I’m absolutely floored at the fact that, when given the information that Floriana Lima is really a white woman and they’re having her play a non-white woman, these fans (many who go on and on about how *important* representation is) decided to double down on supporting her. I’ve even reached out personally before and had them do that. Sanvers will never be good representation because of its foundations, and if this were about pairing Maggie up with a man they would boycott the show. But having a white woman play a woman of color while claiming to be a woman of color? Apparently *that* is okay. Ugh.
I don’t know how they can complain about Mon-El and be okay with that. Especially when they act like its because they’re tired of straight white men being in the center of everything. Which is it? If you’re so tired of whiteness than why is it okay to whitewash when its white women? Why is it so “tiring’ to have to see a straight white man date Kara, but women of color are to be ignored if we say we’re tired of seeing Maggie’s fake tan shoved in our faces as “the next Lexa”?
What the hell is it about white women in brown face that makes these fangirls (who are all about queer representation) feel like they need to support them? Is it because its not really making them look at a woman of color? Or its a woman of color without all of those “pesky” non-white features so they can still feel comfortable?
<b>Lance:</b> Hey daddy can you pass me the salt?<p/><b>Everyone, groaning:</b> not again<p/><b>Shiro, bright red:</b> *passes the salt*<p/><b>Lance, smug:</b> I can't wait until we get to earth and have a new crowd for this<p/></p>
imagine Reigen and Serizawa’s first formal date. it’s almost a kind of silly idea because they’ve practically already been dating, going out to eat with each other, originally only with Mob as well but eventually just the two of them sometimes. They’re that couple who had practically already been unofficially dating but they only consider themselves y’know, actual boyfriends once Reigen is like, hey do you wanna take this… thing we have a step further. and Serizawa is like yes. yes I do.
so even though they’ve ALREADY DONE THIS and they hang out plenty, all the time, both during and outside of work, Serizawa is all nervous and Reigen is trying to be as charming as possible. They do at least go someplace probably nicer than usual and try to look their best, but they’re both such dorks in different wants, desperately trying to make it what they think a date should be and it’s really awkward. (Serizawa has no experience dating whatsoever, Reigen has some but nothing that ever lasted very long.)
At first they’re almost worried because of how awkward it is, oh shit, will this not work out? What if this ruins our friendship? CUE PANIC. but eventually they end up realizing (maybe with Mob’s help?) that they’re just complicating things for like, no reason, and things can still be the same between them but like also they can hold hands and kiss and, after awhile, move in together and all that.
lances character is boring and rather dry. yeah he misses home, who wouldn't. it's related but overdone. every langst fic involves him crying like a fucking girl and keith having to comfort him. it's not keiths responsibility to do that. lance needs to grow the fuck up
oh my god oh my GODDDDD. mY GODDDDD OH MY GOODDDDDD OHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYY GODDDDDDD SHUT UPPPPPP
Could you do a jamilton where Jefferson has a panic attack or something and Hamilton helps? I know it's overdone, but I love them so much. Guilty pleasure. If not a panic attack, then maybe Jefferson gets bad news and gets upset?
sure thing anon <3
Thomas felt his chest tighten. He
didn’t know why.
“Wh-” He tried to speak, but his
throat was closed. Something ice cold stabbed his chest, robbing his
lungs of air. Thomas gasped air, but somehow he couldn’t breathe. His
vision dimmed, his mind spun; and he still couldn’t quite figure out
what was wrong.
Hamilton stared at him- he was always
staring, in anger or disgust or smug joy, but staring nonetheless-
but now his eyes were wide. Knowing Hamilton, they were wide so he
could take in every detail of the nothing comment by some nobody
congressional aide that was currently tearing Thomas down like he
were made of paper.
“Oh my God,” Hamilton shouted,
something worried in his voice. Worried for what? Thomas couldn’t
think straight, heart hammering too loudly in his ears. “Come on
guys! Move along! Fuck off!” Hamilton shooed the crowd, baring his
teeth. Something slight released itself in Thomas’ gut, the air
suddenly a shade less heavy.
“Here, let’s go over this way where
it’s quieter,” Hamilton’s voice didn’t sound like him at all, soft
and cautious. It was strange enough, Thomas felt himself following
automatically. “Can I touch you?” The question by his ear was
quiet and polite. Thomas nodded pathetically.
A warm hand immediately splayed gently
across his back, nudging Thomas forward. They entered a side room,
some unused office space with a dusty desk and chair. Hamilton pushed
him into the chair. “Just breathe for a bit. Long and slow, if you
Thomas didn’t know what to do, so he
tried to follow Hamilton’s direction. Whatever it was that had his
chest in a vice grip eased with each exhale, far too slowly. Thomas
rubbed tears from his eyes- he didn’t remember crying.
“Shit, I don’t know what I’m doing,”
Hamilton chuckled, a high, worried pitch. “Do you need me to get
you anything? Like water, tea, something? Do you need me to leave? I
can get why you would- oh, sorry, I should shut up.” Hamilton
fidgeted, lifting his hands and then forcefully settling them in his
Hamilton was an asshole, and usually
the last person Thomas wanted to see him like this, but the idea of
him leaving seemed suddenly unbearable. Thomas shot a hand out to his
sleeve. “D-don’t,” he forced out- throat still not working
Hamilton stared, but somehow managed to
not comment. Instead, he placed a hand on Thomas’, the one grabbing
at his sleeve. Thomas latched onto the hand instead. The contact sent
tiny bursts of warmth up Thomas’ arm, chasing away more of the panic
crowding his body.
Silence settled between them, broken
only by Thomas’ deep breaths. Hamilton continued to say nothing,
forcing Thomas to address the situation first, when his lungs and
throat were finally under his control again. “Tha- that was
something,” Thomas winced at his own nonsense words. “I don’t,”
He cut himself off for another breath. “I don’t know what that
Hamilton’s eyes had never left him, but
now his brows furrowed. “That was a panic attack, wasn’t it?”
There wasn’t even a hint of derision in his voice, just honest
confusion. In any other circumstance, Thomas would have assumed it a
“A panic attack,” Thomas repeated,
instead. Hamilton nodded, like it made perfect sense. “I’ve never
had a panic attack in my life.” No, he’d worked long and hard to
get past his social anxiety to the charismatic force he was today,
but he’d never had a panic attack. He’d be damned if he was having
one now, over something so dumb.
“I mean, I’m not going to tell you
what you’re feeling, but that’s what it looked like from over here.
Are you okay now, though?”
Thomas stared into Hamilton’s earnest
eyes. They were soft and warm, like the hand holding his. Thomas
dropped it like he’d suddenly been scalded. “Why are you being
nice?” Thomas hissed, squinting.
Hamilton slapped a hand over his mouth,
but it wasn’t quick enough to hide the instinctive grin, nor was it
muffling enough to hide the snort. “I can be, occasionally, you
“Not to me,” Thomas retorted, then
winced. That sounded a lot more hurt than he’d intended. “Wait, you
know what I mean!”
Hamilton made another noise,
suspiciously like a giggle, before moving his hand back down. “Yeah,
I guess I do. But you were having a panic attack, that’s different.
I’m not that much of an asshole you know.”
Thomas didn’t know. “Sure,” he said
“Well, if you’re okay, I better head
out. Wouldn’t want anyone to get any ideas.” Hamilton grinned,
waved, and swiftly left before Thomas could say anything.
The crush, that had laid dormant once
Hamilton had opened his mouth and shown just how little of a chance
Thomas had, raised its head cautiously. It was too late for no one to
get any ideas. Thomas had a few already.
Hello! I love writing, but i can never seem to finish any of my novels. i never can finish planning because i don't know how to finish or what to add to certain parts. It's kind of annoying because i want to post more, but whenever i write, it isn't one of my novel. help! ~j.w.
*glances over figurative stack of novels I’ve never finished*You and me both, brother.
If you’ve moved on to other projects, however minimal in size, I say go for it. Novels can be shelved (pardon the pun) for as long as they need to be. If you’ve lost steam for the story or don’t remember what your plan was to begin with, don’t sweat it. Your readers wherever you’ve been posting will just have to understand.
Since I rely heavily on my own experience when it comes to answering asks, I’ll tell you about a novel I’ve set aside for about four years now. I had a beginning, middle, and end sort of charted out, character development briefly considered, and the idea of a sequel already in place. Then I just got bored with it. There were more interesting stories to pursue, stories readers liked more, stories that helped me sort out my own issues. I made a Pinterest inspiration board for that abandoned novel, and moved on.
If you’re hoping I’ll say “It’s going great now! Here’s my secret” I still can’t help you. My current self can see what my past self didn’t, this story is flawed and its concept overdone. Instead of focusing on finishing it, I’m using it as more of a playground. I’ve changed the ethnicities of all the characters, come up with a different ending, different backstories, and even toyed with different settings. Certain ideas from the story I definitely want to keep around, like building material piled up in your backyard for the treehouse your dad still expects to build for you someday. I like this novel, but it needs to sit around for a while until I have the desire to mess with it again. Like you, I have other projects that grab my attention long enough for me to finish them. That’s fine. Your enjoyment of what you write is up to you. Over time you’ll either be drawn back to this novel, or realize it no longer serves a purpose. The best you can do is accept that you don’t want to write it right now and move on.
Keep a folder of pictures, quotes, and ideas for this novel that you can refer back to when you’re in the mood to write it again. If you need to revise the entire thing, you won’t lose face because you’ve already posted the first draft online. Your readers will just have to understand that this is YOUR writing first and their reading second. That rule flips once it’s finished and published, but for now you have the freedom to do anything.