i might just read the book

Okay so I’m going through my bookcases and I’ve got so many young adult books that I’ve read that I’m going to get rid of but would people be interested if I hosted a giveaway for them??

I’d end up doing about three giveaways probably as there’s sooo many but they’re all super good books I just don’t need them anymore.

I might do it!

I just finished a cute YA novel that some of you guys might enjoy: Tash Hearts Tolstoy by Kathryn Ormsbee! the protagonist, Tash, creates a modern YouTube adaption of Anna Karenina and eventually stumbles into internet fame lol. She’s ace and the book has a really cute romance that was written and handled really well imo!

anonymous asked:

"crazy detention stories"...go

They’re really not that crazy I don’t think but fine- but as I had detention at least once a week for 3 years you’re only getting the highlights here:

  • So again, I only ever got detentions because I was late to school basically every day. Every single day, the office wrote me a late slip with my name spelled horrendously wrong. Different spelling every day. The most famous butchering was writing my name as “Millie Hoagie”. On my very last day of high school, I was predictably late, and they spelled my name perfectly correctly.
  • So listen my ‘reputation’ in school was basically “quiet good girl who’s never done anything wrong, ever, in her life” and “teacher’s pet” and the like. And despite the fact I was there every time all the ‘Bad Kids™’ who were also always in detention were always incredibly surprised to see me??? Like they never got over it. Every time I walked into the damn room at least half the class would be like “MOLLY YOU DON’T BELONG HERE YOU’RE INNOCENT!!” 😂
  • Also despite the fact I was basically invisible in the school as a whole all the trouble makers knew me by name because, and I quote a kid from my 10th grade Spanish class who was trying to hook up with me at the time here, “Guys like me are afraid of you, Girl, we’re just plain out scared that we gonna corrupt you!” and I still don’t know what he actually meant by that???
  • Bu anyway, this apparent rep usually gave me an upper hand with the teachers monitoring the detentions. Because, you know, some were fine, some were bitchy, some were insane. But all of them were pissed about the fact they had to be there instead of heading home.
  • The rules of detention were literally just ‘stare at the wall and don’t talk’, depending on which teacher they might let the students do homework. But since I was apparently a great person and always had the class’ incredulous response to me being in the room, they usually let me get away with sleeping or reading a book lol.
  • Of course…no one said any of the other kids were inclined to following the rules lmao. These were like, all the class clowns™ shoved into one room. Things always got real funny real fast.
  • It would always start off with the coughing game. If you’ve ever stepped into a school you should know what that is.
  • It would then escalate to everyone in the room playing catch whenever the teacher looked away for a brief moment
  • Detention was always in the health classroom so someone always tried to steal a limb off the skeleton without being to obvious
  • Some teachers would let people talk ‘quietly’ so jokes were fucking abound
  • One time I was minding my own damn business and a kid slides me a note saying ‘in like five minutes ask to go to the bathroom but head downstairs to the English wing’ before he snuck out without the teacher noticing. I get down there and he’s at one end of the hallway and another boy is at the other end. Upon seeing me, these boys run full speed down the hall at each other, leap up in the air when they get to the direct center, high five with full force, both scream in pain, and then hit the floor, clutching their hands. I was cracking the fuck up and trying to convince them to go to the nurse but they wouldn’t listen. I asked the guy why the hell they did that. He told me ‘because we wanted a witness and no one will ever believe you’ 😂😂
  • One time my sorta-neighbor Mike comes in and the teacher asked why he had detention and apparently, the principal had asked him where to find his friend Jose, and Mike responded “he’s out picking cotton” and the principal flipped out at what he perceived to be a racist joke and gave him a month detention. But the thing was, Jose was in an agriculture class and he was literally outside picking cotton that they had planted there earlier. Jose found it fucking hilarious and refused to tell the principal to get his friend out of trouble.
  • As I haven’t been inside a school building for quite some time now I don’t know if turtling is still a thing but it was…quite an epidemic for my senior class.
  • It’s when you turn someone’s backpack inside out right? But it was a full blown war with these kids. Trust no one. Never leave the room. Never look away. Holy shit. One of the best moments of this occurred in detention, when a boy reached to get a book out of his backpack to find it was gone. After 15 minutes of searching the room, he found it, turtled, hidden in a filing cabinet in the front of the room. Everyone, including the teacher, was loosing their shit, because how did someone pull that off so quietly and invisibly without someone noticing??? No one fessed up. The class was in fear of the turtle ninja for the rest of the month, but they never struck again. No one ever discovered who it was.
  • Guys: It was me.
  • One time it was raining and the teacher was in a bad mood so he insisted all the windows stay open. He left for a bathroom break or something and this one poor kid, who was now completely soaked as he was stuck with a window seat, just said “fucking bye” and just…climbed out the damn window. Left his backpack and everything. Didn’t see him again for at least a month.
  • There was one guy who always sold ice cream out of his bag when the teachers weren’t looking. Where he was getting it from and how it stayed frozen is beyond me.
  • Oh my God sometimes all the indie singer kids would just come and sit on the floor outside the classroom and talk loudly to annoy us??? The hell were they trying to accomplish??? Your singing ain’t special and you won’t be famous, please let us die in peace.
  • One kid had detention because when we were running laps in gym class he jumped up to hit the arch of the ceiling and accidentally set off the fire alarm. The teacher that day insisted on continuously referring to him as ‘the delinquent’, as if no one else in the room had broken the rules or something
  • One time one of the gym teachers was in charge of it and long story short he started doing the jersey turnpike. True horror.
  • One time the teacher got a call and she had to go down to the office and the second she was gone this one kid’s friend runs in with a huge tray going “Y’ALL I STOLE THE LASAGNE CUPCAKES FROM THE FOOD AND NUTRITION CLASSROOM” and we dined like kings.
  • Everyone would sometimes just break out in song for no God damn reason
  • One time one of the guys in charge of the detention was A) Not someone anyone recognized as a teacher and B) Potentially Stanley Tucci. Like…I was about 80% certain that this guy was Stanley Tucci.
  • He refused to confirm or deny or even give a name
  • One time I was really absorbed in my book when all the sudden a letter flew onto my desk, an anonymous sender that just said “You have a soft, sexy voice.” Neither of which is true, I’m pretty sure, and I could not for the life of me figure out who sent it omfg
  • One time a teacher was freaking out because he went to a psychic over the weekend and was told there was a lot of activity around him so I looked him straight in the eyes and told him I’m a medium and I can see that the devil had marked his soul and he threw me out of the room and refused to take that class for detention ever again😂
  • It was a hot summers day. The ceiling fans were on their highest setting. A boy nudges me, with a small carton of ice cream in his hands under his desk. “What do you think would happen if I scooped out a huge chunk of this and threw it at the fan?” he whispered. “Jamil, no.” I pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears. Soon, the room was filled with confused screams.
  • Apparently all the other regulars™ had bought me candy grams around Christmas time so they were confused when I showed up to detention with no candy and apparently the student council member sent them all to the other Molly in the grade because she was the popular one and this lead to about 12 boys grumbling for two and a half hours like “The one damn time I attempt to be a gentleman” and “I know where she lives” and “Gonna gingerbread her fucking locker” I could not stop laughing
  • Oh God okay one time the teacher we had was literally. Off the charts.
  • Like there’s the chill teachers, and then the bitchy teachers. And then this lady. She literally reminded me of Stubel
  • So I didn’t even know who she was but I walk in and do my shy smile/quiet ‘hello’ thing and take out my book so she immediately zeros in on me as ‘the good kid’ as usual
  • But she literally seemed to think every other person in this class was a hardened criminal holy shit. She was all over the place barking orders and yelling. And of course, you’ve got a room full of class clowns, like they feed off teachers like this. So the madder she got the more ridiculous they got. I was literally almost in tears trying to force myself not to laugh because I didn’t want to risk her turning on me omfg
  • So she yelled and flailed about the room and they kept going with jokes and paper wasps and lying about their names and just doing literally every thing they could possibly do so this woman wouldn’t have the chance to rest
  • This escalated with every minute and came to a resounding end when the teacher decided the Australian Kid™ was chewing gum and picked up the trashcan and shoved his face in it, screaming at him to spit it out as he yelled back “YOU’RE ONLY DOING THIS BECAUSE IM AN IMMIGRANT
  • he was in charge of all the bullshit that day and it was hysterical but he wasn’t the one chewing gum loudly that was me
  • The vp came in to see what all the yelling was about to find a teacher shoving a boy’s head in the trash, one boy shirtless as another drew tattoos on him, the phone off the line with it’s cord wrapped around a kid’s neck, two boys dueling with skeleton arms, one kid with her leg out the window, a kid tying a skeleton foot to the ceiling fan, rubber bands and paper wasps flying from every angle, three people turtling backpacks, someone brandishing an epi-pen, sexual hangman being played on the chalkboard, someone eating ice cream and fanning himself with money, and me, crying into my book with my hand literally bleeding from all my efforts to not laugh at what I was witnessing
  • We never saw her in detention again😂
  • My one younger friend got a detention for being late and was really shaken up about it and I tried to tell her she’d be fine but then she got caught sliding me chocolate animal crackers during it, and subsequently got another detention because of this; somehow I was not viewed as an equally guilty party and didn’t get in trouble
  • This one guy came in complaining “You guys all told me to get a twitter and I get thrown in twitter jail my first day!” “That’s like a thousand tweets in one day, how the fuck did you mange that?” “Bitch I had a lot to say about McDonalds!”
  • One teacher came in and was like “I don’t feel like helping with homework but does anyone wanna learn how to hack a computer?”
  • Someone got caught pouring water out the window but when the teacher looked to see why she saw the youngest of the goats™ standing under the window with it’s mouth open waiting for more
  • One time the teacher wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom and after I asked for like the 5th time he said “It can’t be that important!” so I just pulled a pad out of my backpack and silently sat it on my desk while glaring at him and this 40 year old man looked like he was about to pass out and he finally let me go
  • I remember our final detention of senior year we were told that if we skip it we can’t graduate so everyone went into that room with a ridiculously nostalgic attitude and one guy finally stole the skull off the skeleton and we fucking tossed it around the entire time while singing and blatantly ignoring the teacher’s complaining lmao
  • I know there’s more but it’s 7am and this is long so all in all like…I do not miss high school but some memories are bearable lmao

you know, call me crazy, call me biased af, but i just think it’s bullshit that we get all these sappy, ridiculous climon scenes and malec can’t even finish a goddamn conversation without someone walking in…and demanding, once again, that magnus fix their problems.

anonymous asked:

i have a prompt for you: what if snape hadn't called lily 'mudblood' that day. what if their friendship had stayed strong, unbreakable. would he have grown to be a better person? would lily have loved him, rather than james? would harry just have another godfather? would james and lily have survived?

Okay you have successfully convinced me to write a Snape thing, which is a possibility I have audibly forsworn many times to my loved ones. But I’m a sucker for concepts like “Harry gets another godfather,” so, here we go.


When Severus was seven, he fell in love with the girl down the street. She had long red hair and dirty knees and she offered him half her candy bar one drizzly afternoon, waiting outside the school for her parents to come pick her up.

His parents weren’t coming— dad working late and mum at the pub recounting old Hogwarts glory stories, talking of years when her life was magical– but he didn’t tell Lily that. He was just waiting for the older bully boys who lurked in the empty lot on his way home to get bored and leave.

He ate the candy slowly in neat little bites while she grinned and told him about her big sister’s feud with the science teacher, like her Tuney was some sort of hero in a political espionage drama. She talked with her hands, narrow little things with freckled backs. He watched her wave from the back window of her mother’s car and then he started the long walk home.

When Severus was fifteen, James Potter dangled him upside down in the quad and laughed. Severus landed on elbows and knees. The bruises would stay for a week. The memories would not die with them— James’s cocky grin, the laughter in the spring air, the long whip of Lily’s red hair.

He felt small, bug-like, his knees pressing into the grass. His mother would come home some nights, kick the threadbare carpet, rattle the battered old pans in the cupboard, curse a Ministry that hated purebloods, that sucked up to halfbreeds and Mudbloods, that left the true wizards to rot in filth. He would curl up, make himself small, bug-like, imagine a chitinous shield growing over his shoulders, his spine, the softness of his kidneys. Some days, his father slept through this. Some days he screamed back.

After Severus met Lily, he would curl up under his covers, small, bug-like, and read through the comics she’d lent him with his hands pressed up over his ears. He wanted Professor X to come take him away. He wanted to be someone special, someone saved. He wanted a giant to burst through his door and frighten his mother and offer him a squashed birthday cake and a way out.

When Severus was fifteen, he slammed to his knees on the green Hogwarts quad. Laughter burrowed into his ears, like curses, like the nights his father screamed back, and when Lily stepped toward him he snapped, “I don’t need help from a Mudblood.”

When Severus slouched up to her door that summer, Lily didn’t invite him in. She leaned on the open frame of the door, arms crossed. He had so rarely seen Lily neither smiling or incandescent with rage, but she watched him with snakeskin eyes and a set mouth, still.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t–”

She twitched a strand of hair over her shoulder, the irritation the closest thing to an emotion he could spot on her. He was watching, desperate– this was Lily, she gave things away. She talked with her hands. He never felt lost, with her. “But why,” said Lily. “Why are you sorry? Because I’m upset, or because what you did was wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You did, and it’s not the point. I don’t care if it’s the part you care about, Sev, it’s not the part that matters. That was an awful thing to say– to say to anyone. You were cruel because you were scared and embarrassed, but Sev I could really care less. You were cruel.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Sorry’s not enough, Sev. Be fucking better.”

He jerked back and tried to turn it into some kind of laugh. “Language, careful, your mum might hear.”

She shrugged, and stepped back through the open door, and shut it in his face.

He spent the summer reading comic books, haunting the local library, then the local park once it’d closed, and then sneaking home when he was hopeful his parents would be asleep. He tried to think about bravery, but sometimes he just thought about Lily’s hair, the way it went more golden in summer. He tried to think about nobility, ethics and grace, but the clouds chased each other, fat and white, across the sky and he wasn’t sure what any of this had to do with him.

His father took him fishing by a dreary brown creek and they sat in silence. Severus could hear every creak of the rods, every lap of the water, every inhale and movement his father made. He thought maybe if he just said nothing, nothing ever, he’d never say anything again that made Lily’s face go so flat and distant. If he said nothing, maybe nothing would hurt.

His father reached back for a beer can in a swift movement and Severus froze himself unflinching. He sat in that silence afterward, slowing his heartbeat, picking apart the sudden rigid shell of his shoulders. His father hummed, cracking the can open like a gunshot.

He sat alone on the Hogwarts Express that year, stuffed in a compartment with a handful of second years who gave him half the seats while they giggled among themselves about the haircut of someone named Gertrude. Every summer’s end, for five years, he and Lily had boarded the train together, pressed their noses to the window glass, and watched the land rush by.

For the first month of school, Severus practiced pausing before he spoke, for seconds, minutes if he needed them. Sometimes he’d add an answer after the conversation had already moved on, bent over his mashed potatoes, weighing words as carefully as he weighed salamander eyes and mandrake root.

(If you crushed firedrake seeds with the flat of your blade, instead of cutting them, they made a more potent potion. The textbooks told you to stir six times counterclockwise to make Sleeping Draught, but he knew–because he had thought, and tried, and tried again–that if you did five counterclockwise and two clockwise the draught would turn that perfect turquoise and the sleep would be dreamless and sweet and deep. He kept notes in his textbook’s margins, because it helped to remember.)

In the second month, he tried to listen. People were starting to think about life after school, a big yawning chasm they were supposed to fill with themselves. People were starting to fall in love, puppyish and petty. People were starting to believe in the war, whispering, dreaming, fearing.

In the common room, one of the kids said something about Mudbloods and Severus’s head snapped up. He tried to imagine a shell growing into his shoulders, over his spine, covering all the soft parts of him. He wanted his covers, he wanted to shrink, he wanted Lily’s boxfuls of comics, but he rose to his feet and snapped back. Sometimes saying nothing hurt people, too. A small Muggleborn in green and silver ducked away to her dorm, clutching quietly at her sleeves.

For the third month, he tried to watch– not for warning sneers or cocky grins, clenched fists and broad shoulders, all the things he’d been watching for since before he could name them– but for the way shoulders might go rigid, the way fists might clench but hide, wishing for something to shield every soft part of them.

Severus was bony and pimply, sixteen years old and graceless in it, but he could be an interruption. He could mock with the best of them, flicking his brows and twisting his nose, and asking pointed questions. He could talk, smart-mouthed and snide, until the focus turned to him, and then he could survive anything they handed out. He could give as good as he got. The pauses were shorter, these days, before he spoke, but they would always be there, an echo offset from the shout, an avalanche that struck late and terrible.

When kids cried in bathrooms or empty classrooms or the library, he didn’t move to comfort them, though he heard them. He didn’t know how. He wrote his own curses, out in the forest where he could scar the trees in experiment, and they all turned out bloody. He loved few things, even Lily, as much as he loved pouring all of himself into his work, until something new and his own grew out of it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever invented something kind.

He didn’t try to find Lily, but he came back from the Forest once and almost tripped over her, half-napping in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. He stumbled back into a gargantuan gourd while she pushed hair out of her face and peered up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after a pause that rumbled and roiled in his gut, that he clung to with both hands, breathing into it and letting his shoulders go soft. “I’m sorry I said it. I’m sorry I made you feel small because I was feeling– small.”

Lily sat up a bit, in the little semi circle she’d built herself of books and scrolls and gobstones and snacks. She had built fairy circles like that, when they were children, of the flowers he’d transfigured for her.

“I’m sorry anyone has to feel that way, ever,” he said. “They shouldn’t. I’m angry anyone has to feel that way.”

“Me, too,” she said, and, fishing around in the detritus that surrounded her, handed him half a candy bar. “C'mon, you want some tea? Hagrid said he’d put a kettle on for me if I finished my Arithmancy.”

When Severus was in sixth year, Remus Lupin almost killed him on a moonlit night.

Severus had wanted answers, had wanted to get them in trouble, had wanted something a bit like vengeance, and Sirius had told him about the Whomping Willow. Sirius had grinned when he’d done it, small and bitter, and Severus had wondered if he was fighting with James again, wondering why else he’d sell out his friends.

“I didn’t think–” Sirius tried, the morning after, watching Remus across dry toast and cocoa, big juicy bowls of melon.

“You never do,” Remus snapped. (A bare handful of years later, standing in the smoldering ruins of James and Lily’s house, Remus would think about Sirius’s erratic gaze, the sharp edge of his voice, his last name, and wonder if he should have seen it coming. What here was premeditated? What was mischief? Sirius had once almost painted Remus’s own hands with red blood.)

But for now, Remus was sixteen and angry; he was sixteen and guilty of things that might have happened. He didn’t speak to Sirius for a month.

James refused to speak with Sirius, too, but he only lasted a week. Moony was sulking and Peter was busy studying his little heart out, and James got twitchy without proper and regular socialization.

“I’ll punch him in the nose,” said Lily, when Severus told her. She shifted where she sat cross-legged on the library table, like she might go off and hunt him down that second.

“Black doesn’t deserve the attention,” said Severus.

“Getting his ass kicked by a girl? That type of attention?”

“Getting his ass kicked by Lily Evans,” Severus said. “It’d be an honor and you know it.”

Reports of violence outside Hogwarts got worse. People were disappearing. People were whispering, fearing. The papers were ignoring the important things, and feeding off the fearmongering, or so Lily announced in the library while Severus was trying to study.

Alice and Lily had spent years sharing hissed rants in humid greenhouses. Over an undulating bed of luminescent deadly nightshade, Alice bent her head close to Lily’s and asked, “Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?”

Keep Reading (Ao3)

Keep reading

All About Writing Fight Scenes

@galaxies-are-my-ink asked,

“Do you have any advice on writing fight scenes? The type of scene I’m writing is mostly hand to hand combat between two experts. I’m definitely not an expert so when I try to write it, the scene ends up sounding repetitive and dull.”

Fore note: This post is coauthored by myself and one of my amazing critique partners, Barik S. Smith, who both writes fantastic fight scenes and teaches mixed martial arts, various artistic martial arts, and weapons classes.

I (Bryn) will tell you a secret: I trained MMA for seven years, and when I write authentic hand to hand fight scenes, they sound dull too. 

The problem with fight scenes in books is that trying to describe each punch and kick and movement (especially if it’s the only thing you’re describing) creates a fight that feels like it’s in slow motion. 

I write…

Lowering her center of gravity, she held her right hand tight to her face and threw a jab towards his chin. He shifted his weight, ducking under her punch. His hair brushed against her fist, and he stepped forward, launching a shovel hook into her exposed side.

But your brain can only read so fast. In real life that series of events would take an instant, but I needed a full eight seconds to read and comprehend it, which gave it an inherent lethargic feel. 

So, we have two primary problems:

  1. How do we describe this fight in a way the reader can understand and keep track of? 
  2. How do we maintain a fast paced, interesting fight once we’ve broken down the fight far enough for readers to understand it? 

(We will get back to these, I promise.) But for now, let’s look at…

Different types of “fight scenes:”

Keep reading

theguardian.com
Ten things I learned about writing from Stephen King
The novelist James Smythe, who has been analysing the work of Stephen King for the Guardian since 2012, on the lessons he has drawn from the master of horror fiction
By James Smythe

Stephen King is an All-Time Great, arguably one of the most popular novelists the world has ever seen. And there’s a good chance that he’s inspired more people to start writing than any other living writer. So, as the Guardian and King’s UK publisher Hodder launch a short story competition – to be judged by the master himself – here are the ten most important lessons to learn from his work.

1. Write whatever the hell you like

King might be best known – or, rather, best regarded – as a writer of horror novels, but really, his back catalogue is crammed with every genre you can think of. There are thrillers (Misery, Gerald’s Game), literary novels (Bag Of Bones, Different Seasons), crime procedurals (Mr Mercedes), apocalypse narratives (The Stand), fantasy (Eyes Of The Dragon, The Dark Tower series) … He’s even written what I think of as being one of the greatest Young Adult novels of all time: The Long Walk. Perhaps the only genre or audience he hasn’t really touched so far is comedy, but most of his work features moments that show his deft touch with humour. It’s clear that King does what he wants, when he wants, and his constant readers – the term he calls his, well, constant readers – will follow him wherever he goes.

2. The scariest thing isn’t necessarily what’s underneath the bed

Horror is a curious thing. What scares one person won’t necessarily scare another. And while there might be moments in his horror novels that tread towards the more conventional ideas of what some find terrifying, for the most part, the truly scary aspects are those that deal with humanity itself. Ghosts drive people to madness, telekinetic girls destroy whole towns with their powers, clowns … well, clowns are just bloody terrifying full stop. But the true crux of King’s ability to scare is finding the thing that his readers are actually worried about, and bringing that to the fore. If you’re writing horror, don’t just think about what goes bump in the night; think about what that bump might drive people to do afterwards.

3. Don’t be scared of transparency

One of my favourite things about King’s short story collections are the little notes about each tale that he puts into the text. The history of them, the context for the idea, how the writing process actually worked. They’re not only invaluable material for aspiring writers – because exactly how many drafts does it take to reach a decent story? King knows! – but they’re also brilliant nuggets of insight into King himself. Some people might think that it’s better off knowing nothing about authors when they read their work, but for King, his heart is on his sleeve. In his latest collection, The Bazaar of Broken Dreams, King gets more in-depth than ever, talking about what inspired the stories in such an honest way that it couldn’t have come from another writer’s pen. Which brings us to …

4. Write what you know. Sort of. Sometimes

Write what you know is the most common writing tip you’ll find anywhere. It’s nonsense, really, because if we all did that we’d end up with terribly boring novels about writers staring out of windows waiting for inspiration to hit. (If you like those, incidentally, head straight for the literary fiction section of your nearest bookshop.) But King understands that experience is something which can be channelled into your work, and should be at every opportunity. Aspects of his life – addiction, teaching, his near-fatal car accident, rock and roll, ageing – have cropped up in his work over and over, in ways that aren’t always obvious, but often help to drive the story. That’s something every writer can use, because it’s through these truths that real emotions can be writ large on the page.

5. Aim big. Or small

King’s written some mammoth books, and they’re often about mammoth things. The Stand takes readers into an apocalypse, with every stage of it laid out on the page until the final fantastical showdown. It deals with a horror that hits a group of characters twice in their lives, showing us how years and years of experience can change people. And The Dark Tower is a seven (or eight, or more, if you count the short stories set in its world) part series that takes in so many different genres of writing it’s dizzying. When he needs to, King aims really big, and sometimes that’s what you have to do to tell a story. At the other end of the spectrum, some of King’s most enduring stories – Rita Hayworth & Shawshank Redemption, The Mist – have come from his shorter works. He traps small groups of characters in single locations and lets the story play out how it will. The length of the story you’re telling should dictate the size of the book. Doesn’t matter if it’s forty thousand words or two hundred, King doesn’t waste a word.

6. Write all the time. And write a lot

King’s published – wait for it – 55 novels, 11 collections of stories, 5 non-fiction works, 7 novellas and 9 assorted other pieces (including illustrated works and comic books). That’s over a period of 41 years. That’s an average of two books a year. Which is, I must admit, a pretty giddying amount. That’s years of reading (or rereading, if you’re as foolishly in awe of him as I am). But he’s barely stopped for breath. This year has seen three books published by him, which makes me feel a little ashamed. Still, at my current rate of writing, I might catch up with him sometime next century. And while not every book has found the same critical and commercial success, they’ve all got their fans.

7. Voice is just as important as content

King’s a writer who understands that a story needs to begin before it’s actually told. It begins in the voice of the novel: is it first person, or third? Is it past or present tense? Is it told through multiple narrators, or just the one? He’s a master at understanding exactly why each story is told the way it’s told. Sure, he might dress it up as something simple – the story finding the voice it needs, or vice versa – but through his books you can see that he’s tried pretty much everything, and can see why each voice worked with the story he was telling.

8. And Form is just as important as voice

King isn’t really thought of as an experimental novelist, which is grossly unfair. Some of King’s more daring novels have taken on really interesting forms. Be it The Green Mile’s fragmented, serialised narrative; or the dual publication of The Regulators and Desperation – novels which featured the same characters in very different situations, with unsettling parallels between the stories that unfolded for them; or even Carrie’s mixed-media narrative, with sections of the story told as interview or newspaper extract. All of these novels have played with the way they’re presented on the page to find the perfect medium for telling those stories. Really, the lesson here from King is to not be afraid to play.

9. You don’t have to be yourself

Some of King’s greatest works in the early years of his career weren’t published by King himself. They were in the name of Richard Bachman, his slightly grislier pseudonym. The Long Walk, Thinner, The Running Man – these are books that dealt with a nastier side of things than King did in his properly attributed work. Because, maybe it’s good to have a voice that allows us to let the real darkness out, with no judgments. (And then maybe, as King eventually did in The Dark Half, it’s good to kill that voice on the page … )

10. Read On Writing. Now

This is the most important tip in the list. In 2000, King published On Writing, a book that sits in the halfway space between autobiography and writing manual. It’s full of details about his process, about how he wrote his books, channelled his demons and overcame his challenges. It’s one of the few books about writing that are actually worth their salt, mainly because it understands that it’s about a personal experience, and readers might find that useful. There’s no universal truths when it comes to writing. One person’s process would be a nightmare for somebody else. Some people spend years labouring on nearly perfect first drafts; some people get a first draft written in six weeks, and then spend the next year destroying it and rebuilding it. On Writing tells you how King does it, to help you to find your own. Even if you’re not a fan of his books, it’s invaluable to the in-development writer. Heck, it’s invaluable to all writers.

So, the time has come where I have decided to share my hidden Nashcon 2016 Cockles photo op with everyone.

Why did I wait so long? Because I told myself, as a silent promise to Jensen and Misha, I was going to wait one year from the day, before I share it, even though Misha said to share it initially. Haha. Anyway, it’s been four months past the year mark, and I have decided to finally unveil the photo, I know it might garnish some stuff from haters, and I might be called “disrespectful”, however I ask everyone to read below first, on how my situation went down with receiving the photo, and then cast your opinions.

 So, I am waiting in the photo op line nervous as all hell haha, I keep the front of the book hidden the entire time, just patiently and nervously waiting. The book I held in my hands was “The Threesome Handbook”, by Vicki Vantoch (For those who don’t know who she is, she’s the amazing woman married to Misha!!). I’ve had the idea in my mind for nearly a year on how funny it would be to take a photo of the three of us reading it, I could imagine Jensen’s “what the hell position is that?!” Face, I can imagine Misha’s mischevious intrigued face, and then I would just be there looking like a dork, haha, either way, it was a year’s idea in the making. So the time has come and here i am shaking with my book…When it is my turn…I walk up to them…I immediately went to Jensen first because above anyone else, I wanted to get his Blessing for the photo, I didn’t want him to do it if he was not comfortable with it, and I was perfectly fine if he would have declined…So, I’m right in front of Jensen and I say “I completely understand if you don’t want to do this but, if not, it’s okay, but can we do something with this?” I showed him the book Misha’s wife wrote “The Threesome Handbook”, and he was like “With this?” He replied with like a shocked laugh as he pointed at the book, I laughed a bit in embarrassment…Then at this moment Misha comes over to the two of us, he sees the book and giggles as he grabs it, Misha being amused at the sight of the book, all I could do is look on in embarrassment and nervously laugh. At this point however, Jensen’s handler came up right away and was like “ Nope. No. No.” And she snatched the book out of Misha’s hand. So he was like “Oh Well” with a shrug kinda look then I was like “Oh well”, I knew at that point it was the risk of asking, so I didn’t mind. So I turned to Misha and Jensen and was like “Hugs then?” So we did a hug picture. The bliss and awesomeness of being between those two, still sends shivers down my spine. Forgive the capital letters but this was the exciting part…after the picture I THEN HUGGED THEM BOTH AND SAID THANK YOU, THEN THE HANDLER GAVE THE BOOK BACK TO ME. I WAS READY TO WALK AWAY WHEN MISHA GRABBED MY HAND, PULLED ME CLOSE TO HIM AND TOLD THE PHOTOGRAPHER TO TAKE ANOTHER. SO MISHA HUGGED ME WHILE WE HELD THE BOOK AND JENSEN GAVE HIS LIKE “WHAT?!” FACE. I WAS IN SHOCK!!!! SO ALL I HAD ENOUGH REACTION TIME FOR WAS TO MAKE A DORKY LOOKING “Idk, worth a shot” SUGGESTIVE FACE.


It happened so quick…I was not expecting it at all…After the picture all I could do was happily give Misha another hug, and just mutter “Thank you thank Misha”, I gave Jensen one more quick one and kinda high tailed it out of the room shaking.

Now…I was absolutely happy, and just speechless, I had two ops, the op I wanted to do, and I spent more time with them. The thing is though…After some time…I felt bad…because I wasn’t sure if Jensen was upset…or kinda just disappointed, because I felt maybe he didn’t want to do it and it was forced, as much as I appreciate it…To confirm, I decided to apologise to him when I got my autograph…The stressful part of it all, was the timing…See…I had to wait for the pictures to print, I wanted to grab it right away because I know sometimes people take photos of other people’s pictures, and I didn’t want this to get out by someone else’s hand. The thing is Jensen was then signing autographs in the same time…So, I was pacing back and forth from the picture table and the autograph hall to see how the lines were, just as it seemed like autographs were almost over, as they called my row many minutes before, the pictures were put out. LUCKILY I received my picture and I was able to make the line for Jensen, photo hidden. So again I nervously wait in line, when I got to him in line, he recognized me and said “Hey you” and smiled, and of course I was like “Hi” *giggles* and then I said “Jensen I’m really sorry about the book photo op”. He smiled and was like “ah, it’s no problem at all” And I said “Okay I just wanted to make sure you know I didn’t mean anything bad by it” and he said “Don’t worry about it, it’s perfectly fine”. I apologized to his handler also and she said “ Its okay honey, I’m not mad about it” and they both said you have a good night and pretty much don’t worry. So *SIGH OF RELIEF*

Got my autograph and his Blessing!! However me being me, I wanted security…So…To Make sure…When I got my Misha autograph, I walk up to Misha with items in hand to get signed.


Misha: “Oh hey it’s you, how are you?”


Me: “I’m good thank you, how are you?”


Misha: “I’m good, I’m good, are you having fun?


Me: “Yeah, it’s been really great”


*Misha begins to sign my items*


Me: *Nervously* “Can I ask you a question?”


Misha: “Of course go ahead”


Me: “Was Jensen upset with the photo with the book?”


Misha: *smiles, then giggles* “Oh no, he wasn’t upset at all. He would have gone through with it if a certain handler didn’t snatch it away from us”


Me: “Are you sure? I really don’t want him to be upset, I just didn’t think it’d be bad”


Misha: “No, don’t worry about it at all, he wasn’t upset” *Misha hands back items*


Me: “Okay, thank you Misha, thank you. You have a great night” *I say while gathering my stuff*


Misha: “You’re welcome. You too” *Misha smiles*


*I turn to walk away when Misha says to me*


Misha: “Don’t give it a second thought”


I respond by just smiling and saying a relieved “Okay”, and then I turn and head out to the hall.

So…This is that photo, from my amazing Nashcon 2016 time…I hope those viewing, find the humor in it as much as I do…If you’re gonna share it, please just attach this story with it, so people know, that yes while some might find it tasteless, it was done with a calculated understanding of the actor’s feelings behind taking the photo and not without asking their personal consent for it first, the events that unfolded from it, were not expected and were out of my hands, just as well I finally want to thank Misha and Jensen and just as well, Jared!! (Though they may not ever read this haha) for everything they’re do for the fans, it was a great time and is now a hell of a story I can add to my life of events. Everyone else…enjoy. :)


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Magnus and Alec | Shadowhunters Season 2 | Comic-Con Trailer 

High fantasy is the YA trend now, ya? So why is there so little LGBT+ high fantasy – stuff that’s popular, stuff you can talk to people about, stuff you can check out from your library? I’m not talking about books where the main character has a gay sidekick. I want fantasy (high, low, urban, myth, historical, whatever) where the main character is gay. Or bi. Or pan. Or trans. I want to see same-sex love stories. I want to see diverse characters. I want poly stories. 

I just… I’m so frustrated that an overwhelming amount of LGBT+ fiction is about the real world. It’s nice but I want to get away from that when I read; I want worlds that aren’t my own. I want gods and monsters and magic in my LGBT+ fiction. Those are my interests and this is my sexuality – why can’t I have both?

Why is that too much to ask?

wholesome domestic prompts
  • i brought you home flowers just for the hell of it, no it doesn’t matter that we’ve been together for three years and i’ve never done this before, they are pretty (and so are you i love you)
  • we, the blankets and the pet have tangled into an irreversible knot on the couch and if no one comes save us this might be our end 
  • we wanted to cook but now we are dramatically singing a duet with kitchen utensils in our hands, this is quality Performance™ 
  • i’ve had a horrible week and you just brought me home my favourite treat
  • no, when i said i wanted you to help clean the house i did NOT mean you should do it wearing only, exclusively stockings, you insolent FOOL
  • one of us has to get out of bed to make pancakes and it’s not going to be me ok just go and bring me nourishment
  • it’s been TEN YEARS and you STILL don’t know how to properly tidy up the dishes!!!! these plates go here, but these almost identical ones go there, is it that hard??!? what, no, they look nothing alike!
  • you can’t go to work because i need cuddles
  • i’m sick but no don’t worry about me, go to work, no really i can handle myself, love, it’s…. ok that sounds wonderful i’m giving up pls stay
  • we have guests over…do you really think it’s an appropriate time to affectionately grab my butt and kiss my neck… in front of the entire table….ok
  • ‘i know we both don’t believe in marriage but let’s get married for tax benefits’… ‘listen i know i said that but if you don’t even try to be romantic about proposing so help me god. try. again.’
  • it’s raining but we’re sitting sheltered on the veranda, cuddled side by side, reading our books, and if you ask me then the weather and the moment can stay like this forever
  • sometimes i just can’t stop kissing your stupid face

I know this is a long shot, but I’m wondering if you guys might be able to help me out so here it goes.

I read Wonder when I was in college and immediately knew I wanted to read it to my future students, but I haven’t been able to do that yet because I only have my copy of the book. I know that sounds silly. Just read form the copy, right? Well, I personally can’t process something unless I can see it. When people read things to me, I can rarely understand what I’ve just heard without looking at it myself, and I’ve had plenty of students who were the same way. I’ve also had students who are tactile learners and need to use their finger/a pencil/a line guide to follow along on an actual page.

PLUS, I don’t just want to read the story to them. I want to use it to teach my standards. I want them to be able to break into groups and discuss, reread parts of the book, put sticky notes in the book, etc.

Unfortunately, I can’t do any of this without more copies of the book. And I just don’t have the funds to do that because I need 25 copies to be able to supply one to all of my students.

My school only gives each teacher a $100 credit to a local school supply store. Everything else comes out of my pocket (I literally spent $50 of my own money yesterday to upgrade the seating in my classroom, and that doesn’t even come close to how much I’ll spend to get my classroom ready for this coming school year OR how much I’ll have to spend throughout the school year).

So this is where you guys come in. If any of you are willing to donate a copy of Wonder to my classroom, I would be FOREVER grateful. I don’t care if it’s hardcover or softcover, new or used. I just need copies for my students to read! You’ll be helping to provide a child with a wonderful story!

Here’s the link to my wish list (that’s literally just copies of the book): BOOKS

(If you are able to purchase one, it gives you the option of sending it to my address. Please don’t forget to do that.)

If you aren’t able to donate a copy, please share this!! Thank you all so much!

Animated media that traumatised me as a kid:

I saw a lot of stuff in my youth that I found to be scary, but these are things that will to this day give me goose bumps if I think about them in the middle of the night. So here we go; here are my personal top 4 animated movies/shows that scarred me as a child. 8D

Moomin (1991-1992)

The Groke - UGH!! The scene below in particular scared the shEATTT out of me as a child!! And Sniff´s Finnish screams did not make the thing any less terrifying. But today, having read the Moomin books and all, I think the Groke as a character is more tragic than scary. (ノдヽ)

 The ghost in the light house - The mere memory of this scene can make me cry. Not those “I’m so scared” tears, but those “Just thinking about ghosts” tears, if you know what I mean. If anybody knows what that phenomenon is called then send me a PM, I would love to know. 

The Simpsons (1989-present)

More specifically these two:

Nightmare Cafeteria” - I loved the Halloween specials as a kid, eve though I might have been to young for them. But the story about the teachers eating the students left a very big (negative) impression in little me.

Terror at 5 ½ Feet”. There was simply something absolutely horrifying about this little monster to me. I was genuinely afraid of it. But what made the whole episode worse was how nobody would believe Bart when he tried to warn everybody about it. This story gave me nightmares for years.ヽ ( ꒪д꒪ )ノ

The Great Mouse Detective (1986)  

In this case it´s the opening scene that really got to be when I saw this back in the day. The creepy atmosphere, the music, the shadow fight, the silence after the battle, the little mouse girl’s cries for her dad, and of course, this mothafukka. I would always hide under my blankest when the movie started. (O_Q)

Pagemaster (1994)

I saw this movie very few times when it came out, but the scene when Dr Jekyl transforms into Mr Hyde never left my mind. It was brilliantly animated and storyboarded, but maybe too well because I lost my shit whenever the movie got to this point. UVÄ!! Still gives me shivers!! DX

From what I can gather apparently my main fear as a kid was monsters of different kinds. That explians very well why I also hated “The Gremlins”. :o But today I would say that the paranormal (and fish) are the things I’m the most afraid of. :P

If you have your own horror stories to share then feel free to do so in the comments or make post yourself. Don´t forget to tag me in it so I can join the crying. ;D

NCT is awfully quiet right now and I’m afraid they might drop something out of the blue and I’m absolutely not ready for that. Imagine chillin in your room, reading a book/listening to music and finally having the time of your life but then you receive a notif from them with a teaser and you just-

camillavirgil replied to your photoset

Book Faramir IS the best Faramir

The change to Faramir’s character in The Two Towers was by far my biggest disappointment with the movies. I discussed it with other fans back in the day, watched and rewatched the BTS features and listened to the commentary tracks, and ended up mostly defending the filmmakers’ decision in online debates. But it was always a little (or more than a little) sad for me that they did that.

I know the arguments on both sides. I know why they felt they had to do it. No one is giving me hundreds of millions of dollars to adapt a sprawling, multi-book epic to the big screen in a way that will justify its enormous budget and satisfy everyone from lifelong lovers of the source material (*waves*) to new fans and casual “eh, sure; I’ll watch it” types.

But I’ll always regret that they couldn’t find room for the actual character from the books, the one who wasn’t going to undercut Aragorn or his struggle just by existing, but also wasn’t going to beat up Gollum or send the Ring to Denethor, because those things were wrong, and he saw himself as bound by that.

There’s a clip of David Wenham describing how he went to Jackson/Boyens/Walsh (or maybe it was just a story recounted by one of the latter trio; I can’t remember now) after he’d read the books (which he hadn’t when he was cast), and saying hey, you know, this actually seems like a significant change to my character. And them telling him yeah, we know, but we need to for all these reasons (*enumerates reasons*) and anyway he ends up in the same place, right?

Yeah, no. I mean yeah, he ends up having made the same decision. But he’s not the same person. How he gets there matters.

I want to believe a movie could have been made that didn’t sacrifice his character in the name of storytelling. It wouldn’t have been the same movie; might not have been as successful a movie. But I would have loved it.

I’ve mentioned that I’m reading the books again, out loud with my co-conspirator at night, the way we used to do. We just finished the Council of Elrond, and it was a thrill to realize that the brother Boromir referred to (though not by name) was the real Faramir, my Faramir.

I can’t wait to meet him again.

“star wars: bloodline” by claudia gray was a fucking wild read, y’all, like, major spoilers but i cannot believe leia in it, okay get ready for this, right, because this is the most carrie fisher thing anyone has EVER written leia organa as doing EVER

so towards the last third of the book leia gets outed as the daughter of darth vader. she’s been a senator in the new republic for two decades and done tons of good work, she’s a major political leader but this truth comes out and nobody gives a shit about her past accomplishments, they’re all “she can’t be trusted!” and “what if SHE’S a sith?” and all other sorts of bullshit

leia’s ostracized politically and knows she’ll never wield any sort of power in the senate again. so then, a couple nights later, when one of her few remaining friends throws a party, leia shows up, and she’s wearing a black dress with a cape, intentionally evoking darth vader imagery.

and her internal narration is basically like “welp if they’re all scared i’m the next vader anyway, might as well give them a fucking show,” and people 100% notice and whisper and comment, but she eats it the hell up, which is just… such a carrie fisher thing to do, both wearing that and enjoying it, and anyway this book is a gem in a lot of other ways and you should all read it, but i just had to share that, because the author, claudia gray, knows leia and knows writing and knows exactly what she’s doing.

It’s Hard to Balance | Part i

Description: The reader, the Avenger’s most powerful asset, is struggling with her “job” at Stark Industries and her life as a high school student. To make her struggle to balance hero life and family life worse, her mother abruptly disowns her and Tony Stark takes her in. With the publicity to her family’s condition and her sudden relation to the Starks, the reader is faced with a major problem; being the only Avenger with a secret identity, it might just be exposed.

Words: 1,670

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write a story involving the Avengers lately, but I didn’t want the binding laws of writing a book on another platform to crush my ideas. This is pretty free-form but loosely centers upon Peter Parker’s relationship with the reader.

Characters: Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, General Ross, 

Ships: Peter Parker x Reader, Avengers x Reader

Masterlist


Name: Y/N L/N

Alias(es): Lumin, Starling

Date of Birth: (Date of Birth), 17 years old.

Address: (Address)

Abilities/Powers: Superhuman abilities, Flight, Invulnerability, Low-level Photomanipulation, X-Ray vision

You closed your eyes before you could read the rest of the information, stomach churning. Your vision blurred, head spinning as your legs shook. But you raised your gaze above the room full of military personnel, eyes watering and building in your eyes like a reservoir, They know everything. Everyone in the room had access to your file now, all of your personal information, your medical and dental records, your precise measurements down to the T.

Signing the Accords meant everyone in the military—any good hacker out there, too— had access to everything about you. To make matters worse, you’re the one Avenger with a secret identity. Everyone knew Tony Stark was Iron Man and Natasha Romanoff was the Black Widow, but no one, not even your own mother knew you were Starling. Among everyone on the team, you were the one person who everyone didn’t know.

And your file was about to be dumped on the internet with the rest of your community, and it made you sick. You couldn’t be a normal highschooler again, and you even dared to consider the idea of talking to Tony about getting homeschooled. You couldn’t live with your mother if she knew; she hated the Avengers with a fiery passion, and she hated you either way.

“Y/N,” Tony called, knowing what you were thinking. You scowled at yourself, wiping away your tears and looking up at him,”Yeah?” Tony took his place in the lineup, squished between you and Vision. It was smaller than it would be, without your leader and without the woman who was like your older sister. With most of your team gone, you felt the fulfillment of having a family slowly shred away. Tony gently put his hand on your back,”I talked to Ross. He says he’ll keep your file under wraps.”

You let out a breath of relief, disbelieving as you rested your head against your mentor’s shoulder,”How’d you…?” You questioned, putting your hand over your rapidly beating heart. You closed your eyes again, turning away from the sight. Hundreds of people were in this room, and most were staring at you. Any of them knew, and all had full authorization to tell the world. You weren’t safe yet.

“It wasn’t me,” Tony confessed. He looked to your left at Natasha, who stood solemnly with her arms crossed and her face poised in an emotionless expression. She understood better than anyone why you needed to be kept a secret. She glanced down at you out of the corner of her eye, eyebrows sewn together in silent concern. You assured her you were fine with a nod, attempting a broken smile in thanks. Her jade stare darted back to the crowd without another thought.

The rest of the meeting went by in a blur. General Ross delivered a speech about how important it was that the public knew their protectors. He gave the exception for you, going as far as to say that your identity was going to stay under the radar until Captain Rogers was found. And that’s when your sturdy determination fell to your shoes.

Everyone was looking for Steve. The C.I.A, the F.B.I, the remains of S.H.I.E.L.D, and dozens of more organizations that you couldn’t even name, or maybe didn’t know about. Everyone was looking for any sign of Team Cap after they were broken out of the Raft prison. Tony was frantic, Vision was constantly on guard, Nat was hesitant but looking, Rhodey was still recovering, and T’Challa had left and never got back in touch.

You alone refused to take part in the search, and everyone assumed you were just too distraught to do so. But that wasn’t the truth. You knew where they were, you knew what was going on, you knew everything. Every week you’d get something through someone. A stranger passing by would give you an address to a telephone box, three days later you’d find it and Steve would talk to you for five minutes before hanging up. At school you’d find a letter in your locker, Wanda writing you to tell you about how much she missed you, along with a Sokovian breakfast recipe.

You were pretty sure Natasha knew, considering she was assigned in secret to watch you.”Secret” being a loose term, since you were smart and figured it out on day 2. You saw her at your school sometimes, at least once a month, poised against a wall wearing a Photostatic Veil. It was the device she used to hide her face, making her look like someone else. Usually, she was a lunch lady or a janitor, but you knew it was her because she’d smirk and walk away. For whatever reason, she didn’t tell anyone you knew where Steve was.

When you were finally allowed to leave you were the first out, terrified out of your mind. It was around now Clint would approach you, notice you were sad, make a bad joke and then offer to take you out for ice cream. Now all you really had was Tony and Nat, as your parents or anyone at school couldn’t understand what was going on. But Tony was still looking, and Natasha had mission after mission. Vision you weren’t really close with, but at times you played chess silently in the lounge.

“I have to get home.” You said softly. Natasha looked at you sympathetically, the only woman in your life acting as a motherly-figure, and gesturing to you pointedly,”We’re training as soon as you get home tomorrow, don’t forget.” You nodded in response, taking your bookbag from the Team’s kitchen counter. She left as Tony entered, who offered a pained smile,”Here kid. Have fun at school.”

You snorted in response, shouldering the strap of your bag.”This saved me so many times in highschool, you have no idea.” Tony pulled a book from behind his back, offering it to you. Taking it skeptically, you read the title aloud and laughed.”101 Flirtations.” Tony perched on a kitchen stool, shrugging,”Use it on that boy you keep talking about. You said he was cute.”

You laughed, shaking your head,”I can’t. If I ever had a boyfriend… my mom would kill me.” Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes like a child,”You know what?” You slid in the stool across from him, tucking the book in your bag anyway,”Your mother is a pain in the ass.” You opened your mouth to argue, to claim he had never even met her, but he cut you off by raising his hand.

“You’re a straight-A student,” Tony started, folding his hands in front of him,”Maybe got in trouble… what? Two times? Out of the entirety of your time in Highschool, and she still hasn’t recognized how great you are.” You shook your head, no clue as to why you were defending your mother,” She just likes my brother more, it’s fine.”

Tony frowned,”Well, you know what, I don’t give a shit. I think you are a very smart kid, who also happens to be able to catch bullets and hold up buildings. And that is way cooler than being a momma’s boy.” You smiled in response, thanking him with a nod.

Tony gently caught your wrist before you left, looking at you sternly,”If she ever does anything to you…” He trailed off, leaving the implication for the taking. You nodded, squeezing his hand before parting.


Distracted by your phone and thoughts of the accords, you failed to notice the objects lying in the driveway on time. Tripping, your phone skidded out of your grip with a harsh slap to the blacktop, your nearly indestructible hands catching you before you fell like an idiot. You looked over the items curiously; two (color) suitcases, a cardboard box brimming with knick-knacks—your knick-knacks. Face reddening, you stood. You picked up your phone with a sigh, tears brimming your eyes as your thumb ran over the intensely cracked screen, and for the argument to come.

You looked to the porch, where your mother stood with crossed arms.”I moved out when I was 17,” She started,”You have a job. You make money at that internship. You don’t need me and your father anymore.” You kept silent, bowing your head as you waited for her to finish.”Your brother needs a music room anyway.” And with that, with such little words, she turned back into the house.

You waited there for a moment longer, the tears brimming your vision finally falling free. She was a terrible mother, that much was true, but with this act, she had just given you everything you had ever wanted. Freedom, and with your real family no less. You needed to call Tony or Natasha or even Vision, but found your phone unable to turn on. Regardless of the joy radiating off your form, you had to quell the saddened anger building from the back of your conscious. Your hand alighted with a ghostly white energy, before fading into your palm as a dying light.

Starling, Lumin, or whatever you called yourself nowadays, was free. But if you were free, then why did you feel so forlorn?

The New Avenger’s Facility was quiet by the time you flew back, landing in the grass with your stuff piled precariously in your arms. For someone with super strength, you felt so weak. You sat down on your personal landing pad, attempting to calm your rapid breathing before you threw up. The sickness in your stomach boiled as you remember every time she told you to “Cross your ankles when you sit” And,”Why can’t you be more like your brother?” Or,”Stand taller, like (brother’s name).

A figure fell into the grass, the arc reactor casting light onto the sight before the Iron Man.

“Oh, kid.” Tony sighed.

I just realized something

At the beginning of the lightning theif, we hear those famous first words:

“Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.
If you’re reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life.”

So, I’m not entirely sure about when Percy had supposedly written this, but I imagine that these books were after everything had happened-after he had battled 2 wars, lost many friends, and literally went through hell and back.

After going through all of that, especially tartarus, he probably just wants a normal life. He just wants to be a normal kid. He’s drained to the point where a god knocks on his door and all he says is “why?”

Percy Jackson is a kind and caring character, and his fatal flaw is personal loyalty. He gives this introduction hoping to give some demigod out there a better life, he doesn’t want anyone to go through what he’s been through.

anonymous asked:

Hi Emma! What can I do to have a productive summer? I usually just melt away in the heat and become an unorganized mess (more so than usual) when school starts again.

Hey! I have a break coming up too so I’ll list some things that I’ll be doing during the holiday and then some other random ideas:

  • clear out my desk - I’ll usually do this properly every holiday. I’ll tidy up all my drawers, organise used/unused stationery, collect things that can be stored. I’ll go through my pens/highlighters/etc and throw out ones that don’t work. I’ll make a note of things I need to replace for the new semester too. I will recycle any bits of paper I don’t need any more as well.
  • organise my computer - I’ve become a bit of a clean freak with my laptop and like everything to be filed, in place, or deleted if unnecessary. I’ll clear my desktop. Refile or rename documents that are randomly placed. Things I definitely don’t need I’ll either trash or put onto an external hard drive. I also will go through my history, clear that and any additional caches/cookies/web data that doesn’t need to be there. Another one is going through all your emails, social media, etc and deleting or unsubscribing from things you are no longer interested.
  • back up my (old) computer - this is on my list because I recently got a new laptop. I’m planning to back up all my files from my other laptop and transfer anything I need to my new one. I’m going to make some note of all my login information, etc. I’ll make sure to back up my phone too.
  • sort out my bedroom - I’m in the process of designing how I want my bedroom to look so that something I’ll be sorting. Whilst this happens, I’ll be going through all my drawers, boxes, magazines, etc. I really need to just part with things I’m never going to use. I’m a bit of a sentimental hoarder with things so I need to be ruthless :’-)
  • clear my wardrobe - since I’m redoing my wardrobe too I’ll be going through that. Probably just donate some of the things I never wear or don’t want any more. I’m planning on doing an eBay sale of some unworn/unused things! Otherwise, I’ll donate them!
  • work on my hobbies - blogging is my hobby so I’m planning to do that. Hopefully getting my YouTube up and running (if I tell enough people, I’ll be forced to do it and get over my nervousness haha!). You could spend the holidays doing something you enjoy, or learning a skill.
  • prepare for the next school term/year - obviously holidays are the perfect time to organise the previous term and get organised to start again. Go through your files/stationery/etc, make a list of what you need! It’s best to make a list that you can add to and cross off once you’ve purchased it. It will also prompt you to get things before it’s too late. For each semester, I’d type out my timetable and place it in my notebook. I’d print binder covers for each of my subjects. Next term, I’m going to do a semester outline as @bookishandbright did, as seen here. It will show my weekly readings, when things are due, reminders, etc. I’m debating whether to print and bind all my readings at my local Officeworks so I don’t have to print them myself each week.
  • find out a planning method that works for you - this is probably a good time to switch between planning/organisation methods if you’re not happy with your current one. You can test out bullet journaling for a few weeks, using a time planner for a week or a digital calendar/bullet journal. You can see which one holds you most accountable and improves your efficiency.
  • boost your resume - see if you can volunteer somewhere, work with your parents for a little bit, get a part time job at the local store, or work experience/internship in a field you’d enjoy. This obviously isn’t necessary - especially if you’re very young - but if the opportunity arises, it’s a great place to start!
  • read something - this could be a book that you’ve had your eye on, the next one in a series you’ve read, or just something that might help in another way. I recently read ‘13 Reasons Why’ and enjoyed it! I’m thinking of reading either ‘It’ or ‘Before I Fall’ over the holiday. I was given the career code by Katherine Power/Hilary Kerr for Christmas since I was interning for their company but in Australia and thought it would be really interesting. My dad has recommended ‘Getting Things Done’ by David Allen for years so I’ll maybe read that too.
  • relax - the biggest thing to do in the summer!!! You’re allowed to have days where you sit around and do nothing. That is what holidays are for, right? Take time to do things you don’t always get round to when school is on. Catch up with some friends. Go to the movies. Spend the day exploring somewhere new. Start and binge a series (I can recommend loads if you want!). 

Hope you have a fun, but productive, summer!! x

kitsunesongs  asked:

Also, Qui-Gon time travels/is brought back to life somehow - Obi-Wan is a mixture of anxious and ecstatic, and at first Anakin is happy - but then Qui-Gon starts taking up all of Obi-Wan's attention and, like, not even treating him that well (I have issues with how Qui treated Obi, can you tell) and Anakin is like - No. This Cannot Stand.

(TBH I just live at a point of vaguely throwing salt in Qui Gon’s direction).

I feel like at first Anakin vies for Qui Gon’s attention with Obi Wan - like this is the man who technically freed him from slavery and brought him to the Jedi (and was going to be his Master originally) please look at me and acknowledge that I did good. Meanwhile Obi Wan’s doing the exact same thing. And I feel like Qui Gon would actually give Anakin priority attention - this is the Chosen One he found all grown up and probably very much the kind of Jedi he feels proud of (a little rebellious, defiant of the council, etc. etc.) so Anakin gets his full of praise and then goes back to his own thing.

Obi Wan however, is still trying for the attention he wants/needs and sure Qui Gon is giving him attention but it’s highly critical attention mingled with the praise (he is torn between finding it hilarious and horrifying that Obi Wan ended up with a seat on the council). I guess in a way he just keeps treating him as his Padawan despite the fact that Obi Wan is now a Jedi Master. And Obi Wan just happily falls back into line because he’s missed his Master so much and that was where their relationship left off so that’s where they return to.

Anakin, now gotten his fill of acknowledgement he can watch it from an objective POV and see how… not great this all is for Obi Wan. At first he tries to subtly (or as subtly as Anakin can do) point out all the ways that Obi Wan has done well (which is probably healthy for him because suddenly he’s seeing a few things in different non-Palpatine-inflicted lights) but eventually I feel like it reaches a yelling match, because this is Anakin and yelling at people is how he communicates when emotionally distressed (both at Qui Gon and Obi Wan - Qui Gon being “why don’t you see how good he is!?” and Obi Wan “why do you keep trying to impress him”)