit lately so i’d like to make a general statement to everyone and anyone who’s ever started shit:

Grow up. It’s a kid’s cartoon. Nothing is that deep. It is not worth hurting a REAL PERSON over. You’ve rendered my friends to tears and have triggered anxiety and panic attacks and memories way too fucking many times for me to ignore this. Over fictional fucking characters. You’re not helping anyone. Your issues and experiences are your own and by forcing them onto others you’re causing a plethora of negative emotions. No one’s happy to be part of this fandom anymore and it’s because of the ugly black & white mentality so many of you have.

Hate what you want. Love what you want. Stop forcing it onto others. It’s that simple. If someone hates a ship you love then leave them alone. If someone loves a ship you hate then leave them alone. Block people. Use blacklist extensions. How many times can i say this: your internet experience is your responsibility and yours alone and it’s not fair to expect others to cater to you. No matter what you do, people are gonna do what you hate. So move on.

Take a step back and look at your goddamn life and stop shitting on other people because you’re not happy. Happy people do not spew venom at others. Look at your issues and fix your life and stop trying to ruin others’. This needs to stop.

anonymous asked:

Hello! So I was scouring the Internet for advice today but I couldn't find any on this topic. My problem isn't that I don't have any ideas (I probably have too many) but the problem is that I don't LOVE any of my ideas. I like them. I think they're all fine ideas. But liking them isn't going to motivate me long enough to finish a novel. How can I give my ideas that extra uumph to make me love them? How can I figure out what's missing or why I don't feel this way about any of my ideas?

Hello, nonny!  What a challenging question…  This one’s been in my inbox a couple days, just because it’s such a big question.  But I’ve thought it over and I think I have some ideas for you :)


The Thrill Is Gone – How to Find It Again

So generally, there’s no one answer or cure-all to this problem.  I’ve had this issue multiple times, with different causes.  My first novel didn’t have enough meat to the plot; my second novel had been over-planned in my head to the point that it no longer excited me.  My third novel had way too much plot, so that by the time I got ¾ the way through, I’d written over 200K words and felt sick of the idea.  I started my fourth novel way too soon, and am now going back and planning it more!  So there are obviously many different reasons that a story doesn’t take off (or dries up eventually).

The first step is to figure out what’s missing, like you said.  There are a few aspects of your story to assess…


1. Plot

I’m discussing plot first because, to me, it’s the most important part of fiction.  Plot, conflict, and stakes are foremost to my stories.  You could have the most complex and sympathetic characters, but without plot, they’re static and become boring.  But for some reason, this is the part of story ideas that new authors neglect most!

So if your story has great characters and an immersive setting, but you can’t get into it, try asking a few questions about your plot:

  • What is the point of the plot?  What’s the message you’re conveying in the story?  Even if your story isn’t an allegory or a metaphor or the next Chronicles of Narnia, there should always be a conclusion to which all plots arrive – otherwise, the story can feel aimless.  The best way to find your message is to look at the conflicts involved (e.g. Man vs. Man, Man vs. Nature, etc.) and find the “winner”.  What worldview, belief, or concept “defeats” the other concepts?  It can be as simple as Good vs. Evil, or more complex, like Loving the Sincere Drug Addict vs. Settling for the Selfish Dentist (provokes the question “Is love worth danger in relationships?”).
  • Does the plot have ups and downs?  And really consider both ends of the spectrum here.  Stories become dull if they are made up of victory after victory – or if they’re made up of nothing but loss and tragedy.  No matter the genre, you have to strike some sort of balance, lest the story become predictable and emotionally non-engaging.  Find victories and failures, even in unassuming places, to keep readers invested and hopeful.
  • Do you have a satisfactory ending?  Or do you have the ending     planned yet?  I’ve found that I can’t really commit to an idea unless I see a resolution – otherwise I feel too nervous to start.  If you do have an ending planned, make sure it’s the right ending.  It can feel like there’s one possible conclusion, and once you’ve found it, you stick to it – but question it, brainstorm it.  It may not be a happy ending every time, but when you find the right one, you’ll know it.
  • Do you have the right plot at all?  Look at your story as a whole.  Does it start too early or too late, relative to the real meat,     the real action?  Is it told from the most impactful POV?  Does the plot cover too much ground for one book, or is it not enough to fill the pages?  Consider all the characters, backstories, and subplots you have, and ask yourself if any of them are more interesting than the main plot.  If so, shift your focus.  Use them instead.

2. Characters

Maybe it’s not your plot that’s going sideways.  Maybe you have it all worked out – the head, the tail, the whole damn thing – but it still doesn’t feel right.  It doesn’t feel like it’s coming to life, somehow.  It feels flat.

That can be a character problem.  It would be like sitting by the campfire and hearing the most fascinating, horrifying story, except it’s told by a man with The Most Boring Voice Who Talks So Incredibly Slowly and Takes All the Fun Out of Everything.  An example: The Hunger Games.  Those books bored the crap out of me.  Unless someone was being killed or Haymitch and Effie were interacting, I just didn’t care.  And those books had a great plot behind them!

So here’s what you need for a good cast of characters:

  • A solid protagonist.  Solid = three-dimensional, empathetic, and relatable; having a goal, an internal conflict, a self-image, and fears or shame.  They should have different facets of themselves – their head and their heart, their desires and doubts, and that little voice in their head that says, “Give up on that.  Be realistic.”  Give them strengths, weaknesses, and a couple of bad habits, for kicks.
  • A variety of supporting characters.  You don’t have to have thirty characters + six secret characters stuffed under your trench coat; but with however many characters you have, make them as different from each other as possible.  Give them some similarities, of course, so that they can relate to each other – but never make them so close together that you have to decide, “Who should say this line?  Character A or Character B?”  Make them unique enough that the words come out of their mouths, instead of you having to decide where to put the words, yourself.
  • Relationships, relationships, relationships.  And I’m not talking about romantic relationships.  I mean, sure, those too – but there are many different kinds of relationships to explore.  Friendships, enemy-ships (?), parent relationships, sibling-ships, silent alliances, “annoying friend-of-a-friend”-ships, “my-ex’s-little-sister”-ships, “you’re-the-ruler-of-the-galaxy-and-a-Sith-lord-but-also-my-dad-please-stop-being-evil”-ships…  You get the idea.  Make them unique, make them strong, and allow them to evolve over the course of the story.
  • Diverse morals, interests, and personalities.  My first short stories focused on white middle-class people who were culturally and politically identical.  They lived in one house, usually, and watched the same TV shows and made the same references.  They had the same sense of humor.  They rarely disagreed on anything that wasn’t clear-cut (e.g. “You drank the last Pepsi!”  “I was thirsty!”).  So do yourself a favor and don’t make my mistakes.  Give your characters unique ethics, cultures, backgrounds, personalities, goals, appearances, and conflicts.  You’ll be more invested by then, I’m sure.

3. Setting

Lastly, I’d like to add that while your characters and plot could be well-developed, there’s always a chance that they’re placed in the wrong setting.  This is why many story ideas can seem great, but won’t get off the ground – maybe they’re set in a pre-made universe like Middle Earth or Panem when they could be their own story.  Maybe your tragic romance is set in the middle of apocalyptic war, when instead, it should be drained down to a period piece.  Maybe your story is perfect, except you’re writing it too close to home – in the real world, in the present year.  There are a million factors to picking the right setting, including:

  • Applicable history and culture.  If you’re writing a story about someone who’s oppressed, or someone who’s a politician, or someone who’s a witch, you’re going to need to back that up with history.  Develop a history for the oppression or politics or witchcraft – where these things began, how they developed over time – and a culture for them now – how oppressed people survive and how witches in your world interact, etc.
  • Imaginative scenery, influenced by the characters.  Even if your story takes place in New York City in 2017, allow your characters’ living spaces and workplaces to have a unique touch – colors and quirks that your readers can see in their mind.  If even you can’t see what you’re writing, inspiration is going to be difficult to find.
  • A lifelike background.  Just because the plot focuses on your characters does not mean everything going on behind it should be quiet and dead.  Anyone who looks out a window in a city building can see other people living – people on the highway will see other cars taking other people other places.  Everyone who has a friend will hear a little something about their friend’s siblings, their friend’s friends, their friend’s neighbors.  Life and stories exist outside of your plot; make sure you’re not writing about a ship in a bottle.
  • An aesthetic.  That sounds gross and teen-tumblr-y, but let me tell you personally: I don’t feel truly ready to write (and love) my story until I can hear the music for the future movie adaptation – until I can see the kind of clothes the people wear, the games they play, the places they eat and shop.  I think of the colors and themes in my scenes (e.g. my first novel was set primarily at night in a grunge/city setting; my current novel is very green and outdoorsy and gives me that feeling of bonfires just after sunset).  Once you get that “feeling” from your story, you’ll know it.

Anyway, this reply took me like three days to write because I really wanted to get into it.  I hope some of this helps you to fall in love with one of your ideas, so you can get started :)  If you have any more questions, be sure to send them in!

(I have 26 questions in the inbox, though, so be patient with me…)


If you need advice on writing, fanfiction, or NaNoWriMo, you should maybe ask me!

Goth vs Mainstream Over 40 Years

So its always kind of bothered me a bit that some goths like to really dump on modern goth styles and trends when in retrospect, goth has always mirrored the mainstream in terms of fashion in some point or another. Right from the very beginning goth was borrowing from the mainstream and vice versa. So i thought that i would break down 4 decades of goth fashion and their comparisons to popular trends and mainstream fashion to show you that goth has never been as original as you might think and that change and evolution is inevitable in all subcultures that involve fashion.

Of course we all know goth came from punk so obviously from the very moment goth stood on its own two legs, it was already borrowing style inspiration from its punk roots, but it didnt stop there.

80′s style

The 80′s were known as a pretty outrageous time for fashion and with pop music dominating the radio and television it was understandable that pop stars were a huge influence when it came to fashion. Madonna was definitely one of the most influential fashion icons of the 80′s and though she was a pop princess on the radio, some of her style often dappled in the darker side of fashion. she often sported fishnet tops, black leather and religious symbols. much like Siouxsie Sioux. Leather, spandex, lace and pointy shoes were all trendy in the 80′s, but not just in goth, but much of the mainstream as well.  Makeup was often bold in color and almost geometric in shape. And of course who could forget that hair? Goths in the 80′s went all out when it came to their hairstyles  but they weren’t the only ones wasting a whole can of Aqua Net in one day on keeping their hair gravity defying. Almost everyone in the 80′s at some point has backcombed, teased or crimped their locks all in the name of bigger hair.

90′s Style

Of course not every trend that was popular in the 80′s died as soon as the 90′s rolled around, and a lot of goths were still wearing looks that were common in the 80′s but much of goth fashion was becoming less punk and more romantic during the mid to late 90′s. The 90′s brought with it, a strange obsession with the occult. Shows like charmed, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and movies like The Craft, began influencing certain fashion trends. Velvet dresses with combat boots became staples in both goth and mainstream fashion. 90′s hair became less styled and more free and many goth women began adopting the free flowing look that added to the mysterious seductress vibe. Makeup became less geometric. It was popular at the time for women to go linerless or wear darker more natural tones in a smudged fashion around their eyes.  young goths were ditching the pointy shoes to go with the more popular platform style that the 90′s was known for.


2000′s Style

I think most of us can agree that the 2000′s had some really hit or miss trends in both goth and mainstream fashion and I can comfortably say that the 2000′s is seen as a rather embarrassing decade by many goths now. This was the time that a lot of misinformed young people were flocking to Manson concerts and Hot Topic and were eating up everything that they thought was goth whether it was or not. Many of the so called “goths” you saw on TV in the 2000′s were what we today consider mall goths. Mainstream fashion was really all over the place in the 2000′s and i think goth fashion was too. Pop stars were experimenting with strange color and style combinations and goths started experimenting with neon. Rave fashion had evolved and trickled over from the 90′s into 2000′s mainstream fashion and into goth as well in what is call cyber goth. In the 2000′s baggy pants became popular with young people and goths began sporting Tripp pants and other forms of cargo pants. Skater fashion clashed with the mainstream as well as with goth and you would often see goth teens wearing Avrils signature eye look paired with a fishnet top and black baggy pants. Stripped stockings became popular and high fashion was borrowing  from goth more than ever. Thankfully romantic goth survived well enough that not every goth looked like a cross between a spice girl, a raver and a character from Invader Zim, but unfortunately there were a lot of misguided youths experimenting with a subculture that they didnt know enough about and with how many strange trends we blew through in the 2000′s its understandable why goth fashion was so all over the place.


2010′s Style

And suddenly we are stuck in this strange place between the 80′s and 90′s. Mainstream fashion in the past 7 years has really borrowed a lot from the past, especially the 90′s. But this time, its doing it in a simpler, more flattering fashion. The 90′s was cool right? Well if you’re a 90′s kid like me then you probably jumped right on that 90′s revival train like the rest of us and you’re riding it all the way through nostalgia town. Grungy ripped jeans, flannel and band Ts, chunky boots and tattoo chokers are all back in style and many goths are eating it up as well. But im going to give nu goth some credit here. Some of it is really nice. Black leather jackets, velvet, occult symbols and fishnets. Its almost like its paying an homage to 80′s and 90′s goth fashion. Of course a lot of nu goth style in 2010 was really ugly garbage but the style has improved over the years, encompassing other styles such as strega fashion and ninja goth. Witchy symbols are being worn by goths and mainstreamers alike. Long band T shirts over leggings and wide brimmed hats are everywhere. Shows like American Horror Story helped kick start the witchy fashion trend and everyone is buying it. I personally enjoy a lot of aspects of modern goth fashion because they remind me of the 80′s and 90′s. Even pointy shoes are coming back into style. Its possible that with the help of nu goth and mainstream fashion we may actually be able to kickstart a new generation of traditional goths and finally come full circle.

So goth has never really been original and just like every other fashion, its going to keep evolving over time and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Now that leather jackets and pointy buckle boots are coming back into style and more people are asking who Joy Division is after seeing one of their shirts hanging up in Forever 21, we are now closer to our goth roots than we have been in 2 decades. Goth fashion was always about experimenting and expressing yourself but even the best of us have fallen prey to trends, and thats not a bad thing. Fashion is something to have fun with, and if goth really does claim to be a subculture thats “all about the music” then it shouldnt matter how a goth dresses.

3

MY ECCC MAGIC

Sorry for the late post. Lost my original post, so here is the do over of my thoughts and observations.

My first Con and honestly did not know what to expect. So glad I went and now can cross this off my bucket list. Almost did not make it as a 100’+ tree came down in my yard a few days before but I was determined and with a little luck, made it happen.

Much has already been said about the panel so I won’t rehash too much. The lines. OMG the lines. They were as terrible as everyone said, but in the end definitely worth it. A man next to me and all alone said he came for his wife who hated crowds. Ahhhh. He also came for the games at the con but still! I was impressed. The first pic shows the sea of people there. Unbelievable. It also shows my empty seat far right in the FIRST ROW!!! The second shows how close the first row was to the stage. Yeah I was star struck. Sam was very playful and his accent amazing, and the kilt twirl a er um…visual treat. Cait was all legs and more legs and beautiful skin. I found myself mesmerized by them and not even wanting to look at the large screens but to just watch them in person. Figured I could see the tape later but could never really look at them real time probably ever again. Unfortunately my iPhone pics are crap, but @sileas84 had some good pics. Many touching moments and then it was over too soon. I remember being surprised it was mainly made up of audience questions.

Then over to get my first photo which was with Sam. It was very disorganized, the lines were too long and it started to heat up with all the bodies. Fun talking in line with others and listening to the conversations of this diverse fandom. Yep some scary. Finally to the front of the line and a quick peek in the small mirror showed that the rain, the lines and now the heat had me looking my absolute best, but hey, it was only Sam! My first glimpse of him, he was wiping the sweat from his brow (hey I’ll throw that rag away for ya 😜). It was click, next, click thx you verra much and I was quite honestly a little speechless (so not me). He of course has a smile and a big hello for everyone. He was skinnier than I expected from his VF pic but honestly you just can’t imagine how handsome he is in person. Sucks the air right of out of ya. No lie. In my last 10 seconds with him, I thanked him for something and then remembered I had brought a gift. I tried to give it to him, but a handler whisked it and me away as I heard him say “for me?”. Smooth Perri. Not.

Then off to stand in line again for pic with both Sam and Cait. More conversations with new friends in line and lots of positive reinforcement that I am not nearly the most crazy fan out there. Seriously. My girlfriend was with me in all three pics, but in this next one, I did not get to say anything to Cait as I was next to Sam and she was next to Cait (ok yeah I told her where to stand). Again very rushed, but Sam makes a point to say to me “thank you for the gift”. I fell over that he remembered it was me and that he had not said thank you before I was pushed out for the next person. It was genuine and I was impressed. I looked to see if the gift was still there in that area (I had put it in a distinct blk/wh polka dot nylon bag) and not seeing it, I asked the handler who said it had already been taken upstairs. Not sure what that means exactly…

Back in more lines for last pic with Cait only. Feet are screaming at me by now. But heck, now I get to meet Cait! I have to tell you I was not prepared. Guys I was gobsmacked by the man that is Sam Heughan, but I was blown away by the devine human being that is Caitriona Balfe. She is charming, engaging, warm, friendly and immediately puts you at ease not to mention drop dead gorgeous. What a treat. Who could not love and admire her. In my 5 seconds with her I think I thanked her for a bunch of stuff that I hope made sense and then she said she liked my bag. That jogged my memory to tell her that I had left a gift for her in an identical blk/wh polka dot bag earlier with Sam and to look for the bag that matched her socks (she must like polka dots) and again I was sent on my way.

All in all the photo ops were worth the wait to meet SC up close but I was oh so glad my autograph session was the next day as I am sure my dogs would not have survived another 69-90 min line. All I could focus on was getting to my room and the bottle of wine we had the forethought to have waiting for us.

Then time to go meet the other ladies from Tumblr and swap stories and down a few margaritas. What a hoot! This by far was one of the highlights of the trip. To finally meet some of you was very special for me. Having only found your blogs about 10 months ago, I felt kind of like an outsider going in but your warm reception touched me greatly. You guys are the best and we can never underestimate what we have here. I hope we can meet again someday and can be joined by others that missed this current meeting. As Val offered her place in NY, Christine hers in Hawaii, I offer mine in the wine country of Sonoma CA for a future get together or anyone that is here for a visit. Muah my lovelies.

Next morning off to more lines to get my autographs. This time I notice a couple of chairs inside the room, so I ask if I could sit down there until my spot in line gets to the front, and to my shock they said yes! Of course, it was 12’ away from Sam and for 30-45 mins I had the absolute pleasure of watching Sam be gracious and charming with each and every one of his fans. What a treat that seat was! Then it was my turn and Cait was first up. I had a few moments to chat with her and to my surprise actually got tongue tied a bit. She was beyond gracious and then they moved me along to Sam. I remember his hair still looked wet… oh sorry. When I figured out how to make words come out of my mouth again, I asked if he would sign in a darker color than Cait did and would he also write my name and showed him how it was spelled. Of course his handler said “No names, signatures only”. Whatever. So I thanked him again for his portrayal of JAMMF and for his charity work and told him I was a first time peaker. Then he reached out to shake my hand in goodbye and said “thank you Perri”. What??? He just said my name. Yeah I heard him. Ok now I am dead. I literally floated out of there, forgetting my backpack on the chair and my girlfriend is laughing at my obvious fangirling. But I didn’t care. Nope. Nada. Not one iota because I got to meet and talk to Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe! Later that night, to my absolute delight I see that he did slip my name in there! Sometimes he just does what he wants. Ahhhh.

So that is my story. I am so glad I went and I have two big takeaways from this experience.
1. What we have here with each other is special and if we ever get the opportunity to meet with one another, we gotta make it happen. I will treasure always my time with you ladies. I love you 😘
2. I now feel differently about Sam and Cait. Before they were the wonderful stars of my favorite TV program. But now, now they are very special human beings to me and I feel very protective of them. It is hard to explain. Much more than just stars of the program who do wonderful charity work. Now they are multidimensional x 1000 and so deserving of respect and space to live their lives. Interestingly, I do not even feel I need anything further from them. I don’t need to now where they are or what they are doing. Meeting them and talking with them albeit briefly, changed my perspective somewhat. I know what I saw and I know what I felt. I am of course interested if they want to share, but most of all I want to give them their space and hope that all their dreams and aspirations come true. We always comment that all of their friends have nothing but good things to say about them and know I know why. Because they really are all that and more.

PS. If I ever figure out if they actually received the gift I’ll let you know because I said it was from all of us. 😘

Never, In Fact, Homeless - Part 3

Relationship: Dean X Daughter

Words: 1,832

Summary: When the Reader gets captured, will the boys save her in time? And what secrets will be revealed if they do?

Warnings: Torture (probably really bad because I have no idea what I’m doing, but torture none the less), being tied up/gagged, lots of angst

Tagging: @mysaintsasinner @infamati–et–obliterati @deathtonormalcy56 @sis-tafics @winchesters-favorite-girl @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @alexandriajanae4 @27bmm @comfortablynumb-cherrybomb @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou

A/N: Told you I’d get this posted today! Hope you all enjoy it and don’t hate me!

Part 1 Part 2

Originally posted by netflixuniversity

A sharp, throbbing pain in the back of your head forced you into consciousness. Hurt and confused, you glanced up, squinting in the bright light that assaulted your eyes.

As they slowly adjusted, you were able to make out some of your surroundings. Tied to a chair in a large, cavernous room, you could feel the ropes biting at your wrists, your ankles, your chest. All around you, there were broken down machines and conveyor belts, giant hooks and catwalks hanging from the ceiling – you must have been in that abandoned factory.

But what happened? From the little that you could recall, you knew that you and the agents had gone into the factory, splitting up to cover more ground. Once you’d made it inside, you searched the first floor, senses on high alert for anything out of the ordinary. You remembered hearing something behind you, a noise that echoed eerily in the quiet building, and you turned around, eyes searching. Then, out of nowhere, you felt a heavy object smack the back of your head, hard, and you fell into darkness.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

You're right, probably there are more people, but over time it's getting harder to find blogs dedicated to Clexa, and I know I shouldn't feel this way, but seeing everyone moving on it makes me feel like somehow they are betraying us (stupid, I know) and you're one of the few who stick with us. Ugh, but maybe I'm just angry 'cause I can't move on. I feel stuck. Sorry.

Hey don’t worry buddy. I know that there are many others who still blog at least 90% about Clexa. And yeah, I had to unfollow some other blogs cos I started to see too much unwanted content and that is totally fine. I will keep reblogging the same old gifset of Clexa in the forest and the same photoset of them in the bow scene because Clexa to me was like the OTP of OTP’s. I had many other OTP’s but Clexa hit me like a thunderstorm and branded me forever and I will always love them so fucking much. Maybe I’ll change my blog in the future, no matter how far or close that moment is (if that moment ever comes,) but my fealty belongs to Clexa, know this Anon. I am always going to be Clexa. And you don’t have to feel bad for not moving on as others are doing, because if that makes you happy no one can tell you otherwise, and if they do, they can fuck themselves. Don’t be sorry for that Anon, don’t be ashamed and shout loud and clear that you are a Clexakru!!!

Originally posted by adogree

anonymous asked:

Headcanon regarding the "too much" scene: Gafou are in love, but Gaston fears the reaction of the others. It's a common thing for him that LeFou asks "too much?" so Gaston can let him know without being rude to him. One day, LeFou asks again and Gaston replies "Yeah. But I don't care" and kisses him in front of all the other people.

I’m keeping with my headcanon that Gaston hasn’t been keen on physical affection since the war, which I’ve written about here if you haven’t read it. I also have a headcanon that Gaston suffers from PTSD, which can cause irritability, depression, and obviously severe anxiety.

Enjoy.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

This guy came over, it was a second date. We ended up making out and he fucked Me in every position and choked me, whispering in my ear what a dirty slut I was. He made me cum so many times that I could barely stand after. We took a shower once we were done and had sex there too, and when he got up for work I sucked him off 😏 good end and start to a day.

cabin 3.0

in which y/n is not having anything to do with the boy in her bed

inspired by inthepants’ Cabin Three

I hate summer.

now I know some people would think I’m crazy, but in reality, I’m not. I never do anything productive during the summer; normally I sit on the couch at my parents house and watch tv. all my problems would be solved if they would let me stay at university, instead of with them. all my friends are there, having fun and going to parties without me.

to make up for my laziness, my parents got me a summer job. I was to be a camp counsellor at our local adventure camp for middle schoolers. my parents had sent me the letter of acceptance they had received, after submitting an application without my knowledge. I could probably sue them for forgery, but they would probably win. I just turned twenty last month, technically I was still a minor.

so after the drive home for university, I spent one night at my childhood home. the next morning my parents were shipping me off to the humid jungle where I would be spending each week with a different group of girls.

my dad dropped me off at the office building at 6:30 on a Saturday morning at the end of may. the campers wouldn’t be arriving until Monday, but first, the leaders had to teach me what to do.

I grabbed my duffel out of my dads trunk, and waved as he drove off down the long dirt road that led to the camp, three miles from the nearest seven-eleven. I threw my duffel over my shoulder and walked up to the building just as the sun was starting to peak over the tips of the trees.

inside the office building, I found a lady siting behind an aluminium desk. she was chewing her gum rather loudly attempting to keep herself awake.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m here for the summer as a camp counsellor…?”

I wasn’t sure what to do. the lady stared at me for a few long moments with her eyes half closed.

“find ya name on the papa’ ‘ere,” she talked with a slight jersey accent. she pointed to the paper and looked at me. “you’ll be stayin’ in a cabin with other counsellors for two nights 'fore the campas get 'ere. alright?”

I nodded and looked down at the paper. I would be staying in cabin 3 for the next two nights.

I looked back at the lady behind the desk and decided I wouldn’t be getting any more information out of her. I would find my own way around the camp. I walked out of the buildings and walked along a path to the right of the building. after I had walked for about five minutes, I came to a fork in the trail. thankfully, the trails had been clearly marked, pointing me in the directions towards the cabins.

cabin 3 was the cabin farthest back in my “cabin cluster.” to get to it, I had to walk down a short stone path and the cabin itself couldn’t be seen from the main trail. it had taken me a few minutes to find it.

when I got inside, the first thing I noticed was one of my roommates. he was sprawled across two of the three beds pushed together at the back of the cabin. I couldn’t believe that one human being could take up so much space.

“excuse me,” I dropped my duffel on the only empty bed. “do you really need all three beds?”

he finally seemed to notice I was in the room. he sat up and pushed his curly hair away from his face. the first thing I noticed was his physique. he was tall and broad, which would explain why he was spanning two twin beds. his hands were large and his eyes were green.

“jesus. someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” he smirked as he talked in a low, raspy tone.

“it was probably the side you were sleeping on, then.”

“woah, love. don’t get all offensive. I plan on doing some mighty fine things on these beds.”

oh my god.

“alright, well, I’m going to be sleeping on this bed so mind your own business, okay?” I set my duffel down on the bed that only his foot was resting on.

“but what if that’s the bed I wanted to sleep on?” he was still sitting and smirking at me. this guy, I didn’t even know his name, was choosing to pick a fight with me over a bed. this was going to be a long summer.

“oh my god. I’m not in the mood right now. just pick whatever bed you want to sleep on and I will pick one of the others. probably the one that’s farthest away from the one you pick.”

he chose the bed closest to the window. I put my stuff down on the bed shoved against the opposite wall. he told me that we wouldn’t be having another roommate. it was just me and him. he also told me that his name is Harry. God, doesn’t that just sound like a dick name?

we had wasted a good fifteen minutes arguing about the bed situation. after we had come to a somewhat agreement, he had left and gone somewhere; he didn’t tell me.

.

the leaders of the camp spent the day teaching the counsellors how everything worked. we learned the activity rotation schedule, what time meals were, which cabins had to shower at night and which ones needed to shower in the morning.

Harry was there, messing around with a few of the other guys, but I didn’t pay much attention to them. I was busy making my own friends and learning new things.

the next couple of days passed by quickly. they were filled with mock trials, some of the staffers pretending to be campers so the counsellors could practice being leaders. when I had my mock trial, Harry was one of my campers and he was a total pain in the ass, especially when we got paired in a canoe together. he purposefully tipped us, the one day I was wearing my only white shirt. needless to say, he ruined my shirt and my favourite bralette.

if you think he is a pain during the day, it’s even worse at night. he and I are the only two in our cabin. there is an uneven amount of staffers and we were the odd ones out on whatever list they used when arranging the staffers. someone must have cut out names, stuck them in a hat, and draw randomly. and wouldn’t you know it to be me who gets stuck with the asshat the entire summer.

the staffers were allowed to sleep in their own cabins at night. it was something I was two parts thankful for and two parts mad about. I would spend my entire day with middle school girls, laughing and giggling, and probably talking crap about each other. but then I would come to my cabin at night and Harry would be there. sometimes he would even have another girl with him.

the days turned into weeks that passed by quickly. campers had come and gone, two people had been fired for fucking in the woods, and only one person had gone missing for more than eight hours. I was in the groove of things now, I felt like I could do it in my sleep.

as much as I hated it, I had learned some things about Harry. living with a person could do that to ya. he was very much a player. most nights i would come home and find a different counsellor had used my conditioner and my favourite loofa. I learned that he would send the girl away around three in the morning and then he wouldn’t wake up until I pounded his head with a pillow, swearing that I would tattle to the camp director about the number of girls he’s had over.

it seemed like everywhere I turned, Harry was there. he was behind me in the line at the mess hall, pinching my ass and calling it cute. he was supervisor at the beach during the time I brought my girls swimming, whistling when I pulled my t-shirt over my head. he was using the other washing machine at the laundry. we had ended up screaming at each other about the amount of detergent left and who was going to use it. and despite all this, he was still attractive as hell, with his tan skin, hard jawline, and muscular physique. damn him for being so hatable and so lovable at the same time.

on one particularly warm evening in June, I was looking forward to spending a night at the cabin. I had stayed with my girls for the first few nights, but they were beginning to get on my nerves and I needed a break. hopefully Harry would be gone, doing God knows what, but I just wanted some peace and quiet.

my breathing was laboured as I walked up the steps to the cabin. it had been a long day and all I wanted was a shower. I pushed open the door and was greeted with the sight of a shirtless Harry lying on his bed reading a playboy magazine.

I closed the door harshly, causing him to look at me with a smirk. “hey baby girl.”

I scowled at him and threw my bag on my bed. “don’t call me that.”

please call me that. i love the way it rolls off your tongue.

“Jesus, someone didn’t get fucked today,” he sat up and tossed his magazine to the side. pretty sure if the director found him with that he would be in serious trouble.

“excuse me?!” I had such an attitude.

“lets play a game.”

“I want to take a shower.”

“we can shower when we’re done. now, it’s two truths and a lie. except there’s a twist. if you guess the wrong truth, you have to take off an article of clothing.”

“but that’s not fair! you already don’t have a shirt on.”

“and are you complaining?”

I stayed silent.

“that’s what I thought. alright. I’ll begin.” he readjusted so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. he motioned for me to sit down on mine, facing him. as I sat down, our knees brushed, causing a spark to shoot up my leg. “I once was caught in a traffic jam that was so bad, we had to get out on the side of the road and started walking faster than the cars, or my mum used to call me curly when I was younger, or I’ve had sex too many times to count.”

“ah that’s an easy one. you’ve had sex too many times to count. right?”

“wrong. I’ve had sex 19 times,” he seemed proud. “who the hell would let their mom call them curly?!”

“I think it’s cute!”

“of course you would, princess. now off with your shirt. you guessed wrong.”

I sighed, rolled my eyes, pulled my shirt over my head and sent an internal thanks that I had put my good bra on today.

“my turn,” I looked at him smugly. “and what makes it even better is that you’ve already got your shirt off.”

“let’s just play the game, baby girl.”

I blushed and cleared my throat. I wasn’t used to being so forward. “I once had to pee so bad while we were on a hike that I squatted and wiped myself with a poison ivy leaf, last week I found a hair ball in my mac & cheese, and lastly, I always forget to lock my front door when I leave the house.”

he thought for a moment.

“finding a hair ball in your mac & cheese. there is no way KP would let that happen,” he had a smug look on his face, as if he knew he was right and he knew he was all that.

“sorry fuckboy, it happened,” I crossed my arms over my chest and laughed.

suddenly he stood up. I was sitting on the bed so he towered over me, more so that when I am standing. he inched his face closer to mine and placed his hands on either side of me so that they sank into the mattress. he kept leaning in, causing me to lean back to avoid contact with his skin.

“what did you just call me,” his lips were deviously close to mine as they wrapped around his words.

“f-f-fuckboy,” I stuttered, almost completely lain back on the mattress. he had pushed my legs apart so he could prop his knee between them, balancing himself as he hovered over me.

“call me that one more time,” he growled, “and I swear to God I will take you on this mattress right here right now.”

I stayed silent for a few moments. I didn’t know if I actually wanted him to kiss me or if I wanted to avoid any trouble that would come from getting involved with a person like him. he was always on my mind constantly, usually thinking about how much I hate him. But I realized that at the same time, I couldn’t wait to see him. I realized now that when I would take my girls to the beach, I was hoping he would be there. I was hoping he would be at the cabin alone when I would come back after a long day. I realized that I wanted him to kiss me and that I wanted the chase that came with kissing him.

a smile spread across my lips as i smirked a him.

“fuckboy.”

and we were gone.

in the face of all that’s known

ch. 1 out of 10; pg-13 to R; MSR UST; angst/case-file; set immediately after Amor Fati; After years of being gaslit by the universe at large, Scully seeks to overcome an overwhelming despondency (and Mulder’s attempts to crawl into her brain) by solving the mystery of the Town That Didn’t Know Anything. Without Mulder.

chapter list

Author’s notes: Jesus, this took me a long time. I wrote and rewrote and rewrote it again. Writing as Scully does not come very natural to me (I find Mulder a lot easier), but I have high hopes for this and want to write a story that both fleshes out characters we know and love while telling a bizarre and slightly scary little story. Constructive critique would be very helpful. Beta readers, too. Readers in general would be great. I hope you enjoy it.

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ch. 1

His head felt heavy in her lap. Dead weight, a crate of oranges, ten large textbooks neatly stacked from her thighs to the tip of her nose. Heavy, damp and feverish as she stroked his hair, mindful of the bandages that capped it.

The tape recorder on the coffee blinked spider-like in the dark and waited patiently in apology for the restlessness of its owner. It listened because she didn’t want to, not really. But in dreamy monologue he referred to it, a cold, black thing, as you, I couldn’t find you, then you were there, can you get me a glass of water. And then we. He said we a lot.

She turned it off when the pain meds kicked in and he began lolling about, lifting his fingers in the air to count them and fail, rolling his face into her belly and burrowing in like a sleepy lapdog.

“I spent a good amount of my life trying to get in other people’s heads,” he moaned into her shirt, talking to air. “But you find out there’s not a lot worth listening to.”

“You’re not still hearing them,” she wondered uneasily. He bumped his head insistently against the fingers that stopped moving in his hair and she resumed petting him.

“I am a little,” he admitted. “Bits and pieces filter in. The headaches are gone. I hear maybe a few voices at a time, and only when they’re right next to me.” His chuffed laughter into her bellybutton tickled and made her squirm. “It’s why I don’t let you take me to my PT appointments. You should’ve seen how disappointed Brendon was that it would be me stretched out over that medicine ball.”

Her fingers had stopped again but now he was too tired to pout. The solid heat of him in her lap, the humid air of his sweltering apartment: how worthless it all was in calming her cold as lake water insides. It filled her suddenly like a downed ship. “It’ll stop soon,” she said, not bothering to mask the harshness of her voice. Why even bother? “Dr. Farrah said your brain activity is steadily decreasing to a normal rate. You’ll be cleared for desk duty at the start of next week.”

He pulled his head back and stared at her. Topsoil brown in the pulsing light of the fish tank, they bored into her, a psychic lobotomy, and she felt him inside her playing clumsy archeologist.

His voice went louder than it had in weeks, intrusive and unaware like the rest of him, his gangly limbs and too big nose and tendencies to never shut up. “Not yet. I’m not ready yet.”

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We All Need A Good Gal Pal

*WARNING* This post is most likely going to be a bit soppy/sentimental. Obviously I’m gonna try and make it humorous but grab a bucket just in case…

That means you Moon.

So I’m sure many of you are aware that recently I took my first steps outside as Jess, and just over a year ago I also announced to my friends about my secretive (not so much now) hobby. 

As much as their support has been nothing short of fantastic, before all of that there was the original gal pal: Moon.

Now I could go on for decades about how useful she has been, but it’s probably more useful (and certainly more relevant) to let you know why she has been so important and instrumental in this transformation from ragged cave-man lookalike to the would-be-Queen that is Jessica Blaise.

1. Moon Don’t Lie To No Bitch

Moon has always been a good friend, even before she knew about Jess, but one quality I’ve found invaluable is her ability to tell me the truth, no matter what.

Moon do I look good in this?” Fuck no! That dress ain’t gonna work on you, you don’t have the boobs for it.

I think my makeup looks good today!” Yeah and some people think the world is flat, don’t make them right though does it?

Omg these heels are killer!” Yeah they do a good job at killing your fashion sense.

Call it harsh, call it hilarious… I call it honest feedback.

One of the best benefits of having a friend like Moon, and hopefully any gal pal, is that they’re looking out for your best interests. If I don’t look good in something, Moon will be the first person to let me know. She has my best interests at heart, and she wants me to look good just as much as I do.

2. What The Fuck Is Highlighter???

I know this one is probably quite obvious (and not actually that relevant to highlighting) but I feel it should be stated regardless.

Stop me if you guessed this already, but girls are really good at makeup.

And I don’t mean ‘Girls always use makeup of course they’re good at it.’ Nah.

Most girls, Moon included, don’t actually use anywhere near as much makeup as a crossdresser would (especially Moon with her bloody flawless skin… rude). It’s not about their actual skill will the makeup, it’s the knowledge and theory behind it.

What’s the use of concealer? Ask your gal pal.

How does highlighter work? Ask your gal pal.

Why shouldn’t I use dark colours on my lips? Ask your gal pal.

Regardless of how much or little your gal pal uses in terms of makeup, they will have a wealth of knowledge about it and will easily guide you into improving your makeup in no time. Plus it doesn’t hurt to have someone helping you while you’re applying the stuff you know nothing about…

3. Stand Properly! Have You Never Seen A Woman?

I might sound like this font of female imitation knowledge, but most of the tips I throw up on this blog are simply regurgitated information that I learned long ago from Moon. 

One of the most invaluable lessons she ever taught was simply how to stand like a woman.

I’ve said before that looking at women pose is a good way to learn how to take pictures, but this should only be used if all else fails. If you can (and I can’t recommend this enough), get a gal pal so instruct you how to stand.

It’s not uncommon for Moon to start lifting my arm into the right position or telling me to relax my shoulders. This is all stuff I’m aware of, but it’s better when you’ve got someone who can actually see what you’re doing wrong and correct it.

On top of all that, you also get someone who can help take photos. I mean, I’m a big fan of selfies but sometimes you just wanna feel like the god-damn model you were born to be.


Well, that’s my side of things. However just to make this post extra long (sorry…) I thought I should get Moon to weigh in her opinions of having a crossdresser for a friend.

What’s it like having a crossdresser for a friend?

I’ll be honest. It was a little different to start off with, especially since Jess is the first and only crossdresser I’ve ever met. It didn’t take me too long to get used to it though; eventually she was asking for me to join her on ‘dress up nights’ which was essentially a cheap, student excuse to get drunk and look pretty… always fun though!

What’s different about Jess’ makeup than other girls?

Well… nothing really. I guess that’s the point though. She has to apply a bit more of the base makeup (concealer, foundation etc.) but after that it’s quite similar to my own and other girl’s makeup routines.

Do you see Jess differently when she’s dress up?

Again, a bit at first. Not in a bad way of course, but it was just getting my head around a male friend suddenly looking female(ish). I don’t know if it’s gotten easier over time because she’s better at makeup now than 8 years ago or because I’ve just got used to it.Overall I don’t really see her as a different person, just a much prettier person.

What’s your favourite thing to do with Jess?

Dressing up; without a doubt. As much as certain outfits don’t work on Jess (or myself at times) we’re always pushing each other to try different outfits. It’s always a great accomplishment when we try on an outfit we didn’t think would work but does!

Also Jess always has fancy dress outfits, and they’re nothing short of hilarious to try on, regardless of who’s wearing them.

I just wish she wouldn’t get changed in front of me…

What has been your favourite moment with Jess?

Oh god… we’ve been doing this for 8 years now, there are way too many…

If I had to pick one, even though there are definitely more, I would say the time that Jess wanted me to record a video of her spinning in a dress but I started recording while she was still explaining and sorting herself out.

Yeah, that’s the one.


I think I’m making these longer on purpose now…

I hope this has helped any of you who are thinking about telling your friends or looking for some guidance.

Just remember: any good gal pal will have no problem with you crossdressing over than those heels don’t work with that dress Hun.

Message me if you have any questions!

- Jessica Blaise x x

anonymous asked:

I can't help but wonder about the painkillers that Ward has been prescribed. When talking to Joy, he blames back pain and brings up muscle relaxers but it makes me wonder if he's had injuries here and there caused by Harold that started it all and he just hides it. They don't prescribe that strong stuff for nothing! How long has he been suffering and keeping it to himself? *sigh*

I’VE WONDERED THIS TOO FRIEND! I’m glad you brought this up, I’ve been mulling it over for a while, especially since we see Ward taking painkillers before we ever see Harold hit him.

And then we finally do see Harold hit him, Ward doesn’t exactly seem shocked or surprised. Just fearfully submissive. So we can safely assume Harold has done this many times before, probably when Ward starts smart-mouthing him or disobeys his orders.

So yeah, I definitely think Ward has the pain pills because Harold has injured him on many occasions.

When talking to Joy, I have no doubt Ward was referring to the injury Harold gave him when he punched him in the back/kidney area.

(Also, the fact Ward chuckles when he says it FREAKING KILLS ME.) He’s so embarrassed about it (I’m sure he was embarrassed about overdosing the previous night too, but even that ties back to Harold’s abuse). Probably deeply ashamed too. Who knows how long this has been going on? Years? Does it happen very often or just once in a great while? Maybe just long enough to make Ward start to believe Harold wouldn’t hurt him anymore?

Someone protect this poor trash man.

Come With Me Now

‘Come With Me Now’- Kongos

Fandom: The Avengers
Warning/s: Umm, lots of smut? Primarily smut. Wee bit of plot if you squint
Rating: Explicit
Pairing/s: Pietro x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Summary: Things get heated between you and the speedster, in Avengers Tower (smutty smutty smut smut)

Words: 1750

“It’s been an hour,” Tony growled, slumping back into the sofa. “You think they’d have given it up by now.”

The couple in referral- Pietro and yourself- were currently shouting at each other across the room. Something that had become too common an occurrence in the Avengers Tower of late.

“-THIS IS THE LAST STRAW, Y/N!” Pietro yelled at you, pointing accusingly at you. “JUST HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REMIND YOU TO PUT MILK BACK INTO FRIDGE?!”

Throwing your hands up in frustration, you replied, “WELL DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON YOU RUNNING AROUND KNOCKING EVERYTHING OVER, 24 BLOODY 7! AND HAVE YOU SEEN THE STATE OF MY LAB?!”

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