one open is not going to be enough

i already made one of these posts and this is ugly and mobile but i’m going on a huge unfollowing spree so if anyone is genuinely interested in writing and / or talking then like this . bc i want to actually develop odette and plot and write here . my muse keeps getting knocked down by my own self doubt and dash stuff so idk .

#17 - Foxfire

@huxloween

(I had to look up what this was lol)

The weather had turned cold quickly and Ben and Hux were forced into their tent early to seek shelter from the chilly breeze. Hux curled up next to Ben, wrapping the sleeping bags around them instead of actually getting inside. Ben’s body heat was much warmer than any flannel lined sleeping bag could be. Hux was nearly warm enough to go to sleep, Ben’s fingers carding through his hair a pleasant sensation that lulled him further. It was just before he closed his eyes that he noticed the bluish light coming from outside the tent.

“Ben, do you see that?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Ben nuzzled his hair and didn’t open his eyes.

“There’s something outside. It’s a light or…or something.”

Ben propped himself up on one elbow and looked. He could see the faint blue glow, too dim to be a flashlight but bright enough to cast a reasonable amount of light.

“Let’s have a look,” he said and he pulled the blankets off and reached for his boots.

“Ben! It’s cold!”

“Yeah, put on a jacket. I’ll meet you out there.”

“No, wait!” Hux hissed, but Ben was already unzipping the tent and crawling through the entrance.

Hux scrambled to get his coat on and hurried out to follow Ben. What he saw was fascinating. Ben was there at the edge of the clearing, a dark shadow surrounded in by blue light. It seemed as though the trees were glowing, patches of soft blue light dappled the forest.

“Foxfire,” Ben smiled as he turned to look at Hux.

“It’s beautiful,” said Hux as he stepped closer, I to the light.

“Yes,” Ben said. “It is. Some people say it’s created by fairies.”

Hux looked up at Ben. He looked beautiful in the blue glow. It silhouetted his hair, giving him a clue halo and making his skin look like marble. Ben smirked and leaned down to kiss Hux’s cheek. Hux’s cheeks heated knowing he’d been caught staring.

“Come on, let’s go back to the tent. It’s cold out here.” Ben took Hux’s hand and led him back to bed.

igot2ne1problems  asked:

Hanzo/Kenshi and Sinden :3c

KENZO

  • -who cries when someone dies in a movie: Kenshi. Hanzo’s just facepalming. 
  • -who wears the ugly holiday garb: Kenshi, who else? XD
  • -who pays for the meals: They go Dutch.
  • -who slams the oven door and who plays the trombone: Scorp’s the door-slammer, Ken’s the musician.
  • -who brings home stray animals: Takeda. The dads don’t always approve. :P
  • -who leaves the bathroom door open: Kenshi
  • -who tells the ‘dad jokes’: Kenshi, again (just see his intros with Jacqui XD).
  • -who wants kids more: They’ve decided Takeda’s more than enough.
  • -who travels more: The one who teleports (this is also applicable to the other ship XD)
  • -who spends more cash: Kenshi, just a tad bit more.
  • -who buys the things in infomercials: I can see Ken doing this once or twice. Hanzo’s not the most patient guy at times, so he definitely says, “Not again, Kenshi … We don’t need a banana peeler …”
  • -who draws in the dust on their cars: Kenshi doesn’t drive one, and Hanzo doesn’t quite need one, but if they had a car the one doing the dust drawings would be their sonny boy Takeda. :D
  • -who starts the snowball fights: Kenshi, and he’d like to remind you that it’s TELEKINETIC snowball fights, thank you very much. ;)
  • -who throws away the directions to things: “Sento is my only guide. Perhaps you require this, Hanzo?” Hanzo rolls his eyes.
  • -who puts up holiday decor: Kenshi wants to, but Hanzo steps in everytime.  
  • -who is more likely to forget to bathe: They’re both squeaky clean.
  • -who gets more obsessed about things: Kenshi.
  • -who sings in the shower more often:  Kenshi, who’s the better singer anyway.

I think I poked way too much fun at Kenshi. :P The Sinden answers are under the cut.

Keep reading

autumn/halloween sentence starters! 🍂🍁🎃

masterlist of autumn and halloween themed sentence starters! some are original, but most are collected from other posts.

  • ​❝ i made pumpkin cookies! want to try one? ❞
  • ❝ did you cut yourself carving the pumpkin? let me see it. ❞
  • ❝ stay still i’m almost done with your costume. ❞
  • ​❝ let’s paint pumpkins. ❞
  • ❝ hurry up! we’re going to be late for the costume party! ❞
  • ❝ help me decorate! ❞
  • ​❝ let’s open some windows, okay? ❞
  • ​❝ it’s starting to rain… ❞
  • ​❝ bring a jacket! ❞
  • ​❝ do we really need to go to a pumpkin patch? can’t we just buy one at the store? ❞
  • ​❝ let’s go pick pumpkins! ❞
  • ​❝ it’s chilly out here, you need a coat. take mine. ❞
  • ​❝ you sound sick. are you sick? ❞
  • *sneeze* ​❝ sorry, allergies. ❞
  • ​❝ wanna go out for halloween? ❞
  • ​❝ looks like it’s time to rake the leaves… ❞
  • ​❝ let’s go get hot chocolate then go for a walk. ❞
  • ​❝ let’s go trick-or-treating! ❞
  • ❝ let’s go jump in the leaves! ❞
  • ​❝ come in here where it’s dry! ❞
  • ​❝ it’s dark?! already?! ❞
  • ​❝ ooh it’s chilly out. ❞
  • ​❝ please, enough with the pumpkin spice. ❞
  • ​❝ good morning. no, don’t get up, it’s raining, let’s stay in bed a little longer… ❞
  • ❝ did you hear about the werewolf/vampire/witch roaming around this town on halloween night? ❞
  • ❝ let’s go to the haunted house! oh, please, please, please, please?! ❞
  • ❝ i don’t get scared. i’m practically fearless. ❞
  • ❝ did you hear that? ❞
  • ❝ we have to get out of here! ❞
  • ❝ are you going to hide in my shoulder the whole time? or actually watch the movie? ❞
  • ❝ i’m not going in a graveyard. ❞
  • ❝ what did you get? ❞
  • ❝ want to trade candy? ❞
  • ❝ i got a rock. ❞
  • ❝ don’t blame me! it was your idea to come in here! ❞
  • ❝ what are you going as for halloween this year? ❞
  • ❝ i just can’t wait for halloween! ❞
  • ❝ you should totally buy that costume! ❞
  • ❝ trick or treat! ❞
  • ❝ happy halloween! ❞
  • ❝ happy fall! ❞
  • ❝ i wanna make sure that my jack-o-lantern is the best! ❞
  • ❝ i’ll race you through the corn maze! ❞
  • ❝ that guy in the gorilla costume has been following us for the past ten blocks. ❞
  • ❝ aww come on! it was a prank! ❞
  • ❝ please, please, PLEASE no scary movie marathon! ❞
  • ❝ that wasn’t funny! ❞
  • ❝ i keep tripping over my costume. ❞
  • ❝ i’m not sure we should go down that street. ❞
  • ❝ no fair! your costume is getting you more candy. ❞
  • ❝ faster! we need to get to all of the houses! ❞
  • ❝ forget being ‘too old’ to trick or treat. i’m doing this forever! ❞
  • ❝ i don’t like these woods. ❞
  • ❝ i just saw something! ❞
  • ❝ look at that intestine cake! ❞
  • ❝ i’m a real vampire. ❞
  • ❝ do you think stuff really happens on halloween? like..supernatural stuff. ❞
  • ❝ i made us matching costumes! ❞
  • ❝ i think i just saw something move outside your window…is someone watching us? ❞
  • ❝ you’re not going to make me carve this pumpkin all by myself, are you? ❞
  • ❝ did you hear there’s a masquerade ball this halloween? let’s go! ❞
  • ❝ you shouldn’t go out there! ❞
  • ❝ s-scared? me? i’m not..scared. ❞
The Dos and Don’ts of Beginning a Novel:  An Illustrated Guide

I’ve had a lot of asks lately for how to begin a book (or how not to), so here’s a post on my general rules of thumb for story openers and first chapters!  

Please note, these are incredibly broad generalizations;  if you think an opener is right for you, and your beta readers like it, there’s a good chance it’s A-OK.  When it comes to writing, one size does not fit all.  (Also note that this is for serious writers who are interested in improving their craft and/or professional publication, so kindly refrain from the obligatory handful of comments saying “umm, screw this, write however you want!!”)

So without further ado, let’s jump into it!

Don’t: 

1.  Open with a dream. 

“Just when Mary Sue was sure she’d disappear down the gullet of the monstrous, winged pig, she woke up bathed in sweat in her own bedroom.”

What?  So that entire winged pig confrontation took place in a dream and amounts to nothing?  I feel so cheated! 

Okay, not too many people open their novels with monstrous swine, but you get the idea:  false openings of any kind tend to make the reader feel as though you’ve wasted their time, and don’t usually jump into more meaty action of the story quickly enough.  It makes your opening feel lethargic and can leave your audience yawning.

Speaking of… 

2.  Open with a character waking up.  

This feels familiar to most of us, but unless your character is waking up to a zombie attack or an alien invasion, it’s generally a pretty easy recipe to get your story to drag.

No one picks a book to hear how your character brushes their teeth in the morning or what they’d like to have for dinner.  As a general rule of thumb, we read to explore things we wouldn’t otherwise get to experience.  And cussing out the alarm clock is not one of them.  

Granted, there are exceptions if your writing is exceptionally engaging, but in most cases it just sets a slow pace that will bore you and your reader to death and probably cause you to lose interest in your book within the first ten pages.  

3.  Bombard with exposition.  

Literary characters aren’t DeviantArt OCs.  And the best way to convey a character is not, in my experience, to devote the first ten pages to describing their physical appearance, personality, and backstory.  Develop your characters, and make sure their fully fleshed out – my tips on how to do so here – but you don’t need to dump all that on the reader before they have any reason to care about them.  Let the reader get to know the character gradually, learn about them, and fall in love with them as they would a person:  a little bit at a time.   

This is iffy when world building is involved, but even then it works best when the delivery feels organic and in tune with the book’s overall tone.  Think the opening of the Hobbit or Good Omens.

4.  Take yourself too seriously.

Your opener (and your novel in general) doesn’t need to be intellectually pretentious, nor is intellectual pretense the hallmark of good literature.  Good literature is, generally speaking, engaging, well-written, and enjoyable.  That’s it.  

So don’t concern yourself with creating a poetic masterpiece of an opening line/first chapter.  Just make one that’s – you guessed it – engaging, well-written, and enjoyable. 

5.  Be unintentionally hilarious.

Utilizing humor in your opening line is awesome, but check yourself to make sure your readers aren’t laughing for all the wrong reasons (this is another reason why betas are important.)  

These examples of the worst opening lines in published literature will show you what I mean – and possibly serve as a pleasant confidence booster as well: 

“As the dark and mysterious stranger approached, Angela bit her lip anxiously, hoping with every nerve, cell, and fiber of her being that this would be the one man who would understand – who would take her away from all this – and who would not just squeeze her boob and make a loud honking noise, as all the others had.”

– Ali Kawashima

“She sipped her latte gracefully, unaware of the milk foam droplets building on her mustache, which was not the peachy-fine baby fuzz that Nordic girls might have, but a really dense, dark, hirsute lip-lining row of fur common to southern Mediterranean ladies nearing menopause, and winked at the obviously charmed Spaniard at the next table.”

– Jeanne Villa

“As I gardened, gazing towards the autumnal sky, I longed to run my finger through the trail of mucus left by a single speckled slug – innocuously thrusting past my rhododendrons – and in feeling that warm slime, be swept back to planet Alderon, back into the tentacles of the alien who loved me.”

– Mary E. Patrick

“Before they met, his heart was a frozen block of ice, scarred by the skate blades of broken relationships, then she came along and like a beautiful Zamboni flooded his heart with warmth, scraped away the ugly slushy bits, and dumped them in the empty parking lot of his soul.”

– Howie McClennon

If these can get published, so can you.

Do:

1.  You know that one really interesting scene you’re itching to write?  Start with that.

Momentum is an important thing in storytelling.  If you set a fast, infectious beat, you and your reader will be itching to dance along with it.  

Similarly, slow, drowsy openers tend to lead to slow, drowsy stories that will put you both to sleep.

I see a lot of posts joking about “that awkward moment when you sit down to write but don’t know how to get to that one scene you actually wanted to write about.”  Write that scene!  If it’s at all possible, start off with it.  If not, there are still ways you can build your story around the scenes you actually want to write.

Keep in mind:  if you’re bored, your reader will almost certainly be bored as well.  So write what you want to write.  Write what makes you excited.  Don’t hold off until later, when it “really gets good.”  Odds are, the reader will not wait around that long, and you’re way more likely to become disillusioned with your story and quit.  If a scene is dragging, cut it out.  Burn bridges, find a way around.  Live, dammit. 

2.  Engage the reader.

There are several ways to go about this.  You can use wit and levity, you can present a question, and you can immerse the reader into the world you’ve created.  Just remember to do so with subtlety, and don’t try too hard;  believe me, it shows.  

Here are some of my personal favorite examples of engaging opening lines: 

“In the beginning, the universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move." 

– Douglas Adams, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

"It was the day my grandmother exploded.”

– Iain Banks, Crow Road.

“A white Pomeranian named Fluffy flew out of the a fifth-floor window in Panna, which was a grand-new building with the painter’s scaffolding still around it. Fluffy screamed.”

– Vikram Chandra, Sacred Games.

See what I’m saying?  They pull you in and do not let go.

3.  Introduce us to a main character (but do it right.)

“Shadow had done three years in prison. He was big enough and looked don’t-fuck-with-me enough that his biggest problem was killing time. So he kept himself in shape, and taught himself coin tricks, and thought a lot about how much he loved his wife.”

– Neil Gaiman, American Gods.

This is one of my favorite literary openings of all time, because right off the bat we know almost everything we need to know about Shadow’s character (i.e. that he’s rugged, pragmatic, and loving.)   

Also note that it doesn’t tell us everything about Shadow:  it presents questions that make us want to read more.  How did Shadow get into prison?  When will he get out?  Will he reunite with his wife?  There’s also more details about Shadow slowly sprinkled in throughout the book, about his past, personality, and physical appearance.  This makes him feel more real and rounded as a character, and doesn’t pull the reader out of the story.

Obviously, I’m not saying you should rip off American Gods.  You don’t even need to include a hooker eating a guy with her cooch if you don’t want to.  

But this, and other successful openers, will give you just enough information about the main character to get the story started;  rarely any good comes from infodumping, and allowing your reader to get to know your character gradually will make them feel more real.   

4.  Learn from the greats.

My list of my favorite opening lines (and why I love them) is right here.

5.  Keep moving.  

The toughest part of being a writer is that it’s a rare and glorious occasion when you’re actually satisfied with something you write.  And to add another layer of complication, what you like best probably won’t be what your readers will like best. 

If you refuse to keep moving until you have the perfect first chapter, you will never write anything beyond your first chapter.  

Set a plan, and stick to it:  having a daily/weekly word or page goal can be extremely helpful, especially when you’re starting out.  Plotting is a lifesaver (some of my favorite posts on how to do so here, here, and here.)

Keep writing, keep moving, and rewrite later.  If you stay in one place for too long, you’ll never keep going. 

Best of luck, and happy writing.  <3

Drinking starters

as requested by @ambitionbled (it won’t let me tag you, sorry!)

CONCERN.

  • ❝How much have you had to drink?❞
  • ❝You could have fucking alcohol poisoning!❞  
  • ❝Easy, there. Try to sit up.❞
  • ❝I think I might’ve overdone it on the alcohol…❞
  • ❝We’ve got to go get your stomach pumped.❞
  • ❝I thought you said you were clean!❞
  • ❝Yes, it is a big deal.❞
  • ❝Let me drive you home.❞
  • ❝You are NOT driving like this!❞
  • ❝You are gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.❞
  • ❝Drinking until you puke is not normal.❞

DRUNK.

  • ❝Is this real life?❞ 
  • ❝I want to go to sleep but I can’t find any sheep.❞
  • ❝How do you show fish affection?❞
  • ❝Taco Bell is open 24 hours, right?❞
  • ❝Tequila is not my friend? YOU’RE not my friend.❞
  • ❝Drunk I am not.❞
  • -glasses on head- ❝Where did I put my glasses?❞
  • ❝How do I tell my parents I’m a mermaid?❞ 
  • ❝I’m not even tired.❞
  • ❝I should call my ex.❞
  • ❝I’m not drunk enough for this.❞
  • ❝Does playing Mario Kart drunk count as drunk driving?❞
  • -hugging the floor- ❝I’m trying to stop the floor from spinning.❞
  • ❝Can we go out for fried chicken?❞

ANGST.

  • ❝What’s the fucking point anymore?❞
  • ❝Screw recovery. I want a drink.❞
  • ❝I’m too sober for this shit.❞ 
  • ❝I don’t give a shit what you think.❞
  • ❝I seriously don’t feel too good.❞
  • ❝I didn’t even have that much to drink.❞
  • ❝Will you stop fucking interrogating me?❞
  • ❝I can drive. I’m fine.❞
  • ❝There’s a reason I drink so much.❞
  • ❝You’re the reason I drink so much.❞
  • ❝I’m only happy when I’m drunk.❞

FLUFF/FUN.

  • ❝You’re cute, you know that?❞ 
  • ❝You wanna get wasted?❞
  • ❝I’m bar-hopping tonight, wanna come?❞
  • ❝What are you drinking, and why aren’t you sharing?❞
  • ❝I’m having a party for two.❞
  • ❝You’re so hot.❞
  • ❝I’m usually too chicken-shit to say this, but…I really like you.❞
  • ❝I don’t want to kiss you with your alcohol breath.❞
  • *kisses on forehead*
  • *kisses on cheek*
  • *kisses on lips*

it’s okay. i’ll probably never be thin enough and i’ll never be a ballerina and i’ll never know how to spell “guarantee” and there’s never going to be enough money in my bank account for everything. i’ll never get good at finishing things and i’ll never love somebody as freely as that first time and i’ll never be good at trusting. it’s okay i guess it’s just when i was younger it felt like i had so many doors i could open that the world was a full cup. i never realized when i opened one i was giving others up.

August 24, 2017

To the boy with the green eyes,

Remember the last time we saw each other? 
In your little blue car….
We poured our hearts out to one another. 
We cried on each other’s shoulders.
I confessed my love to you. 
You confessed your love to me. 
But you didn’t confess that this night was going to be your last.  

You stopped by to pick up your (very) late Christmas present. 
You knew how bad I had been, and asked what was wrong. 
We walked to your little blue car, put the windows down on that cold chilly moonlit night, and talked. 
I told you everything that was happening to me: 
My ex-boyfriend and his new guy. 
A friend that I thought I could trust. 
And a lover that broke my heart. 
I also told you I was in a very dark place. 
Do you remember what I said to you?
I’m too ashamed to confess what I did to myself. 
Please don’t make me say it. 
I don’t want to see you cry again. 
Your beautiful emerald looking eyes don’t deserve to have tears in them. 
They need to keep sparkling and smiling. 

After we cried together, I confessed my love to you. 
I didn’t expect you to say anything. 
I didn’t expect you to feel the same way. 
I just wanted you to listen. 
I remember looking into those dazzling green eyes, holding your hand, and telling you: 
“I know this sounds cheesy. And I know that it may not seem true. But this is the truth. I promise. I love you. I love you so much. And I want to let you know that I will always love you. No matter what. I don’t care if you’re with someone new. I don’t care if I’m with someone new. I don’t even care if I haven’t talked to you in months, or even years. I will always love you.”
You didn’t say anything. 
You just nodded as tears fell down your cheek from your watery green eyes. 

Then, I asked you what you wanted from me. 
You said:
“I honestly don’t know. I don’t know what I want. I never know what the right choice is. I never know what the right thing to do is. I always hurt you. I don’t want to keep hurting you. We had a lot of fun. And that’s all I wanted at first. And that’s what happened. I liked you. I really did. A lot. Then things changed. I wanted to hang out with you every day and be with you every day. And we did that. I wanted to be closer to you. And we did that too. Then stuff happened, and I got scared. I don’t know. I was scared to be happy. I didn’t want to be in a relationship. I wasn’t prepared at all for how I felt about you. I didn’t know how to take it to the next level. I didn’t know how to be your boyfriend.” 

These words still bring tears to my eyes.  
It’s as if we are star-crossed lovers; forever living different paths in our lives that don’t have any connection in the end, denying us of any chance of living a life together. 
But how can that be when we are existing at the same time?
You’re alive. 
I’m alive. 
And I have never felt more alive with anyone else than when I’m with you. 
Just the way you look at me with those alluring eyes is what convinces me that you are in love with me too. 
So why aren’t we together? 
Why are you with someone else? 
Why are you with her?
Is it because she can give you a family?
Is it because you want to believe she’s the one for you?
Not just you though, for your whole family. 
She’s someone they will accept. 
Nobody would accept me into your family. 
I think we both know that for sure. 

Two hundred and twenty-one days have passed since that night happened. 
I’ve gone through many stages of:
Hating you. 
Worrying about you. 
Wondering if you’re dead.
Wondering if you’re alive. 
Pretending you’re dead. 
Wishing for your presence. 
All while still loving you. 
It’s torture. 

I don’t know if I should give up. 
Or if I should keep waiting for you. 
Because a part of me feels that I will never find anybody like you. 

Nobody’s going to look at me the way you did. 
Nobody’s going to touch me the way you did. 
Nobody’s going to care about me the way you did. 
And nobody’s going to understand me the way you do.

Every time I talk to someone new, I compare them to you. 
I know that’s wrong, but it’s true and I can’t help it. 
That’s when I start to believe that they’re not good enough for me. 
Because I need to find somebody that’s so good that they make me forget about you…
I know that’s not fair and I think that’s what keeps me from letting people in. 
I put this steel cage around my heart when you left me, and you’re the only one with the key to open it. 
I just wish you would talk to me. 
I wish you would tell me to move on, but your silence speaks louder than words. 
It drives me crazy; leads me to believe that I did something wrong, but I didn’t. 
Maybe it’s your way of keeping me in the sidelines when things get bad with you and her. 
I don’t see how that’s fair, but I love you so much that I don’t care. 
I’ll take any excuse you give me to come back, so long as I get to see your face again. 

I’m sorry. 
I’m sorry for getting close to you. 
I’m sorry for burdening you with my problems. 
I’m sorry for loving you. 
I’m sorry for all of this. 
Maybe things would’ve been simpler if we just didn’t meet. 
But as people say, “Two souls don’t just meet by simple coincidence.”
I start to wonder why you came into my life. 
Or was it I that came into yours?
I wonder if you’ll ever come back to me, even as a friend. 
I miss you. 
I miss you so dearly. 
Please stay alive while I exist. 
Whether it’s a year or ten, I will wait for you. 
Because I love you, and I want to believe that we are meant to be together. 
I want to wake up every morning to those lovely green eyes of yours. 

I forgive you.
I forgive you for pretending that I don’t exist.
I forgive you for leaving me with no explanation.
I forgive you for choosing her over me.
I forgive you  for falling for me.
I get it now.
We are just simply not meant to be.
But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with that. 

You know me…
You know I always have so much to say to you.
You know I could write books about my love for you. 
But I have one more important thing to say….

Happy birthday. 

Love always and forever, 
The boy with the brown eyes 

harry going out there and being brave enough to be vulnerable in front of stevie nicks, one of the most incredible people he looks up to, and to say “because I’m doing this alone and I would just love it if you would come and do this with me” my god he just makes me realize that if you are strong enough to be open, not afraid to show that you do need help and you do need comfort, great things can indeed be achieved

Now matter how hard I try, I just can’t get the cold open out of my head. Twelve doesn’t deserve to regenerate alone, screaming in the snow. I can’t help but to notice how much of a contrast it is to Eleven’s regeneration. 

Eleven was with Clara, in the comfort of the TARDIS with his clean-cut and tidy appearance. 

Twelve is alone, out in the harsh cold with torn up clothes and broken appearance.

I just really hope that this isn’t what his regeneration will be like. Cold, broken, alone.  

Bruised (Richie/Eddie) 9/12

Summary: It’s 1993 and the summer from many years ago is dead and gone. Many have drifted apart from the Losers club and its at the point where there is no club at all. The atmosphere is cold just like the winter months and the only blushes to be found are the ones that are caused from the piercing spikes of cold that heat skin up. Being a teenage boy is hard; especially for the two boys that now count each other as strangers. In which both boys make a plan, but both disrupt each others.

Warning(s): Intimate make-out session, hickeys, parental abuse, angst

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, I hope it was worth the wait- if not then i’d be so disappointed sksk but hey ho, here’s an extra long chapter!

PART 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 (Soon) | …

Eddie continued to tend Richie’s wounds throughout the night, with the windows steaming up from the heat inside the room in contrast to the freezing air outside. After Richie’s warming words, Eddie barely formed words for an hour or so and solely focused upon fixing Richie up despite Richie’s protests to his cuts stinging and how he was being covered in superman bandages, but Eddie just rolled his eyes and chose to ignore the boy and his ways.

Richie had his head against the wall as he sat on the perfectly white carpet beneath him, he stared directly at his fingertips with a warm feeling in his stomach.

“So, you’re staying here, right?” Eddie asked, his legs folded upon his neat bed after cleaning away the first aid kit.

Richie drifted his gaze to Eddie, “I don’t have too, I just had no where to go.”

“You can stay!” Eddie quickly spoke, his words overflowing, “It’s just that I was wondering and, well, my Mom would flip shit if she saw you- so.. so I’ll have to hide you. We also only have my Dad’s old clothes, my clothes won’t fit.”

Richie managed to form a lop sided grin, listening to each melodic sound that came from Eddie Kaspbrak. Everything about the boy was phenomenal, overall outstanding. From his neat hair, to his messy mindset. From his soft brown eyes, to the crevice of his lips. Richie was in awe of what standards this boy had to even look in Richie Tozier’s way, never mind welcome him with open arms into his living space.

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Things mentioned in the Sue Perkins interview that I want to hear Dan and Phil talk more about:

  • Phil talking about the negotiation period with his parents where he said he wanted to take a year after uni to see if he could make youtube work, and his parents agreeing - then Dan essentially doing the same a year later and taking a year out of uni to see if he could make youtube work.
  • The process of becoming overwhelmingly successful youtubers without ever actually having had a viral hit.
  • Numbers and revenue and how that plays into or works against creative inspiration, how much or little they let ad placement impact the videos that they do.
  • The fact that having a big audience sets them apart from other youtubers and allows them more creative freedom, and what role the gaming channel plays in that - how much of a crutch that is for them in content between main channel videos. (And I’d love it if they’d go into which one is actually more profitable still and what kind of ad revenue gaming videos get vs main channel ones.)
  • How personally they take press criticism toward youtubers, or whether they feel like having worked in a traditional industry as well sets them apart from other youtubers enough that they take it less personally.
  • They talked a very good talk in the panel about how much they respect young demographics for being open and engaged and progressive, but do they feel a disconnect because they’re not making content for a demographic they’re a part of and would they rather look at stats numbers and see people that they personally relate to responding to what they make?
  • Those “conversations” they had with BBC3 and BBC Comedy and what projects the timing wasn’t actually right for, as well as the process of making pitches that don’t go anywhere. (February of this year, perhaps?)
  • At what point in his career did Phil become desensitized to negative criticism? A look at his twitter from 2008 can confirm he was not always that way. Dan more or less evaded this question, I’d like to hear his answer as someone who tends to dwell on the negative.
  • A frank explanation of where they think youtube is going and if they have a backup plan for when they’re less relevant or if they’re financially set with side projects and investments already and are prepared for the fact that they’ve potentially already peaked in terms of revenue from youtube itself.
White sheets & purple kisses

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2,032
Warnings: Smut - NSFW – Sexual themes, inappropriate language, nudity, handjob, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex - please guys if you’re going to be intimate with someone, please use protection. Also if you’re underage, please don’t read this.
Author’s Note: Hi guys, I don’t even know what to say about this. I think this is the most smuty thing I’ve ever wrote ahah so all I can say is I hope you enjoy it. This is also for @marvelous-fvcks writing challenge. I hope you like it! I did my best. And please guys, tell me what you think of it. I’m so nervous for some reason ahaha.
Prompt Word: Hickey


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“Please don’t kill me,” the guard said. “They don’t pay me enough for you to kill me. And there will be nobody to look after my cats.”

“So basically no one would care if you died?”

“I - no - that’s not.” Perhaps they should have lied. 

The villain shook their head. “I’m not going to kill you if you don’t start playing at heroics. Open the vault for me, alright love? What are your cats called?”

Jealousy (Richie/Eddie)

Summary: In which Eddie can’t help but feel jealousy creep against his thoughts.

Prompt 97“Are you jealous?”

Prompt: 26“Open your fucking eyes, it’s so obvious that I’m in love with you!”

A/N: Thankyou for this request @wrongsmakethewordscometolife! If you wanna ask me for prompts ask away HERE. If you want to ask an ordinary request ask HERE. THIS IS HORRIBLY RUSHED IM SORRY BUT I HAVE SO MANY REQUESTS AND I WANT TO POST AS MANY AS POSSIBLE

Eddie sighed in frustration with tired legs, crawling back up from out of the water with the rest of the losers club. He fixed his white briefs and found himself standing up despite his legs practically wobbling from kicking them that much under water; this was because Eddie was in fact too short to stand up properly under the water.

The others sat down, stretching their limbs and talking quietly amongst themselves whilst Beverly set up the boombox and somehow managing to get music echoing from the speakers.

Eddie zoned out, watching as the water swayed lightly in the lake and a grin took place on his lips. He didn’t need his inhaler today, he was fine swimming. Despite countless times of his Mom telling him to always be extra careful in deep water because of how weak he is, he was strong enough to keep his head above water and that’s all that mattered to him.

Eddie turned back around, going to engage in a conversation with one of the others until he noticed it.

Most, if not all of the boys were staring.

Eddie followed their gaze, his jaw slacked which revealed his open mouth as he noticed that all of them were staring at a sun bathing Beverly, relaxed and in her underwear. 

Sure, Beverly was pretty. Very, pretty. But what made her so enticing for all of the boys to stare at her in an alluring way? She didn’t have the best reputation with boys to begin with, which surprised Eddie as he would’ve thought some of them would’ve moved away from the thoughts that were currently going through their minds right now.

Eddie couldn’t help but feel out of place, especially because the only reason he was staring was because he was trying to find out what made he so special? Was it because she was a girl? Was it because she was a girl in her undergarments? Possibly so. 

Eddie’s eyes then shift to his friends, eyeing the way they were all in a trance. As Eddie wandered his gaze over to Richie he couldn’t help but feel his heart strings twist and turn and he helplessly allowed a sigh to release from his nostrils. Anger filled his thoughts. 

What was so special about Beverly? If she was wearing more clothes then he wouldn’t be staring at her like that, surely. She was a stupid girl. Does Richie like stupid girls? Does he like girls in general? 

Just as he stares back at Beverly with distaste roaming his tastebuds, Beverly’s head turns and glances at the boys through her fashionable shades.

All of the boys, including Eddie, look elsewhere and pretend to engage in conversation to disguise their actions. Eddie quickly squirms his steps across the path to where Stanley was sat and switches the song to something else to cover up his own acts.

Beverly merely shrugs, before looking elsewhere.


It was later on that day when the losers were all packing up to go home; Eddie and Richie left earlier than the rest as they both lived on the same road a few houses away from one another.

It was silent, with Eddie still having bad thoughts about Beverly due to an unknown emotion taking over him, almost alike to selfishness. Richie on the other hand was chewing upon gum obnoxiously loud, his mouth open when doing so. He followed up his actions by blowing a large pink bubble, before sucking it back into his mouth. He repeated this a few times until the silence was practically killing him.

“You’re awfully quiet, Eds.”

“Don’t call me fucking Eds.” Eddie grumbled, tightening his fanny pack around his hips to prevent it from slipping down his legs.

Richie was shocked at Eddie’s sudden tone, not to mention that he had been quiet for the majority of the day up until this point. “Damn, no need to be a bitch about it.” Richie mumbled, pushing his glasses up with his middle finger towards Eddie in hope he’d see it as a joke and lighten up.

He didn’t.

Eddie simply rolled his eyes and walked faster. “You’re not funny and I’m not laughing.”

Richie frowned, walking Eddie closer and closer to his house. He was growing impatient with the boys temper growing, but he was determined to find the cause of his lack of happiness and find the core reason as to why he was acting strange.

“Eds, c’mon. Don’t be like this.” Richie bounced against Eddie’s side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie scoffed, ignoring the taller boys question and grabbing Richie’s arm and shoving it off him. “Go wrap your twig arms around Beverly, I’m sure she’d fucking enjoy that considering all you did today was stare at her.”

Eddie walked quicker now, his tiny feet pacing forth. A lightbulb went off in Richie’s head as well as his lips spreading into a knowing smirk.

Richie cleared his throat, “My my, Eds. Are you jealous?

Eddie stopped in his tracks, heat rising against the skin on his face and spreading to his ears and clothed chest. He turned around with an angered look on his face.

“J-jealous? What the fuck of Richie?”

Richie’s smirk turned into a sly one, walking closer and folding his arms. “You’re jealous of me and Beverly, ain’t ya’?”

Just as Eddie was about to protest, Richie walked up and pressed his finger against Eddie’s lips teasingly, rubbing it around over them to force a funny face upon Eddie.

“Don’t answer that, I don’t want you blushing anymore than you already are.”

Eddie was horrified, he didn’t know that the heat sensation over his skin was him blushing. Why was he blushing? 

“I’m not-” Eddie stuttered, before being shushed by Richie’s finger again.

“Is this why you’ve been ignoring me all day?” Richie tilted his head, his curls flopping to one side.

Eddie averted his eyes elsewhere, feeling the shame creep up behind his shoulder. Silence was the best option for Eddie.

“Hm.” Richie hummed, moving his finger away and standing closer to Eddie. “Can I give you some advice Eds?”

Both of the two boys stood in front of Eddie’s house now, Eddie barely moving head to nod as anxiety took over. The anticipation of not knowing what ‘advice’ Richie was going to give him was killing him; Richie was dragging it out purposely to create suspense.

Richie finally spoke in a soft and gentle voice, “Open your fucking eyes, it’s so obvious that I’m in love with you.

Eddie opened his mouth, only for Richie to once again cut him off. This time, it wasn’t Richie’s finger but in fact Richie’s chapped, gum flavoured lips merging against Eddie’s own smooth pair of lips.

Eddie was quickly filled with anxious thoughts, he thought about how many germs were in a human mouth. For instance, there are actually more germs in a human mouth than a dogs. Eddie hitched for a second, before somehow gaining strength and pushing the thoughts away as he trembled into his first kiss with Richie, the boy he was falling for.

Eddie felt the heat run down his shoulders and smothering his spine, sending tingles as he twitched his fingers against Richie’s cheeks whilst on his tiptoes. Richie confidently wrapped his hands around Eddie’s hips to hold him in place for the kiss. Both of the boys had their eyes closed as they enjoyed their moment in perfect unity.

After what seemed like forever, which forever was 10 seconds in this instance, both pulled away for fresh air. Their eyes opened slowly, Eddie looking up at Richie through his eyelashes and Richie surprisingly having flushed freckles over his dotted skin.

Both boys giggled, stepping away from each other awkwardly.

“So.. so uh- don’t get jealous.” Richie chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i don’t.. I don’t think I’ll need too.” Eddie whispered, clutching his shirt for mental and physical support.

Richie smiled down at the boy, “Well.. goodnight Eds. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, Richie quickly rushed off with quick steps and his arms frantically moving in-between his steps. 

Eddie watched from afar, his fingertips touching where Richie had kissed him. The bubblegum taste lingered on his own lips from Richie’s, his tongue licking at his bottom lip ever so slightly to remember how Richie melted perfectly against him with no flaws whatsoever. How Richie made him feel negatively about Eddie by making him jealous. How Richie managed to sweep Eddie up and off his feet in the end. How… Eddie loved Richie too.

“I love you too.” Eddie whispered to Richie, despite Richie being very much so far away and couldn’t possibly hear Eddie’s silent confession.

With that, Eddie turned on his heels and made his way back inside.

On Keeping a Notebook

“Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss…But our notebooks give us away, for however dutifully we record what we see around us, the common denominator of all we see is always, transparently, shamelessly, the implacable ‘I.’  We are not talking here about the kind of notebook that is patently for public consumption, a structural conceit for binding together a series of graceful pensées; we are talking about something private, about bits of the mind’s string too short to use, an indiscriminate and erratic assemblage with meaning only for its maker.”

by Joan Didion
(1966), in Slouching Towards Bethlehem, 1969, London: Andre Deutch.

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anonymous asked:

this is unrelated to anything at all but there is a genre of sheith from an outsider's perspective that i adore

it sounds like what you’re saying is “i want 2k of matt’s pov of shiro and keith’s first meeting, and i want it to be sheer agony.”

anyway this was supposed to be for @otasucc but now it’s for everyone! here’s the first installment of the worst thing i’ve ever written.


Dear Katie,

I witnessed a tragedy today.


-


They’re the only two in the Garrison gym when the kid walks in.

Matt is reading on one of the suspiciously sticky benches by the door, supposedly spotting for Shiro who’s busy dead lifting some ridiculous amount of weight for god knows what reason. It’s not like sitting in a cockpit requires you to be shredded, but if he’s dumb enough to actively seek out pain, Matt’s not going to let him go it alone. At least if he accidentally traps himself under a weight, Matt will be there to laugh.

They’re an hour into it when the doors slide open. It’s after curfew and Shiro has special permission to use the gym, so visitors aren’t exactly common. The kid looks normal at first, if unfamiliar. He’s out of uniform and dressed down in clothes that are almost aggressively plain, but he's—pretty, even at a passing glance.

The kid gets two steps into the room before he realizes it’s not empty.

Matt is watching, so Matt can pinpoint the exact moment the kid’s life falls apart—the exact moment all of their lives fall apart.

-

And Katie, I’m not joking, he took one look at Shiro and his heart stopped. Right there in front of me. I thought I was going to have to do CPR.

-

The kid’s eyes settle on Shiro, where he’s busy being sweaty and gross, and go shock-wide.

It’s like his primary motor function ceases for a second. He stumbles, almost, almost catches his feet, but his momentum carries him forward, right over the glorified Bowflex that no one’s seen anyone but Iverson use, and down he goes.

It’s… tragic.

He doesn’t fall so much as crash face first right into the floor and the small heap of single-hand dumbbells piled there. He gives a little, pained cry, the sound drawing Shiro’s attention. The kid has solid reflexes; he’s up almost as soon as he’s down, but the damage is done.

And he doesn’t notice his foot is hooked under one of the dumbbells.

He tries to take a step and stumbles again—Shiro and Matt both put out a hand like they can stop his second fall by sheer force of will, but by some fluke, by some stroke of luck, by the grace of some angel, he doesn’t fall.

It’s a pure accident. Matt can tell by the surprise on his face. The kid’s hands land just right, and his momentum is just enough that he turns it into the most haphazard somersault Matt’s ever seen in his entire life. It’s not smooth by any definition, but it’s maybe a little impressive.

He stands and dusts himself off, looks in the general direction of the wall over Shiro’s shoulder, face already as red as is possible for a human, and says, “I’m fine. It was—parkour.”

He’s dead serious.

Matt feels his mouth fall open. For a second he thinks he’s misheard, because it’s the most flagrant lie he’s ever heard in his life, and the most bizarre. He glances at Shiro, hoping they can share a raised eyebrow and a get a load of this kid look, but Shiro isn’t looking at him.

Shiro is staring at the kid, open-mouthed, and there’s not a trace of humor in it.

“Parkour?” Shiro asks, managing to sound fascinated.

“Yeah.” The kid brushes the bangs out of his eyes, suave-like. “Parkour.”


-


Katie. This kid has never done parkour in his life. He wouldn’t know parkour if it did a back flip off a building and suplexed him in an alley.

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One day we might find our way back to each other. When you remember what it’s like to put yourself on the sidelines every now and then for someone who matters - that it’s not a sign of weakness to care. When I realise that there is so much more to life than running after people who don’t deserve me anyway. One day, when we’ve learned how much letting go hurts, especially if it’s someone you should have been holding on to. When we realise that the years of cutting away at our curves and edges were spent in vain, because no matter what we did, our flaws were always what made us who we are. One day, when we no longer feel the need to prove ourselves, maybe we will open our eyes in the morning and know we’re enough - that we’ve always been. 
When our hearts finally beat to the same rhythm, we’ll know it’s time. When you look at me and the world sighs in awe, and suddenly every love song and poem ever written is about you. Then I am hopeful that one day, we might just meet again and finally be right for each other.

one day / n.j.