remind me to never write in first person


I discovered fandom in 2001, and fell down the rabbit hole. I landed hard. My life got busy in 2002 onwards, and I all but vanished from fannish life. I was well and truly out by the summer of 2010, but when a friend nudged me to watch this new show called Sherlock that had just aired, I did. I loved it. 

I loved the relationship between Sherlock and John. I loved what they’d done with Watson! He had depths! He was a man of action, but he was obviously made of coiled, unspoken emotion! So compelling, so many possibilities! The desire to dip into this nascent fandom was rearing its head. This time around, I knew what choice lay before me, and what its consequences were. Open that door, or not?

If it hadn’t been for the fact that I was one year post cancer treatment and facing another surgery to determine if I had a new round of treatment to endure, I think I would have closed that door. Fandom takes up a lot of time and energy. It can be deliriously fun and damagingly distracting at the same time. I had a surgery date. I wanted to be distracted. I opened the door.

I tried not to write anything. I love writing fanfiction, but I never plan to do it. When I write, it’s because I have to. It’s wonderful, but it consumes me completely, and who has times for that? Who choses to be so consumed?I read and read, I had my surgery, I read some more, I got good news regarding my health (yay!), and then, goddammit, I wrote something.

Something small, I thought that would be okay. I thought I could get away with it. Don’t write any novels this time. Just a little thing. Just scratch the itch.

The Progress of Sherlock Holmes is a novel-length story written by someone who was trying very hard to avoid writing a novel-length story. I was in denial about it being a novel-length story for the first half of it, easily. That damn story forced me to do something I’d decided never to do again, and I’m grateful for that.

I wrote it because I felt compelled to, even though it contains a characterization of Sherlock that few if any people wanted to read about. It’s in first person present tense, another decision few if any readers want a writer to make. I apologized for it a lot, but I had to write it. And I loved it. That story reminded me how much I love writing, and how happy writing makes me, and that’s not something I’ll soon forget again.

The voice in that story is so sticky that half the comments left on it are in the same voice. I had to work myself up to write in that voice every time I sat down to work on it, and I was never sure whether I was getting it consistently or not, even right up to the end. But afterwards it took me fully 6 months to stop writing in that damn voice.

Honestly, I have no idea why my difficult, weird, inappropriate on many levels attempt at a story, written after only 3 aired episodes of a show in 2010-11, received its 10,000th kudos today. That’s a variety of madness and kindness that I cannot explain. But I am grateful for it.

Thank you for being here when I needed you. Thank you for finding a place for a story that no one, including me, really wanted. Thank you.

you remind me of uranus
(stay with me)
because the seventh planet from the sun symbolizes change
it represents freedom
it means “i evolve”
and darling,
you have gone through so much change
you are not the person you were when i first met you
but the person you are now
this is who you truly are
the real you
i feel like now
you are free
and like the planets who never stop turning
i hope you never stop evolving as well.
—  ♅ // @ghostheroes
(cc, 2017)
Worth the Risk - Party Twin x Blake Fanfic.

Worth the Risk - Party Twin x Blake Rules of Engagement Fanfic.

[A little note: I’m a big fan of Party Twin x Blake, and I’ve been toying with the idea of doing a fanfiction for them. I’m also going to try another first - writing in second person narrative. Not sure how I feel about it, I’ve never done this before and I usually find it kind of awkward. Maybe this’ll be a good first? Thoughts? Comments? Critisms? Let me know what you think!]

[Summary: Another late night cleaning up after everyone else leaves reminds Party Twin of some unresolved feelings and memories with her boss. It doesn’t help when she realizes he feels the same].


You look up just in time to see the last of your fellow employees trickling out of the kitchen. You catch Carter’s grin just before he shrugs off his vest and tucks it under his arm.

It’s almost closing time and everyone else nearly out of here. But you volunteered to stay behind and help clean up. You’ve tried to convince yourself that your intentions had nothing to do with the fact that Blake usually stays here pretty late. 

“A bunch of us are going back to that nightclub we went to a couple nights ago.“ He says this expectantly. “I know you said you’re staying late, but I’m here to change your mind.” He brushes the side of your arm with intimate familiarity. He’s hoping you’ll change your mind because of the amount of fun you both had last time.

But you won’t change your mind and you aren’t in the mood. You glance down at his hand until he drops it. 

You’re too preoccupied with other things. Things you can’t dust off like the dirt and grime under your fingernails from washing dishes. 

You look up, giving him an apologetic smile. You’re used to partying and forgetting about the world around you. But you can’t do it tonight. You keep hoping to see Blake pop out of his office before you leave. He’s been in there all day. “You go ahead. I’ve still got some stuff I have to finish up here.” 

It’s barely a feasible excuse but he doesn’t press it. He looks disappointed until he quickly masks it with another easy smile. Carter knows how to keep things light. “Alright, another time then.” He playfully bumps shoulders with you as he passes by, “Just try not to work too hard alright? Or I’ll forget how much fun you are.” He winks at you before grabbing his coat.

You try not to second guess yourself as you watch him go. His words makes you feel guilty. Have you really changed that much? You can’t shake the guilt off because this isn’t the first time you’ve brushed Carter off. You’ve done it a couple times. Why can’t I just go out and forget? 

You toy with the idea and try to shake off your inner turmoil. It churns at the idea but it’s something you used to never hesitate at. You like partying, and you like Carter. But things aren’t the same anymore. Things changed. Eventually, you know you can’t pretend it didn’t happen.

Maybe you can try it again. Seeing Carter the way he stills sees you. Maybe if you get drunk enough, it won’t matter what Blake’s doing anymore. Maybe you can dull the ache long enough not to care. You reach for your phone, intending to call Carter until you see Blake making his way into the kitchen with Mira at his heels. They’re laughing about something and you instantly feel a stab of jealously. 

Your jealously is misplaced but you still can’t help it. You’re pretty sure nothing’s going on between them but the rest of your body reacts differently. You shoulders stiffen as you secretly watch them. He looks relaxed and comfortable; in a way he never is with you. You try to appear nonchalant when they finally notice you. 

“Jess,” You hear the surprise in Blake’s voice. “I thought you’d join the rest of the crew.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “I had no idea you were staying behind.”

Mira’s already stepping past you, ignoring your prescence completely as she grabs her things. 

“I thought I’d stick around just in case you needed any help.” You’ve rehearsed this line a couple times in your head, but you can hear how nervous you sound. You try to play it off of course. You’re not the kind of person to get nervous. “Cleaning up I mean.” You add quickly, in case it wasn’t clear already. 

“Well, thank you.” His eyes flicker in surprise again but you can hear how grateful he sounds by the way his voice drops. He appreciates your support.

His eyes linger on you a split second longer than necessary before you look away. By the time Mira slinks her way back here, you almost forget that you’re holding a dish rag inside your hand. 

“Don’t forget what we talked about.” Mira tells Blake with a wan smile. “There’s some other ideas I’d like to run by you before we taste test them. ”

Blake nods at her solemnly. “I won’t. You’ve definitely given me a lot to think about.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully, “See you tomorrow.” 

“Goodnight.” She doesn’t say goodnight to you however. She never says goodnight to you.

“’Night to you too Mira!” You say a little bit brighter than necessary. It’s all forced of course. There’s just something about her that doesn’t rub you the right way. 

She stops for a second, her face turning into a half scowl before she says the words haughtily back to you and leaves. 

Ugh. Whatever.  Your half-attempts at being nice always seem to backfire. The two of you have never gotten along, but you can at least begrudgingly admire her tastes in cuisine. Hell, if you’re being honest with yourself - you kind of respect her. 

You sigh, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “She totally hates me.” You grumble, earning a wry smile from Blake. 

“No, she doesn’t.” At your snort he adds, “Really.” He insists, “You’re just competition to her.”

“Really? Competition?” You echo. The idea strikes you as ludicrous. You’ve never gotten that impression. Usually, Mira’s too busy barking orders and trying to change menu ideas to think about other people. You’re convinced that he’s saying this to make you feel better.

“Besides, she just doesn’t know you the way I do.”  He adds.

 A smile pokes out from the corner of your mouth. “Not a lot of people here know me the way you do. “ You tease before you can stop yourself. You freeze when you realize that you’ve said the words out loud. 


Almost unwillingly, your mind drifts towards that night. 

When your eyes sweeps his again, you can see a faint blush on his cheeks and you know he’s thinking about it too. He looks away and changes the subject. “Anyway we should probably finish up here.” He says without looking back at you. “I wouldn’t want to keep you.“ 

I wouldn’t mind if you did. You think these words but don’t say them out loud. A part of you wants to, it craves the excitement of pushing his buttons. But the other part of you knows better. It knows that once you cross that line again - there’s no coming back. And this time you’re both sober.

You help him put the dry dishes away from off their racks. There’s a lot of them and the process is slow but it’s nice to have this companionable silence. It doesn’t feel strange at all and you’re happy that you can still work with him without it being weird. Soon, your focus shifts to staring. You can’t help it, there’s not much else to do. Every so often you can’t help but peek at him.

His brows are creased in concentration, and his eyes look as if they’re a million miles away. 

What’re you thinking? You want to say these words out loud, but you don’t. You’re not ready to break the silence.

When your attention swerves back to the dishes, you start to realize your mistake. Every time he moves past you, you’re aware of it. The slightest of movements causes some kind of reaction. Your body quivers in quiet anticipation even though the smarter part of you know that nothing will happen. 

Blake’s a buttoned up sort of man. The kind of man that it takes a few drinks or a deep conversation to get anywhere. The kind of man that prides hard-work over having a good time. He’s responsible, dependable and everything you thought you’d never be attracted to. 

You sigh. 

Your nana would’ve liked him. She would’ve said he was good for you.

You’re not even sure why you’re so keenly aware of every movement he makes. You catch your breath when he brushes by you again. It’s so unnerving the kind of effect he has on you. Your hands shake a little as you place another dish back, sneaking another glance at him.

A stab of irritation hits you. 

He looks so composed, so unaware of what he’s doing to you. He doesn’t seem to be even a little fazed by the close promixity. 

Your irritation turns into quiet anger. How can he be so calm all the time? You think miserably to yourself. It’s not fair when it’s one sided. You’re determined to break that cool exterior of his and before you know it - you’re purposely stepping into him, making as much contact as humanly possible. You innocently try to play it off, blaming your tired hands as he raises eyebrows but secretly you think he probably knows better. 

Eventually, it’s not so innocent anymore. Your movements are getting slower - more even paced and you take every opportunity to be closer. You see a flicker of something in his eyes that makes your next move clumsy. You curse yourself as it happens; the plates in your hand titter and plummet.

You lose your balance and embarrassingly stumble as the plates go flying. You’re pretty sure you’re going to fall until you feel his sturdy arms catch you. They’re so strong and warm that you can’t help but shudder. Your mind immediately flickers to the night you both spent together - from the pieces you could remember. You flush in delight.

You force yourself not to stay there, instead you draw your attention to the intensity of his dark eyes. Always so serious, always so couretous. You want to keep pusing his buttons, to see how far you can go before he’s driven mad by it. You jut your chin out and don’t break eye contact. You can feel your heart hammering inside your chest and for a second you’re worried he can hear it too. 

He doesn’t let go once you’re on sure footing again. In fact, his eyes start to change, and looks almost torn from where you’re standing. As if he wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

Kiss me.

The words are so insistent inside your head, so strong that it surprises you. You don’t act on it because you want him to make the first move. You want him to be the one to take the chance for a change. You bite your bottom lip, and the gestures immediately draws his attention to your mouth.

You see something flash inside his eyes - unabashed passion you can dimly remember. The last thought you have are the scattered dishes around you as his lips crash against yours. You can feel the frustration in his kisses and the need as his tongue plunges through the barrier of your lips. 


Sparks seem to fly as his expert lips draw a gasp from you. You feel yourself sinking into him, your arms looping themselves around his neck. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. You kiss him urgently, as desire pools at your stomach and his hips presses into yours until your backed into the kitchen counter. 

His arms are insistent, deftly sliding underneath your uniform until he makes contact with your skin. His kisses become more insistent and you feel light-headed as he guides your hands further down. You’re not aware at first that the moaning sounds are coming from you until he pulls away.

He’s breathing heavily, raking his hands through his hair. His jaw is set like steel and he takes a few cautious steps back as if he needed it to clear his head. “Jess…” He says your name like an almost anguished groan. “What’re you doing to me?” He half-mumbles the words as he rubs his temples. 

You drop a meaningful look towards the obvious bulge inside his pants. “What do you think?” You can’t help but smirk as he blushes, flustered by your quick response.

“It was a rhetorical question.” He says, looking away to clear his throat.

You want to touch him again, to feel his lips against yours but his eyes aren’t passionate anymore. They’re distant and careful. “We can’t do this.” The words are tight and they hurt.

They knock the wind right out of you and you swallow back the sudden lump inside your throat. “I know.” They’re your words, coming from out of your mouth - but they sound hollow. You don’t want to stop, not until he’s lying underneath you in tangled sheets. 

The realization rattles you and this time you’re the one backing away. “You’re right.” You say, not really believing your own words. As much as you wanted to - you know you can’t. 

He’s searching your eyes but you’re not sure what he’s looking for. Doesn’t he want you to agree with him? To pretend that there’s nothing between the two of you? 

You stiffen your shoulders before you mumble an excuse to get past him. What were you thinking anyway? It’s silly for you to ever entertain the thought, that somehow this can all work out.

You stop short. 

Except it’s the first time you’ve ever felt like this. Felt something so strong that you’re not sure what to do next. You thought after a couple days of avoiding each other it would pass but it hasn’t. Sure there’s been other guys, there’s always been other guys. But none of them has ever challenged you the way he does. Or push you to be better. You whirl on your heels, placing your hands on your hips. “No.” You say stubbornly.

His eyes widen, but he doesn’t make any move to stop you once you get closer. “No?” He echoes.

“No.” You shake your head firmly. “You don’t get to shut me out.” You say, without breaking eye contact. 

You can’t help but reach out to him as you talk. You touch his hand, and think about how different it is from yours. You’ve never worked anywhere long enough for it leave a mark; so yours are soft and tender compared to his  - a little rough and coarse ones. It’s probably because of all his hard-work, and you’re pretty sure it’s his drive that makes him sucessful at nearly everything he does. 

You stare at them and remember how gentle they were; once you think of them touching you. When they skimmed every part of you. “You don’t get to push me away, not after everything.” You mutter softly.

His eyes are wary again but there’s something else too. You’re not sure what it is and you try to convince yourself that maybe he’s having second thoughts. “It’s just easier this way.” He mutters, pulling his hand away. “Pretending that night never happened pretending that this -” he gestures between you and him. “this could never go anywhere.” He exhales deeply, “You know how much this means to me.” His teeth visibly clenches, “My work means everything to me, and I’m not going to jeopardize that, not for anything.” For the first time you seen a hint of desperation inside his eyes - like he wants you to push him away. “Not for anyone.” 

You flinch at his words.

“And especially not over my own family.”

But you shake your head. You’ve gotten past the harsh exterior he’ s shown everyone else. You’ve seen too much. You know that he’s just trying to push you away, and you don’t want him to.

Maybe a month ago you’d have believed that. Maybe a month ago, you’d have let him. But you’ve gotten to know him. You’ve seen some of the good and some of the bad. None of it made you want to run away. You want to know him better, to know more about his family he often talks about back home. The dad he always gushes about, the mother that did her best to take care of them - you want to know everything. “Tell me you you don’t care about me.” You jerk your chin forward stubbornly. “Tell me you don’t care.” Your words are brave but inwardly you’re afraid he’s going to pull away.

He doesn’t respond at first. He just keeps staring at you. You can almost see the wheels turning inside his head. “Jess…”

“That’s what I thought.” You say triumphantly, seeing defeat sink into his eyes. 

“What do you want from me?” He sounds aggravated and jerks his eyes away. “We can’t…” He says the words slowly as if he’s trying to convince himself. “I can’t risk it.” His words are hoarse and almost break your will.


You wait till he looks at you again before you speak. “You’re worth the risk.” You mumble softly, letting it sink in that this is what you wanted. Letting him know that you weren’t running away. Whatever happens by the end of the summer, at least you could leave knowing you won’t regret this. “You’re worth the risk and I’m not letting this go until you know how I feel - ” 

The rest of your sentence is cut off by his lips gingerly touching yours, tasting you before turning into something more. Something that went beyond your constant teasing. He kisses you with force, a kind of complexitity that you’ve never felt before.

“I care about you.” He whispers against your lips, like a hidden secret you think you weren’t ever going to hear. You almost smile as you kiss him back, elated that you can finally be honest with each other.

Everything else in the world, recedes and shrinks by comparison.

Challenge Accepted

A/n: So sorry this took me awhile to post I’ve had it written up for awhile I just never got around to writing it. 

Request: Could you do a Bruce x Reader fanfic with the prompt “you’re a doctor and my friend has been trying to get me a date for weeks she just fake fainted to get you over here she’s fine I promise” love your blog btw :))

warnings: maybe swearing?

Originally posted by thevacuuminator

(^This gif pertains to nothing I just like reminding myself that I’m not the only semi-clumsy person in the world)


“I hate you” were the first words to escape your lips as you looked around the crowded room

“You love me, besides there are tons of guys here and there is no way I’m losing that bet,” your friend replied.

“Margo I’m not going out with anyone,” you reminded her

“Not even Tony Stark?” Margo asked you wiggling her eyebrows

“Definitely not Tony Stark,” you exclaimed, “how would you even pull that off?”

“I have no idea” she shrugged

As you trailed your friend through the crowd and continued to reject all the men she pointed out you couldn’t help but notice a particular scientist. Margo left you on a couch as she went off to find someone she insisted you wouldn’t reject and you watched her disappear into the crowd once more. Once she disappeared you could’ve sworn, you felt a pair of eyes watching you and you prayed to God that whoever it was wouldn’t walk up to you. Parties were bad enough but one this fancy was too much for you if you were going to be alone and you definitely didn’t want to deal with asshole guys staring at you.

“Lady Y/n?” you heard a deep voice ask

“Seriously Margo?” you shrieked as your friend giggled behind the tall blonde god “You’re the one that likes Thor, not me.”

“No,” you replied quickly “I like his brother.”

“Pardon?” Thor asked confused. You actually felt bad for the poor god, he had no idea hat was going on

“Sorry, my friend here has been trying to get me a date for awhile. I hope she didn’t scare you too much,” you told the god

“She has done nothing of the sort, but I thank you for explaining,” he responded before making a getaway

“Y/n,” Margo whined “how am I supposed to get to Asgard now?”

“You aren’t going to Asgard,” you said “Ever. You’d die”

“Fine,” she huffed before disappearing again

You fought the overwhelming urge to not look at your phone the longer your friend was gone. It had seemed like ages before a man in a suit walked up to you.

“Hey, I couldn’t help but notice you were looking in my direction earlier,” he greeted

“Did Margo put you up to this?” you asked not registering who exactly was standing in front of her

“Margo?” he asked

“Look don’t play dumb the answer is no,” you said finally looking up your eyes going wide

“Regretting your decision?” Tony asked

“No, I just,” you stammered “I’m a fan of your work, and I didn’t exactly expect to be talking to you.”

“You’re a scientist?” he asks

“Not exactly-” you started

“She’s a nerd” Margo chimed in from behind you, “and she’s not interested.”

“You must be Margo” Tony smiled

“We need to talk,” Margo said looking at you

“We are talking” you sassed

“Shut up, I think Banner likes you” Margo whisper-shouted, and Tony chuckled “Do you have information?” she asked

“Possibly,” he smirked

“Y/n, the adults are going to talk” Margo left you alone yet again

You pulled out your phone in efforts to keep people away from you. You felt a pair of eyes on you again, but you shrugged it off as Tony and Margo talking about you. You were honestly terrified as to what plan they were coming up with to get Dr. Banner to ask you out. You wouldn’t deny the slight crush that you had for the man, but you hardly knew him, to you he was just a man you would never actually meet. That was until Margo got a job for a certain Tony Stark and started insisting that she could get you a date with an avenger by the end of the month.

“Y/n,” Margo whined, “I don’t feel well.”

Her wink didn’t go unnoticed as she fell to the ground with a sigh

“Are you kidding me” you sighed as you heard Stark telling someone, presumably Banner that someone had fainted and needed help. You knelt down by your friend and slapped her muttering to her that this wasn’t funny. As you stood up and turned around to assure people that your friend was ok you collided into the man of the hour.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “Don’t worry we’ll make sure your friend is ok and get her help if she needs it.”

“You’re a doctor, and my friend has been trying to get me a date for weeks,” you rushed “she just fake fainted to get you over here. She’s fine I promise.”

Bruce looked at you confused before Margo got up “way to ruin it Y/n,” she muttered dusting off her dress

Bruce looked over his shoulder at Tony “just ask her out bro she’s been looking at you all night and you’ve been gawking at her”

“Gawking” Bruce muttered, “not a word I thought was in your vocabulary.”

“See your perfect for each other,” Margo squealed

“Margo,” you sighed before blushing

Bruce smirked at you “you wanna get out of here?”

You nodded, and the man guided you out of the room


A/n: I hope you enjoyed this fic! Requests are open, love you all! -G

anonymous asked:

Can you do a HC where your lukes gf and work with him in the BAU and he comforts you after you shoot the unsub and kill him thanks

This actually reminds me of a scene I’m planning on writing for Turning Tables with Luke and my OC. So, thank you so much for giving me some inspiration <3

Luke Alvez Headcanons, comforting you after you had to shoot an unsub:

  • I feel like Luke wouldn’t actually understand why you were upset at first.
  • I mean he’d know something was wrong. After all, he was a profiler and, more importantly, your boyfriend.
  • However, he’d be confused as to why shooting an unsub had caused you so much distress.
  • It had never personally bothered him. They were the bad guys and it was your job to stop them.
  • But, it would kill him inside to see you upset. So, whether he understood it or not, he’d be there for you.
  • He’d take you aside to give you some space. The rest of the team would be celebrating their victory and he could tell you didn’t want to be around their cheers and happiness.
  • He’d wait for you to speak first, he wanted you to be able to voice your thoughts rather than just talking at you.
  • You’d confess that you felt awful about what you’d had to do, you’d never wanted to have to take a life.
  • In fact, regardless of who the person was, ending someone’s life just seemed so brutal and it was difficult for you to believe that your own two hands were responsible for someone’s death.
  • It wouldn’t be until you started desperately rerunning through the scene over and over, picking holes in your technique and ranting at the possible alternative outcomes if you’d made different choices, that Luke would step in.
  • He couldn’t stand there and let you rip into yourself like that. It would drive you crazy.
  • He’d step forward to take your hand in his. His other hand would gently cup your cheek, soothingly stroking your skin with his thumb as he looked into your eyes.
  • His dark eyes would hold a softness you rarely saw. He often told you that it was only you that managed to bring out this side of him.
  • Luke could be extremely sensitive when it came to reassuring and comforting you.
  • In fact, it made the whole team laugh how soft the former ranger could go around you.
  • Luke would tell you exactly what he thought. After all, he was known for his honesty (which could occasionally be brutal). So, you knew what he told you would be the truth.
  • He’d tell you that you were an incredible agent and, more importantly, a wonderful person.
  • Your kindness and determination to see the best in others was what he loved and admired about you both professionally and personally.
  • It didn’t make you soft to feel like this, nor should you feel ashamed or guilty about your actions or feelings. It was part of who you were and there was no way you’d ever have taken that shot unless you absolutely had to.
  • He’d remind you that you’d saved a potential victim, a girl who’d go on to live a full live thanks to you. It was important that you remembered the good as well as the bad.
  • When you started to tear up, he’d just envelope you in a warm embrace.
  • His hand would entangle in your hair as he shushed you gently, allowing you to stain his shirt with your tears. His other hand would rub soothing circles on your back until you calmed down.
  • If you were ever upset, he only ever wanted to just hold you close, whisper reassurances and help the pain go away.
  • Because, more than anything else, Luke hated seeing you cry.
Burning Old Letters

I admit, when I saw a user last year mentioning she was going through a cleanup of all her letters from the past year to prepare for her annual burning of letters… I was taken aback. It seemed extremely impersonal and just cold. At the time I thought there would be no way on Earth I would ever burn or trash a letter that someone had taken the time to write to me. My thought was that each letter was like a piece of the writer and something to be cherished. 

Well, that was until I’d spent and entire year of correspondence with Tumblr penpals. (Not that there’s anything wrong with Tumblr penpals!) For all the good that comes from being able to find and write to anyone whose in the typical snail mail tags or whose put an ad for penpals up on one of the variousl matching sites there also comes the bad. The Temporary Penpals: the people who get into corresponding for the niche alt aesthetic, the people who just want to fill an instagram, the people who are looking only looking for someone to buy and send them stuff, and overall just people who are trying to get into letter writing for the wrong reasons. 

Keep reading

4 Feelings You Will Most Certainly Feel When You're Having a Bad Writing Day

1) Immense Jealousy

As nasty and gross as this feeling is, and as much as you want to say you don’t feel it, you’re gonna feel it. Good news for someone else that might otherwise not bother you feels like someone shoving a sawed-off shotgun down your throat and pulling the trigger. Every good, proud moment you’ve had regarding your writing feels completely worthless. You are the worst writer in existence, and the person you’re jealous of is a shining example of a true miracle at work. They have no faults, they eventually don’t even seem like a person in your eyes. They are simply everything you’re not. Everything you can never be.

How to fix this: Remind yourself that this is a person you’re getting jealous of. Someone that sleeps and cries and shits and farts. They’re not some perfect epitome of writerly gifts. Often enough, they’re just someone that never stopped. So what do you do? Be jealous, but don’t let it grind you to a halt. Tell yourself ‘That’ll be me one day’ and keep writing what you’re writing.

Spoiler alert, though, you won’t be any happier once you reach their level. Self-confidence problems are eternal, fam! Work on that first, or you’ll never be proud of yourself.

2) Profound Sadness

Sentences are like arteries, words the blood that flows through them. Not being able to write is like bleeding out. It hurts and you’re cold and you can’t hold onto them and death of your work seems like heartbeat away.

(I like to think writing blocks are fatty buildups, something can only be fixed through surgery, healthy eating, or a shit-ton of writing exercises, but that’s not exactly what I’m going for at the moment, so let’s move on)

You feel like you’ve never written anything good, and you never will. Blues descend on you. Everything sucks huge hairy balls. You can’t even bring yourself to put these feelings into words. You just have to sit there as each heartbeat kills you a little faster.

How to fix this: Everyone has bad days. Everyone. That person you want to be? That person you think is perfect? They’ve felt like this. It’s the Writer Condition. It’s the Imposter Syndrome. It’s every reason they warn people not to be writers. Remind yourself that tomorrow will come, and it will be different, and cut yourself a little slack. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and it wasn’t torn apart in a day, either. You don’t suck as bad as you think. Might as well just act happy, right?

3) Formidable Fury

You’re pissed. The words aren’t coming and oh! So-and-so makes it look *so* easy. Look how many words they wrote today. Look how everyone recs them. Look at how great their ideas are! What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you be THAT? Stupid, useless, worthless, blah blah blah.

How to fix this: No two people are the same. You may not have the strengths of one person, but you have your own. Take some time to figure out what you’re good at. Don’t be like 'So-and-so is good at blank and I’m not’ No. Shut the fuck up with that bullshit. Say instead 'I’m very good at blank’. No need to include so-and-so. If you really need to, ask others what you’re good at. People love the chance to make others feel good, because it makes them feel good. It’s a wonderful, selfish circle we live in!

4) Nothing

There is no greater enemy to creativity than feeling nothing for what you once loved. You look at what you’re writing, and the spark is gone. You can’t remember why you started in the first place. What’s the point? You’re not the God Emperor of the Writing Universe yet. Someone said something nice to someone else but not to you. Nobody knows who you are in your community. You’re a nobody, you’re writing is nothing, so you should feel nothing for it. Nothing nothing nothing.

How to fix this: For the love of fuck, get over yourself. So you’re not a BNF. So none of the current BNFs notice you. So what? Take all the other fix-its I’ve included here and mash them into one answer, and that’s what should go here. You’re only a human, and you’re doing the best you can. What you make might not ever match up to your idol’s work, or that person you hate that writes damn good stuff, or that person that writes crap but people will endless amp up like they wrote a holy text, but it can match up to what *you* want.

It ain’t easy to stop comparing. Honestly, it’s impossible, but you can stop comparing in a negative way and use it as a way to improve.The farther along you get in your writing, the more you learn. The more you learn, the higher your expectations for your work. The higher your expectations, the harder you are on yourself. Be proud of the fact that your tastes are this good!

Now go back and read your thing. If that spark isn’t back, write something new. Just don’t stop because your brain is telling you you’re not good enough. Of all the stupid reasons, that’s the stupidest.

anonymous asked:

How do I cut down the use of "I" in my writing?

For fiction? 

I want to preface this by saying that you don’t really Need to cut down the use of “I” in your writing - first-person pov is perfectly legitimate, even if more difficult to pull off. There’s a definite bias against first-person in fanfic, but first person can be very immersive when done well. Plenty of popular series and books are written in first-person. And if you don’t mean using “I” in the context of first-person, and more that it pops up a lot in dialogue and such, there’s no rule against that. Writing is an art, and there aren’t really any rules at all.

Now, if this is something you really want to work on, I’d recommend writing in third-person. Second-person is also an option, but in my opinion it works better for shorter, conceptual pieces. Second-person is used for xReader fic, and a lot of people who read CharacterxCharacter don’t wish to be reminded of xReader.

The switch might be more difficult, but treat your first couple tries at it as an exercise. I write in third-person past-tense, so for me that’s just what comes naturally. Occasionally I try something in present-tense - that drunk fic Parker and I once started and never finished - but I usually fall back to past. 

Something that might help with the switch - and I’m not sure how legitimate this advice is or how well it’d work for changing POVs - look at something you’ve already written and edit the hell out of it. This will let you see exactly what the shifts in tone and perspective are - which may make it easier to start with that.

I’ll do the reverse - third-person to first-person - in a couple examples, because examples always help.

Keep reading

me: really wants people to approach me and/or ask me out 

also me: is too anxious to ever talk to someone first and just waits for them to come to me but they never do

me @ me: u played urself

tips for freshman

Some tips for high school freshman since school is starting soon!

I am going into sophomore year so these tips aren’t outdated or anything :)


  • get to know your teachers, they aren’t out to get you…
  • know the people around your seat so you can ask for help
  • KEEP A PLANNER! or a bullet journal! Write reminders, test dates, homework down. Trust me. It helps!
  • If you have a TA, talk to them! Chances are they are older than you and it never hurts to know someone with more experience.
  • PAY ATTENTION! Don’t be the person that holds up the class by saying ‘wait i missed that’ because you weren’t listening!
  • Ask questions! Generally teachers like it if you don’t interrupt their lecture bc they might answer your question!


  • If you have a club showcase at school, attend it.
  • Its okay to join a lot of clubs, go to the first meeting, and decide you aren’t interested anymore!
  • Try to focus on clubs you are really dedicated to by the end of first semester.
  • At the end of freshman year, try out for an officer position! 
  • Join a volunteering club for new experiences and it may help with career choices!


  • make new friends! You will def meet someone new in high school!
  • Enjoy free time as most as you can! Freshman year is pretty chill.
  • Don’t make a habit of sleeping too late 
  • have fun!!! Freshman year is meant for you to have fun!

if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask :))

shades of blue

“What do you think about the color blue?” he asks
But I can’t bear to tell him that it reminds me of you
That somehow every inch of you was endlessly blue
Everything about you–

When I first met you, I also met the color blue
And got to know the way it burned inside you
The way it clenched into a fist and made you laugh instead of kiss
I had to understand blue before I could understand you
And put together the pieces of what it had turned you into
Somehow you had become so consumed by blue that it ate you
And you became nothing but blue.

How could it not remind me of you?
You stole a shade of blue for every part of you–
The paleness of the morning and the vibrancy of noon
The gentleness of dusk and the deep blue of the full moon
Your whole life was blue.

So when I fell in love with you, I also fell in love with blue
And all the silly little things it made you do
Like how every day, you’d somehow find a new hue
And all over again, you’d fall in love with the color blue
And every day, I’d fall even more in love with you
But I could never be blue.

I could never turn inside out and become something new
I could never figure out how to change myself to please you
And I knew you’d never love me as much as you loved blue
So I had no choice but to leave you
And I tried to block out the blue with yellow or green
But somehow it always leads back to that desperate color
And to this day, my heart has never lost that last tinge of blue

So when he asks what I think about the color blue

I say nothing

I only think about you


shades of blue // (08.20.17) // (g.h.)

Fluff-Fest Day 1 (cook)

Okay, so this is my submission for the Gruvia Fluff fest’s first day. The prompt was cook, and it’s kinda in there. There’s food involved and someone cooked it. Sorry, I just started writing and the story took off in it’s own direction.

So this dedicated to Arianna (a.k.a. Canyoudigitmotherlicker) for unintentionally reminding me of my mint pancake head cannon which lead to this.

Note, this takes place about six months after Tartaros! Enjoy. :)

Gray Fullbuster was the kind of person who very rarely got sick, but when he did it was bad. Not just in terms of severity, but also in terms of moodiness. Gray was never the most friendly of people, but once sickness took hold he quickly became petulant, and demanding towards those around him. Yes, when Gray got sick he reverted back to the behaviour of a five year old child.  

So it came as quite a surprise when, after getting off the train coughing and sniffling, Erza had told him to head home and that she would stop by later with some things to help him feel better. A small voice in the back of Gray’s head told him that he should be worried, but he brushed it aside, too tired and sore to care. Instead he thanked her half-heartedly and headed home to sleep, fully expecting the requip mage to forget her offer of help.

Keep reading

montmartre-parapluie  asked:

Happy birthday to one of the best, kindest and most awesome internet friends I've ever made! You've been a best friend, fellow-writing consultant,, partner-in-crime and all-round-awesome person, and it's been a pleasure knowing you since all the way back in 2008 when nervy 17 year old me first dived into the Kingdom of Heaven fanfic scene. Never let anyone tell you fandom doesn't make you friends, kids! @mercurygray is living proof of that.

Guys. Guys. @montmartre-parapluie reminded me yesterday that we have been friends for nearly TEN YEARS now and it was honestly the best birthday present I got yesterday. She is the cheese to my macaroni, the Lizzie to my Charlotte, and my life would be such a poorer place without her in it.

Originally posted by greenstar910

Today I thought about you.
I thought about the good days, the laughters and the warmth of your embrace. And smiled.
It was beautiful.
It was not like this big moment of revelation, just something that reminded me of you.
But for the first time in such a long time I didn’t feel sad, empty or alone when thinking about you.
There was no hate, no bitterness.
It was just a moment that passed right by.
And I guess that’s what they mean by time will heal all your wounds.
—  Even if they cut right through

winterbugsy  asked:


See, this make me happy.

Rouge is supposed to be a beautiful lady but with other talents and personality traits besides “I like makeup and looking sups hawt 4 boiys”.

Beauty matters little without substance, which is something she has and what draws me to her in the first place. She’s an neat character of agency and ambition. When writing her, you’re supposed to forget the fact that she’s attractive during periods when it isn’t necessary to have to be reminded of that. I’m glad to see that you get what I’m aiming to accomplish when I doodle that little flying furball \o/

Ah yes! SFW Knouge is where I’m most comfortable. I made a commitment to never posting or drawing Sonic shipping fanart that I wouldn’t show my grandma. I personally much prefer fluff to smut.

And Platonic Shadow and Cream is always wonderful! I like imagining how they’d develop as friends as she ages. Hehe

Thanks for your kind words and thoughts c:

The thing about forgiving
is that I never forget
and so it becomes just one more thing
I must remind myself to do
every morning when I wake.

Brush teeth
wash face
make lunch
forgive you for the time you left and told me
that it was nothing personal
that was just how things were going to be,
but hey,
we’re still good,

So when you’re wondering
if we’re good,
don’t ask me early in the morning.

Forgiving you isn’t the first thing on my list.
—  To-do - Meghan Lynn

i. If you’re going to fall in love with me, understand that I am a ticking time bomb. I will hurt you, even when I love you, I will hurt you.

ii. You are the first person I have trusted with even a sliver of my heart in a long time.

iii. Your cologne reminds me of a memory.

iv. He never hit me, but there are scars on my soul that you cannot see. Forgive me if I flinch when you reach for my hand. Old habits die hard.

v. I think we could make each other happy. Be patient with me.

—  5 things i should have said tonight | S.B.