i love how this story is like three stories

youtube

This is a collection of standalone stories which occur after Sans and Papyrus are rescued from Gaster’s lab.

If you’re new to the story, here is part 1: link

Part 2: link

HERE we go! It took much longer than it should, but here are the first three stories exploring possible futures for our messed up skeleton family. Some of you might have noticed all three stories were up well before the video. I was mostly curious as to how much traffic True Pacifist would get before the video went up. I hope it didn’t spoil the experience too much though :-)

Gotta give an EPIC shoutout to @cattoo444 for drawing those amazing backgrounds. She’s a cake decorator by trade (like what!??!?) and she offered to draw the backdrop cards for each of the stories. GIVE HER SOME LOVE AND LIKES SHE’S SO AWESOME.

And as usual thanks to @hatori1181 for doing some happy Asgore and darkgrim Gaster.

The nerdy rambling I usually do in these posts is included in the video this time, so I don’t have much else to add here. Enjoy! If you’d prefer to read the stories yourself here is the link to Ao3: link.

Hey @zarla-s, the audio version of those stories are finally done! I hope you are well <3

OH, and I almost forgot, thanks to Ctzha and SageoftheStars on Deviantart and @morecoffeethanhuman for being my beta readers for the third story! You all helped with that soooo much and helped me become a better writer because of it <3

anonymous asked:

I just want you to know that it is 4:39am. I am lying here giggling like a three year old trying not to wake my partner as I read through your posts. It's the captions. They get me every single freaking time. Thank you. Just thank you.

I freakin’ love stories like this.

Besides, it’s flattering to make anyone giggle like a three-year-old!

Late-night bedrooms… doctors’ offices… dinner tables… makes me wonder how many more stories exist that we haven’t heard. So, I ask you all:

What’s the weirdest situation you’ve have to stifle SDM-related giggles in?

https://scoobydoomistakes.tumblr.com/ask

-Colin

anonymous asked:

Can you write a fic where the gang goes camping and jughead and betty share a tent and things get heated (smut?)

Thanks for the prompts, loves! The ‘last story’ that this anon is referring to is this one (yeah that’s how long this prompt has been sitting in my ask I’m sorry), I hope you enjoy!
Warning: pure Bughead smut, like no plot to be found here.


“Dude, you’re great and all but maybe you should leave the story telling to someone else,” Jughead quipped, throwing a smirk in Archie’s direction over the flames as he chewed the last of his marshmallow. His attempt at a chilling, middle-of-the-woods, late night horror story had fallen flat among the group, Archie’s excited expression dropping as his three best friends stared at him with equally amusing looks of befuddlement. Veronica rubbed a soothing hand over his drooped shoulders.

“There, there, Archiekins. We all have our talents,” she consoled, not trying very hard to keep the smile out of her voice. Archie shot her a look, frown instantly melting beneath her dark brown gaze. They held each other’s eyes for a moment, irises sparkling in the bright glow of the firelight, Veronica biting her lower lip slightly.

“Well, it’s getting kind of late. We should probably call it a night,” Archie sighed, his attempt at a casual wrapping up of the conversation completely missing the mark. Jughead glanced at Betty from the corner of his eye, checking to see if she got the implication too, finding her regarding the couple through narrowed eyes. She got it, alright.

“Great idea. Goodnight!” Veronica sang, standing abruptly and heading into one of the two tents, Archie scrambling to follow behind her, flashing a brief wave to Betty and Jughead before the zipper was being sealed and a shudder inducing giggle erupted from behind the plastic.

“Eurgh,” Jughead grimaced, trying to focus on the periodic crackling and snapping of firewood instead of the shuffling of fabric on fabric. Betty didn’t answer, Jughead turning to look at her in concern. “Betts?”

She was staring straight ahead, fingers twisting nervously in her lap. A bright pink hue coloured her cheeks, teeth worrying her bottom lip distractedly.

“Betty, are you okay?” he asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She jumped at the contact, his warm palm pulling her out of whatever daze she’d slipped into. She blinked, eyes finally meeting his, ponytail swinging behind her with the movement.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure, I just… didn’t realise that would be happening here,” she muttered, eyes flicking back to the suspiciously quiet tent. Jughead swallowed. He wasn’t sure what to say, it wasn’t really his area of expertise. A short silent occurred before Betty spoke again. “I just… assumed I’d be sharing with Veronica,” Betty shrugged, voice small.

Jughead’s eyes bulged. Oh, that’s what she was worried about! How could he be so stupid, of course she wouldn’t want to sleep in such close quarters next to him, especially when they both knew all too well what was probably happening a few mere feet away. They’d been very slow in their exploration of the relationship blossoming between them, both happy to enjoy the scenic route rather than rushing full force towards an end goal.

“I can sleep out here,” he hurried to reassure her. Her green eyes widened. “I’m used to roughing it,” he added self-deprecatingly. Betty shook her head in short, sharp movements, hand reaching out to grab his thigh.

“No! No, I didn’t mean that at all. I just… It surprised me, is all,” she smiled, trying to bring them back together. “I don’t mind sharing… that’s only if you don’t, obviously,” she added as an afterthought, nerves colouring her tone. Jughead shook his head, voice failing him all of a sudden. Betty smiled her delicate, calming smile and grabbed his hand, leading him to the other tent.

He waited outside while she changed, hands thrust deep in his pocket, feet tapping absentmindedly on the ground. He pulled off his jeans and flannel when she was done, leaving him in his boxers and grey ‘S’ t-shirt, Betty tastefully averting her eyes. He grinned in amusement as he ducked into the tent.

“What’s this?” he asked with a chuckle, looking down at the two sleeping bags, zipped together to fashion a makeshift double bed. Betty just shrugged, looking up at him from beneath thick lashes.

“For warmth,” she replied casually, rolling her lower lip between her teeth. Jughead shook his head, blowing out a hopefully discreet exhale, trying to steady his quickening heart rate. The soft scent of vanilla and strawberries reached him as he slid into his side of the ‘bed’, settling himself against the hard ground, fingers laced tightly where they rest on top of his stomach.

Neither one of them moved, stoically lying side by side on their backs as the woods moved around them, faint rustlings and echoed scurrying ringing out in a chorus of wildlife. Seconds dragged by like hours before Betty heaved a dramatic sigh, rolling over a little clumsily in the tight space and pulled one of Jughead’s arms free, settling herself on his chest beneath it. Jughead froze briefly before relaxing against her touch, securing her body against his own. This time her sigh was lighter, more content, as she began tracing patterns across his chest with the pad of her index finger.

“I like this,” Betty mumbled some time later, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Jughead smiled into the darkness, eyes fixed on a spot on the tent above them.

“What?”

“This. Lying next to you, nothing else to worry about…” Jughead jumped slightly as he felt one of her smooth legs sliding up to find home between his bony ones. “I can’t wait for it to always been like this,” she hummed, shifting minutely against him to get comfortable. Jughead swallowed, hoping she couldn’t feel how hard his heart was pounding from her words, but ultimately knowing there was no way she couldn’t.

“Me neither, Betts,” he whispered, afraid to disturb the peace that was settling over them. Betty lifted her head, wide, green eyes still ever-bright in the darkness.

“It will be, won’t it?” she asked, voice small but tone hopeful. Jughead’s eyes flicked over her features, taking in everything that was simply Betty Cooper, everything that was somehow his. He nodded, bringing a hand up to rest lightly at the nape of her neck.

“Of course.” He lifted himself up slightly, pulling her lips to his for a sweet, lingering kiss. What he didn’t expect was the quiet moan that left Betty’s throat as his mouth pressed against hers, Betty shifting once again until her body was resting against his hip. Her hands came up to cup his cheeks, low groan vibrating through his chest as she ran her tongue against the seam of his lips. His other hand came to grip the small of her waist, pulling her more securely against him.

They’d gotten this far before, the wet sounds of their tongues dancing against one another, mixed with their heavy, gasping breaths, a familiar tune. Jughead knew what it felt like to have her every inch pressed against him, what it felt like to let his hand wander up beneath her shirt, cupping the soft mound of her breast. He swore he would never tire of the high-pitched whines that running his thumb over the dark pink peak of her nipple elicited; he could feed off the sound for the rest of his days and never go hungry again.

Betty’s hips were rolling in an intoxicating rhythm against his thigh, shuddery exhales leaving her mouth and fanning over his face, sending his head spinning. His hand swept down her side, running down the soft skin of her thigh before creeping back up to rest his fingertip beneath the hem of her shorts on the curve of her ass, squeezing slightly in reflex.

A sudden throaty laugh followed by a hushed but giggled “Archie, shh!” tore them apart. Betty jumped back, hand coming up to cover her swollen, enticingly red lips as Jughead raised himself to his elbows, chest heaving. He cleared his throat, not sure if he’d be able to talk without any blood left in his brain.

“Err, yeah… th-this isn’t really the place for…” he trailed off, not meeting her eyes as he shuffled back into the sleeping bag, hands patting the fabric mindlessly, brushing invisible dirt away. Betty’s cheeks turned scarlet as she sat, thighs shifting against one another, in the stifling silence of the tense air, thick with tension.

“Jug?” Her voice was shy and barely audible. Jughead’s eyes snapped open instantaneously, finding hers in the darkness. His arms were full of her once more as she draped herself back in her previous spot.

“Yes?” he whispered.

“I… I want you to touch me,” she crooned, nervousness still creeping in around the edges. His head bounced back in surprise.

“You want…?” She pressed a bruising kiss to his lips.

“Please?” she pleaded, the needy whine tightening a coil in the pit of Jughead’s stomach. “Only if you want,” she suddenly backtracked, biting on that damn full lower lip again. His eyes followed the movement before searching hers for a moment, seeing no hesitation in her request. He lurched forward, his lips were once again kissing her, rolling them until she was half beneath his body instead.

His hand wound itself in her hair, almost silver in the dim lighting, using it as leverage to tug her head to the side, giving his mouth better access to ravish hers. She was whimpering and mewling beneath him, hips never stilling as she waited in anticipation for his hands to begin wandering lower.

He trailed his fingertips down the side of her neck, following the burning trail with his mouth. He left butterfly kisses against the veins under translucent skin, finding her fluttering pulse point before gently sucking, waiting for the purple bruise to blossom. Jughead secretly loved leaving these marks on Betty’s skin - something primal inside him awakened at the sight of the aftermath of his loving actions adorning her body, mouth quirking into a smug smirk as he caught her hand going to them every so often, fingertips prodding them, brushing over them absentmindedly throughout the day.

His hand danced down her side, sliding once more down the smooth skin of her outer thigh before sweeping back up, repeating the motion again, and again.

“Juggie, please,” Betty moaned, the action sending her spiralling, and he couldn’t help but smile into the crook of her neck, amazed that he was able to make this beautiful girl feel this way. Her skin felt alight, too sensitive but craving more all at once. When his hand started to drift away from the place she wanted to feel his touch the most again, she grabbed his wrist, other hand winding in his dark waves to pull his eyes back to hers. His mouth was glossy and swollen, lips parted slightly.

Her eyes never left his as she guided his hand to the waistband of her shorts, slipping his fingers slightly below the elastic before letting go, leaving him to control the rest. Jughead pulled in a shaky breath, steeling his nerves. This was Betty, they were just them. They were exploring this together, it was okay.

His trembling hand dipped lower, Betty’s head falling back with a thud, eyes sliding closed, as his fingers made contact with her heated flesh. Her chest was heaving, breasts moving enticingly before Jughead’s face, as he ran his fingers through her wetness, watching her face closely for her reactions. He wasn’t completely clueless, he knew the basic anatomy. But this was something he hadn’t even pictured himself doing until his feelings for Betty Cooper burst behind his eyes, thumping his square in the chest, sending him reeling down a path that he was never coming back from.

Betty’s hips bucked, back bowing gracefully, as the pad of his middle finger swept over her sensitive bundle of nerves. He concentrated his ministrations there for a while, spreading her wetness with the small circling motions he noticed made her breath hitch the most, revelling in the way her brows drew together in what seemed like agonising pleasure.

She whimpered at the lost of contact when he moved lower, fingers finding her entrance. He paused, waiting for her eyes to open before continuing. The green of her irises was near invisible, pupils blown wide with lust. She nodded, thighs tensing minutely as he began to push forwards slowly. The tight, warm sensation sent sparks throughout his body, igniting foreign sensations within him that were the farthest thing from unpleasant. He pushed them down, though, wanting to pour every ounce of concentration into making Betty feel good.

“Are you okay?” he checked, stilling all movement. She nodded quickly, jolting her hips up in an attempt to get him to do something.

“Yeah, yeah, just… please,” she begged, unsure what she wanted just knowing that she needed it now. He pulled his hand back slowly before pushing back in all at once. Betty’s hand flew up to grip his bicep, teeth sinking into her lip to hold back a loud moan.

He kept going, experimenting with pace and intensity, trying to coaxed out as many different reactions as possible from the girl writhing beneath him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so beautiful. She was so carefree, so full of abandon, hair splayed wildly about her, cheeks and chest flushed a delicious pink, sinful sounds slipping from her mouth with every twist of his fingers.

He brought his thumb up to rub her clit in time with his thrusts, laughing as Betty’s shoulders left the floor, loud whine leaving her throat before she could stop it.

“Shh!” he hushed through a chuckle, pressing his lips to hers to swallow any further outbursts. He could feel her getting closer to the edge, legs hitching, thighs quivering, walls contracting round his fingers. “Let go, Betty,” he whispered against her mouth. It only took a few more seconds before her whole body tensed, stars exploding behind her closed eyelids as she rode out the waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

Jughead continued his gentle motions until she reached for his hand, pulling it out of her shorts before she couldn’t take it anymore. He watched her with glowing eyes as she breathed through pursed lips, utterly dishevelled, coming down from her high. Her eyes slid open some time later, her whole body relaxed in utter contentment.

“I think I like camping,” she muttered, cheeky smile gracing her face. He laughed, muffling the sound in the crook of her neck as she carded her fingers lazily through his hair. Yeah, so did he.

Perks, Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader (part three)

Prompt: Reader is a famous actress and gets shipped with Lin by the Internet.

Word-count: 1,049 (shortest one ever holla soz)

Warnings: Cursing, but then again, isn’t it always?

Note: DAY THREE HOW FUN

This part is more on the shorter side, but it’s meant to be a bridge in between pre-Norton and post-Norton, if that makes any sense???? Anyway, they meet, they bond, fluff ensues, the whole nine yards! (Kind of.)

I’d like to thank everyone who’s been liking this story so far, and everyone who’s been liking my stories in general. It’s still a little weird to me that people are paying attention to what I have to say. Much, much love. xx

Part One | Part Two


God, you had to be the biggest idiot to ever walk the face of the earth.

What were you thinking, taking this man you barely knew out to coffee? Taking this man, this man that you had been kind of maybe not looking forward to meeting, this man that you had been hoping would be terrible so that you would have something to spite the people who pushed you together with, with you to the nearest possible Starbucks location?

Was it to save face? Most likely, because in any other situation you would have said bye and bolted, but Lin, you find, was frustratingly different from any other situation.

So now you sat in across form him, in a crowded coffee shop you didn’t like, with a venti, iced chai tea latte and a bagel, fidgeting because all that prior confidence had fizzled out the moment you realized what you were doing.

“So,” Lin said, sitting down and nearly making you flinch, but you weren’t an Oscar-nominated actress for nothing. You cracked a smile at him as he set down his cinnamon bun and coffee. (He could drink any coffee, you learned, even the Starbucks black coffee, which was essentially liquid tar.)

“So,” you mirrored, and took a sip of your latte to somewhat douse some of the nerves that had settled in your stomach. You wondered at what the hell you were trying to do here, and what you should be doing. You opted for honesty. “I don’t remember seeing this in my itinerary this morning.” Close enough, you decided. It was true, anyway. None of this was expected.

It was enough of an ice breaker to get a laugh out of Lin.

“Oh, trust me,” Lin said, eyes sparkling, “if I had seen ‘Bump into a person you admire as she runs from cameras’ on my schedule, I would have been a lot less useless in that alley back there.”

You raised an eyebrow, playful. “And what, pray tell, would you have done?”

Lin puffed his chest out. “I would have blasted those assholes away with my ray gun, obviously.”

You laughed.


“You’ve never seen it?” Lin asked, incredulous and impressed at the same time.

You smirked, shook your head. “I’m a big believer in letting the hype die down before going into anything.” Both of your cups were empty by now, and you reckoned that the only reason you weren’t being politely asked to leave was because they knew who you were (which was presumptuous as hell, but these days, it happened a lot more often than you would have liked to admit) or they knew who Lin was. (Which he vehemently denied, claiming that since he had his hair cut, less and less people recognized him. “It must be all you, King.” he said. You chucked your straw at him.)

The conversation at hand was how you, miraculously, had managed to live and breathe in New York City for a period of time (six months, give or take) without having been bitten by the Hamilton bug.

“It took a lot of work,” you said sincerely and in all seriousness, causing Lin to laugh. “I’m serious! Trying to escape from your show was like trying to outrun a constantly oncoming bus. And it didn’t help that everyone back in in LA was trying to get me to listen to it as well.” But they had failed miserably, and you had dutifully remained ignorant to the magical pull of Hamilton that seemed to attract others like flies to honey.

“But you were invited to the Tony’s, and as far as I know, you went.”

“Yeah, I was there.” You nodded. Lin’s brow furrowed further.

“How did you not hear us perform then?”

You smiled innocently. “I went to the bathroom and plugged my ears.”

Lin started to sputter, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline, lips pressing together to try and keep himself quiet, but he was failing. He cracked, laughing so hard that he had to hold his stomach. You couldn’t help it, you joined him.

It was around the time you had pulled yourselves that you noticed the anxious looking staff standing next to your table. The poor teenager was wringing his hands, looking from you to Lin as if terrified.

“I’m sorry, ma’am and sir, we’re going to have to ask you to leave—“

“Oh, no problem, we’re going.” Lin said cheerfully, smiling widely at the boy who looked even more terrified at the prospect of telling Lin-Manuel Miranda and Y/N Y/L/N that they were being kicked out, and them being perfectly lovely about it.

“We must’ve been disturbing the peace, oh dear.” you said, chuckling, as you got up.

With barely a squeak, the staff escorted you and Lin to the exit, the both of you cooperating and going along with it like it was the most typical thing, to be thrown out (although rather politely) of a chain coffee store.

When the doors swung closed behind the two of you, Lin doubled up in laughter once more, and you rolled your eyes, starting to walk in a direction that was familiar to you.

Lin hollered and ran to catch up with you, falling back into step pretty quickly.

“I did see you in your first show, though.” you said, looking at him from the corner of your eye. You saw his raised brow and looked at him fully. “Oh come on, what’s that face about? How else would I have referenced a song as you literally saving me from falling on my ass?”

“It’s nothing! It’s just I didn’t think you knew I existed so…” Lin shrugged, and this show of genuine self-deprecation made him more endearing to you. (More so than he already was.)

You parted ways near Wimbledon, with each other’s numbers on your phones and promises to meet up at some point. (At some point after Norton, at some point after all of the hype you both had made up for yourselves had passed and the waters were steady enough to dip your toes in once more.)

You stalled for a moment as you watched him leave, before looking down at your watch.

“Shit.” you muttered before taking off.

Your lunch break had already ended ten minutes ago.

anonymous asked:

I work at a nursing home and I feel so bad for the residents there. 80% of the staff don't care about their jobs and neglect the residents, which is elder abuse. One nurse bitched about having to walk across the facility (which is not that big) to take a resident back to her room. YOU left her there in the first place! Poor Dorothy (who is blind btw) was sitting in her wheelchair in the hallway for 10 minutes before a fucking JANITOR saw her and began to push her to her room.

Yeah I feel the same way about the residents and staff I work with. Yeah, there are some problem residents that it’s hard to feel sorry for, but there are some that are really sweet that get yelled at by my coworkers for minor shit. And often they’ll let one of the problem residents just have his way because he’s annoying and no one likes dealing with him(me included, but I don’t give him his way because it has become a vicious cycle). But 90% of the residents are pretty cool if you give them a chance. There are only the two residents I have to be firm with and, admittedly, have no patience for. I haven’t worked with most of the others yet but will be training in another house soon.

The other day one of my favorite residents who is old and has a learning disability was in the kitchen helping me with the dishes when my boss came in to drop off some medical gloves. She saw that his pants were falling down again(honestly only a couple of inches, so no big deal). Instead of asking him to pull them up she screamed at him to go put his belt on. This resident everyone claims is hard to win over but he loves me to death and it’s because I don’t yell at him over stupid shit and don’t treat him like a prisoner. I just ask him, politely, to pull up his pants and he does it.

Some of the residents that I adore I hear my coworkers bitching about all the time. Like this one guy has brain damage and is really old. Like most old people he loves to tell stories. But with his brain damage he has short term memory loss so you’ll often have to hear the same story over and over for a good hour before he realizes he needs to move on. He also tends to tell the same stories over and over regardless of the time between each conversation. Each shift I hear about his farming days, how he overcame alcoholism, his three legged dog, and so on. I don’t mind his stories. I think he’s adorable and if he was my family I wouldn’t have put him in one of these homes. He’d be home with me.

My company has a policy that we’re not allowed to be friends with our coworkers or the residents. I think some of my coworkers are taking that too literally. It’s not like I’m taking them out for drinks, I’m just showing a bit of humanity. A lot of them light up when they know I’ll be working at their house that night or look sad when I’m not. -Abby

How to choose which story idea to write next

I’m always talking about inspiration, creative block and source of ideas, but what if you already have tons of story ideas. What if the problem is not the lack, but the excess?

Having two or three ideas next in line to be written in okay, but having fifty ideas pressuring you to choose wisely is the reason why writers go insane over time. How can you choose the right idea? The one you will enjoy writing? The one readers will enjoy reading? The one that resonates with who you are? The one that will stand out in the market?

I can help you.

Originally posted by basicshepardsbushenjoyment

Every time I finished a book, I used to freak out. I had so many ideas for books, but, at the same time, it felt like I had nothing. I would pick one story, write the first page, pick another, write a paragraph, pick a third one, stare at an empty page. In the end, I had nothing.

Eventually, I created a fun and silly exercise to help me visualize which story I was ready to write… which story I had to write. I named it Honesty Test. So, while doing it, I advice you to find a silent and comfortable spot. Being honest and impartial is basically what this exercise is all about.

So, let´s start.

Originally posted by chablognuf

I’ll ask you a few questions, choose one story idea and pick the most honest answer for each question. At the end, count the points and check the results.

- If this story was already written, would you buy the book?

No, I wouldn’t even pick it from the shelf (1 point)

No, it’s not my reading style (2 points)

Yes, but for a low price (3 points)

Yes, but wouldn’t read it right away (4 points)

Definitely, and I would read it right away (5 points)

- If this story was a movie, would you watch it?

No, I wouldn’t even look further into it (1 point)

No, maybe something from another genre (2 points)

Yes, I’d watch online (3 points)

Yes, I’d watch in the movie theater  (4 points)

More than once, I would probably buy it as well (5 points)

- How developed is this story?

I have nothing developed yet (1 point)

Just an overall idea of plot and environment (2 points)

I have a main character and a few supporting characters (3 points)

I know how the story begins (4 points)

I could sit down and start writing (5 points)

- How original is this story?

It’s the replica of something I’ve read or watched before (1 point)

It’s the replica of something, but a few elements are different (2 points)

More than one movie/book inspired me (3 points)

I have a vague idea of what inspired me (4 points)

This idea came like a click (5 points)

- How excited are you to write it?

I would rather do something else (1 point)

Some scenes are interesting, but most are boring (2 points)

I’ll write it someday (3 points)

I really want to see this idea coming to life (4 points)

More than write, I want to live this story (5 points)

- Why do you want to write it?

Because it’s bestseller material (1 point)

Because it will please a certain group of readers (2 points)

Because it looks cool (3 points)

Because it’s intriguing and I want to know what happens in the end (4 points)

Because I feel something in my chest every time I think about it (5 points)

- Can you visualize this story as a novel?

I can’t think much about it (1 point)

I can see myself writing it (2 points)

I can see myself publishing it (3 points)

I can see people reading it (4 points)

I can see this story making an impact in the world (5 points)

- How close is this story to you?

We have nothing in common (1 point)

It’s not my favorite genre, but I like some elements (2 points)

I like the genre (3 points)

I can related to characters and their journey (4 points)

I love everything about it (5 points)


Now, count the points and check the results:

40 to 35: This is THE story!! Write it, really!!

34 to 30: You have something big in your hands, a high level of empathy towards this story. Try giving it a chance. Write the first three pages and see how it goes.

29 to 25: This story has a great potential, make some changes here and there. Experiment with plots and characters. You can also try changing the genre. A few adjustments can improve the idea as a whole.

24 to 20: Your empathy towards this idea is low. For a project as big as writing a book, you need a story that shines brighter. Save this idea for later, time might change the way you look at it. Meanwhile, test more stories.

19 to 8: Your empathy towards this story is too low. Writing it will drain your creative energy. Test more ideas for a higher score.

So, how was it? Did you have fun? Did it help you somehow? Remember, this is just for fun, maybe for self-discovery as well, don’t take it as an absolute truth.

"You're not alone" ~ Jonerys Fanfic

‼️ MAY CONTAIN S7 SPOILERS ‼️

❗️This is my second time writing fanfiction and I probably still suck just as bad but I’ve been searching for more Jonerys Fanfics surrounding the Season 7 Leaks and since I’ve exhausted everything, I thought I’d give it another go !
As crappy as it might be, hopefully this will motivate more people to write leaks related fanfiction so we can have food for the soul until July 16th !

Jon & Dany will have plenty of scenes together so let your imagination roam free and I’ll be sure to reblog them !

Enjoy ❗️


💠 The winds were colder, sharper and more unforgiving with each passing day. Daenerys’ ships were moored around the beaches of Dragonstone, a fluttering of red and black sails off in the distance.
The greatest Targaryen conquest in 300 years and only a shameful defeat at sea to show for it. Euron had crushed Theon and Yara Greyjoy’s fleet and had taken the princess of the Iron Islands captive. Things were slipping from Daenerys’ hands and the ground was shrinking beneath her feet.

She often wondered how Aegon had done it. Her ancestor, a Targaryen, like her. A conqueror, like her and with three dragons flying above him. She remembered Viserys telling her stories as a child. Stories about brave knights and noble ladies but her favourite stories were about Aegon and how the great westerosi lords layed their swords at Aegon’s feet and bent the knee to swear fealty to the new King.

“But he was not alone. I am …”

Daenerys had taken a liking to strolling along the stone ramparts at sundown, watching her children roam the sky and pierce the clouds with their wings. She loved them with every fiber of her being. The only children she’d ever have. But somehow, deep down, she still felt the weight of loneliness in her bones. She would carry it lightly in the presence of others;

“A queen must never show weakness” her Hand would say. “People will look to you for guidance, for comfort. You must be their strength, otherwise they will lose whatever scrap of hope they have left.”

So she hid it from the world. But the sadness in her heart never went away. It lingered, it was a part of her. She thought about the house with the red door and the lemon tree outside her window, more often now than ever before. Westeros was foreign to her and she felt like a stranger yet again.

“If I look back, I am lost.” she thought, closing her eyes.

The sound of footsteps closing in awoke her senses. Her Dothraki bloodriders and Unsullied had specific orders not to disturb her at these hours, the only time of the day when she could enjoy some peace and quiet, in solitude.

“Whatever it is, I trust it can wait …”

“They’re beautiful.” a man spoke and Dany’s eyes shot open. His voice was low but sweet and calming. She turned around and saw Jon looking off into the distance at the dragons.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But I wanted to look at them. I’ve never seen one before … a dragon.” The King In the North smiled and leaned on the stone rampart.

“Now you have.” Dany said, struggling to keep herself from blushing. There was something about Jon that had made Dany weak since their first encounter.
“But the hard part is getting to know them. Making them open up to you, accept you.. and fear you as you fear them.” She raised her gaze and turned to face him. His deep brown eyes bore into hers and a chill shot through her entire body.

“I’m not afraid of you.” He said with no hesitation. “You know why I traveled all this way and it wasn’t to swear fealty to you.” Jon’s tone of voice changed.

“If you don’t want me here just say the word.” Daenerys uttered, through gritted teeth.

“If I didn’t think there was more to you, I would’ve returned home. But I can’t fight this war without you.” Jon always went straight to the point, he was honest, fair and honorable, the makings of a true king. But there was a sharpness in him that evening that Dany hadn’t seen before. “You are marching the wrong way. We need your army, your dragonglass, we need your dragons, we need you.” Jon turned his gaze to the sea again. “I need you.” He exhaled and clenched his fists. “So I have to try and change your mind. I’ve no other choice.”

Daenerys’ face broke. “I’ve been running away my entire life. I’ve gotten used to not being wanted, to not belonging anywhere. And all my life I’ve been praying for one thing … Home.” She struggled to hold back her tears. “I’m close, Jon. I’m closer to home than I’ve ever been and I can’t turn back now.” She shook her head breathing unsteadily.

“And what exactly is it that you want ? To be queen of nothing ?” he worded, sharply.

“You don’t understand. How could you ? No one understands..” ‘If I look back I’m lost !’ Daenerys replied, trying to keep herself together.

“You think I don’t know what being alone feels like ? You pray for home, I understand. But this is not about you anymore. It’s about all of us. And if you can’t see what’s right there in front of you, then perhaps you should look back.”

He stopped, taken back by regret as a tear streamed on Dany’s face. He drew breath slowly weighing the harshness of his words. He felt sorry. Not knowing what to say, Jon pulled her into a tight embrace. Dany melted in his arms and clasped onto his fur coat, sobbing. They stood there, leaning on each other for a moment that felt like an eternity. Drogon’s screech pierced the horizon. Jon inhaled the sweet scent of her hair and closed his eyes. There and then, feeling her body against his, Jon felt warmer than ever before.
Leaning into her ear, he whispered:
“Daenerys … You’re not alone.” 💠

fanfic boost

i feel like now that the story is finished i can maybe gather my thoughts about it and give this boost.

so like, back when i had just started this blog, i was looking for solangelo blogs to follow, and i stumbled upon this story that was maybe three or four chapters in. a college au. i read the chapters and forgot about it for a week, then cursed myself for not like, following the author at least.

(we all know that horrible moment in life when a good fic slips through our fingers, we forget the name and author and can’t find the work anywhere anymore. i was positively miserable.)

now, some of you know how i feel about au stories. as in how much i love and cherish them. so you can probably imagine my joy when, after a few more chapters, this wonderful story somehow found its way back to my dash.

yes. we’re talking about Warm Me Up by @i-write-shakespeare-not-disney.

as a fanfiction writer myself i know how hard it is to keep up with one story for too long and still keep it all together. there’s a reason why most of my stories are one-shots. this thing has 39 chapters. that’s 164,411 words. that’s a fucking book (that i will definitely purchase if it’s ever in sale, mind you).

i know i haven’t left a single comment on this, but i have (hopefully) reblogged all my favorite chapters. i think i was waiting for this moment this whole time.

i’ve laughed while reading this fic. i’ve cried. i’ve kicked a chair so hard that i literally had to see a doctor about that. (not my highest moment.) this story is such a beautifully written emotional roller coaster ride that i am ready to pay actual money to have it on my bookshelf. 

the characters are well written, and the plot is a page turner. but what i really applaud @i-write-shakespeare-not-disney on is the ability to really have a start, a story, and a logical ending, all in the story. that’s not an easy task. you, my friend, have done a huge job on this fic, and i will forever wonder how you did it.

tl;dr: go read Warm Me Up. you’ll thank me later.

Three Word Story

I just saw a prompt to write a tweet, it said “write a sad story in three words.” I love simplicity, I think stuff like this brings out creativity, and sometimes the simpler sentence drives the impact more so than a long winded story. Anyways, the first three words to come to mind were: There’s no cure

 Definitely a sad sentence! Depressing even. After thinking of that, it made me think of not just myself, but everyone with a disease that has no cure. It made my mind spiral through so many thoughts. How many years until there is a cure for diabetes? Is it possible? What do people with cancer feel? Or people with terminal illnesses? Or those who are paralyzed? 

 All from just three words, three simple words. 

 So then I thought to myself, ok, what about three words that will make me feel the opposite. What’s a three word story that can make me happy, or give me hope? Then it hit me. 

  I’m my cure.

Karamel Fanfic #31

WARNING! Mild spoilers up to Supergirl 2x15 (and from promos of Supergirl 2x16/the Flash 2x17)

Title: Gone

Prompt: Kara finds out Mon-El is the prince of Daxam instead of a guard, which strains her relationship with him. Before they can fix what happened, Kara is put in a coma by Music Meister, which puts Mon-El in a desperate position to save her so that he can even have the chance to make up for what he’d done.

Word Count: 5181 (I swear to Rao I’d get a lot better grades in school if I wrote essays with this much commitment)

Part 1 of Someone Who Doesn’t Leave

Also posted on AO3

Notes: Guess who finished another fanfiction! And this time I managed to do it without staying up till 2 a.m. So… yay? I’m really glad to get this done, though, because I actually really enjoyed writing this! And yes, I know it’s another one where Mon-El’s secret is revealed (I literally wrote three or four different versions of that story lol) but with the episode coming up and with the new stills and all I just couldn’t get this out of my head! It isn’t exactly what will happen on the show, but I still hope you’ll like it!

Requested by @taurusclh. Thank you so so so much for requesting this and getting me out of my writers block! In fact, I loved writing this so much that it’s now a two-part story lol :) I hope you’ll enjoy it!


Mon-El had no idea how a day that started so well turned around so quickly and became one of the worst days of his life. He’d woken up, for almost the first time, earlier than Kara and had gotten to watch her sleep as rays of sunshine danced on her hair and face. And then Kara had quickly made pancakes for both of them (Mon-El would do it but he’d almost burned the kitchen the last time; Kara had to use her freeze breath to contain the fire) before they went to DEO, starting an early training. Without her job at CatCo, Kara started spending more and more time at DEO, not really rushing to find a job at the moment. She also spent more and more time with Mon-El, both of them going on more dates, so he wasn’t in a position to complain. He knew the Kryptonian would start searching for jobs once she was ready.

But returning to the day, they then had planned to spend their afternoon in a new café just outside DEO, having lunch and just relaxing. They’d gotten the call in the middle of that. After that…

Well, after that, everything went to shit, starting with Mon-El’s parents arriving on Earth and continuing Kara finding out that no, they weren’t some Daxam citizens but the King and Queen. Which of course made Mon-El…the prince.

Keep reading

Hiya lovely Richonners! We have another wonderful and insightful interview with a talented Richonne fanfiction writer.  Please take some time to get to know @richonnelandfill!

Richonnefics (RF): Hi richonnelandfill.  Thanks so much for taking some time to interview with us.  Are there any websites or resources that have been helpful to you as a writer?

Richonnelandfill (RLF): I always try to challenge myself to stretch my vocabulary so I faithfully keep a tab with Thesaurus.com open. I’m still new to writing so I love using other authors as resources. I remember trying to learn how to transition from scene to scene within a story and I was reading a fanfic at the time. I was like ‘oh, okay this person did it effortlessly. Let me study how they used transitions throughout their work.’ We have some very talented writers in this fandom, so they are great models for writing. I also have a wonderful beta, @yourwonderingwoman who is phenomenal.

RF: What is something memorable you have heard from your readers?

RLF: I completely loved when someone told me that I made them like a character in my story that they hated on the show. That’s a big deal.

RF: That is a great compliment because there are so many unlikable characters on the show.  LOL! How do you brainstorm your story ideas?

RLF: I think most of my story ideas come from meta discussion honestly. I don’t know why but I’m obsessed with the holes that we don’t see in the show so I love hypothesizing the details of those unseen events.

RF: That’s an interesting method to use for brainstorming.  What is your favorite place for thinking?

RLF: So there’s probably a permanent butt print on my couch because I sit there to brainstorm, draft, and type all my stories. It’s pretty unhealthy how long I will sit there and work on stories.

RF: What was your first fanfiction and how have you grown since then?

RLF: My first fanfic was Be Safe. First off, that story took me three months to write and I wrote the whole thing word for word on paper, so it was like 10 pages that I had to type into a document. I’ve since learned the art of outlining. I also think my imagery has gotten better. I’m still working on developing plot; that is my Achilles heel so I’m challenging myself to write more multi-chapter fics.

RF: The more you write, the more you learn about yourself and the art I think.  What are some ways in which you promote your work?

RLF: I love posting on Tumblr. I always post a gif that coincides with my emotion about the work I’m posting.

RF: What do you think makes your stories stand out from the crowd?

RLF: Interesting that you ask this. I am as much a fan of Richonne fanfiction as I am a writer, so I am constantly reading stories. I think every last one of my fanfics, has been influenced by another story by another author. So there’s a sort of six degrees of separation thing going on lol. I think what makes my stories stand out is the fact that I take Richonne meta and try to keep it as close to canon as possible. For ex: In the show Rick has yet to say ‘I love you’, so for all my stories set in season 7 or earlier I haven’t had him say it yet. I like hanging onto realism, although I love reading all genres. (Realism in a ZA, laughable right?)

RF: I personally love fics that keep the characters “in character” so to speak.  As a reader and lover of the ship I appreciate that very much.  How long have you been writing?

RLF: It’s been a little over a year.

RF: And many more to come, I’m sure.  How do you find or make time to write?

RLF: This is the hard part. When I first started I was still in school, so free-time was pretty common. Now that I work I’m usually up late at night typing or random early mornings. I have this thing I call “mad scientist hours” which is when I randomly wake up around 4:30 am and I have the most productive writing spurts, whether it be drafting or typing.

RF: Now for the fun, semi-related question.  What would be the first thing you did if a ZA were to occur?

RLF: If a ZA were to happen I’m pulling a Beth. Let me watch the kids. I’m not trying to risk my life going on runs and what not let me just hold the baby lol. That’s how I’ll earn my keep.

RF: Haha! I appreciate a self aware woman. Well, thank you so much for your time. You can find richonnelandfill’s fanfiction on fanfiction.net HERE! And if you’re not following her on Tumblr you should, to make sure your getting all the updates for her Richonne fanfiction.

anonymous asked:

I loved your fic Little bean! Can you do one in the same universe where Erin and Jay are on surveillance because of her pregnancy, and she's starting to get symptoms??

Well anon you and some others convinced me to add on to this story so there will now be three chapters to the Little Bean story. Hope you enjoy!

LITTLE BEAN PART TWO - PREGNANCY


She didn’t realize how much she needed Hank’s approval until the day they’d gone over to his house to tell him about the baby. He’d been dropping hints this last year saying things like how he loved watching Danny play hockey when he could make it down for his games but missed having a grandchild to snuggle in his arms. He’d then give her and Jay a pointed look. She’d rallied back, reminding him about his threats to boot her from Intelligence if she wanted to “play house.” This always got a sour look from him and he’d mutter about how if he had to put up with a romance in his bullpen for the last five years the least he could get was a grand baby out of the deal, and then he’d stormed back into his office and closed the door a little too forcefully.

Well today was the day he’d get his wish. Erin just hoped he’d actually be happy about it now that it was a reality.

Jay had wanted to tell Hank at work, just go in early one day and let him know before the rest of the team got there but Erin was feeling more sentimental these days, she blamed that on the hormones. Actually she was blaming a lot on the hormones. If she was gonna have to put up with growing a kid inside her and the laundry list of symptoms she’d been reading about since finding out they were pregnant last week, she figured least she could get was a free pass to act however she wanted and get her way.

So Erin insisted they announce the baby in a more traditional way. She didn’t care if it made Jay uncomfortable. She knew he preferred to keep Hank at arms length, in the ‘he’s my boss’ box but Jay was just going to have to get use to that line being blurred now that they were having a baby. Blood relation or not, Hank Voight was this baby’s Papa and that was something Jay was going to have to find a way to deal with.

So here they were sitting at the dining table she’d shared with Hank, Camille and Justin through her teen years, having an awkward Sunday dinner. Her hands were sweaty and she wished for a moment Camille was here to ease the awkwardness. She smiled thinking how much Camille would have loved Jay. Hell she’d even settle for Justin and the jealous jabs he’d take at Jay. God she missed them both so much still.

“Spit it out,” Hank broke the silence and commanded gruffly, making Jay’s back snap up straight like he was still in the military and Erin drop her fork.

She muttered her her apology at the awful clatter the fork made and glanced at Jay, hoping he’d share their news with Hank. But he was offering no support, his eyes clearly telling her this was her idea so it was on her to make the announcement. She gave Jay a glare, letting him know she’d make him pay later, then cleared her throat.

“So we, umm, have some news,” she began.

“I gathered as much,” Hank said flatly. His face was devoid of emotion, making it hard for Erin to read him.

“We found out a few days ago and well we thought you should know,” Erin said, letting out a frustrated sigh.

This wasn’t the speech Erin had prepared and practiced over and over in her head since asking Hank Friday night if they could come to Sunday dinner. She picked up her glass of water and took a sip. Hank folded his hands under his chin and looked back and forth between them waiting, in what could be deemed as patience if you knew Hank Voight, for one of them to enlighten him. Erin’s glass hit the table a little harder than she expected.

“We’re pregnant,” she blurted out. She caught the wince on Jay’s face at her less than gracefully delivery. But to his credit he reached under the table and squeezed her thigh reassuringly while they waited the beat it took for Hank to react.

A slow smile began to push out the harsh lines on Hank’s face. He pushed back his chair in silence and came around the table, pulling Erin up and into a hug. Erin’s body relaxed, relieved Hank was happy about the baby.

If Jay didn’t know better he swore he saw tears shining in the harsh man’s eyes. Pulling back he looked Erin in the eyes, smiling for a long moment. Then, just like that the smile was replaced by his usual stern look.

“You’re on modified duty, starting immediately,” he commanded, pointing a finger at her.

Erin nodded quietly then Hank stepped around her and extended his hand to Jay. Jay rose and shook hands with his boss. Voight’s grip was firm and his eyes bore into Jay leaving no doubt of their message. ‘Take care of Erin and the baby or you’ll be wearing a Chicago necklace’ Voigh silently threatened. Jay smiled confidently and nodded, although offended that after all this time Voight still didn’t trust
that no one cared for Erin as deeply as Jay did.

Five weeks later Jay wondered if Voight was trying to test exactly how deep his feelings were for Erin. He’d assigned them to surveillance duty watching an abandoned warehouse and Jay felt like he’d spent the last six hours in hell. If she wasn’t complaining she was hungry or bored she was going on about how unfairly pregnant women were treated. He almost blew their cover wanting to escape from the car when she caught on that he was only half listening to her and spent the next ten minutes chewing him up one side then down the other. Jay was sure he would have had an easier go of it being locked in the cage with Voight.

His suffering was quickly forgotten when later that night Erin emerged from their bedroom in nothing but a few scraps of expensive black lace. She said she owed him an apology for the way she’d acted on their stake out and felt like a crazy woman with all the hormones running wild in her body.

Jay quickly and enthusiastically accepts her apology. It was only as his lips chased his fingers over her belly that he noticed it for the first time, the small but firm swell that proved his little bean was growing inside Erin. After he finished making love to her that night Jay lay with his head on Erin’s belly for a long time tracing over its new curve, imagining how much more beautiful she’d be with each passing month.

When Erin was seventeen weeks pregnant Jay experienced what he thought heart attack victims must go through. The bullpen was unusually quiet, everyone elbow deep in paperwork trying to locate the serial killer who’s victims were plastered all over the board.

“Oh my god!” Erin yelled, jumping back in her chair and sending her glass of water smashing to the ground.

“What? What is it? What’s wrong?” Jay called, flying around his desk to get to her. The rest of the team were also on their feet and ready to slay whatever unseen dragon threatened their girl.

Erin sat back in her chair, face pale, hands splayed across her stomach.

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain? What is it?” Jay demanded.

“I think I just felt the baby kick,” Erin announced, astonished.

The boys exchanged baffled glances while Hank leaned against the door frame of his office, his concern morphing to a bemused smile. Al caught his eye and the two men shared a knowing look, both remembering the first time they’d felt their own child’s first kick.

Although Jay’s mind processed the words he couldn’t get his heart to slow. He stood rooted in spot beside her desk staring at her hands as the explored her half moon belly. She jumped slightly.

“There it was again! Jay!” She exclaimed reaching out to pull him down. “You have to fee this!” Erin positioned Jay’s hand under hers and stared expectantly at him. Nothing happened. “Just wait,” she said. “See? Did you feel that?” She asked excitedly.

He had. Erin’s tummy thumped gently under his palm another two times. Jay stared at her in awe, having lost the ability to form words. His heart that had just about stopped then raced away from fright moments ago now swelled and ached with a longing to meet and hold his baby.

“Did you feel him?” Erin asked again.

“Her,” Jay corrected, as he nodded yes.

Erin just rolled her eyes at him. They’d been having this pseudo argument since the day they found out about the baby, each one convinced of the baby’s gender.

Three weeks later Erin wanted to sob at the look on Jay’s face when their ultrasound technician confirmed it was in fact a boy. The appointment has started out well, both excited to see how their baby had grown and changed in the weeks since their last ultrasound. They’d ooh and awed over the images of the tiny feet and hands that were forming. The sound of a strong heartbeat eased some of the anxiety they were assured all new parents felt. Then things went south when they’d convinced the technician to break protocol and tell them the gender of the baby, rather than wait another week for the results to be delivered to Erin’s doctor.

Erin had been so thrilled to hear it was a boy, just because she wanted to win their little debate, but truthfully she just prayed the baby would be healthy given the injuries she’d sustained back when she discovered she was pregnant and her history of drug use. But when she looked up at Jay to rub in her victory, her face fell. He looked deflated. He’d tried to recover and gave her an attempt at a smile but he was horrible at masking his true feelings.

They’d finished the appointment and Erin dressed quickly. The car ride to the district had been silent, Erin not understanding why the gender of their baby drew such a reaction from Jay. He’d been so happy until now about the pregnancy, enduring all her mood swings and happily running out to fulfill whatever crazy food craving she had. Hell he even had the spare bedroom painted and ready for the baby furniture Erin couldn’t make up her mind about yet.

By the time they got home that night Erin couldn’t take the silence any longer.

“Babe, please talk to me,” she encouraged.

“About what?” He asked, off handedly.

“How upset you are about the baby,” she confronted him gently.

“I’m not upset babe, the baby’s doing great, you heard the tech. Everything’s perfect in there.” He lied.

“Jay please don’t lie. I know your disappointed it’s a boy,” she said trying to keep her emotions in check. God she hates how easily they took over these days.

“I’m not…” Jay began.

“You are. I saw the look on your face. I don’t understand Jay. What does it matter?” She asked again.

Jay let out a long breath and ran his hands across his forehead. He didn’t know how to put his thoughts into words.

“What if I turn out like him?” His voice filled with anguish.

“Who?”

“My dad? What if I set expectations he can’t meet or make him feel like he’s not good enough? What if I don’t see when he’s hurting and just needs someone to talk to? What if he needs to know I’m in his corner and I’m too busy with work to notice?” He asked helplessly.

“Jay you are not your dad. You would never let a child feel like that, any child let alone ours,” Erin countered. But Jay shook his head at her in disbelief. “Look at all the kids you’ve helped since I’ve known you. Ethan, Ellie, they are both doing amazing now because of you. What did Ellie say to us at her college graduation? She was taking a job in Washington with that child advocacy group. She wants to help change the system. She made it because of you. Because you made sure she felt heard, valued, safe. If you can do that for a couple strangers I’ve no doubt you’ll do whatever it takes to make our son feel loved and valued.” Erin said, rubbing her hand over his back.

He’s smiled at her then. She always knew what to say to him. She always knew how to sooth his wounds with reason and empathy. They’d curled up on the couch and watched tv with their fingers laced over her belly until Erin couldn’t keep her eyes open. Jay scooped her in his arms, despite her half hearted protest, and took her to bed. That night he slept with his arm laying protectively over her belly and swore he’d do better than his father did.

At seven and a half months pregnant Erin was fresh out of reason and empathy and Voight swore if she didn’t stay behind her desk until the baby came he’d force her onto leave early.

She’d just about ended up being charged with homicide earlier that day when she launched herself, volleyball sized belly and all, across the table at a suspect in the interrogation room. Her mood had become more aggressive recently to match the influx of male hormones taking up ever more space in her womb.

At her banishment from anything she’d considered real police work Erin began to pout and was snippy with everyone. The boys were beginning to joke behind her back that what Erin needed was an exorcist not a obgyn to get that baby out of her.

Jay pleaded with Voight to let him take Erin away on a long weekend. Before getting pregnant she’d talked about how she always wanting to go to Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Jay still felt bad Erin hadn’t been able to fulfill the wish list she created pre pregnancy and he wanted her to do something special before their world got turned upside down. Besides a little time away as a couple sounded good to him too.
He’d called her doctor on the sly and was told there were no concerns with Erin flying. Once he had the okay from Voight, Jay booked the trip.

Erin had been excited to get away. They both welcomed the relative warmth of New Orleans in contrast to Chicagos cold. They overindulged on local cuisine and explored the city. With her growing belly Erin found she tired easily walking long distances and her back began to throb midway through the weekend. She had also become slightly anxious in the large crowds of people, walking with arms subconscious covering her baby bump.

She could have cried tears of joy when she found out Jay had arranged a prenatal massage through their hotel that afternoon and managed to find them a terrace seat in a restaurant where they could watch the parade go by below. Once they’d finished eating Jay slid his chair around and lifted Erin’s legs onto his lap. He absentminded rubbed her feet while they enjoyed the music and dancing of the revellers below.

They finished their weekend away with a steamboat cruise on the Mississippi. They teased and bantered all afternoon on the water.

“Thank you,” Erin whispered in Jay’s ear on the flight home. “Just when I think I couldn’t get luckier you go and surprise me with more,” she smiled lovingly at him.

Jay returned her smile. “I am pretty great aren’t I,” he laughed. Erin smacked him playfully and laughed with him. “You’re welcome,” he said sobering. “It makes me happy to see you happy. You deserve that.”

Instead of responding Erin leaned into him and placed her lips on his. The constant spark they shared lit and, forgetting the other passengers on the plane, they deepened the kiss. Several minutes later Erin pulled away abruptly.

“What’s wrong,” Jay asked, coming back to reality.

“I apparently need to pee, again,” she said apologetically.

Jay laughed and helped Erin to her feet.

Two weeks later Erin was wishing there was a bathroom in the convenience store she stopped at on her way home from work. She’d had to go before she stopped but was desperate for Oreos and figured her bladder would survive a quick stop to pick some up.

It would be the last time she’d ever crave an Oreo.

8

Hello there, dear writerly friends!

Over the last year I’ve gotten hundreds (if not thousands :0) of writers sending me their story-ideas and asking me if they’re ‘good.’ Now, instead of continuously copy-pasting the same response, or worse ignoring them, I decided to format my thoughts into a nice-and-simple test c;

Now, since I have a feeling some of you still have questions, let me post here my answers to the responses I’ve gotten from this test:

Is this seriously the test?

Yes. Just 3 questions. Not more. Not less.

You’re saying that if I find the story-idea 'fun’ to write, then I’m good to go?

Yes.

Even though you know nothing about my story-idea?

Nope. I don’t care what your story is actually about. All I care about is that you have fun. Seriously. If you have fun writing it, the reader will be able to tell. It’s easier to be passionate about something you enjoy. On the flip-side, have you ever read anything that was written by someone who clearly was not having ANY fun? Ask your English teacher if they can tell when someone actually enjoyed writing an essay. You may be able to half-ass a cake and make something edible, but you can’t half-ass a book and expect people to like it.

Even though I think this story idea is similar to that of another book?

Jorge Luis Borges said that there are only 4 types of stories: a love story between two people, a love story between three people, the struggle for power, and the journey. The truth is that, really, the idea for the story does not matter. It’s not what you say, but how you it say that matters. And, I don’t know about you, but I think it’s easier to get your voice across when you’re actually enjoying the process of writing c;

How do I make my story-idea more 'fun’?

Be honest with yourself. Write about what excites you. You don’t have to write about anything you don’t care about, or meet some sort of imaginary guidelines. Writing is art. Write about anything you want. Additionally, you may want to checkout my (Strange) Guide to Planning Your Novel, it’s built on this entire philosophy.

I hope this helps! I have gotten this question so many times, I thought it would be best to just put my answer out there for all of you  c;

If you want more writerly content, such as writer positivity and prompts, make sure to follow my blog: maxkirin.tumblr.com!

barnsburntdownnow  asked:

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (◠‿◠✿)

this was so hard. mostly because it was less about how good i think these fics are and more about how they make me feel. the ones i had to scratch off the list hurt, like i betrayed them. sigh!

i wanted to pick stories that maybe not everyone has read, ones that actually make me feel something when and if i re-read them. okay, let’s do this!

i get lost in my mind - wincest (stanford era) - 2.2k - written summer of 2012

summary: stars and the vastness of the night sky and of a lifetime of memories and a whole heart of gaping loneliness and where is my brother 

so this fic was my first real, true attempt at capturing wincest. i posted a couple of other stories before this one, a couple that were weecest porn, but this one was all about the emotions, about the biggest aspect of sam and dean that ensnared me from the beginning: their complete inability to exist without each other. stanford era, along with pre-series, is my absolute favorite place to curl up and hurt. this story was written in a flurry of emotion one night, and i remember every single thing about this night: where i was sitting, what i was listening to, the sounds of summer outside, and finally getting some of my thoughts about those brothers out.

-

born to run - football rpf: alternate universe - various pairings, namely various combinations of: iker casillas/sergio ramos/fernando torres/david beckham - 100k - written between april 2009-april 2013

summary: three boys unexpectedly find themselves on the run together across the country, and the trip ends in a place no one expects, showing each of them how tightly tangled their lives are, have always been, and always will be.

i want to start out by saying that this story, like other AUs on this list, reads like original fiction. you don’t have to know a damn thing about football (soccer) to read this story. the characters have the faces of players i love, and that’s it. 

i started writing this story without the faintest idea of what the plot would be or how it would turn out. what ended up happening was something so much more heartfelt and true and me than anything i could have planned from the beginning. it’s a story about street rat punk kids, lost boys, lonely hearts, a coming-of-age road trip, the discovery of the infuriating and beautiful complexities of love, incestuous brothers, backwoods horror, and hard-earned redemption. i love this story. so goddamn fucking much.

-

as red as love - marvel rpf: alternate universe - natasha romanoff/wanda maximoff (steve rogers/bucky barnes - main side-pairing) - 69k - written between september& october 2015

summary: natasha’s band pussy party hires a tour manager for their upcoming tour, simon “vision” williams, whose girlfriend/assistant wanda has caught natasha’s eye. 

(punk AU in which natasha is a deliciously butch lesbian guitarist with a fear of commitment who falls for someone she can’t [shouldn’t] have.)

this story is so weirdly personal to me. it really shouldn’t be. i’m not in a band, i’ve never lived in new york city, i’ve never toured on a bus or lived in a foster home. but it’s just… nat. she’s so very me in so many ways, and it almost hurts to have her out there in the world for anybody to read. at the same time, it’s the most liberating thing, especially because i’ve gotten so much love and support for this story, for her journey. i wanted so badly to tell this story, to give wanda and natasha some kind of healing, and i’m honestly very happy with the way it turned out.

-

♥ follow the star wheresoever it went - wincest: alternate universe - 4k - written december 2015

summary: union soldier dean winchester gets a furlough to come home for christmas. (civil war-era AU.)

honestly, i don’t know where this story came from. it’s something i’ve been vaguely wanting to write for years, but it never had any real shape or plot. i did a lot of research about the civil war, about uniforms and the rhythm of the language in letters back home, the christmas customs and the everyday life of northern people during the war, and this story just kind of… happened. it’s something i sat down and wrote in one sitting, something that i don’t think i could have written on any other day, that i could never write again. this was a stars-aligned story, and truly, i am so, so proud of this one.

-

darkling, i listen - j2: alternate universe - 10.5k - written november 2016

summary: twelve-year-old jensen ackles steals the centuries-old heart of a vampire on a family trip to new orleans.

one of the most indulgent things i’ve ever written. ever. the plot came together over the course of several conversations with @homo-pink, and it was something i wrote with the distinct knowledge that i wanted it to feel anne ricean. vampires are kind of my Thing, and this whole story is just… like the warmest, richest blood. i just needed it to exist, so i wrote it. it’s one of my many, endless love letters to homo-pink. of course. ♥ 

How Supernatural Should End

Dean: and that’s the story of how I met your father.

*two kids, one boy and one girl around the ages of 10 look at him like he just killed their dog*

*Cas opens the front door with four bags of groceries in his hands and smiled at the three*

*Cas walked over and kisses Dean on the lips*

Cas: Happy Anniversary

Dean: did you get the whip cream and pie

Cas: *smiles* yes

Boy child: Daddy told us the story of how you two met, with monsters and demons and Assbutts

Girl child: With idjits and vampires, werewolfs, love, and kissing

Cas: *gives Dean a disapproving look* they are ten

Dean: don’t worry I left those parts out

*Sam walks in holding hands with Gabriel*

Sam: happy anniversary you two

Gabe: have fun tonight and don’t worry about the kids, Sammich and I got them

*as the end credits begin to play, Lucifer shows up with Micheal*

Lucifer: and we got married

*End credits play*

anonymous asked:

I really really hope Topaz, Fluorite and Rhodo are all romantic. Beacuse first is butch/butch couple, second is open gay polly relationship and third is red shirt soldier who ran away with a servant (upper class/low class love stories are great, but I almost have never seen romance story between two member of low castes)

I’m right with ya, mystery gem! I’m really hoping so too!

But I’m already at least 99% sure all three of them are romantic relationships. It just really strongly hinted at that being true, y’know?

But either way, I really hope we hear more about the relationships between these three! Like how they met and became permafusions and all that.

Mute

i love your blog and your stories they are incredible!!!!!! can I please have a short story thing about Blaise and how he tries to win over the girl he loves- who is a mysterious, silent slytherin and who every one is scared off?? thank you x

A/N: okay, I might make another part to this if it gets enough likes and requests, but let me just say- i don’t care if this is bad, i had so much freaking fun writing this. it is literally me and my friends, not gonna lie. hope you enjoy

 

They were drunk. The three boys sat in a criss cross circle, laughing about nothing in particular. ‘Alright, alright, alright. So, Nott, truth or dare?’ Malfoy smirked, watching the raven-haired boy think. ‘I think I’m going to pick tru-’ ‘WIMP!’ Draco picked up an empty bottle, flinging it at his head. Theo dodged it quickly, but still glared. ‘I’m picking truth!’ Draco sighed, looking around the common room for inspiration. ‘Alright. Fine! If you had to shag-’ ‘Daphne Greengrass.’ ‘-a teacher,’ Blaise hooted, chuckling at Theo’s expression. ‘Who would it be?’ He put his head on his hand, licking his lips while contemplating. ‘I guess I’d have to go with…’ The two other boys leaned in… ‘Hooch.’ They all burst into laughter, rolling on the floor. Draco squirmed, his drunken laughter filling the air. ‘Y-You would shag HOOCH!’ Blaise began tearing up, shoving Theo. ‘I’m sure she’d LOVE to ride your broom!’ Theo growled, kicking Blaise’s shin. ‘Well, at least I didn’t pick McGonnagal!’ ‘I’d rather bed Snape!’ Theo stood, slightly wobbling. ‘Well, Mr. Zabini, I could probably get Hooch to fall in love with me! Unlike you, and your precious, little Y/n!’ Draco looked up, a confessional grabbing his attention. ‘Y/n? Y/n the mute?’ They giggled watching Blaise anger. ‘She can talk, you know. We talk sometimes in Herbology.’ Draco rolled across the floor, like the child he was, posing like a starfish next to Blaise. ‘My dear summer child, please do pick. Truth…or dare?’ Blaise huffed, about to answer before Draco interrupted. ‘Mind that you’ve picked truth two times in a row!’ ‘I guess dare.’ Draco clapped his hands, looking at Theo with a devilish grin. ‘I dare you to woo little miss mute into snogging!’ They hysterically laughed, watching Blaise cross his arms. ‘We’re just friends, Draco.’ The blonde crawled behind him, rubbing his shoulder and nuzzling his head against Blaise’s cheek. ‘But, my bubbling bumblebee Blaise, don’t you want to be so much more?’ Draco was very touchy feely when intoxicated. He wasn’t sure if it was the booze, or the challenge, but Blaise accepted, retreating to bed to get an early start the next day.


Her shiny black shoes tapped against the empty corridor as she walked the castle. It was five thirty in the morning, and no other student was awake as early, especially on a Saturday. She rounded a corner, enjoying the solitude until a dark figure stood in her path. ‘Y/n, isn’t it?’ The girl looked up, pulling back her h/c hair. ‘Blaise? What are you doing up? Shouldn’t you be nursing your friends back to health?’ He chuckled, remembering how much morning sickness Theo and Draco would have. ‘Not really. Its their fault they can’t handle their drinks.’ She nodded, continuing to walk. He, quickly, grabbed her elbow, attempting a smile. ‘You’re quick.’ He wiggled his eyebrows, crossing his arms. ‘Well, you have to be when you’re on the quidditch team.’ Y/n grinned, trying to be polite. ‘I hear you lot are very good.’ ‘The best! You should stop by a game sometime. I’ll play for you.’ She blushed, looking down at the stoned floor. ‘I’ll make it to one, eventually.’ He fumbled, trying to continue the conversation. ‘I, well, um. Do you-uh-I…herbology!’ She stepped back, a bit stunned. ‘Yes, that is taught here at Hogwarts.’ He nodded, biting his lip to try and not let her leave yet. ‘I know, I sit at the table across from your’s.’ Y/n flushed, enjoying that he remembered her. ‘Anyway, um, textbooks. Do you have it on you?’ She looked around, shaking her head. ‘I seem to not have a backpack. Weird, it being a weekend.’ He nodded along, cursing himself. ‘Come on, Blaise. Zabinis aren’t awkward!’ ‘I-er, um-’ ‘BLAISE ZABINI!’ He swerved around to find the two dufuses of his existence running to the pair. ‘MY SWEET BABY BLAISE!’ He growled, glaring at the blonde. ‘I’m a bit busy, Draco.’ Draco smirked, looking to Y/n. ‘Hi there. Malfoy. Pleasure.’ She gave faint smile, looking to the black haired Slytherin. He was staring an ant walking on the wall until Draco hit his shoulder, causing him to whimper. ‘Oh, sorry. I’m Nott.’ Y/n chuckled, sarcastically waving. ‘I know who you both are. Blaise talks about you all the time.’ Draco swooned, placing a hand on his heart while the other wrapped around Zabini. ‘What a kind young lad. Respectable. Trustworthy.’ Draco looked over to Theo, raising his eyebrows in code. ‘Oh, yes! What a strapping man! I bet he’s amazing at sex!’ Blaise and Draco looked to Nott, who shrugged. Y/n began stepping back, slowly, while giving the three a nervous chuckle. ‘Well, it was fun meeting you two. Bye, Blaise.’ She walked quickly in the opposite direction, rounding a corner. Blaise smiled until she left, whipping around to face the two. ‘You both are complete idiots!’ Draco gasped, faking astonishment. ‘I am a bonafide wingman! Thank Theodore, over here, for your failure.’ Theo placed his hands on his hips, blowing the hair out of his face. ‘I helped!’ ‘You two were like mothers doting over their precious baby!’ Draco sighed, placing his hands on Blaise’s cheeks. ‘But you are my sweet baby Blaise!’ He laughed as Zabini pushed him, watching the dark boy walk in the direction Y/n went. ‘Hmm, Theo. Who knew Zabini would fall head over heals for a mute?’ 

Uncle Negan

Request: Can you please do a one shot Negan comes to Alexandria with carl and your pregnant with ricks baby and while ricks out Negan talks to the baby and rick finds out when he comes back and is pissed - @countryfire2 

PART TWO HERE 

PART THREE HERE

PART FOUR HERE

PART FIVE HERE

PART SIX

negan imagine / negan x you / negan x reader

warnings: language


“Did you feel that?” Rick placed both hands on your stomach with anticipation to make sure what he had just felt was real. seconds later, he felt it again. “They’re saying hello with a kick. Not even born yet and they’re already acting like their mother, at least acting how she does when she’s sleeping.” He said playfully, taking your face in his hands and kissing your forehead.

You were 6 months pregnant with Rick’s baby, something he had to convince you to do. You loved him, but you couldn’t deny the thought of a baby in this world scared you every waking moment. But seeing Rick with Judith and Carl warmed your heart to it, and you believed a baby would be good for not only you, but Alexandria. However after Negan’s arrival, you had never questioned your decisions more than now. 

You smiled back at him, “Are you sure you want to do this run alone? You could bring Tara or Aaron with you, you know they don’t mind” He walked over to the dresser grabbing his radio and knife. “No, no. Aaron did his rounds yesterday and Tara is with Judith and Carl. You heard Negan the last time he was here. He’s demanding more and we have to give it to him. I’m not putting more people in danger because of that.” He lightly kissed you before turning for the door. “Say hi to Carl for me when he comes back.”  You stood there for a moment deciding what to do. You look down at your stomach, “Looks like it’s just you and me today, buddy.” 

~~~~~~~~~

You sat in the living room reading a book from upstairs. That was the weird thing about Alexandria. You had been on the run for so long, when you came here it was like learning how to live the ‘right’ way all over again. All of a sudden you heard the front gates open, but you knew the only person out was Rick. Negan. You set your book down and slowly made your way out to the porch. 

“WELL H E L L O ALEXANDRIA! BOY DO I HAVE A FUCKING PRESENT FOR YOU.” 

You heard his voice booming across the town. The man that should’ve made you want to take cover inside the house instead drew you further into the street. 

“Saviors, get your shit done, I’ll do mine.” All at once his followers spread like a disease, leaking into the houses. “Where’s that bastard, Rick? Where the fuck is that fucker.” You saw Negan walk to the opposite door of one of the trucks, dragging something out. 

“It’s not safe for you out here, we don’t want him to see you’re pregnant.” Gabriel whispered, ushering you back into your home before you could see what Negan’s surprise was. 

“Gabriel, what the hell. You know he already knows. I was with the group the night he–”

“If he knew it he would’ve said something in that moment. Maybe it was the fact that it was night, your baggy clothes, a combination. Either way he doesn’t know and I know Rick wants to keep it that way.” What Rick wants. Negan knew little to nothing about you, including the fact that you and Rick were together.

“I can take care of myself in here. You go out and make sure no one causes a scene.” He looked at you concerned, “Really I’ll be fine. He has no reason to come to the house and if he does it won’t be my first time hiding in a closet.” He patted your shoulder and headed out the back door. The worst part about being pregnant was that everyone thought you couldn’t handle yourself anymore and you hated that. Whatever you could do to get people off of your back, you did. You started for the door again, but another kick stopped you. Rick had been through enough the past few weeks and you didn’t want to add to his plate no matter how much you hated it. You grabbed your book and resumed in the same chair as before. 

“Oh Rick, you’d fucking better be in here.” His voice made you drop your book as he pounded on the door. You shot up running for upstairs when you heard him say, “Knock it in.” Halfway down the hallway, the door swung open exposing you to Negan. Too late to hide it now. “I’m no fucking rocket scientist, but I knew Rick did not have an ass like that.” You took a deep breath and slowly turned around to see Negan with his hand on Carl’s shoulder, two Saviors looming behind him. 

“Carl, what the h–”

“Why don’t you excuse us,” he said cutting you off and dismissing the Saviors. “Looks like we have a lot to fucking talk about.” The men walked out, closing the door behind them. “Now how the fuck did I miss this. I know we’ve met before, but this shit? You are fucking HUGE. I have to give you credit. You hid it real fucking well. How many months along are you? 5, 6?” You finally released your eyes from Carl, keeping your calm in the situation. “6. 6 months.” He laughed walking towards you. “Well shit. And the father? Cause Carl here told me his mother is no longer with us.” You looked down, trying to conjure the best answers that would get through this situation as quick and painless as possible. “Well hold on just one fucking second. You? and Rick?” He looked between you and Carl chuckling in disbelief. “Damn. I do not know how you stand that fucking scowl he’s got on his face all the time. I gotta know. Does he look like that during sex? I mean you must fucking know, I went to health class, I know how this shit is done.” He turned to Carl, “Why don’t you go get us something to drink? Looks like I have to properly introduce myself to two people today.” He approached you looking you up and down before holding his arm out motioning to the table in the kitchen. You accepted his invitation, taking a seat in one of the chairs. You heard his footsteps come up behind you as he pulled your chair out slightly, your pregnant belly in full view. He squatted down, his eyes gawking at your stomach. “That is just fucking amazing,” he placed a hand on it, slightly rubbing it. “A baby, in this world? You’ve got some balls.” You body shuddered as his hands massaged your stomach. Carl walked in and froze. 

“Don’t you touch he-”

“Are you really sure you wanna be telling me what to fucking to right now? After everything you’ve fucking done today, are you really fucking sure?” Negan stood up facing Carl, grasping Lucille. Carl handed him a glass of lemonade and started walking towards you, he put an arm in front of him stopping him, “Hold this for me, will you?” Carl locked eyes with you before grabbing Lucille and bringing you your glass. Negan returned to your stomach, hand included. “Now, Uncle Negan is gonna give you some free advice,” You take a deep breath, continuing to keep your cool. “Your father, he is a piece of shit. He’s put me through a lot of fucking trouble trying to keep my people safe. What he doesn’t have, is guts.” You make eye contact with Carl, your look telling him not to make a scene. “But I, I am always going to be around. I will give you the biggest pair of balls you’ve ever seen, cause you are gonna survive in this world, kid. And your dad isn’t going to fucking make that happen, I am.” He looked up at you with his cheeky smile. “Isn’t that right, darlin?” 

“At least buy me dinner first.” You responded coldly. He took a sip of lemonade and stood up looking down on you. “You tell Carl here if he comes around killing any more of my men, I will make sure this angel doesn’t have a fucking father.” He headed for the door grabbing Lucille from Carl, “I’ll be back to check on that little shit you’re cooking up. Don’t go naming ‘em without me.” He laughed and walked out of the house, leaving you and Carl in silence. 

Carl immediately made the first move, “Look, I didn’t know he was going to come back here. It wasn’t supposed to–”

“Your father can never know.” You interrupt him bluntly. 

“What?”

You stand up, walking towards him, “Rick can’t know he was here. With me. Talking to the baby. He’ll lose his shit and you know that.” 

You were cut off yet again, this time with Rick bursting through the door. He runs over to you, taking you in his arms. “I saw him walking from the house, what was he doing here, did he hurt you? Carl? Judith?” 

“We’re fine. Judith is still with Tara, Carl came back to check on me and was the one who answered the door, he never saw me.” Rick looked back between Carl and yourself, getting that aggravated look on his face. He slowly backed away from you. “I can’t wait to be an Uncle.”

“What do you-”

“On my way to the house, he said that to me. ‘I can’t wait to be an Uncle.’ Did he touch you? Tell me what he did-”

“Dad it was fine, he barely touched her and they only talked for a few minutes I was here the whole time.” Carl blurted out.  Rick quickly lost his cool and grabbed his knife off of the table before storming out the door again, Carl following close behind after exchanging an apologetic look with you.  

You collapsed on the floor, left alone yet again. How were you going to raise a child in this world? In Negan’s world? If Rick wouldn’t allow it, then Negan won’t allow Rick to be alive. You let out a sigh before taking a sip of lemonade. “Looks like it’s still you and me today, buddy.”


This was a fun request! If you like my writing, check out my main story I’ve been writing (a NeganxLucy/Lucille story) here

PART TWO HERE

PART THREE HERE

PART FOUR HERE

PART FIVE HERE

PART SIX HERE

AND ALWAYS FEEL FREE TO SEND ME REQUESTS!!! I love it. 

and you guys. you guys are the best <3

Our first contest winner is...

nosuchplaceasparadise for their story about shapeshifting school kids solving a mystery.  

It was a very close contest.  Runner up is @screamingatanemptyroom for their story about a fairy detective investigating grisly murders.  

Both stories were really appealing, and very clever in how they used the three prompts.  Both introduce the readers to worlds that felt like they’d be really fun to continue to explore.  And both had main characters that I fell in love with. I spent a lot of time struggling over how to pick a winner.  

As promised, this is the official shout out to nosuchplaceasparadise, who appears to have a blog of delightfully random posts, as well as an art blog @ thepaintedwolfe and a writing blog @ cassandrawolfe. 

And we officially have a contest winner’s page started!

Stay tuned for the next contest announcement coming soooooooon.

RANT ABOUT DESCENDANTS: THE BOOKS, THE MOVIES, AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THE AWFUL-NESS OF WICKED WORLD

Look, I used to love Descendants.  %100 percent loved the idea. I could set aside plot holes and OOC Disney characters to enjoy the new characters like Mal and the others.

But here’s the thing: THIS IS DISNEY, and Disney should know how to tell a better story than this. Three different versions of the same story? That is awful for Disney. And you know what else? NONE OF THEM CORRESPOND. The movies are immune to the books events and WW events, but WW and the books are forced to reference the movies? It’s awful storytelling, and YOU CAN DO BETTER, DISNEY.

I’M LOOKING AT YOU, RISE OF THE ISLE OF THE LOST. What happened to the freakin’ storyline the first and second books had going? It was a better story than the crap from the movies! Now, here’s book 3, but it has to involve the movie?! Why?! What happened to the actual GOOD storyline you had? Here you have to dump it down the drain by bringing in the characters from Descendants 2? WHICH MIGHT FLOP AND RUIN THE BOOKS TOO?!

And don’t get me started on the OOC mess that is Wicked World.