if you are then you are succeeding

The Meet Cute

Dean x Reader

Summary: A package delivered to the wrong address allows you to meet Dean for the first time. And then a huge crush is born. 

Warnings: Smut, nothing too graphic.

Originally posted by iwriteaboutdean

Every year, hundreds - thousands of packages are delivered to the wrong address. Exactly one of those mistakes was comfortably resting in your hands as you carried it to the house at the end of the block.

Three knocks were enough to push the sound of footsteps towards the front door, towards you. And when the door was pulled open, you saw him for the very first time. Tall and beautiful, like no one met before him.

“Hi,” he said and a smile showed on his lips. “Can I help you?”

“Uh, yes… They delivered this to my house. I think it belongs to you.”

“Oh, thanks,” he said, taking the box from your hands. Just then another figure appeared next to him, red hair and wide eyes as soon as they landed on you. “Holy Batman! Y/N?!”

“Charlie?! Oh my God.”

You barely had the time to blink before her arms engulfed you in the most cheerful hug, which you reciprocated. “I can’t believe this,” she told you. “The last time we saw each other, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows hadn’t come out yet. So it’s been ages!”

“Yeah,” you agreed, smiling at her exuberance. “It’s been a while. What are you doing here?”

 “I live here.” The man next to her cleared his throat, and she looked at him as if she had just remembered he was there too. “Right, this is my roommate, Dean. And this–“ she continued, indicating you– “this is Y/N. We went to high school together. I told you about her, remember?”

Dean frowned for a second until realization hit him. “Oh, right,” he said, directing his gaze to you. “You’re the one Charlie had a crush on, for like a year.”

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Laser Tag

Tagging @eternally-reading ❤︎

Originally posted by sensualkisses

Nesta had never lost a single game of laser tag in all of her 23 years of life.

It didn’t matter what day it was, or what time it was, or where it was, she always won, and she wasn’t plan on breaking her winning streak anytime soon.

Cassian held her hand, their fingers interlaced, as they made their way through the arcade in the small town of Velaris. The rest of the inner circle trailed behind them, pointing out fun games to play after the laser tag was over.

Cassian had insisted on bringing everyone here today because they needed some “quality family time” together. Nesta had only rolled her eyes and agreed to join, but when he brought up laser tag, she got excited.

She had never played laser tag since she and Cassian had started dating, and she thought it was a perfect time to put him in his place. He was always cocky, and said he never lost, but Nesta was going to change that.

The smell of pizza filled the air, and children shouting around the room made her cringe in annoyance. She hated everything about arcades except laser tag. There were too many germs and loose kids running all over the place, and she may or may not be responsible for breaking one’s wrist a few months ago.

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//2017, November 22//
Sometimes we forget to always give your best effort even when we’re succeeding. We can get so caught up in the joy we slow down, this is your call to pick up the pace! You must always rise to the challenge of life; that may be your own weakness or competition from another. Hold yourself with clarity and confidence to maintain your position on top. Be grateful for how far you’ve come and bask in the joy but never let your success mask who you are. 💛

anonymous asked:

I know you like angst so when I saw an HC I added my own thoughts: Officer Dick Grayson is in the K9 unit and wow, he loved his dog so much. They were partners. But then the dog died, and Dick just couldn't hold himself together. The dog died for him, died for people Dick wanted to protect. When Damian gets Titus, Dick just can't keep himself together so he runs. Damian, Jason, and Tim later find him on a roof, crying, with a picture at his feet. Am I worthy of being an angst writer yet???

are you trying to kill me. bc if you are, you’re succeeding.

God, Dick probably loves his dog so much, and while I don’t think he’d run away from Titus at first, I think maybe one day it gets to be too much. It’s maybe the day his partner died, and he sees Titus, and everything kind of crashes down. He has to get out of there before any of his siblings can see his heart breaking in two, so he runs. But his brothers find him on the roof, and he’s crying, and they just don’t know what to do. Aghhhh you’re trying to kill me with angst.

I can dish the angst, but I honestly can’t take it.

Imagine if the head of Water and Power decided to charge you separately for hot water, cold water, and you have to pay a little extra to buy cleaned filtered water. Wouldn’t you just want water, and decide how you use it and what temperature it is with the equipment in your home?


FCC Chairman Ajit Pai is trying to do this with internet, and frankly succeeding.

Migraines

Statistically speaking females are more likely to experience migraines at least once in their life compaired to males. I get migraines myself. I average almost one a day with out my medication, and with it I’m back to one a week. Used to be maybe three a month.

If you’ve never had a migraine, let me give you an idea of what it feels like. It hurts. There’s many different KINDS of migaines, but the most common is when it just feels like someone is trying and succeeding in crushing your whole skull like an egg. Your eyes want to roll into the back of your head, binking hurts. Any light feels like you are staring directly at the sun. Sounds are overwhelming. You can hear your heartbeat, hear your own blinking, no exaggeration. I literally can hear a watch ticking from across the room. Food you enjoy will suddenly make you feel sick to your stomach, taste off. You’re also more sensitive to touch. Feeling the weight of your shirt against your skin. Sleeping can be actually painful. I can’t speak for smell as I’m anosmic, but I’ve been told it’s just as bad.

Then there are the other symptoms. These are all over the place and can vary from person to person, as well as migraine to migraine. For me, my vision gets blurry. I have trouble stringing together sentences. Words completely escape me or I use the wrong ones. I slur as well. Typing or writing isn’t as bad for communication but it’s slow going and makes my eyes hurt more.

That’s just the physical aspect.

Like I said, there’s different types of migraines, too. Aura ones, where everything is surrounded by a rainbow. Cluster ones where it feels like an icepick to the brain, or firecrackers going in there, these pass quickly but leave a headache. Ones where sound just sort of cuts out. Ones where you can not see, you’re eyes are looking at things and you recognize that but you can’t make out what you are looking at. Sometimes it’s part of your vision gone, sometimes all. Ones where you lose fine motor control.

Debilitating, right?

So, those commercials for Excedrin sound exactly like what someone with a migraine should do. Find somewhere dark and quiet and try to sleep it off.

But the fact of the matter is most migraine sufferers can’t afford to do that. Look at me for example. Even at my BEST, I’m looking at three days loss of work a month if I do that, ASSUMING the migraine only lasts for the day. I can’t afford that. I definitely can’t afford every day.

So I, like the many other migraine sufferers, go to work. Which makes it worse, and because it’s hard to function my productivity drops. But for many of us there’s no choice if we want to keep our jobs. And so most don’t even tell their co-workers. They’ll tell you it’s just a headache, because saying it’s a migraine is complaining and really if you’re at work it can’t be that bad.

It can be. I want you to imagine working when all you can think is “my head hurts. I hurt. Hurt. Pain. PAIN.” Imagine driving when headlights feel like acid in the brain.

A little Excedrin is not going to help. Excedrin is mostly caffine with some pain killer. Caffine helps increase blood flow and will usually reduce the time or severity of the migraine. You get to the point you’re willing to try anything. Daith piercings, diet changes, herbal supplements. Meditation, praying. Hitting your head against the wall….

People need to understand this. It’s not a trivial thing we’re dealing with. If more people recognize how horrible and disabling these “headaches” are there’d be less of a stigma on calling out, or hiding in a dark room at work/school.

Things to expect with drunk Lib before you get in over your head here:

1. there is a possibility he might cry

2. there is also a possibility he might punch you if you piss him off

3. he might open up like a book and spill all of his everything

4. he will laugh at everything.

5. he also might try to kiss you but its 95% only because he’s drunk, I’m sure.

6. feels you didn’t expect to have

7. pain. him punching walls/glass ect

8. him being absolutely incredibly adorable and downright ridiculous

9. speaking slurred old Galahdian 

10. Trying to do a Galahdian dance without proper balance

11. succeeding at said Galahdian dance with no error whatsoever.

And other things too, probably. But if you’re looking to roleplay something with him being drunk, I can say expect one of those 11 things to be the most likely.

3
"Go ahead call my parents"- "Alright then if you insist"

The Background: This happened a few hours ago. I work at a large chain of pizza restaurants. Let’s call it Pominos Dizza. Like most places, we get a few prank calls a week from pre teens. Usually it doesn’t bother me and I’ll go along with it because it gives me something to do when it’s slow. But being a Friday night, we were busy and I wasn’t having it. Me will be me, and K will be kid.

The events:

Me: Hi thanks for calling Pominos Dizza, how can I help you tonight?

K: trying but not succeeding in holding in his laughter Hey is Mr Wall there?

Me: Um no sir there isn’t one that work here.

K: What about Mrs. Wall?

Me: Nope none of those either

K: Then how is your building standing up?!

K: laughter from him and background

This went on a couple more times with classics such as “can I place an order to your sisters house?” And the CLASSIC “is your refrigerator running? Then you better go get it!!!”

Finally I had had enough. I let the kids know I was done playing games.

Me: alright look it says here that your dad’s name is dads name (we keep names and addresses of past customers and their orders in the computer for future orders just to speed up the process) If you don’t stop this I’ll give him a call and let him know what’s been going on.

Usually this would stop the kids. I knew it did back in my earlier days of being a dumb kid. But some people just can’t be bothered and have to push the envelope a bit too far.

K: I know you won’t. Go ahead and call him.

Oh boy he didn’t have to ask me twice. I hang up the phone and get back to work for a little bit, knowing that the kid will be camped at the phone to answer it for the next 15 minutes or so.

The compliance: I get back to work, free of prank calls from the kid. I should of left it there, having solved the problem, but hey the customer is always right and at Pominos Dizza we always give the customer what they want.

After the supper rush is done, around 45 minutes to an hour later I fulfill the request. I’m still me, D is dad.

Me: Hello this is kushlord666 from pominos, how are you doing tonight.

D: not too bad, what’s the reason for the call?

Me: unfortunately, we’ve been getting a number of calls from this number. We’re really busy and its pushing customers away because of the wait times. Can you please have a talk with who I assume is your son and ask him to knock it off?

D: Oh goodness I’m so sorry I’ll have a chat with him and his buddies.

Me: Thank you so much and thanks for choosing pominos!

At this point I think the story is done. Kid will get a talking to, won’t do it again and that’ll be the end of it. Boy was I mistaken.

Around 30 minutes later a man and a chubby kid around 12 years old come into the store. I don’t think much of it, thinking they’re just getting a few slices for a snack. They come up to the counter and ask for kushlord666.

Me: Yes I’m kushlord666

D: I think my son has something to say to you.

The kid is visibly nervous. He keeps looking around the store, won’t look me in the eye.

K: I’m very sorry for calling you, I know you’re busy and it won’t happen again.

Then to further the awkward suffering of the kid who I kind of feel bad for at this point, the dad places an order for carry out, and sits in our small eatery section where the kid has to try and avoid eye contact with me for the next 20 minutes. Left me a good tip too.

At pominos dizza, the customer always gets what they want.

anonymous asked:

i love your voltron headcanons omg they're so good,, can i ask for some shiro headcanons pls 0:

  • *deep, long-suffering sigh* “where’s lance”
  • he’s actually constantly making lowkey references to tv shows and movies but the others never get them
    • this is mostly because shiro’s delivery’s very deadpan so whenever they think “wait…. was that a quote” they look at shiro and go “lol nah it was probably just coincidence”
    • it is never a coincidence. ACKNOWLEDGE HIM
  • “shiro, while you were gone i did this incredibly dangerous and ill advised thing”  “keith, why???” “you’re basically 85% of my impulse control”
  • has the stress levels of a retail worker during the holidays
  • pidge: “I mean, we could always blow it up” shiro, filing that away as plan B: “we are not blowing anything up”
  • really wants to arm wrestle allura
  • “…but could I be the head this time” “no, hunk”
  • shiro: “it’s okay coran we’ve got everything under control-” *something explodes, keith charges in while yelling about the galra, lance crashes, hunk screams*
  • lance spreads increasingly ridiculous rumors about shiro on the planets they save
    • “i heard that the black lion’s paladin can shoot energy beams from his eyes. there are whispers that he destroyed the entire jurudean star system with a single look” “well i heard that he slayed an iron giant from the planet verek by flicking it” “that’s ridiculous, he used a fist at least
    • the rumors trickle down to the galra grunts and some of them start to surrender on sight to avoid fighting shiro
    • “you’re welcome” says lance, who totally didn’t mean for this to have any positive effects other than amusement but will definitely take credit for this turn of events
Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully - in Ten Minutes

by Stephen King
(reprinted in Sylvia K. Burack, ed. The Writer’s Handbook. Boston, MA: Writer, Inc., 1988: 3-9)

I. The First Introduction

THAT’S RIGHT. I know it sounds like an ad for some sleazy writers’ school, but I really am going to tell you everything you need to pursue a successful and financially rewarding career writing fiction, and I really am going to do it in ten minutes, which is exactly how long it took me to learn.  It will actually take you twenty minutes or so to read this essay, however, because I have to tell you a story, and then I have to write a second introduction.  But these, I argue, should not count in the ten minutes.



II. The Story, or, How Stephen King Learned to Write

When I was a sophomore in high school, I did a sophomoric thing which got me in a pot of fairly hot water, as sophomoric didoes often do.  I wrote and published a small satiric newspaper called The Village Vomit.  In this little paper I lampooned a number of teachers at Lisbon (Maine) High School, where I was under instruction.  These were not very gentle lampoons; they ranged from the scatological to the downright cruel

Eventually, a copy of this little newspaper found its way into the hands of a faculty member, and since I had been unwise enough to put my name on it (a fault, some critics argue, of which I have still not been entirely cured), I was brought into the office. The sophisticated satirist had by that time reverted to what he really was: a fourteen-year-old kid who was shaking in his boots and wondering if he was going to get a suspension … what we called “a three-day vacation” in those dim days of 1964.

I wasn’t suspended. I was forced to make a number of apologies - they were warranted, but they still tasted like dog-dirt in my mouth - and spent a week in detention hall. And the guidance counselor arranged what he no doubt thought of as a more constructive channel for my talents. This was a job - contingent upon the editor’s approval - writing sports for the Lisbon Enterprise, a twelve-page weekly of the sort with which any small-town resident will be familiar. This editor was the man who taught me everything I know about writing in ten minutes. His name was John Gould - not the famed New England humorist or the novelist who wrote The Greenleaf Fires, but a relative of both, I believe.

He told me he needed a sports writer and we could “try each other out” if I wanted.

I told him I knew more about advanced algebra than I did sports.

Gould nodded and said, “You’ll learn.”

I said I would at least try to learn. Gould gave me a huge roll of yellow paper and promised me a wage of 1/2¢ per word. The first two pieces I wrote had to do with a high school basketball game in which a member of my school team broke the Lisbon High scoring record. One of these pieces was straight reportage. The second was a feature article.

I brought them to Gould the day after the game, so he’d have them for the paper, which came out Fridays. He read the straight piece, made two minor corrections, and spiked it. Then he started in on the feature piece with a large black pen and taught me all I ever needed to know about my craft. I wish I still had the piece - it deserves to be framed, editorial corrections and all - but I can remember pretty well how it looked when he had finished with it. Here’s an example:

(note: this is before the edit marks indicated on King’s original copy)

Last night, in the well-loved gymnasium of Lisbon High School, partisans and Jay Hills fans alike were stunned by an athletic performance unequaled in school history: Bob Ransom, known as “Bullet” Bob for both his size and accuracy, scored thirty-seven points. He did it with grace and speed … and he did it with an odd courtesy as well, committing only two personal fouls in his knight-like quest for a record which has eluded Lisbon thinclads since 1953….

(after edit marks)

Last night, in the Lisbon High School gymnasium, partisans and Jay Hills fans alike were stunned by an athletic performance unequaled in school history: Bob Ransom scored thirty-seven points. He did it with grace and speed … and he did it with an odd courtesy as well, committing only two personal fouls in his quest for a record which has eluded Lisbon’s basketball team since 1953….

When Gould finished marking up my copy in the manner I have indicated above, he looked up and must have seen something on my face. I think he must have thought it was horror, but it was not: it was revelation.

“I only took out the bad parts, you know,” he said. “Most of it’s pretty good.”

“I know,” I said, meaning both things: yes, most of it was good, and yes, he had only taken out the bad parts. “I won’t do it again.”

“If that’s true,” he said, “you’ll never have to work again. You can do this for a living.” Then he threw back his head and laughed.

And he was right; I am doing this for a living, and as long as I can keep on, I don’t expect ever to have to work again.



III. The Second Introduction

All of what follows has been said before. If you are interested enough in writing to be a purchaser of this magazine, you will have either heard or read all (or almost all) of it before. Thousands of writing courses are taught across the United States each year; seminars are convened; guest lecturers talk, then answer questions, then drink as many gin and tonics as their expense-fees will allow, and it all boils down to what follows.

I am going to tell you these things again because often people will only listen - really listen - to someone who makes a lot of money doing the thing he’s talking about. This is sad but true. And I told you the story above not to make myself sound like a character out of a Horatio Alger novel but to make a point: I saw, I listened, and I learned. Until that day in John Gould’s little office, I had been writing first drafts of stories which might run 2,500 words. The second drafts were apt to run 3,300 words. Following that day, my 2,500-word first drafts became 2,200-word second drafts. And two years after that, I sold the first one.

So here it is, with all the bark stripped off. It’ll take ten minutes to read, and you can apply it right away…if you listen.



IV. Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully

1.  BE TALENTED
This, of course, is the killer.  What is talent?  I can hear someone shouting, and here we are, ready to get into a discussion right up there with “what is the meaning of life?” for weighty pronouncements and total uselessness.  For the purposes of the beginning writer, talent may as well be defined as eventual success - publication and money.  If you wrote something for which someone sent you a check, if you cashed the check and it didn’t bounce, and if you then paid the light bill with the money, I consider you talented.

Now some of you are really hollering.  Some of you are calling me one crass money-fixated creep.  And some of you are calling me bad names.  Are you calling Harold Robbins talented?  someone in one of the Great English Departments of America is screeching.  V.C. Andrews?  Theodore Dreiser?  Or what about you, you dyslexic moron?

Nonsense.  Worse than nonsense, off the subject.  We’re not talking about good or bad here.  I’m interested in telling you how to get your stuff published, not in critical judgments of who’s good or bad.  As a rule the critical judgments come after the check’s been spent, anyway.  I have my own opinions, but most times I keep them to myself.  People who are published steadily and are paid for what they are writing may be either saints or trollops, but they are clearly reaching a great many someones who want what they have.  Ergo, they are communicating.  Ergo, they are talented.  The biggest part of writing successfully is being talented, and in the context of marketing, the only bad writer is one who doesn’t get paid.  If you’re not talented, you won’t succeed.  And if you’re not succeeding, you should know when to quit.

When is that?  I don’t know.  It’s different for each writer.  Not after six rejection slips, certainly, nor after sixty.  But after six hundred?  Maybe.  After six thousand?  My friend, after six thousand pinks, it’s time you tried painting or computer programming.

Further, almost every aspiring writer knows when he is getting warmer - you start getting little jotted notes on your rejection slips, or personal letters…maybe a commiserating phone call.  It’s lonely out there in the cold, but there are encouraging voices…unless there is nothing in your words which warrants encouragement.  I think you owe it to yourself to skip as much of the self-illusion as possible.  If your eyes are open, you’ll know which way to go…or when to turn back.

2.  BE NEAT
Type.  Double-space.  Use a nice heavy white paper, never that erasable onion-skin stuff.  If you’ve marked up your manuscript a lot, do another draft.

3.  BE SELF-CRITICAL
If you haven’t marked up your manuscript a lot, you did a lazy job.  Only God gets things right the first time.  Don’t be a slob.

4.  REMOVE EVERY EXTRANEOUS WORD
You want to get up on a soapbox and preach?  Fine.  Get one and try your local park.  You want to write for money?  Get to the point.  And if you remove all the excess garbage and discover you can’t find the point, tear up what you wrote and start all over again…or try something new.

5.  NEVER LOOK AT A REFERENCE BOOK WHILE DOING A FIRST DRAFT You want to write a story?  Fine.  Put away your dictionary, your encyclopedias, your World Almanac, and your thesaurus.  Better yet, throw your thesaurus into the wastebasket.  The only things creepier than a thesaurus are those little paperbacks college students too lazy to read the assigned novels buy around exam time.  Any word you have to hunt for in a thesaurus is the wrong word.  There are no exceptions to this rule.  You think you might have misspelled a word?  O.K., so here is your choice: either look it up in the dictionary, thereby making sure you have it right - and breaking your train of thought and the writer’s trance in the bargain - or just spell it phonetically and correct it later.  Why not?  Did you think it was going to go somewhere?  And if you need to know the largest city in Brazil and you find you don’t have it in your head, why not write in Miami, or Cleveland?  You can check it…but laterWhen you sit down to write, write.  Don’t do anything else except go to the bathroom, and only do that if it absolutely cannot be put off.

6.  KNOW THE MARKETS
Only a dimwit would send a story about giant vampire bats surrounding a high school to McCall’s.  Only a dimwit would send a tender story about a mother and daughter making up their differences on Christmas Eve to Playboy…but people do it all the time.  I’m not exaggerating; I have seen such stories in the slush piles of the actual magazines.  If you write a good story, why send it out in an ignorant fashion?  Would you send your kid out in a snowstorm dressed in Bermuda shorts and a tank top?  If you like science fiction, read the magazines.  If you want to write confession stories, read the magazines.  And so on.  It isn’t just a matter of knowing what’s right for the present story; you can begin to catch on, after awhile, to overall rhythms, editorial likes and dislikes, a magazine’s entire slant.  Sometimes your reading can influence the next story, and create a sale.

7.  WRITE TO ENTERTAIN
Does this mean you can’t write “serious fiction”?  It does not.  Somewhere along the line pernicious critics have invested the American reading and writing public with the idea that entertaining fiction and serious ideas do not overlap.  This would have surprised Charles Dickens, not to mention Jane Austen, John Steinbeck, William Faulkner, Bernard Malamud, and hundreds of others.  But your serious ideas must always serve your story, not the other way around.  I repeat: if you want to preach, get a soapbox.

8.  ASK YOURSELF FREQUENTLY, AM I HAVING FUN?”
The answer needn’t always be yes.  But if it’s always no, it’s time for a new project or a new career.

9.  HOW TO EVALUATE CRITICISM
Show your piece to a number of people - ten, let us say.  Listen carefully to what they tell you.  Smile and nod a lot.  Then review what was said very carefully.  If your critics are all telling you the same thing about some facet of your story - a plot twist that doesn’t work, a character who rings false, stilted narrative, or half a dozen other possibles - change that facet.  It doesn’t matter if you really liked that twist of that character; if a lot of people are telling you something is wrong with you piece, it is.  If seven or eight of them are hitting on that same thing, I’d still suggest changing it.  But if everyone - or even most everyone - is criticizing something different, you can safely disregard what all of them say.

10.  OBSERVE ALL RULES FOR PROPER SUBMISSION
Return postage, self-addressed envelope, all of that.

11.  AN AGENT?  FORGET IT.  FOR NOW
Agents get 10% of monies earned by their clients.  10% of nothing is nothing.  Agents also have to pay the rent.  Beginning writers do not contribute to that or any other necessity of life.  Flog your stories around yourself.  If you’ve done a novel, send around query letters to publishers, one by one, and follow up with sample chapters and/or the manuscript complete.  And remember Stephen King’s First Rule of Writers and Agents, learned by bitter personal experience: You don’t need one until you’re making enough for someone to steal…and if you’re making that much, you’ll be able to take your pick of good agents.

12.  IF IT’S BAD, KILL IT
When it comes to people, mercy killing is against the law.  When it comes to fiction, it is the law.



That’s everything you need to know.  And if you listened, you can write everything and anything you want.  Now I believe I will wish you a pleasant day and sign off.

My ten minutes are up.

as someone who has never succeeded being anything higher than “average” her whole life lemme tell you: ya girl not only kicked her midterms in the ass but also just got told by her professor that she has the HIGHEST GRADE IN THE COURSE

HARD WORK PAYS OFF HONEYS

IF YOU WANT IT YOU GOTTA WORK FOR IT

YOU 👏🏽 CAN 👏🏽 GET 👏🏽 BETTER 👏🏽

I see a lot of you guys on here struggling with feeling worthless or like your life is a waste because you’re still 16 or 17 and you feel that you don’t have a fulfilled life or that you haven’t maximized your time. You feel like you are a waste because all you do is fangirl or enjoy movies. But the truth is, you are doing more. If you’re in highschool right now, you’re not exactly supposed to be at the epitome of a life with a stable job, a stable pay, a busy schedule. 

There’s nothing wrong with you focusing only on your school and your hobbies. Maybe you have a part time job, too. That’s amazing. Seriously. Let life go on. You’ll be amazed how many opportunities will come up out of nowhere, how much experience you gain without even realizing it. You’ll be amazed how your goals will change, your preferences will change, etc. That’s life. 

I’m scared sometimes of where I’m going to go after graduation from uni, but I also can’t do much about it. I’m trying to do whatever I enjoy––in terms of my job, my volunteer, my courses––and I’ll push through and see where it takes me. 

If I learned anything, it’s that stressing about where I’ll go hasn’t helped me go anywhere. Focusing on where I want to go and working as hard as I can and accepting the outcome––and looking for new opportunities, because failure and rejection doesn’t mean your path has ended. 

So yes. Work hard. Enjoy your hobbies. Study well. Life won’t always (actually, mostly, it won’t) work out to exactly go as you want it to. That doesn’t mean you’ve failed, it just means you’re living. Don’t give up––keep going. It’s hard to start thinking like this. It’s hard to keep thinking like this. But honestly––you are not a failure or a waste or whatever because you’re not an “accomplished” person. You don’t have to be a world-renowned author by age 18. You don’t have to be an award winning scientist by age 25. We’re young, and our goals don’t have to have a due date.

Keep that in mind, and don’t let it ruin your goals and dreams.

If your dream turns out to be a nightmare, build yourself a new dream. 

Matthew Mercer’s Raven Queen ™

I’ve been seeing a whole bunch of stuff being thrown around about the Raven Queen after the latest Talks Machina, mostly centering around the speech that could have happened if anyone in VM had tried to argue with the Raven Queen for Vax’s soul. For simplicity’s sake, just in case anyone hasn’t seen or read it, this is the speech Matt gave:

“Do you have idea how insignificant you are? You are the instruments of divinity. Everything you have accomplished is because we gave you the tools to accomplish it, for goals unforeseen to you that fit our needs and interests. You are nothing, and yet you come and beseech me this, after all I have done for you?”

And I get it, it’s incredibly rude! After everything VM has done, after everything they have bled for, struggled for, lived and died for, to call them insignificant at the moment of their greatest triumph? It’s a slap in the face right before she takes away someone who should have gotten the happy ending that everyone else was getting.

But I feel like maybe we’re forgetting a key element of the Raven Queen in the Critical Role setting.

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[Context: My human monk character recovers a book owned by her missing master from Gnolls and locked herself in her room to read it. After reading the book and succeeding in a constitution save, the knowledge from the book causes psychic damage and I scream so loud my party members hear me.]

Hobbs ( Human Rogue): *knocks* “Are you ok Dorrali, do you need anything?”

Me: *Says nothing and is in pain*

DM (As book): A voice comes from the book. “You probably should answer the  door, he sounds concerned for your well being.“ Walking closer to the book Dorrali can see a face the cover of the book formed from the worn leather giving the appearance of eyes, nose and mouth with the mouth moving as the book speaks to her the cracked leather looking like wrinkles of a wizened old face.

Me: *Is tripping out over the book* "Whatever this thing did to me is tripping me out.”

Book: “You are not "tripping out”, I am speaking to you.

Hobbs OOC: *Hears the unfamiliar voice* I pick the lock.

Me OOC: You know I forbid you from entering my room?

Hobbs OOC: Dorrali will love Hobbs sooner or later? *Rolls 14*

DM: Lock DC was 15

Vicq (Perverted bard Halfling): *Sees Hobbs trying to get into my room* ”Hobbs! you naughty scamp! It seems just like Dorrali to play hard to get, making you toil for your spoils. *Knocks on the door* Dorrali, darling, things are heating up out here between just the two of us, we could really use your, shall we say, supervision?“ 

Me (Sheltered in a monastery for all my life): "What are you talking about?”

Hobbs: “I heard voices and became concerned that Dorrali didn’t answer when I knocked." 

Vicq: "Wait, wait, wait. You mean to tell me that Dorrali has brought someone into the shadow Viper pit, without letting any of us know, against specific orders not to do so?” *At the top of his lungs* "Dorrali…you got som ‘splaining to do!!!“ In an unfamiliar accent as gets a running start to drop-kick the door open.

Vicq: *Nat 20*

DM: The door swings open and you she a red faced Dorrali slouched over in the middle of the floor. Hair clinging to her forehead from sweat and a book clenched in her hand.

Me: *Frazzled by everything that's happening* "CAN’T A GIRL READ AND GET WRECKED BY A BOOK IN PEACE AROUND HERE?!”

the bet || fuckboi!peter parker x reader

 oi, I don’t want to make this too long but…. IM BACK smh I’ve been so m.i.a. but that’s literally because I’ve been so busy and have bad writer’s block. Smh this probably ain’t even gon be good. But like I worked hard on it to have meaning and stuff and I rlly hope you guys enjoy it. I just want you guys to get straight to the story because you’ve waited so long for it and I’ve been teasing it sm smh. Just read it hope you enjoy muthertruckers😬

tags : @running-outta-time @i-just-wanna-run-hell @munalisax @themyscirahs @sammie-blogs @geeksareunique @violentlybarnes @geeksareunique

words : 11,197

warnings : fuckboi!peter parker, mild cussing, various mentions of sex, angst, ned needs a hug, peter needs a hug, you need a hug, everyone needs a hug

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Originally posted by peter-and-mj


”I bet you your whole Goddamn rep that you couldn’t get weird ass mcgee over there to sleep with you; you know, take her v-card. Before. We. Graduate.”

The words spoken smugly by one of Peter’s multiple friends at the lunch table caught his attention as quick as you could say, “Spider,” The statement challenged him, making him smirk at the smug boy before looking over his shoulder, almost savagely, at the fifteen year old girl huddled in her own little corner of a table in the back, her face morphing as she read through numerous pages of the thick book she held in her hands.

Watching the scene, Peter laughed and shook his head before turning back the group at his table, them looking deeply invested as to what would happen next, he spoke lowly, “Watch me.”

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