is it just me or do the two pages seem sketch

11 writing problems and solutions

Writing is a craft. It takes time for anyone to learn and improve. But there are some shortcuts you can try, maybe adapt to your own needs. Here are 11 writing problems and their solutions, or hacks.

Too many ideas syndrome

Problem: You have too many equally good story ideas and can’t pick just one to write.

Solution: Select your top 3 favorite stories and write the first scene of all three. If you can’t decide, write the first chapter. The right project will be easier to work with, you’ll have fun writing it, you will be daydreaming about the story, you will love the characters. So, give away three chances instead of one.

Originally posted by gypsyastronaut

Outline spoiling the fun

Problem: Whenever you outline a story idea, it completely spoils your will to write it. The mystery is gone.

Solution: Instead of outlining the whole story, just make a clear goal on how your characters should end. Will they succeed? Will they fail? Will they be happy? Will they find redemption? Will they be wronged? Decide how your story should end and explore the plot as you go. Remember, no one will read your first draft, so just write.

Lost midway

Problem: If you are a pantser, you might get lost in the middle of the story, especially after the first plot point.

Solution: Give your story an ending. If you know where your characters will end up, you’ll have a better understanding of which routes to take. Always keep in mind how the story will end. Use it as the beacon of a lighthouse to guide you through stormy waters.

Creative block

Problem: You don’t have story ideas. Or nothing you have so far excites you enough for a novel.

Solution: Read a book or watch a movie completely out of your genre. This works like magic, I promise. I’m not a sci-fi person, but Akira has given me more story ideas than any movie and book from my own genre.

Originally posted by sunio

Writing anxiety

Problem: You are scared of writing, scared of starting a new story, or just scared of not doing a good job.

Solution: Write a fanfic. No one expects a fanfic to be a masterpiece (although many are). Fanfics are done for fun and for passion. So, write your book in fanfic format. You can even use fandom characters and aus in the process. When the story is completed, change back to original characters.

Editing as you write

Problem: You keep going back to previous paragraphs and editing instead of moving forward with your writing.

Solution: Write your novel by hand. This might sound like a lot of work, but it’s quite the opposite. The white screen of the computer urges you to review, to make it perfect, academic like perfect. The paper however, brings you back to the craft, to the urge of filling lines and pages. Handwriting also gives you the opportunity of sketching and doodling. 

Originally posted by kyoka-sui-get-su

Procrastination

Problem: Tumblr. Youtube. Email. Netflix. Bathroom. Fridge. Bed.

Solution: Go offline. Turn off your wi-fi. Use a device without internet connection. Or, if you keep fooling yourself and turning the internet back on, write your novel by hand. Give yourself a daily hour of internet, but live offline. And if you take unnecessary trips to the fridge or the bathroom, try the pomodoro technique.

Lack of plots

Problem: Nothing relevant is happening, your story looks kind of boring. Or the main plot is too weak for a whole novel.

Solution: Take a few days off. Just relax. When you are ready to go back, read what you have written so far. Maybe you were just tired. But, if the story really sucks, go back to basics. Ask yourself two questions. What type of story am I writing? How will this story end? Follow the answer like a map. Change what needs to be changed, even if you have to delete the whole progress. If you lack plots, don’t add fillers, just go back to basics.  

Weak main character

Problem: Your character lacks personality, voice and/or visuals.

Solution: Give your main character three things. An external battle. An internal battle. And an unique feature. The external battle is their goal, what they want to achieve, what they dream about. An internal battle is their fears, traumas, doubts, mental issues, prejudices and triggers to overcome. An unique feature is what sets them apart from other characters, maybe they have piercings, or tattoos, or pink hair, or lilac eyes, maybe they wear neon boots, or a mask, or mittens, maybe they are left-handed, or blind, maybe they have a scar, or a birthmark. Every amazing main character has external battles, internal battles and unique features.  

Originally posted by takeruandcaterpillars

Depression

Problem: You have no will to write. The passion is gone. You feel empty.

Solution: If you don’t have access to medical help, reading is a good way to reevaluate your career and regain your passion for the words. Read lots of books. Don’t worry about writing, just read. Lose yourself in fictional adventures. Read sci-fi, romance, horror, fantasy, crime, family saga, classics, foreigner fictions, fanfics, shorts, poetry. Immerse in literature. Literature can save lives.  

Strange dialogues

Problem: Dialogues seem too formal, or too much like the narration, or characters lack individuality.

Solution: Read your dialogues out loud while acting as your characters. You can find a quiet empty room for that. Be an actor. Go for the emotions. Record your acting sections, after all, you might improvise at some point.    

Originally posted by gmt1999

vulpixenthusiast  asked:

Dude srsl how did u get soo goooddd? Like, how long did it take until u finally reached a point where you could clearly see the progress in your work? Did you have a routine like, 1 drawing per day or..? I could rlly use some insight and inspiration tbh you have amazing skills

Shoot, that’s a tricky question.  Nowadays, I can only notice improvement between pieces six months or so apart, but when I started I think I noticed skills developing after just 2-3 months.  To be entirely fair I was doing 1-3 pages of studies/imagination pieces in a sketchbook every day–fyi, I had no other extracurriculars throughout high school which meant lots of free time.  

I started studying near the beginning of sophomore year (September or October), so this would have been around January or February.  Of course, the progress was pretty minor, but I was honestly just so relieved that I wasn’t stagnating anymore that it gave me a burst of motivation to keep drawing.  

One note I need to make, for anyone else reading this–if you’re beginning to study right now or if you’ve recently begun to study, try your very best to draw every single day for these first 6 months or so.  If you make drawing a habit (that is, a part of your lifestyle), it is extremely difficult to stop permanently.  During multiple parts of my senior year, I would be unable to draw more than once every week or two because of college apps and studying for tests/APs/finals, but I still had zero trouble getting back into drawing once I had the time (mainly because I craved the hell out of it on the days I couldn’t draw).

During my sophomore year, however, if I didn’t draw for more than two or three days, I would encounter two serious problems: 1, my skills would seem to atrophy (it would be difficult to control my lines, and I couldn’t visualize things in 3D space unless I took hours to warm up– this in itself was pretty discouraging); and 2, I wouldn’t have the motivation to draw anything.  Not drawing for even a short period of time would give my mind other things to focus on, and it took a fair amount of discipline to push myself back into my routine.  

Prodigy - Teacher AU

“Could you just close the door and come over here? You have no reason to rush out, I didn’t post your grade. I want to discuss it in person.”

You swallowed hard at his words but did as you were told, closing the classroom door and going over to his desk. He was looking through the stack of students’ sketchbooks on his desk, presumably for your own. He pulled one of of the stack and laid it in the middle of his desk, and you froze. 

You could feel all color draining from your face once you noticed which sketchbook he had pulled out of the pile. There was a Hello Kitty sticker stuck to the top right corner of it, indicating it was your sketchbook.

Your personal sketchbook.

word count: 10.1k

genre: fluff & smut (a lot of soft/domestic stuff, concludes w smut)

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Part of the team

Cross posted to ao3


Ford looks at the piles of paper scattered around the table and groans. “This is just for the room assignments for the roadies?”

“Sadly, yes,” Lardo says, patting her on the back. “It only looks complicated though. I mostly have a system you can stick with, you’ll just have to worry about the new frogs next year.”

“Somehow I almost wish I was trying to schedule rehearsals again,” Ford mutters.

“Here,” Lardo hands her a small red folder. “Look, this is the basic set up, okay? I have one for hotels that have strictly doubles, one that has doubles and singles, and hotels where you might have to squish 3 per room. It happens sometimes.”

“Okay,” Ford flips the folder open and compares the sheets side by side. “So some people are always together, some people move around, and - what are those red exclamation points at the bottom?”

“Those mean absolutely not,” Lardo points out one pair. “Like, Whiskey and Tango get along really well normally, but before a game Whiskey needs quiet, and Tango always has questions. Terrible combination, as we discovered on their first roadie. Tango and Nurse is actually a good combination, because Nurse likes a bit of a distraction, and he can usually direct the conversation back to a somewhat relevant topic. Whiskey and Dex get stuck together a lot, because they both appreciate the quiet, unless I know Chow and Dex have a comp sci project due. Then I’ll try and put them together because they’ll probably be up half the night anyways, and then you don’t have two pissed off roommates. Ransom and Holster shouldn’t be split up, because frankly, it just makes them sad, and then they pout, which is a little bit pathetic but also endearing?”

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Beneath This Scar | M

“Are you willing to stay by his side knowing what he truly is?”

Précis: It was supposed to be a story written only in fairytales, and somehow, you were destined to live it.

Note: Inspired by the movie Wolf Children, totally different from this fic tho, so no need to worry. this was supposed to be 3k what happened-

Genre & Warnings: Angsty, alotta fluff, mentions of blood, death & implied smut. | Words ➳ 10.3k


To you, he was something you would have never known could actually exist.

He was as mysterious as they would come, holding his pencil in a way so elegant that you didn’t know was possible, the look of boredom sprouting through his features as he scrunched his nose in concentration; ears twitching while he tried to draw something perfect and pleasing to his eyes. You watched him sketch with such wonder in your irises, and even though you wondered how he could draw while ignoring the professor speak and try to teach his students about the basic wonders of the world — you hadn’t known that whilst watching the boy draw, you were also in a little world of your own and not paying attention yourself.

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Sinner’s Prayer

Pairing: Danisnotonfire & AmazingPhil (Phan)

Genre: Smut, Religious!Dan, Bamph!Phil, slight/daddy!kink

Word Count: 6500

Warnings: Explicit Language, Reference to Church, Bullying. 

Summary: Dan is just a freshman in high school. He follows all the rules and even goes to Mass every Sunday because that’s what good boys do. But Dan’s nature to do everything that he is told, seems to attract a certain kind of ruthless older boy; one who’s only desire is to spoil Dan’s innocence. 

Author’s Note: To clear up all the confusion, I say pants not trousers. I’m American lol. 

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taehyung scenario | heart-eyes

Originally posted by beui

prompt: I accidentally grabbed your sketchbook in art class, and it’s filled with amazing doodles… wait is that supposed to be you and me… and are we…???

pairing: taehyung x reader

requested by anon | 1.3k words | fluff


Students at art school are weird. Not a bad kind of weird, just a wearing-designer-clothes-only-to-get-paint-splashed-on-them, stopping-in-the-corridor-to-stare-out-the-window-and-mutter-some-poetry-on-a-sigh kind of weird. Maybe weird is the wrong word. Quirky. Charismatic. Artistic.

By far the weirdest (or should you say most artistic) student is Kim Taehyung. He’s the type to wear glasses just for aesthetic. He’s the type to daze off into space during lessons, staring open mouthed at the ceiling. He’s the type to brainstorm unique ideas that would never come together in other people’s heads. And he’s your type.

Which is why you get so excited when you find out he’s your partner for the group art project.

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School Dances - Richie Tozier

Originally posted by agent-69

word count: 4311
warnings: swearing
a/n: yes i know it’s mileven but they’re my babies and it was a good gif so politely fuck off.  also i’m sorry this is a lame title,  and it’s been so long since i’ve posted


[ love is arguing, but not attacking ]

You had your feet up on the couch, using your legs as a makeshift table as you sketched away in your notebook.  Everyone was at Bill’s for a sleepover, and you and him were currently sketching while the others were playing Atari.  You were never one much for video games.

“What do you think?” You asked quietly, leaning over to show Bill your pencil sketch of the quarry you’d all been to countless times.  Bill smiled and nodded.

“I-I like it” He told you, and you went back to your sketching again.

“Thanks-”

“You should draw me sometime sweetheart” You jumped slightly as you spun around, eyes narrowing at the boy leaning over the back of the couch.

“Damnit Richie you almost made me mess it up!” You scolded, but he just grinned before hopping onto the rug between Eddie and Ben.  You rolled your eyes and shook your head.

Yeah, you and Richie were friends.  You were both in the Loser’s Club, and always shared good times and awesome adventures.  Not including the whole Pennywise fiasco last summer.  It was just that he was such a trashmouth, and you were so introverted, that the connection was hard.  So most of the both of your time spent together was either arguing, or really great and fun.

It was 90% arguing.

“y/n? Earth to y/n” You blinked to see Eddie was snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“Sorry what’d you say?” You asked again.

“I asked if you were going to homecoming” He repeated, eyes flicking to the screen momentarily to see Bev’s character dominating over Richie’s.  Richie yelling and whining about how he ‘was the professional here’.

“Thanks Ed but you’re just a friend… I’d rather be asked by someone interested-”

“Oh no no no no no no I didn’t mean it like that y/n I wasn’t asking you ou-”

“You’re asking y/n out?” Richie abandoned his game to glare over at Eddie, but you missed it after being too focused by her drawing.

“Fuck no!” Eddie screeched, now gaining your attention again.  Eddie went on this rant about your friendship and all that, but you just sat there quietly.

Were you really that unideal of a homecoming date? Maybe you didn’t have the body of a senior, maybe you weren’t perfect, but you thought you’d at least suffice.

“I’m gonna get a drink” You muttered, tossing your sketchbook carelessly to the side of the couch.  You stood up without another word, walking to the kitchen and blinking hard so you wouldn’t cry.

“Fuck Tozier” Eddie grumbled.  “You made your girl sad”

“She’s not my girl” Richie replied in a quieter tone, paranoid you could still hear him from the kitchen.

“Ri-Richie you should t-talk to her” Bill said, but Richie shook his head, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“I can’t” He said, feeling as pathetic as he sounded.  Bev rolled her eyes, standing up and going after you.

“You’re a pussy” She called back to him before consoling you quietly in the kitchen.


It was late,even for you, and you had quite the night owl tendencies.  But you didn’t care, preferring to lean over the kitchen counter with your second cup of cocoa as you worked on a sketch.  A different one from before, this one you’ve been adding to for months, and still, it just doesn’t seem perfect.  You didn’t like to share them until they were perfect.

You groaned softly, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands.  Your eyes briefly flicking to the little candle you had on the counter, wondering briefly if you should just scrap the whole page.  Then shook your head, not liking the destructive thought.

“y/n?” Your head snapped up, hands propping you at your chin.  “What’re you doing up it’s like… two in the morning” Richie spoke, voice tired and a mumble.

“Was I loud?” You whispered, and he shook his head, messy hair flopping in front of his face.  You watched him pull his glasses from where they were folded to slide into the neck of his shirt, fitting them onto his face and pushing them up his nose.  You found yourself smiling at this, even though it was a simple action.

“No I just… couldn’t sleep” He said lamely with a shrug.  He wandered over to where you stood, peeking down at your notebook.  You pulled it towards you anxiously, flipping the pages so he couldn’t see what you’d been working on.

“Me too” You finally responded, drawing his attention away from the book.  But it didn’t work.

“What’re you drawing?” He asked, and you felt the nervous butterflies fluttering relentlessly in your chest..  Your fingers curled tighter around the pages.  “What? Scared I’m not gonna like my sexy portrait?” He smirked at his own comment and your eyes narrowed.

“Why would I want to show you anyways, you’re just gonna make fun of it” You said, holding it against your chest.  Richie’s smirk pulled into a frown instantly.

“I won’t” He said quickly.

“I don’t believe you” You mumbled back.  His frown deepened.  You set your book back down on the counter, keeping it closed as you reached to drink from your mug.

“y/n… come on… what do you think I’m gonna do?” He tried to keep his voice quiet, soft.

“I dunno…” You murmured out again.  “Make fun of it?”

“I promise I won’t” He responded fast, truly trying to persuade you to show him.  You bit down on your lip, glancing anxiously around before picking up the book again, sliding it over to him.  Richie grinned, his cheek a pink hue illuminated in the candle light.

You wanted to draw that.

He opened up the cover carefully, seeing your name and information printed neatly on the inside cover of it.  He turned the page, and you awaited his reaction to your first sketch.  It was simple, just a night sky.  You remembered how you spent forever shading in the different patches of the sky, and perfecting each point of the little stars you added.  Richie almost reached out to brush his fingers over the perfected crescent moon you’d drawn, but pulled away at the last moment, not wanted to ruin your masterpiece.

“It’s not… it isn’t perfect it was when I was first starting to draw-”

“It’s beautiful” He cut you off.  “And this was when you were an amateur?” Your teeth sunk into your lip again.  “y/n you’re so fucking talented!” He smiled up at you before flipping the page, seeing an arrangement of flower sketches all over it.

“That was uh.. That was practice for something else” You said, fingers wringing together.  Bill was the only one you shared your work with, the both of you critiquing and admiring each other’s pieces.  But this was… this was different.

“They’re nice” He commented quietly, then moved on to another page.  This one was the one he’d briefly saw earlier, of the quarry and it’s sparkling waters, the morning sun giving it this effect.  He smiled, being reminded of countless memories spent there with the Losers.  Another page turn, and this time he paused.

His eyes scanned over your most secreted drawing, the one that’s seemed to take you an eternity, every detail needing to be at absolute perfection.  A slow grinned tugged his lips open, a pearly white smile being flashed your way before back to the notebook.

Inside was a sketch of the whole gang, arms linked over everyone’s shoulder.  Mike, then Stan, Ben, then Eddie, then Richie, Bill, Beverly, and you.  There wasn’t any scenery yet, so far just the basics of each person.  Facial features, clothing, hair.  Richie looked at his own character, his grin in the sketch lopsided, glasses crooked and eyes large.  His hair was even messier than usual and his tee shirt read Loser.  All the shirts had the same logo on it.

“y/n this is so…” He breathed out heavily, for once, not having anything to say.  “It’s fucking amazing, it’s perfect” You blushed deeply and darted your eyes away from his.

“I was going to give it to Bill for Christmas… I mean it’ll probably take me that long anyways and I thought after… last summer it’d be kinda… you know?” You trailed off, not wanting to say the words.  Richie nodded, glancing once more at the page before closing the book.

“I’m really glad you showed me” He said, and you only nodded your head in response, taking the last drink of your cocoa and setting the mug in the sink.

“I should go back to bed” You said, taking the notebook in your arms once more.  Richie opened his mouth, maybe to protest and ask you to stay, or to say he wasn’t tired yet, he wasn’t even sure.  So he sighed inwardly and gave up on finding the right words.

“Yeah, it’s late” He said, and you both trudged on your tiptoes back to the living room where the arrangement of sleeping bags were strewn all over the place.  You looked back at him as you sat down in yours, holding onto your pillow as he settled in again for the night.

“Goodnight” You whispered, and he looked over at you as he took off his glasses and folded them up.

“Night y/n” He replied, and you smiled gently before laying down and getting comfortable.  Richie smiled to himself as well while he laid down and went to sleep.


The next day at school you were all groggy from staying up so late, especially you and Richie.  Which the others commented about numerous times.  But you brushed it off and ignored their ongoings as you put in your locker combination.

“I’m too tired for this” You hummed to Richie, who nodded, eyes shut as his side leaned against the locker next to you.  Only hearing pieces of Eddie yelling at Beverly for her smoking habits.  Not that she cared, but it was funny to get him riled up.

“Oh look! It’s my favorite girl!” Suddenly your locker was slammed shut, and you jumped to see Henry Bowers had wedged himself between your now closed locker and yourself.  You backed up immediately, finding his aroma to be absolutely ghastly.

“Take a shower fuck-bag” Richie groaned

“Fuck off loser, I’m only here for y/n” Henry stroked an oddly gentle hand down your cheek, and you winced with disgust.  “How are ya y/n? I missed school yesterday… did you miss me?” You gagged aloud.

“No Henry, I didn’t miss you” You uttered, yanking your face away from his hand.  “Don’t touch me” You added, hiking the strap of your backpack higher on your shoulder.  Henry smirked, an eyebrow arching tauntingly.

“Come on sweetheart, don’t be that way” He leaned forward to meet your eye level.  “I know all I gotta do is ask you to lift your skirt a little, isn’t that right boys?” Your face fell at the horrible and untrue accusation.  “But that’s alright, it’s nice when they’re easy” His hand was back on you again, toying with the collar of your shirt and trailing over your throat.

“Hey!” Henry was shoved away, toppling to the ground.  “She said not to touch her you fucking pervert!” Your eyes widened at Richie, and your fear only increased as Henry stood up, grabbing the boy by his shoulders and pinning him to the row of lockers.

“You better fucking watch it four eyes!” Henry yelled in his face.  “I’ll fucking gut you-!”

“Mr Bowers?” Richie fell to the floor as Henry dropped him as soon as the scolding voice of a teacher rang in the air, silencing the hall.  “You wouldn’t want a call home would you?”

Henry took off, leaving the Losers alone in the hallway.  Whoever the teacher was, simply turned and walked away as well, not saying another word.

“y/n are you-”

“What the fuck?” You cut off Ben’s almost question as you whipped around to look at RIchie.  “What was that!?” Richie, confused by your sudden burst of anger stood up and scrunched up his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry?” He said sarcastically.  “That asshole had his hands all over you, the disgusting mullet wearing-”

“Well I didn’t need your saving” You said, adjusting your bag, your face fallen as you turned to head away.

“y/n-!” He called but you didn’t even so much as glance over your shoulder.  Just kept on going.  His lips fell to a frown as he looked at his friends, who all seemed confused.

Except Bev, who frowned herself as she shook her head.

“”What’s going on what happened? She.. she’s actually mad at me?”

“No Rich, she’s just embarrassed” The girl said, but his expression didn’t change.

“But she… but I’m…” he sighed, defeated.  His shoulders slumped as he began to walk away as well, wanting to follow after you, but instead heading to class.

He hadn’t meant to hurt you, or offend you.  He was only trying to keep you safe.


Three days passed and you’d done everything you could to avoid Richie, even though you still saw him everywhere.  Walking past your classes, which you were sure was on purpose, in the lunchroom, in your gym class, and you swore that every time you turned your head, he was darting away somewhere.

“n/n? You gonna show me your dresses or not?” Beverly asked you.  You blinked, looking up from where you were sat on the floor against your bed.

“Bev I don’t really wanna go to the dance… do I have to?”

“Of course! Come on it’ll be fun” She said, already opening up your closet to look through your things.

“But… Richie’s gonna be there” You said weakly.  Beverly just laughed, and pulled a dress from your closet.

“This one” She said, and laid a dress off the side of the mattress.  You looked at it for a moment, not remembering having worn it except for your aunt’s wedding.  That seemed so long ago.

Ever since the events last summer, a time before that just seemed like another era altogether.

“Beverly just… no thanks” You mumbled, looking back at her.  She only crossed her arms.

“Come on.  It’s in one hour y/n” She pleaded softly.  “You and I will hang out, and if you want….” She sighed deeply.  “I’ll even make Richie to swear to stay away from you”Your eyes widened a little bit, but she still noticed.  “Even though I don’t even understand why you two are so… I don’t even have the word for it.  Being stupid?”

“I’m ashamed Bev, someone else had to come and save me.  Again.  I’m so sick and-and tired of needing to be rescued!” Your friend frowned.

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.  It’s what good friends do, we help each other out.  And quite frankly, Richie was right.  Henry was being a creep, even more than usual.  Of course he was in a jealous and protective rage”

“Jealous?” You repeated in a whisper.

“Well duh, the boy digs you” Beverley brushed it off like it was obvious.  “He was just trying to keep you safe is all.  He wasn’t trying to make you feel like a damsel in distress”

You chewed on your lip, now staring at the dress she’d picked out for you as your thoughts ran wild with this new information.

“Fine” You huffed out after a long period of silence, standing up and snatching the outfit aggressively.


Richie did what he usually did at school events.  Or most events for that matter.  He found a seat, and began counting down the minutes until he could go home.

Did he want to be at the school dance? Not really.  Had his friends pretty much persuaded him to come anyways? Yep.  But there he was, sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair at a black and white (and pink? What was this fucking valentine’s day?) themed school dance.  His friends all gathered on the gym floor and dancing obnoxiously to some song he hadn’t heard of before.  All the while he just sat and watched.

All Richie could think about was how maybe if he hadn’t been a dumbass, he’d at least be sitting here with your company.  Knowing that you weren’t one much for getting up and dancing in front of your peers.  His night could’ve been filled with fun conversation and the stupid game of pointing out the best and worst outfits of the night.  But he hadn’t even seen you arrive.

And he was pretty sure that you wouldn’t be.

He’d watched the clock till it was ten minutes into the dance. The boredom was weighing down heavier and heavier and soon he was slumped over his seat, his elbow propping his chin up and his glasses sliding down every now and then from slouching.  Eleven minutes.  Twelve.  Thirteen.  Fourt-

Richie nearly jumped out of his seat when the gym doors swung open, this time not revealing one of the chaperones coming in, but you and Beverly.

And wow, you looked perfect.  And Richie thought you looked like an angel on a normal day.  But this was… this was a fucking occasion he should’ve planned for.

She walked in looking nervous, like she felt out of place.  And to him, she was, she blew away any of the other girl’s who even tried tonight.  Her hair was in curls, some of it pinned back behind her head.  Her dress was a pale pink color that fell to her ankles, sleeves that came almost all the way down her arms, and something in him wanted to touch it to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

Richie blinked, eyes growing even wider behind the thick frames.  He wasn’t even sure if she was real.  He watched as Bev pushed on your arm gently, then nodded towards him.  He almost didn’t redirect his gaze before you’d looked to where she pointed.  Luckily, you hadn’t caught him openly staring.

“Damn it” You whispered, hoping to have gone the night without an interaction.  But it was already too late for that.  “Bev let’s go-”

“No way! You promised me you’d at least try” She reminded, and you winced, glancing back over to Richie secretly.

He was staring straight at you, and was completely obvious about it.  He must not have been able to tell that you were looking out of the corner of your eye.  Because he was still staring at you.

Well, you were staring at him too but that was different.  You couldn’t help it.

“He looks beautiful” Was the first thing you said, and Beverly made a weird sound as she turned to see where your eyeline had fallen.  Her brows rose when her sights landed on Richie Tozier.  Moping like a four year old but staring at you like an old lover.

“Beautiful?” She questioned, her surprised face scrunching up with confusion.  You nodded, turning back to face her, a gentle smile on your lips.  He was in a suit, sort of.  It was a dark grey, but the collared shirt underneath it was white, and his tie was black.

You were pretty sure he’d worn it to Georgie’s funeral, minus the tie.

“Yeah” You answered Beverly, who was now grinning ear to ear whilst you blushed at the sight of Richie all dressed up.  “Nice, he looks nice” You stammered out, and Beverly rolled her eyes good naturedly.

“He does.  You should go tell him”

“I don’t think he’d like to speak to me” You whispered, scared he’d hear, even from thirty feet away.  Your fingers began to twirl and intertwine with themselves out of nervousness.

He still hadn’t looked away.

“I beg to differ” Your friend told you.  But before you could ask her why, Bill and Eddie had walked up to the both of you.

“Hey what the hell’s up with mopey McMoperson over there?” Eddie asked, nodding off towards the glasses wearing boy who was now looking fascinated by the floor.  Bev glared at the short boy, a sigh falling from her lips.

“Could we be anymore discreet?” She muttered sarcastically.

“What? I was just wondering if he’s still all hung up over y/n”

Bill smacked his hand against his forehead, and Bev glanced over at you.  Your face had fallen, lips parted, eyes saddened and staring down at your hands, still locked together in a knot.

“n/n I didn’t mean it like tha-”

“I’m just gonna go sit and drink some punch” You cut off Eddie’s apology with a small mumble, and headed off towards the beverage table.  You swiftly poured a plastic cup of punch then made your way to the empty seats along the side of the gym.  Opposite of where Richie had sat himself.

You passed the time watching the girls twirl around in their pretty dresses and fancy hairdos.  Some wearing makeup you were sure they stole from their mothers vanities.  You picked out the dress you liked best, something blue and frilly.  Pretty, but not over the top like some of the others.  After all, it was just a school dance.

“Why aren’t you dancing out there with them?” You looked up to see Richie standing in front of you.  Your mouth opened, but you were in such a shock that no words came out.

“I-I… I don’t know” You said pathetically, mentally slapping yourself for saying something so lame.

“Well do you want to dance with me?” Again, your brows rose as you were thrown for another loop.  What!?  “I know I’m not ideal” Richie continued.  “But pretty girls shouldn’t sit through an entire dance and watch everyone else” A small smile pulled on your lips at the compliment, and you nodded your head slowly, and he reached his hand out to you.  You took it, ducking your head down so that your blush wouldn’t be seen.

“Thanks” Was all you managed to say.  Your eyes still glued to the gym floors, not realizing he was staring directly at you, with a soft intensity.

“I’ve missed you” He blurted, without thinking, as he always did.  But this was different.  You looked up at him, eyes round as a doe’s, a look of pure innocence and curiosity held in them.  “I’ve missed you a lot” He continued.  “I’ve missed talking to you and messing with you and seeing you draw and even just seeing you in the hallway”

While what he was saying was true, he couldn’t stop speaking.  And he began to freak that this would lead him somewhere ugly, telling you all this.  But at the same time… he didn’t care.

“And after… after all that shit with Pennywise and you and I… we… we got closer and I really fucking loved that because let’s face it! You’re great!” Your lips felt sewn shut, though they had dropped open just slightly.  “ANd you get shit and I don’t… I don’t get it! You get shit from your parents because they think you aren’t good enough but y/n you’re fucking perfect and if you ever believe otherwise I’ll… well I’ll off myself! It’d be the end of the world!”

“Rich…” You said softly, hoping he’d quiet down seeing that other dancing students were now watching this scene unfold.

“No I-! I don’t care! Let them watch I don’t care!” He looked around at all the prying eyes, most of them shooting to look away before being caught.  “And y/n I’m sorry, I’m sorry for what I did, and I swear I only did it because I… well I wanted to protect you” He sighed, defeated, and finally quieting down a little bit.  “And I know you don’t need my protection… hell you barely even need me but dammit I need you

Your eyes widened impossibly further, surprised by this confession.  You sniffled, your hands around his neck tightening a little, pulling yourselves closer together.

“Look I… I’ve never done this before, I’ve never even felt this way before but you… you just make it seem natural.  Like I’ve been doing this for ages” Your eyes, wet with tears, crinkled up as a smile tugged your lips upwards.

“Richie you-” Your quiet voice was cut off again.


“y/n I think I’m in love with you” He said, head ducking down so it was ensured only your ears would hear it.  Your noses nearly touched, your head tilted back to properly meet his eyes.  You sniffled again, quickly rubbing your fist under your eyes to stop the tears from falling before holding onto him again.

“Richie” You said, voice weak with a wet laughter.  Cheeks rosy pink with a bashful blush.  “You’re the sweetest trashmouth I know” You whispered.  He smiled lopsidedly, one of his hands on your waist raising to tuck a loose strand of  hair out of your eyes and behind your ear.

“And you are a beautiful stubborn angel” He replied.  You blinked, licking over your lips and biting your cheek to keep from smiling too much.  WIth that, he leaned into you, you barely standing onto the tips of your toes to meet his lips in a soft kiss.

You’d been kissed before, by your parents, a fleeting boyfriend once a long time ago, but this felt so, so different.

Perfect, right.

And when you parted, eyes wide for a moment out of the shock it left you in, Richie smiled at you, leaning his forehead down against yours.

“I think I’m falling in love with you too, Richie Tozier” You mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as you swayed softly to the music with him.

He just smiled with delight, staying silent.

It was comfortable to be silent with you there.



k but in real life he’d be runnin’ his mouth about how hot you are and how much he wants to shove his tongue down your throat, but let’s be real, he’d still be a sweetie

xoxo ~ jordie

Lust & Errors 04

Rated: M

Warning: Excessive graphic smut, age gap, marijuana usage.

SummaryStep brother, fuck buddy… They were one and the same now. But what started out as some mindless fucking game, quickly turns into something much more difficult and complex.

Note: Hell has frozen over and the sun has rose in the west. Part 4 is here, and I have no explanation for the tremendously long wait. “✐” means flashback and two of them means end of flashback. 

Words: 23,982

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05.


A long yawn escaped your lips in the middle of your explanation of a math problem. You covered your mouth as it gasped with the yawn and leaned back in the hard, wooden chair, desperately wishing it would somehow turn into your bed.

“Tired?” Jungkook asked, looking down at a piece of paper as he hurriedly wrote down what you assumed to be a note.

“A little.” You admitted with a sleepy drawl, too tired to hide the fact that you were tired and your eyes scanned over the page in the book you had been reading from, trying to find where you stopped.

When he was finished writing down his note, he glanced up at you expectantly, but once he noticed the sheer exhaustion painted plain as day on your face and weighing down your body, he sat up straight himself and cleared his throat. “We can stop, you know. If you’re tired.” His voice was a bit rushed and he sounded kind of guilty. “I-I’m sorry.” He chuckled, but it sounded forced and nervous.

It was odd to see Jeon Jungkook act nervous, when you were so used to cocky smirks and his overly confident attitude. But if there was one thing you noticed while tutoring him for the past two weeks, it was that tutoring him was a lot different than you had initially expected.

You had figured he was secretly some math genius and had only asked for your help in order to get into your pants. After all, it wasn’t exactly hard to tell that you were a virgin. And guy’s like Jeon Jungkook, loved girl’s like you.

Well, at least that’s what you thought.

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sketches [ cm x r ]

Originally posted by evans-hansen

fandom : Dear Evan Hansen

by : Victoire

pairing : Connor Murphy x Reader

summary : In which you are a gifted artist & Connor just so happens to be your unsuspecting muse.

word count : 4,519

warnings : Swearing

a / n : Here we are! I’m beyond excited to be sharing my first fic with you. I’ve recently gotten into DEH & really explored the characters as people, so I do hope the way I write Connor is enough for you! I had my ups & downs while writing this, but the result did prove successful.

Oh, & make sure to see if you can catch a hidden If I Could Tell Her reference in the fic! *winky face* I would love you for the rest of my days if you all could leave a like or maybe reblog! Feedback & constructive criticism are always welcome.


Biting your lip in concentration, your eyes carefully studied the sharp but somehow soft lines of his face. He was sitting diagonally in front of you, with a perfect view of his profile.

Why would you be drawing the infamous Connor Murphy in the middle of a calculus class, you ask? Honestly, you didn’t even have a valid reason except for the fact that he was absolutely beautiful.

His was a unique kind of beauty, dark & harsh & in all ways mysterious, but at the same time there was a sort of lightness to it, fragile & delicate.

It puzzled you sometimes, but you were still drawn to the enigma that happened to be Connor Murphy.

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Stuck Together - Damian Wayne x Reader

Requested by Anon - a story where the reader and Damian like each other but won’t admit it cuz they’re too stubborn so the batfam try to get them together.

Happy Birthday Anon’s friend!!


Damian watched you from across the cave as Alfred wrapped the cut on his arm. You were working on updating files on the batcomputer. The glow from the computer highlighted your face in a way that fascinated him. His fingers twitched with the need to draw to you.

“Master Damian, you may go change now,” Alfred stated, finishing the bandage on Damian’s cut. When Damian didn’t move, Alfred raised an eyebrow, noticing how intently Damian studied you. “Master Damian,” Alfred said again sharply. Damian finally dragged his gaze away from you to look at Alfred. “I’m done with the bandage. You may go change now.”

TT,” Damian huffed, sliding off the table to stalk over to the changing area. When he passed you, you spun around in the chair to face him causing him to slowly stop, catching your eye.

“Are you okay, Damian?” you asked, glancing at the bandage on his arm. He touched the bandage, shrugging his shoulders. 

“It is nothing,” Damian replied softly. The two of you fell silent, caught up in each other’s eyes. A solid minute passed without either of you making a sound. You both would have been there forever if Dick hadn’t appeared, clapping his hand on Damian’s shoulder to snap the two of you out of it.

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Just a Glimpse

(Steve Rogers x Reader) Soulmate AU

Word Count: 8592

Summary: Every person is born with the image of their soulmate firmly fixed in their mind, but when the super soldier serum causes Steve to lose all but faint memories of the face he is meant to one day love, he begins to lose hope of ever finding you. In present day, you are one of the many people inoculated with a suppressor meant to ease your pressure to find The One by ridding you of your soulmate visions. Will fate still find a way to bring you together?

Warnings: Language, little bit of angst and pining, but it’ll be okay, I promise. Super mega sappy fluff

A/N: This is my piece for @howlingbarnes Languages of Love birthday challenge based on the prompt “Koi No Yokan: The instantaneous feeing of meeting someone and knowing that the two of you are destined to fall in love. Not love at first sight, just knowing that you will one day fall in love with them.” The destiny bit really got me going. I’ve always wanted to try my hand at a soulmate AU.

Originally posted by 08s


Ever since Steve could remember he had always been able to see your face the moment he closed his eyes. It was what got him out of bed on his worst days: knowing that he hadn’t met you yet, that today could be the day. And it never bothered him that as he got older, more and more of the people his age found their soulmates, finally picked that face out of the crowd that had been etched so deeply into their minds, into their very beings, since day one. No, he wasn’t worried. He would find you when the time was right.

Steve’s main conflict came in the form of his artistic inclinations. He wanted so badly to draw you, paint you, have some real physical evidence of your existence, but he couldn’t. It was considered bad luck to try to capture you soulmate’s image on paper before you met them. Some even went so far as to claim that doing so nullified the forces that eventually brought all soulmates together, that to have a physical representation of your soulmate was to, in effect, replace the first meeting. Steve didn’t intend to take any chances.

Bucky teased him about it, saying it was a silly superstition that only old women and children believed in, but when Steve would respond with an offer to draw Bucky’s soulmate for him, he would only raise his hands in surrender with a playful smirk. And so, Steve settled for daydreaming, living for the day he would finally find you, meet you, fall in love with you.

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Here are some of my favorite fics i’ve read these past couple of weeks:

An Underrated Type of Trouble by anchortied (22.7k)

Harry is the Head Boy, Louis is a troublemaker and they both like each other too much to get in each other’s way (Hogwarts AU) 

Outside Is Just A Blur by daggerandtherose (18.3k)

Louis’ son might just be a technology genius as he has quite a knack for calling strangers up on Louis’ phone. Repeatedly.

Keep reading

3

But what if Betty was new to town and she was a lone wolf just like Jughead? Can these two come together to help fix the damage done onto them by others?
****

It was…. different.

The town was small. it was small and it was quiet, very different to the busy Harlem streets she was used to, it unnerved her. Nothing was supposed to be this perfect, she had learned perfection always came with a cost. What was the cost exactly? Well …she was gonna find out.

Her father had always said “mystery calls to you Elizabeth Cooper, you can either choose to answer it or leave it ringing.” Smiling at the thought of her father, she shifted the suitcase in her hands. He had been a good man, Loved her more than anything, and would do anything for his family. Which he did.

“Elizabeth?” She looked up at the sound of her mothers voice, she had a questioning look on her face and reached out to place a palm to her forehead “are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

Betty shook her mothers hand off
“I’m fine, just thinking.”

Her mother never pressed her, she had learned that the hard way a while back, it wasn’t wise to question Betty, it would just set her back and she would lose it. Sure maybe it was immature but she figured she deserved a little leniancy.

“Were here.” The beautifully put together blonde woman smiled at her equally beautiful daughter.
The house was huge, it was massive. Her eyes instantly zeroed in on the room up top with the bay window. She felt a hand being placed on her arm “you can have that room.” She smiled gratefully to her mom. Taking a deep breathe, she steeled her shoulders and gripped her suitcase
“Well, what are we waiting for?Ready to enter the belly of the beast?”

Rolling her eyes and smiling, Alice cooper led Betty through the doors. Looking around Betty felt herself smile for the first time in hours. The walls were a dreamy white and the furniture was rustic and beautiful, everything was simple and clean. It was perfect.
“Now I know, it’s very big for just the two of us, but you’re father wanted us to have it. We were all going to move in here together.. it’s what… I” choking up Alice took a deep breathe and excused herself, Betty knew that meant she needed to cry. Feeling the guilt rip her stomach, Betty ran up the stairs to look at her new room.

Shit.

It was huge and roomy, painted a light yellow, her favorite color. She closed her eyes and angled her head to the sky, swallowing a lump in her throat. He knew she would’ve wanted this room, he painted it for her, her drawings and paintings were hung on the wall in beautiful frames. Thank you dad.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she started unpacking her suitcase. She only had one suitcase for all of her things, they didn’t have much back home, all of her dresses and shoes fit into the one large rolling bag.

Suddenly she heard music from outside her window, her curiosity peaking, she looked through the shifty curtains. It was two boys, a redheaded one was facing her playing a guitar in the house directly across from hers and a dark haired boy facing away, all she could make out was the gray beanie. Great her neighbors were boys her age, she just knew her mother was going to want to introduce them. Suddenly the music stopped and the boys looked to be packing up, getting ready to go out she assumed.

As she continued unpacking, she pulled out her sketch book and pencils with an unenthused “ta da.” Gripping the book to her chest, she made her way downstairs.
“Mom I’m going out to explore, I’ll be home in a few hours.” She called Into the living room.

“Okay honey, try and make some friends!”

She rolled her eyes uttering,“ no promises” before she shut the front door.

Where should she go? What did people do around her?

After about twenty minutes of wandering she came across an old fashioned diner. Perfect. She could shack up in a back booth and work on some of her drawings.

As soon as she entered the diner, she spotted a familiar beanie. It was the boy next door. And he was…

Staring at her. Hard.

Choosing to ignore his gaze, she moved to the booth diagonal to his, he was typing on a laptop, a coffee by his side and his sleeves rolled up.
He really was quite attractive, his wavy long hair underneath that ridiculous hat, the piercing blue eyes she felt staring into her shoulder, and the absolutely sinful Lips.
Okay Betty, get a grip. She smiled to herself shaking her head slightly and moving back to her sketches.

Meanwhile Jughead was struggling to control his straying thoughts. Never had a girl stolen his attention like this, sure she was beautiful, actually she was absolutely gorgeous. All silky blonde hair, long tan legs and bright green eyes, but there was something else, something about her made it impossible to look away. She was the type of girl you write stories about, fortunately for him, he wrote stories more than he breathed.

Suddenly archie was sliding into the booth across from him “check out the new girl, she is something to look at right? I’m pretty sure she’s my new neighbor. The coopers. It’s just her and her mom.” Coincidentally the smell of gossip brought the one and only Veronica lodge to his once comfortably secluded booth.

“Total smoke show for sure. But rumor has it her dad was murdered in front of her. My sources tell me that’s why they moved here.” Veronica looked over to the blonde frowning. “Poor thing.”

Jughead hated rumors, they pissed him off, especially about the girl he felt an unexplainable connection with. “How do you even know anything about her Veronica? She moved here this morning, don’t go spreading rumors until you get it from the actual source. That girl.” He said with a nudge of his head.

Veronica was unphased by his icy tone, raising a brow “so that’s your type hmm? Well let’s go chat her up, shall we?” She stood and wiped her skirt as Jughead desperately tried to get her to stay
“Veronica! No! Leave her alone” he whispered panicked.

“Oh relax jugs, I’m just going to be polite.” And she was gone, already halfway to The beautiful blonde.

Both of the boys at the table watched as Veronica spoke to the mysterious new girl. About two minutes later she came back to the table smiling
Archie looked at her expectantly “so?”

She just smiled again “I asked her to come sit with us and she pretty much shot me down. No. not pretty much. She definitely shut me down.”

Jughead looked confused “and that’s making you smile because..?”

Veronica laughed “she’s awesome, totally reminds me of you Jughead, except for the fact that she seems like she’s totally cool, no offense. She said she preferred to work on her art alone, people were a distraction, but when she finished her sketches , she would come join us.”

Jughead glanced over at her again. He was the exact same way, whenever he was writing something new he had to have complete focus and silence.

After two burgers and four chapters, he felt a shift at the table. Looking up expecting to see Archie, he started speaking

“Dude, I don’t think…” his eyes caught on the beautiful bright green ones staring back at him and giggling.

“I haven’t been called dude in a very long time, I mean I’ll take it, but most people call me Betty.” She gently placed her sketch book on the table and jughead resisted the urge to grab it and flip through the pages.
Apparently he could no longer speak, that ability was now gone from his life.
She seemed to take his silence as a bad thing, and quickly started playing with her fingers
“Your friend.. Veronica? I think it was. She invited me to come sit, I totally understand if you’re busy, do you write?”

The simple question seemed to Knock him out of his stupor. “Uh.. yes. I write stories, I’m currently working on one regarding riverdales secrets.” He mumbled out

Her eyes lit up and she leaned over the table slightly “I’ve been wondering about all the things This little town has to hide. Can I read it when you’re done. I’m always down for a mystery.”
He smiled at her enthusiasm
“I’ll let you read it, if you let me look at your drawings” he said confidently.

She placed an open palm over her notebook and stuck her free hand out, wiggling her finger tips
“You got a deal….?”

“Jughead. Jughead jones.” He prepared himself for the ridicule that always came with his first name. But she just smiled warmly

“You got a deal Jughead jones”

As soon as their hands touched, he felt an unfamiliar tingle, no way , this was not some teen romance, this was riverdale. This was him.
He looked into her eyes to see if she felt it as well, sure enough she was staring at their joined hands wide eyed.

“Well look who’s getting all cozy. I told you Jughead, she’s just like you. Only cooler.”

Kevin, Veronica and Archie were all standing over the diner table and smiling at the pair, pulling his hand away he whispered for only Betty to hear

“Welcome to the Scooby gang Velma.”

I Need to Speak Up About Concrete

Oh boy… where do I start?

As a white guy, maybe I shouldn’t really be talking about this. But Swaggy Thunder and Slice of Otaku’s video on it made me a bit mad. I want to tackle some points that they made.


— They seemed pretty mad at the fact that Bismuth, a POC character, is portrayed as a villain. Boi… all of the villains in the show are LGBT+ and I don’t see anyone complaining. Yes, we are minorities, and we can not be all painted as little angels. There *are* mean POC just like there are lots of wonderful POC. Same thing with LGBT’s. We are being realistic here. Nobody wrote Bismuth as a villain (and she’s not even a villain, she’s just misguided!) *because* she’s a POC.

— They say the fact Bismuth and Concrete not being gems is inferiorizing and might be associated with them being POC. Also that Garnet, another POC character, isn’t even naturally formed - she’s a fusion. 

Boy, where do I even start? Gemstones aren’t limited to minerals and rocks. As someone who’s been gathering a gem collection over the years, I can confirm that Bismuth is, indeed, a gemstone, at least the hopper Bismuth crystals. Just like Pearls — Pearl is a gem and Pearls aren’t rocks, they are organic matter! But concrete… isn’t that a stretch? Oh yes, yes it is… but guess what!

NONE OF THE GEMS IN THE SAME PAGES AS HER EVEN ARE REAL THINGS!!
And Garnet… this hurts. Garnet is built to be such a special character, that represents love, intelligence, strength, leadership! She teaches us that the morals of Homeworld are old and wrong and that Earth’s love is the right path, and you shit all over it by saying that she’s a bad representation of POC for not being made in a “natural Homeworld way”? Ugh.

— Her skin tone is allusive to blackface. 

Uhm… they said it themselves! Concrete is grey. Like Bismuth is grey adorned with multiple rainbow colours. I just don’t even know what to respond to this. It is that simple. Her skin is grey because concrete is grey, just like Garnet’s red because Garnets are red and Peridot’s green because Peridots are green.

Following the show’s canon, why should her be any other colour?

(Rose is almost an exception — her peachy skin is almost like a caucasian human’s. This is a stylistic choice to make her a bit closer to a human being due to her humanity and love for Earth!)

— “And she has big lips, too!”

Most of the characters, of all colours, have big lips! It’s a rather big part of the style of the show to draw women’s lips this way, I’d say.

Another thing:

I couldn’t find the artist, so all credit to them (I will edit this if I do see who they are). But just look at this fan-rendering of how Concrete would look if she was integrated in the show’s actual style and not just a concept drawing. Here, she’s imagined as an uncorrupted version of the Big Bird, and that’s why she isn’t “Concrete” anymore (instead being an actual gem) and has brown skin rather than grey. Does this look racist to you? To me, she looks like a sweet fun Gem just like Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, Lapis, Peridot, Jasper, etc, etc, etc.


About the part of the stereotypes — I didn’t interpret the “Can’t read :(” part as anything other than “Can not read human writing, so she struggles a bit on Earth” type of note/reminder/little trivial character trait that Rebecca adds on all her character sketches. The show collection thing was a bit weird, I’ll admit, but who said it was Rebecca who decided on it? It was part of a collective game, so she could’ve just have written it down from a POC colleague (like Ian). 


— 

With all that, I hope to have made my point of view clear and if this, by a miracle, reaches Swaggy and Slice, please, consider my thoughts. You two and Vox are the only thing that can soot my appetite for Steven Universe content in these long hiatuses.

Much love,

Alexander Sedge. 💕

The police told me there was nothing down there. I know they’re lying.

(This story is very very long, be warned.)

I never wanted to be a mother. A child happened to me, I didn’t ask for it.

After you’ve had a child, you never get peace and quiet. I don’t mean that in a resentful way, just a fact. There’s the crying phase, the screaming phase, the yelling phase, the “NO!” phase, et cetera. And you never get time. You don’t have time for hobbies and distractions. Raising a child is two full-time jobs.

It’s not that I didn’t try to do everything I could for him. It’s not that I didn’t try and be a good parent. I did, I gave it everything I had. But deep down, I think he could tell that I didn’t want him. Kids know.

I had a part time job. I didn’t get paid very well, but it was enough. It was just office work, nothing exciting. My sister would look after him when I wasn’t around. I didn’t really have the money for daycare.

I knew that things weren’t working out like they should have. And I did what any self-respecting human being would do - I bought a book. I’d always heard that you should read to your child every night, and that doing so would make them smart and well-adjusted. Well, I had nothing to lose.

I’m not really an Amazon person, so I paid a visit to my local bookstore - a dark, slightly grubby independent place that shuns all but the most obsessive of bookworms. Standing in the narrow, dimly-lit aisles, surrounded by towering bookshelves jammed with volumes at every angle, I wondered, briefly - what do people normally buy for their kids?

The Very Hungry Caterpillar?

He was a bit old for that. Besides, I think that’s one of those books that parents buy because they think it’s kitschy, not because their kids will actually enjoy it.

Amongst the slightly destroyed second-hand Roald Dahl books and Dr. Seuss anthologies, I found a book that stuck out. It was old, and bound in what looked like real leather, but it was in surprisingly good shape. It wasn’t too long, but it proclaimed its suitability for for children aged 4-6 (he was five). It was called ‘The Trap Door’. No author, no other details. I picked it up and skimmed through the first few pages, and it seemed an ideal fit. It was written in an irregular rhyming meter, and it was festooned with colourful, scratchy illustrations that depicted a boy strikingly similar to my son. The picture was already forming in my head - we’d read it, we’d bond, and we’d smooth over the cracks.

I know it was just a book, but for the first time in my life, I realized I was excited to spend time with my son.

That night, after I’d tucked him into bed, I sat down on his shark duvet (he liked sharks), and I sprang the book upon him.

Once, long ago and far away

There lived a boy of five or so

With a rounded face and hair like hay

And a mind that yearned to learn and grow

The boy lived in a mud-flecked land

Of rolling hills and sheep and styles,

And brooks and trees and miles and miles

Of hinterlands and ranch hands

Long ago there was a war,

Of petty kings and border-lords

The earth did drink the blood of those

Who died for honor or a rose

The boy was happy as could be,

In the cottage on the hill

His mother his only company,

Who loved that boy with all her will

It’s challenging material for a five-year old. But it was educational, it was stimulating. I had only a faint idea of what the war of the roses was actually about, but I did a good job of pretending that I did.

We said our i-love-yous and I closed the door. Things were going to be okay.


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anonymous asked:

do you think ned loved catelyn? that was the impression i very much got from the books and the show. my friend disagrees though and says while cat clearly loves ned, ned doesn't love her as much as she does him in the books.

Ned loves Catelyn very much. He’s a family man through and through (well beyond the point of political utility), and his relationship with Catelyn is absolutely essential to that.

Cut for length.

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2

Title: Just the Three of Us (Part 4.)

CHAPTER TITLE: Are You Jealous?

Part 1. - Part 2.  - Part 3.

Character(s): Negan x Reader x Simon (pre-apocalypse)
Summary:
Negan and Simon see you having coffee with one of your classmates.
Word Count: 7,618
Warning: SMUT!!! (Angry sex, masturbation, voyeurism, and dirty talk)
Author’s Note: Man, oh man. I am having so much fun writing this. I hope everyone that is reading this is enjoying it just as much as I am writing it!! Enjoy!!! :)

Taglist: @oceaninwinter

(GIF Source: @mark-hamil || @rottenwasp)

After a week of non-stop working at both bars, it was finally your day off. Negan and Simon made your second job much easier and you quickly learned all the drinks at Simon’s bar. Business was booming in both businesses and it seemed like the ongoing feud between Chris and Simon was slowly dissipating.

You managed to sleep in until ten-thirty in the morning. As usual, you reached for your phone to look through your emails and unread text messages. Your classmate in one of your classes had sent a message to meet up later today for a cup of coffee. You agreed.

Though, as you continued to read through your messages, you noticed the group chat that you shared with Negan and Simon. It seemed like both men had sent pictures to you. You giggled, simply because Negan and Simon taking photos of their breakfast was a bit hilarious.

Negan: Breakfast is fucking served.
Simon: Omelette? That’s what you made?
Negan: What the fuck did you make then?
Simon: [picture message sent]
Negan: Pancakes? What the fuck? Who do you think you are? Gordon Ramsay?
Simon: A woman loves a man who can cook.
Negan: I can fucking cook!

You laughed quietly, deciding to send both men a photo of you lying in your bed. You were lying on your side, a pillow covering half of your face and the blanket up to your shoulders. Awaiting their reply, you decided to stretch your limbs before climbing out of bed to make yourself a cup of coffee.

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An Arranged Marriage Chapter 6

Dean Winchester x Reader

1200 words

Story Summary: An AU of sorts. Where hunter’s have communities, and arrange marriages for their young. Y/N is from the Northwest region, arranged to marry Dean, from the midwest region.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

“I’m an Angel.” He stated, narrowing his eyes as he stared your way. “And you’re Y/N. I’ve heard about you.”

“An Angel?” You questioned, still shrinking into the corner of the car, your heart beating furiously at the stranger who had just magically appeared in the car. “They’re just myths, and what has been said about them is nothing good.” You muttered, narrowing your eyes as he stared your way.

“I assure you, I’m not a myth. But as for the other part, there are certain Angels who do more harm than good.” He told you.

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Title: Pain of Parting
Character: Jonathan Byers
A/n: I loved jonathan so much during the first season, his character was really interesting so I decided to write somethin’ for him. I guess we could call this angst so there’s your warning if that’s not your jam.

“Do you have to go?” Jonathan asked as he sat cross-legged on your bed, chin in his hands as he watched you move clothes from your closet to a large suitcases that laid open at the foot of your mattress.

“You know I have to,” You told him as you met his gaze with a smile. “My family always insists that we go up to the lakehouse every odd summer. We haven’t been up there in over three years. So yes, I do.”

Jonathan got quiet, his hands were busy pulling at loose peices of string that had been caught on one of your blankets.

You looked up from your folding and noticed the sad expression on his face. You’d known him for a handful of years, and you knew he wasn’t very much of a people person. Apart from you, he didn’t have many close friends.

You set aside your clothes and sat down beside him. “You shouldn’t be sad, I’m only going to be gone until August,” You told him, reaching up and running your hands through his hair. “You can phone me whenever you’d like, and I’ll write to you. Two months and I’ll be right back

Jonathan moved his head to your shoulder, his eyes closing whenever you continued to play with his hair. “Really?”

You looked down at him. “Have I ever let you down before?”

•~•

Jonathan stopped over by your house the day you were supposed to leave, he wanted a chance to say goodbye.

You were already out in the drive away, helping your dad figure out a way to put all the suitcases into the trunk of the car.

“Here, I’m gonna get a few more things from the house. Maybe your mother will be better at this.” Your dad said, giving you a small tap on the nose before jogging inside.

You brushed off your hands on your overalls before you looked over and saw Jonathan awkwardly standing to the side with his hands in his pockets.

“Jonathan!” You called, waving him over. “Come to say bye?”

Jonathan nodded, shifting his weight back and forth as he tried to think of what to say. “I already said it, but I’m gonna miss you.”

You smiled at him. “Don’t be like that, when I come back you talk my ear off about all the stuff you did and we’ll still have all of August to hang out.”

Jonathan met your gaze and he reached out to pull you into a hug.

You laughed and returned his embrace, pulling away as you gave him a big kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” You told him, taking a step back towards your car.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll see you.” He told you with a wave.

You waved back before turning on your heel.

You walked about five paces before Jonathan called you back.

You went to turn around but Jonathan was already there, and before you could even process anything he bent down and gave you a quick kiss.

“Bye.” Jonathan said once he pulled away and quickly made a run for it down the street while you watched him with wide eyes.

•~•

“Jonathan!” Joyce called as she entered the house, her hands busy shuffling through the mail she collected. “You have something from (Y/n)!”

Jonathan came quickly out of his room, only coming to a halt whenever he was in front of his mother. “Yes?”

Joyce looked up at her son and smiled, she handed him a letter and a cardboard box. “These are for you.”

Jonathan took them and a bright smile showed up on his face as he looked down at them. “Thanks.”

He hurried back into his room, setting the box aside on his nightstand before he tore apart the envelope.

You wrote about how nice the lakehouse was, how pretty the scenery was and about all the little adventures you and your family had so far on your trip.

Jonathan noticed you had drawn small doodles of rabbits and frogs all over the paper, they were even painted with the set of watercolors he had given you on your birthday.

He saved up for them for months, and it showed by how proud he was when he gave it to you and saw that you loved it.

“I sent along a box as well,” Jonathan read as he looked over and grabbed it, taking a minute to tear off the tape, he looked inside to find a small collection of things.

“The pencils are for Will, he had given me some of his drawings to keep and I thought he might like these. The earrings are for your mum, and be sure to tell her that I insist she accept them, she deserves it.

I’ve got you a gift as well, but I plan to give it to you in person.

Lots of love,”

•~•

Everyday after that, Jonathan had made it a habit to ask his mother if there was a letter from you.

“Anything from (Y/n)?”

“Did (Y/n) send a letter today?”

You would send at least one every week, but he still felt the need to ask just in case.

Until one day he noticed about two weeks had passed without word from you. Joyce would come home and gently let him know there was nothing, but reasoned the post was just being slow or you were busy with your family.

And at first Jonathan understood, he thought it was a reasonable explanation, so he stopped worrying about it.

Jonathan was driving home from picking a few things up from the grocery store for his mom, but he drove by your house and noticed that your family car was parked in the driveway.

You would have called to let him know you were coming home early, you probably would’ve gone to his house yourself if wasn’t late.

His curiosity was peaked, and he parked his car across the street before ringing your doorbell.

“Hello?” Your sister answered the door, and Jonathan was slightly taken back by her appearance.

Her eyes were puffy and red, she looked like she’d been crying for hours.

“Oh Jonathan, it’s you.” She said as she sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her shirt sleeve.

“Yeah uh, is (Y/n) here?” He asked, slightly alarmed by how distressed she looked.

If possible, her face got even more somber. “I guess it’s best to just tell you, but…” She broke off into a small series of sobs before continuing. “We were up at the lakehouse, and her and dad went out on the boat. No one knows what’s happened to them but they’ve been missing for a couple days.”

It took Jonathan a few moments to register what she was saying, and he was surprised by his lack of reaction.

“Of course, we don’t want to assume the worst, but no one can find them and it’s been days.” She said with a vacant laugh before shaking her head. “Wait here for a moment.”

Jonathan watched her disappear into the house, trying to understand why his mind was going blank at a time when he should feel sad or angry even.

But he didn’t.

“She mentioned that this was for you,” Your sister said once she returned. “She seemed pretty proud of it.” There was that sad laugh again as she held a wrapped package out to him.

“I’m so sorry,” Jonathan said, taking it from her.

Your sister nodded, her hand was now covering her mouth as tears piled up at the edges of her eyes. “She was very fond of you, talked about you a great deal.”

Jonathan looked up at her. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

•~•

Jonathan drove home in silence.

He didn’t even turn the radio on.

When he stepped through his front door he was met with more silence, Joyce must have been working late again.

Jonathan closed his door whenever he went inside, his eyes remaining fixated on your present to him.

He didn’t want to open it.

You told him you wanted to give it to him in person.

You told him you were going to come back.

Why didn’t you come back?

Jonathan’s hands were tearing away at the wrapping before he registered what he was doing. He then pulled out a leather sketchbook, he could vaguely remember times whenever you’d come over to his house and you’d be doodling around in it, refusing to show him the end results.

He undid the leather straps that kept it closed, and flipped through the first couple of pages.

He wasn’t surprised to find several pencil sketches of various animals, rabits and little mice in particular. Some of them were life-like while others were dressed in little jackets and hats, having tea parties by a river.

Jonathan moved to sit on the edge of his bed, despite the whirl of emotions going through his head, he found himself smiling.

To his surprise, the next pages were filled with portraits. Some were of him, others were of Will or even Joyce, they were all smiling in each of them.

He spent the next couple of minutes going through the rest of it, and he found himself growing disappointed whenever he was reaching the end.

On the very last page, there was a small handwritten note instead.

“I’ve been working on this one for awhile, but I thought you’d like to have it once it was finished.

I know you’re not a fan of pictures of yourself, but I hope you won’t mind a few sketches.

All my love xx
(Y/n)”

You always had nice handwriting, it was always in cursive.

Suddenly, a wet spot appeared onto the page, Jonathan didn’t even realize it until it started smudging your signiture.

Another one showed up on the corner of the page, and he brought his hand up to realize tears were falling freely from his eyes.

A few tears slowly turned into sobs, then he was laying on the side of his bed, holding your sketchbook tightly against his chest while he cried.

Why didn’t you come back?