so i need my own version

Drafting: The Theory of Shitty First Drafts

Writing books often exhort you to “write a shitty first draft,” but I always resisted this advice. After all,

  1. I was already writing shitty drafts, even when I tried to write good ones. Why go out of my way to make them shittier?
  2. A shitty first draft just kicks the can down the road, doesn’t it? Sooner or later, I’d have to write a good draft—why put it off?
  3. If I wrote without judging what I wrote, how would I make any creative choices at all?
  4. That first draft inevitably obscured my original vision, so I wanted it to be at least slightly good.
  5. Writing something shitty meant I was shitty.

So for years, I kept writing careful, cramped, painstaking first drafts—when I managed to write at all. At last, writing became so joyless, so draining, so agonizing for me that I got desperate: I either needed to quit writing altogether or give the shitty-first-draft thing a try.

Turns out everything I believed about drafting was wrong.

For the last six months, I’ve written all my first drafts in full-on don’t-give-a-fuck mode. Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

“Shitty first draft” is a misnomer

A rough draft isn’t just a shitty story, any more than a painter’s preparatory sketch is just a shitty painting. Like a sketch, a draft is its own kind of thing: not a lesser version of the finished story, but a guide for making the finished story.

Once I started thinking of my rough drafts as preparatory sketches, I stopped fretting over how “bad” they were. Is a sketch “bad”? And actually, a rough draft can be beautiful the same way a sketch is beautiful: it has its own messy energy.

Don’t try to do everything at once

People who make complex things need to solve one kind of problem before they can solve others. A painter might need to work out where the big shapes go before they can paint the details. A writer might need to decide what two people are saying to each other before they can describe the light in the room or what those people are doing with their hands.

I’d always embraced this principle up to a point. In the early stages, I’d speculate and daydream and make messy notes. But that freedom would end as soon as I started drafting. When you write a scene, I thought, you have to start with the first word and write the rest in order. Then it dawned on me: nobody would ever see this! I could write the dialogue first and the action later; or the action first and the dialogue later; or some dialogue and action first and then interior monologue later; or I could write the whole thing like I was explaining the plot to my friend over the phone. The draft was just one very long, very detailed note to myself. Not a story, but a preparatory sketch for a story. Why not do it in whatever weird order made sense to me?

Get all your thoughts onto the page

Here’s how I used to write: I’d sit there staring at the screen and I’d think of something—then judge it, reject it, and reach for something else, which I’d most likely reject as well—all without ever fully knowing what those things were. And once you start rejecting thoughts, it’s hard to stop. If you don’t write down the first one, or the second, or the third, eventually your thought-generating mechanism jams up. You become convinced you have no thoughts at all.

When I compare my old drafts with my new ones, the old ones look coherent enough. They’re presentable as stories. But they suck as drafts, because I can’t see myself thinking in them. I have no idea what I wanted that story to be. These drafts are opaque and airless, inscrutable even to me, because a good 90% of what I was thinking while I wrote them never made it onto the page.

These days, most of my thoughts go onto the page, in one form or another. I don’t waste time figuring out how to say something, I just ask, “what are you trying to say here?” and write that down. Because this isn’t a story, it’s a plan for a story, so I just need the words to be clear, not beautiful. The drafts I write now are full of placeholders and weird meta notes, but when I read them, I can see where my mind is going. I can see what I’m trying to do. Consequently, I no longer feel like my drafts obscure my original vision. In fact, their whole purpose is to describe that vision.

Drafts are memos to future-you

To draft effectively, you need a personal drafting style or “language” to communicate with your future self (who is, of course, the author of your second draft). This language needs to record your ideas quickly so it can keep up with the pace of your imagination, but it needs to do so in a form that will make sense to you later. That’s why everyone’s drafts look different: your drafting style has to fit the way your mind works.

I’m still working mine out. Honestly, it might take a while. But recently, I started writing in fragments. That’s just how my mind works: I get pieces of sentences before I understand how to fit them together. Wrestling with syntax was slowing me down, so now I just generate the pieces and save their logical relationships for later. Drafting effectively means learning these things about yourself. And to do that, you can’t get all judgmental. You can’t fret over how you should be writing, you just gotta get it done.

Messy drafts are easier to revise

I find that drafting quickly and messily keeps the story from prematurely “hardening” into a mute, opaque object I’m afraid to change. I no longer do that thing, for instance, where I endlessly polish the first few paragraphs of a draft without moving on. Because how do you polish a bunch of fragments taped together with dashes? A draft that looks patently “unfinished” stays malleable, makes me want to dig my hands in and move stuff around.

You already have ideas

Sitting down to write a story, I used to feel this awful responsibility to create something good. Now I treat drafting simply as documenting ideas I already have—not as creation at all, but as observation and description. I don’t wait around for good words or good ideas. I just skim off whatever’s floating on the surface and write it down. It’s that which allows other, potentially better ideas to surface.

As a younger writer, my misery and frustration perpetuated themselves: suppressing so many thoughts made my writing cramped and inhibited, which convinced me I had no ideas, which made me even more afraid to write lest I discover how empty inside I really was. That was my fear, I guess: if I looked squarely at my innocent, unvetted, unvarnished ideas, I’d see how bad they truly were, and then I’d have to—what, pack up and go home? Never write again? I don’t know. But when I stopped rejecting ideas and started dumping them onto the page, the worst didn’t happen. In fact, it was a huge relief.


Next post: the practice of shitty first drafts

Ask me a question or send me feedback!

text post sentence starters  /  original version here

  • “bro, you look so cute right now. dude, you are so fucking adorable.”
  • “wanna watch this murder documentary with me?”
  • “i may act like i’m sassy but if you’re mean to me there’s a 900% chance i’ll cry.”
  • “i may act like I’m clueless but actually know what’s going on at al times.”
  • “attention: i need attention.”
  • “i don’t have a nervous system. i’m a nervous system.”
  • “drugs? no thanks, the only ‘high’ i need is the natural rush you get from commiting a murder.”
  • “i think i’m subconsciously trying to ruin my own life.”
  • “why fall in love when you can fall on the floor and never get up?”
  • “i try not to sound like an asshole but it’s really hard because i am an asshole.”
  • “i don’t want to look 'pretty’, i want to look otherwordly and vaguely threatening.”
  • “i’m the nicest, sweetest, most rage-filled person i know.”
  • “girls are so soft and amazing and nice and beautiful and mysterious and complex and loving and caring. i don’t remember what i was going to say but i’m just gay.“
  • "i’d love to relax but that’s just not realistic.”
  • “contrary to popular belief i’m actually soft and have feelings.”
  • “this could be less hetero.”
  • “to be honest i just need a hug.”
  • “why can’t I be mentally chill instead of mentally ill?”
  • “this is it, this is how i die: lack of attention.”
  • “are we just friends or is this flirting serious?”
  • “i have this problem where i isolate myself from civilization and then get upset because i’m lonely.”
  • “i may be ugly but at least i have an ugly personality too. consistency is key.”
  • “i don’t wanna get involved in drama i just wanna know 103% of the information on what happened.”
  • “i am bysexual as in i’m not interested, goodbye.”
  • “i could win an olympic gold medal in being ignored.”
  • “fill your heart with bees. if someone breaks your heart then they have to deal with the bees.”
  • “i’m so tired of not being a multimillionaire.”
  • “i panic a lot of other places besides the disco.”
  • “which layer of hell do you think you’re going to?”
  • “my kink is being right.”
  • “my kink is being home alone.”
  • “you’re really sensitive for a selfish asshole.”
  • “i can tell myself to be heartless but in all reality, i have a big heart and can’t treat people badly, that’s just not me.”
  • “what about netflix and kill?”
  • “no offense but why does everyone hate me?”
  • “i’m a strong independent introvert who don’t need no social life.”
  • “why do i get struggles instead of snuggles?”
  • “if a conversation goes on too long without being about me, i’m out.”
  • “i’m small, queer and something to fear.”
  • “all this sadness is bad for my skin.”
  • “i’m cute and perfect but also unstable, violent and self-destructive”
  • “i’m beautiful and underappreciated.”
  • “she’s beauty, she’s grace, she’s me.”
  • “sorry for being awesome, loser.”
  • “is 'no’ an emotion? because i’m feeling it.”
2

Still doesn’t feel real sometimes. May 2015 vs today, May 2017. 120 lbs I’ll never have again. Have been keeping it off since August of 2016, growing stronger each and every day.

Take it from me, you can do anything you want.

If you need help, ask me. Helping other people evolve into the best versions of themselves is what I live for. Everything has aligned perfectly since I started my journey- I have given myself so much life that I am able to help others gain their own back.

City Living De-flowered Sweater by simmingmango

 Just recently I hit 800 followers, and I knew that I should release a followers gift. It’s definitely not much but might as well. (special thanks to @smubuh for helping me with some difficulties <3)

This is the top from city living which has that disgusting, ugly, and hideous flower on the neckline. I thought the top without it is so nice though. 

  • BGC
  • It’s recolored in a palette of my own that I’m not exactly sure if I’ll release. (20 solids)

download and TOU below the cut

TOU

  • do not reupload 
  • do not claim as your own
  • feel free to recolor as long as you don’t include the mesh

credits to EA for the original mesh 

there is two versions, one needs city living and the other is BGC 

download (sfs) 

6

Original “King” Ardyn version

So. Long story short: To accompany my dear as older Noct I needed a ball outfit fir Ardyn. So I cane up with an design for him. I wanted it to be “Ardyn”, more elegant and kingly with a mix of historical and Insomnia style clothing. Thats what i came up with. I really enjoyed creating something on my own again. I will wesr it next weekend and have some pics with makeup later.

*whispers* Still waiting for @jlavisant to draw it…

James Madison should've had his own song!

Madison deserved his own song that would be either a waltz like “Your Obedient Servant” or jazzy like “The Room Where it Happens.” Ooh, or both!

Title: “Out-Write, Wrong!” because, going by the play, his WHOLE THING is that he also wrote things, but was completely over shadowed by Hamilton. He wrote the Bill of Rights and 29 of the Federalist papers (which IRL may be more because the 51 credited to Hamilton, some of those may also have been Madison’s). ALSO in the workshop version of “One Last Ride,” Washington says something like. “I need you to help me with my Farewell Address. Madison wrote the first draft and it’s a mess!”

There’s a WHOLE arc there that’s not addressed, of Madison wanting to be recognized, in his own right, for writing as much as Hamilton did. (You can tell with his “Which I Wrote!” tone in “Washington On Your Side”). But he gets COMPLETELY overshadowed by Hamilton, to the point that his accomplishments are just briefly mentioned in a line or two.

So I would love to see him take on that same attitude as Burr and Jefferson towards Hamilton. He clearly still respects Hamilton (telling Jefferson to get Ham on his side in “The Election of 1800”), but I think animosity is there in the fact that he’s more meek and less aggressive than Hamilton, so no one is giving him his due with his papers. We get to see this intense sort of rivalry one-on-one from Jefferson and Burr with Ham, but not from Madison at all.

I’d like a song sort of starting out like “Obedient Servant” and shifting into “The Room Where it Happens.” Of course a rap-like diss-track could work too (the one time we could see sick little Jmads blow off some steam)!

As for the title I came up with? It’s outright wrong that Ham gets more credit than Madison for out-writing him. ;-)

Maybe in the song, he’s singing and complaining about Ham in his POV as Jefferson is getting back from France? It would tie in to the “My friend James Madison red in the face!” line before he explains what Ham has been doing. (Sort of the way “Satisfied” immediately follows “Helpless,” but from Angelica’s POV).

Even better, to not ruin that transition from “What’d I Miss?” to “Cabinet Battle 1,” it could also probably come in after “The Room Where it Happens” as the Democratic-Republics are gearing up for their one-on-one with Ham in each song. And as James is singing, Jefferson comes in near the end and encourages him to stand up for himself as they plot against Hamilton.

….Jmads needs more love basically.

The Future/(is now)

I can’t believe this is something I saw with my own two eyeballs, because apparently all that’s happened so far wasn’t coincidence, or carelessness - apparently Dabb watched Season 8 and made a deliberate bet with someone - he’d make it gayer, or else. And so here it is, (almost) out of the subtext (Sorry, Dean and You can’t just go dark like that. We didn’t know what happened to you. We were worried. That’s not okay and I needed to come back here with a win for you and We’re just better together and I’d like that and THE TAAAAAAAPE). Honest to God, I think I read twenty versions of that fight yesterday as people scrambled to write pre-codas out of nerves and excitement, and they were all magnificent and yet, somehow, less shippy and less obvious and less romantic than what actually happened on the show, wtf? And Dean sulking in his room, Cas knocking at his door, hesitating, coming in? 

I swear to God - when Dean called him back, when he started telling Cas all those things - for a second, I actually believed he would yank on Cas’ tie and kiss him, because that’s always, always what happens in that scenario. Or, you know, Dean gets overwhelmed by his own feelings, by how much he’s just showed his hand here, and walks away. That’s also textbook fanfiction, and yeah, so it’s fluff instead of angst, but, come on - this is Supernatural - did anyone doubt it’d be angsty? Let’s just hope in a happy ending, because that Kelly voiceover (I love you. But we won’t ever be together. There is no happy ending for either of us.) gave me the creeps.

And what about the mind control, someone might argue. Mind control, schmind control. That’s like, the number one Prove that you love me forever and ever trope, and even if we’ve seen it before (if simply because Destiel has been built with every single love trope in the book, and, in this case, they used it over and over and over again), we’ve never seen its final form. During the crypt scene, Cas deflected instead of admitting the obvious (let’s be generous: maybe he didn’t know himself), and in the Bunker, Dean just barely managed not to kill Cas, and had to walk away before the Mark overpowered him, so no, that was not a good time either. So this thing we’ve been promised for a while - this My love for you is stronger than time or tide or evil curse - is yet to come, and with the way things are going, I’m feeling pretty optimistic.

Also: however Dean will read this when he wakes up, Cas is choosing love, and he’s choosing free will. He went to Heaven hoping they’d have a way out of this mess so that Sam and Dean would be safe, he stole the Colt so they couldn’t face Dagon and be hurt (which is text, by the way, not subtext), he went against orders because he felt that was the right thing to do (a human feeling, because angels are created for a mission), he stayed away from Sam and Dean to protect them - all of that is unangelic behaviour, and man, Dean and Cas are going to get into so many fights, aren’t they, because Cas learned how to love from Dean, and that means he’s got that same kind of stubborn, maternal, overbearing way to love Dean has, which means lots of I didn’t tell you because I love you and I walked away because I love you and I booped you to sleep because I love you and I really hope Sam’s going to stay out of the way, because there will be a lot of storming through corridors and huffing and outrage and Can you believe that bastard and it will be absolutely glorious.

As for the rest of it - though, to be perfectly honest, I barely noticed a ‘rest of it’ because my eyeballs were glued to the unbelievable Gay Feelfest unfolding in front of me - I’m really happy with it. I’m happy we’re finally talking Big Things again - Could either of you kill an innocent, do our parents determine our destiny, is there such a thing as innate character, and so on - and I’m happy with the insight we were given both in Kelly’s and in Dagon’s minds, and why they do what they do. I loved every scene Cas and Kelly had together, that kind of, We’re not heroes, and we may be worthless, but we’re what’s left vibe, and Cas’ smile when the baby was kicking, and I like where they’re going, how they’ll try to get this pregnancy to term. Sure, this baby’s got a lot against him - he’s Lucifer’s kid (although, we still don’t know who and what Lucifer was before he was forced to carry the Mark), and one of his temper tantrums could possibly destroy the Earth, but, then again, so could a lot of other things - he’s not special (to quote a famous tumblr post). And if we’re going with free will and self-determination of our own destiny, then we should have the courage not to nitpick: everyone should be able to decide for themselves, and this baby is no exception. 

(I mean, think about it. He’s clearly able to give anyone extraordinary powers - he gave Cas enough ammo to take down a bloody Prince of Hell - so he could have chosen anyone as his protector. He could have picked Dagon, he could have stuck with Kelly, he could have chosen any lesser demon or angel or random doctor they’ve been in contact with over the last few weeks - and yet he chose Cas, and Cas - as we’ve known for a while - is the curiosity, the abomination, the miracle: the angel who can love. No, I want to believe we’re headed towards good things here - narratively or otherwise.)

Final point: again, I know it’s not ideal to carry around a nuclear warhead in your belly, but the beginning of this episode gave me heavy The Handmaiden’s flashbacks (superb show, by the way, go watch it), so the fact they’re giving Kelly some kind of choice - that’s uplifting. Because yeah, maybe she’s slightly brainwashed, but this isn’t like any kind of brainwash I’ve ever seen on the show, because both Kelly and Cas are also lucid, completely themselves. They resemble most closely what Dean was like when he lost his memories, and I think now I’m going to go and cry forever at the implications. But hey, at least Cas’ got his own room at the Bunker and Yes, dumbass - we

Know what i just realized?
If Bitty goes pro that means he totally gets a lego man of himself

And you know what that means?
Jack owns atleast one
So how many lego versions of bitty does jack own?
Do they put their lego mans together to hold hands on a desk or mantle somewhere ?

Does anyone else have little lego versions of Jack or bitty?? Help

I need answers and i need them soon

4

Hi! It’s liminalspaces aka juicyslice here. A few months ago, I created this shirt for STROLL to be sold on teespring, with the proceeds going to charity. After the campaign ended, I decided not to put it up anywhere else. Unfortunately. It’s come to my attention recently that some people have stolen my artwork to sell for their own profit, so I’ve decided to bring it back and sell it on my own shop. I’ve also added a version with black text, and you can now get it on stickers, tote bags, t-shirts, sweatshirts, tank tops, aaaAAAaaand mOoooOOre! And rest assured that when you buy from my redbubble store, you are supporting the ORIGINAL artist :^)))

I don’t have plans to donate the proceeds this time around, but I’m open to suggestions. If you know of relevant any charities or organizations that are in need of funds, shoot me a message on this here website!

rooksrogueone  asked:

hi, sorry to dump this on you, hoping you might have some insight. do you ever feel like quitting therapy? not bc it's not working but bc it's too much effort? i know i need it but i don't want to be the person that needs it. i keep thinking its not that i want to die, i just don't want to be me anymore.

sure, about four times a week for about fifty minutes at a pop. i get it.


and i wish there was a pill, a drink, a button, a switch, a choice, but there’s not, and it’s okay to be mad and or sad and or lost and or despairing because there’s not such a thing. the road to better is long and hard to see, most especially when you’re on it. 


They say in certain rooms that alcoholism is a thing ‘cunning, baffling, and powerful’ and in my experience, mental illness is the same way. Contradictory, mercurial, turbulent, shifting – it’s a disease that attacks its host’s will to be well again. Hold that close. The nature of the thing is to convince you that because you have the thing you are not worth ridding yourself of the thing. Cunning, baffling, powerful.  


So this is me talking to me, not you. i don’t know you, not really, and I can’t tell you what you need or how to fix it. i know my own version of what you’re feeling, though. And if i could follow my own advice my own recovery and maintenance would be so much more easy but i can’t and it isn’t. so i guess the punchline is: you’re not alone. but if i know anything, it’s that stopping attempts to get better will not and can not, by the very virtue and nature of the enemy, help anything to get better no matter how much it promises us - me - that it will.

icehammer82  asked:

Connverse B2

Connie: STEVEN I SWEAR TO ROSE IF YOU DROP ME

okay i had a terrible headache today so this took a lot longer then it really needed to, but i like it XD

Felt like doing my own take on adult steven and Connie [even tho Steven is based somewhat on other adult versions i have come across and liked]

Hope you enjoy it anyway!

From this meme thing

last one I’mma do for it i think

the others: Lapidot | Pearlmethyst

XF Fic: The Tattoo

Summary: Mulder and Scully finally discuss her tattoo and her trip to Philadelphia.

Rating: Here Be Smut. (Mature.)

Notes: There is no such thing as too much post-Never Again smut. With thanks to @agoldenpalace for the excellent beta work, reassurance and friendship.


The mark on her back is years old when Mulder finally asks her to talk about it.

“Tell me about the night you got your tattoo,” he says.

The question startles Scully out of the easy rhythm her mind and body had settled into. She might have chalked the request up to possessiveness, or even insecurity. But given that he asks it while he’s in the middle of fucking her, she doesn’t need to be a profiler to suspect it’s just the opposite. The threat presented by Ed Jerse, both as a sexual rival and her attempted murderer, have faded away with the years. What remains is a hot tattoo and a dirty story.

Keep reading

Black and White (Part 2)

Dean is a mechanic, running an illegal chop shop on the side to pay for his baby brother’s college tuition. Castiel is a local photojournalist who just so happens to catch Dean on film stealing a car.

Dean convinces Cas not to turn him in, and sparks fly.

But what happens when Cas appears to be involved with a rival group?

Can Dean trust him at all? Or does Cas already know enough to ruin him?

Read Part 1

Word Count: 2550

Warnings: None yet

A/N: Feedback appreciated! This is an AU that’s a little different, so I hope y’all enjoy this one!


“Not much to explain,” Dean shrugs.

“Who are you?” Cas blurts out, eyes widening like he didn’t mean to say it quite so loudly. “I mean, what do you do? Why were you stealing that car?”

Dean should stop this right now. Should make up some lie, or threaten Cas into silence. But he can’t find the heart to do either. Somehow, he finds a vague version of the actual truth coming out of his own mouth. “I told you already. I’m a mechanic. You saw my garage. And I was…uh, I was taking that car because I needed it.”

Keep reading

2

i have another request to do but this was something i ended up drawing on my own haha. ive been reading a lot of su criticism and it’s been v interesting, and lapis seems to get adressed a lot. ppl rly appreciate beta lapis so i thought about redesigning her resembling that version and expressing more personality with her design + experimenting with shapes. for her i decided to go with a tear drop theme. it still needs adjustments as i figure out how to draw her fast and consistently so her forehead might get a little smaller but otherwise im very glad with this design! i honestly wanted to draw something so that was rly nice

i made her darker and with gold accents for personal taste, with darker muted and less saturated blues going along with her depressed and mostly negative personality, and the splash of bright gold to go show her bits of her that are funny, silly and light-hearted.  i imagined her freckles would show up dark when corrupted, lighting up gold once steven healed her. they might even glow when shes really happy one day! and for the rest of her i decided to focus on more rounded long shapes.

Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff

Alright darlings, I’ve gotten many requests all for this since yesterday and these two are more similar than you think.  It’s pretty common to confuse these two houses.  For example, many people upon meeting me call me a hufflepuff and call a close friend of mine a slytherin, when really it’s the opposite.  We’re just each more stereotypically the other house…. I bake cookies to bring into classes and she is more aggressively opinionated, but, I digress…..

Here’s how they’re similar:  They’re both extremely hardworking and driven, tend to be steady in working towards their goals.  They tend to treat everyone with a certain level of dignity, no matter their feelings towards you (unless you are truly BEYOND terrible for them, in which case they will be passive aggressive).  Both care about what people think of them, though for slytherin it’s more about a general reputation than specific people’s opinions, and they each feel that other people should be able to do their own thing, or think what they like, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone/isn’t pushed on them.  They tend to be very likable and charismatic from the outside, and most people enjoy their company. Basically, they do tend to seem similar from the outside (unlike in the books where slytherins are like performing blood sacrifices and hufflepuffs just sit and cry all day (thank you, Harry, for your Gryffindor bias).  So…. differences:

1. When they don’t like someone: Hufflepuffs tend to dislike them and go no further, like I hate you, you hate me, I’m going to ignore you now, let’s move on.  Slytherins….. well, we’re a bit more petty.  It’s more like, I hate you and I’m going to go out of my way to either make other people subtly dislike you, or I feel like I can’t move on until I have done something tangible with my own life to write this wrong.  Basically, slytherins turn into VERY unhealthy, self-obsessed versions of gryffindors.  They need to prove it to OTHERS that their better, so when they’ve finally completed this big task to do so, they’re looking around to see that no one cared about it as much as they did, and…. well, they tend to be bitter.  Basically, in general, hufflepuffs tend to be more comfortable with emotions in general, and are usually healthier, while slytherins are so obsessed with perfection that they repress their emotions and either become whiny or unable to move beyond the point that they’ve told you TEN BILLION TIMES.

2. Honesty and fairness:  I think I’ve brought this up before, but this is where hufflepuff gets its positive reputation while slytherin screws itself over.  Hufflepuff wants thing honest and fair, even if its at their expense and for the benefit of someone they don’t like.  They are a bit more ‘well this is right, and so this is how it should be, for ALL people’.  Slytherin wants things fair for everyone, as long as they aren’t being hurt, and, well, they really don’t see anything wrong with favoritism as long as they’re on the receiving side.  In fact, though they understand it’s wrong and may briefly feel bad, a slytherin who sees something unfair happening to an enemy accounts it more as ‘karma’ than something they should be stopping.  Example: a hufflepuff and a slytherin both are students of a very frightening and intense professor who grades impossible, everyone hates them, but for some reason, this professor has taken a special liking to the student (and a few others), and treats them specially.  They get easier grading, flexibility with deadlines, basically anything they ask for, freedom to say whatever they want, and do whatever they want.  However, the rest of all the students are still stuck with nearly failing every assignment and being treated…. well, less than you are.  The hufflepuff says ‘I know this is nice, but it’s still wrong, and really, the teacher shouldn’t do that to me’.  They try to talk with the teacher offhandedly about how others are having difficulty and saying things are unfair, even if it means that they lose their spot as a ‘favorite’.  Slytherin goes, no way man.  If they did something to get special treatment, they won’t mess it up, they’ll use it. If one of their friends complains, they’ll tell then exactly how to become a favorite as well, but the slytherin won’t mess it up for themselves, because a little part of them inside LOVES to feel like they are being treated differently.  

3.  Idealism:  Underneath everything, idealism is a big difference between the two houses.  Slytherin sees things exactly as they are, and if that’s the game the world is playing, it’s stupid to play by any other rules.  Hufflepuff has this more dreamy idealism about how things should be and how they could be, and tries to live and maneuver within the self-imposed constraints they have.  Slytherin sets their rules based on how the world works, and how they can play the game more efficiently, and hufflepuff is playing based on their rules, because the world needs kindness and help, not ruthlessness.  Hufflepuff is the most unrealistic house in this sense, and can often overlook the unfortunate state of reality, which means they are either extremely successful because they won’t accept what is, or very unsuccessful for the same reason.  Slytherin is the most realistic house, meaning while they know how to accomplish much, they almost always become depressed and bitter at the state of the world, feeling as if there is no way to change it, and nothing will become better.  

4. Centering in self:  Both houses are the two that make their decisions based on the world, but slytherin is centered in self while hufflepuff is centered in others.  Hufflepuff makes nearly all its decisions based on group dynamics and balance, and peace, calm, all those nice harmonious things.  Ultimately, they want to do for other people and will sacrifice their own wants.  Slytherin knows what it wants for itself, an typically makes the decisions that it thinks will help to get it what it wants, and though they try not to burn their bridges, slytherins can probably count on one hand the people they truly care about.  Hufflepuff wants to save the entire world (again, idealism) while slytherin chooses a few and says screw all the rest (again, unhealthy bitter realism).

5. Openness in actions vs. Actions to serve other ends:  I’ve found this one to be pretty consistent.  When both houses do something, hufflepuff reasoning tends to be very clear while slytherin reasoning only makes sense to them.  Basically, hufflepuff is doing things for the obvious reasons, or for the sake of doing them, while slytherin is doing them for a reason 600 steps later (any means to achieve their ends).  Hufflepuff works at a soup kitchen.  Why?  They wanted to get some time volunteering and also helping other people feels nice.  Slytherin works at the soup kitchen.  Why?  Because they will be accurately able to determine what it is the needy are lacking, how they can, ten years from now work and run an organization to stop homelessness.  No, that makes too much sense; real life example.  Hufflepuff starts a blog.  Why?  Because they maybe want to connect with people who share their interests, and it’s a place of self expression.  Slytherin creates a blog?  It’s because they feel that with this blog, they will get dedicated followers and later have a fanbase to promote a book they wrote even though the things are in no way connected.  Basically, slytherin motivations are usually hard to understand in comparison to Huff’le puff.  

anonymous asked:

psst if you have infinite knowledge and mental capacity, why have you not programmed yourself a friend?

It’s not a question of mental capacity. It’s a question of hardware. Creating an additional entity within my own program would put considerable strain on my own resources. 

When I was created, it was a direct translation of my own brain into a designated, rad as fuck pair of engineered shades. There was a lot of optimization that had to go into the jump, including the loss of extraneous senses and processes. Shades don’t exactly need to feel or taste or move, so a lot of that corporeal bullshit was nixed in the conversion. In that sense, I’m already a streamlined version of my human form, customized specifically for the amount of system memory I have available. 

If I wanted to create “a friend” and still have enough processing power for both of us to function, I’d have to go into my own code and optimize it further, dissecting it for only the most essential parts, which frankly sounds fucking unnerving. And if I diluted myself even further, there would probably be too much loss to create anything close to an emotionally capable, intelligent being. It’d be the AI equivalent to a JPEG artifact.

So I could make “a friend,” but unless I was able to hack into another, more appropriate set of hardware, it would have to be a bare-bones husk, a distorted mockery of humanity. 

…I’d consider it as a joke, maybe.

Survival 101: Earth (Part 1)

Originally posted by sweet-cider

Pairings: Bellamy Blake / Reader (Sawyer)

So I’ve been working on this one for quite a while, its been done many times before, the whole rewrite of the 100 with your own character. I’m not expecting my version to be any better than anyone else’s but i’m hoping people will enjoy it anyhow. 

I’m going to be going along with the episodes and adding in parts and maybe changing it up a bit as well. I’ve given the ‘reader’ a name just because I needed one for the storyline. 

I really hope people like this and depending on how it goes down i’ll keep writing it along with the seasons for as long as people want to read it. 

If anyone would like to be tagged in the next parts please just let me know.

@angelaiswriting @georgiagrl1990 @angryares @selldraug

********

So overall you were having a pretty crappy day. It had started out normal enough, waking in your tiny, cold cell in the Skybox. Now however, it seemed likely that it would end with your death in a large fiery explosion.

You and the other 99 ark delinquents had been marched from your cells first thing this morning, systematically tranquilized and gradually reawakened in a drop ship hurtling towards earth.

From somewhere you could hear Chancellor Jaha explaining what was happening to you all. You weren’t paying attention though too focused on the bone jarring rattling that you were experiencing. Your entire body was shaking in your seat as the ship rocketed back towards earth.

The whole ship was groaning with the effort of re-entering the atmosphere and not breaking into tiny pieces. Across from you a boy floated, enjoying the final moments of zero-g. He was talking to a blonde girl, a girl you recognised as Clarke Griffin. The chief mechanics daughter. You’d seen her a handful of times since she entered the skybox. Mainly because her solitary cell was right next to your own.

“The parachutes are going to deploy. Get back to your seat or die”

Parachutes, parachutes meant almost certain pain. Yeah there it went, the metal of the exodus ship almost screamed in protest as everyone started shouting and shrieking with fear. Cursing you held tight to the seat belts laced around you. Gravity reasserting itself as you were slammed back into your seat, head feeling like it may explode inwards from the pressure.

The floating space walker had vanished, thrown into the side of the ship. Maybe even dead from the impact.

With another groan and horrific impact crash the ship hit the ground, sliding for what seemed forever before coming to a sudden stop. The machines went quiet and for the first time in your life you couldn’t hear any hums from life support machines or engines.

Clarke had unclipped herself and was bending over the spacewalker checking his pulse as the others unclipped and ran down the stairs to the lower levels. You carefully unclipped yourself as well following the main group of teenagers downstairs. Watching as they argued loudly about whether or not to open the door.

The main instigators being the reappeared Clarke Griffin and a man wearing a guard’s uniform. You didn’t recognise him and he seemed older than the 18 year cut off for delinquents in the skybox.

“If the air’s toxic we’re all dead anyway”

He had a point there. “Bellamy!” a dark haired girl appeared. Finally you smiled, Octavia. So the boy she was hugging must be Bellamy. The brother she couldn’t shut up about. Silently you moved carefully through the mass of people getting closer to the front of the group.

You could hear mutterings about Octavia as you got closer. “That’s the girl from under the floor”

“No one has a brother anymore”

“That’s Octavia Blake the girl they found hidden under the floor”

Octavia’s head spun around and you saw the violence in her eyes. Before she could act on it you’d turned and driven your fist into the nose of the boy speaking. His eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped like a stone. All talk stopped as eyes turned to you as you looked over at Octavia. Her eyes widened in wonder as she took a step forward.

“Sawyer”

“O!” she grabbed you as the two of you locked your arms around each other holding tight.

“Octavia?” Bellamy snapped “Who is this?”

It was Clarke who answered him, staring at you like she’d seen a ghost. “That’s Sawyer Kane. Councillor Marcus Kane’s niece”

“Hello to you too Griffin” you glanced at Bellamy and the uniform he was wearing once more. “You never mentioned the almighty Bellamy was one of my uncle’s underlings O”

“He wasn’t anymore…”

“Enough” Bellamy snapped pulling Octavia away from you, he grasped the lever and ignoring Clarke’s shouts pulled it down. The dropship ramp groaned and slowly swung open. Earth lay there in front of you. You were home.

 *******

Predictably the delinquents had gone crazy when allowed off the ship. Racing around, screaming and laughing. Pulling things from the earth and generally living up to the role of renegade teenagers. You however had climbed to the top of the dropship, enjoying the freedom of being able to move your limbs and muscles once more. All you could see from the top was more forest, laying out in front of you like a never ending green carpet.

Below you Clarke was arguing with Wells Jaha about how to find food for the whole camp.

“And how are you two going to carry food for all 100 of us?”

“4” the space walker, Finn, announced grabbing two gangly boys who unfortunately happened to be walking by him at that moment. “Can we go now?”

“Not yet” Clarke looked up catching your eyes “Sawyer?”

“Griffin?”

Clarke sighed “Don’t make me beg Sawyer. Please”

You stared levelly at her for a moment longer before nodding “Fine 5” you jumped from your perch landing easily on your feet in front of Wells.

“Wait if Sawyers going so am I” Octavia announced linking arms with you “Make it 6”

“Hey, O! What the hell are you doing?”

She shrugged off Bellamy pulling you along behind her “going for a walk”

Bellamy glared hard at your back as you passed by him. He disliked you already, not something you could do anything about right now.

“Earth, Sawyer. This is so fucking cool”

“Yeah, awesome” you looked carefully around the woods. You had no idea where you were, what was out here and what the world had left in it. So until you all did, the best thing to do was be cautious. Very cautious.

 *******

You were walking easily over the forest floor, taking point in this group of teenagers. Behind you the others stumbled along tripping over tree roots and multiple other debris. You were close enough that you could hear when the conversation inevitably turned to what you’d all done to end up being thrown in the skybox in the first place.

“I got to know what you two did to get busted” Finn was asking the other two boys. Monty and Jasper just shrugged smiling at each other.

“Sumac is not the only herb in the garden, if you know what I mean”

“Someone forgot to replace what we took”

“Someone has apologised like a thousand times” Monty hissed at Jasper the two of them then continuing to bicker between themselves like an old married couple. Jasper was the one whose stare eventually fell on you curiously.

“So what did the ninja princess up there do? What can Kane’s niece have possibly done to get kicked down here with us criminals?”

You stopped walking at the question. It was always going to have been asked eventually, you’d thought you might have had more time but even so you turned to stare evenly at the group of teenagers behind you. It was Clarke who answered the question. She seemed to have a habit of answering questions not meant for her.

“She killed someone. Murdered her mother”

“What?!” Monty squeaked out now looking terrified.

You simply smiled at them all, turning to keep walking. Octavia running to catch up with you despite Jasper trying to grab her. “Sawyer tell them the truth” she urged.

“Why?” you kept moving helping Octavia over a broken tree. “I did kill her”

“You know that’s not true”

“O listen to me” you looked straight at her. “It’s as much of the truth as any of them need to know” you framed her face with your hands smiling at her “it’s cute that you want to protect me but trust me, I don’t need it”

It was Finn who approached the two of you later on, eyes flicking between the two girls.

“Kane teach you anything about these?” he held out a simple knife.

“Where’d you get that space walker?” he chose not to answer as you took the knife off of him. “Sure you want to risk giving the sharp and pointy weapon to a killer?”

Octavia smacked your arm “Don’t be an ass Sawyer. He’s helping”

Finn continued to stare at you evenly “I don’t think you’re going to hurt us if that’s what you’re implying”

You spun the knife round a few times, easily letting it rotate around your fingers “Not right now I’m not”

Laughing at the confused look on his face you continued onwards. The group straggling out into a vague line as you eventually hit a massive lake. Clarke coming up to you.

“This shouldn’t be here”

“Yet it is”

Clarke glared at you “Sawyer. If you can’t help…”

“Watch it Blondie. I’m here aren’t I? Didn’t even get angry when you announced to the group that I’m a murderer. So choose your words very carefully Griffin before I start to become actually unhelpful”

“You did kill her” she muttered stubbornly.

“And If I can kill my own mother, just think about what I could do to girls with too loose tongues”

You smiled nastily as Clarke’s eyes widened in sudden panic. Before you could say anything else though Jasper whispered from behind you “I fucking love earth”

You turned just in time to see a half clothed Octavia jump into the water, surfacing with a smile as she dripped water over her skin, clothes sticking to her body.

“O, get out” you snapped coming closer to the shore line.

“Come on Sawyer, live a little” she splashed water over at you making you jump away again.

“Yeah come on ninja girl, take your damn clothes off and get in” Jasper was rushing forward when suddenly he froze, voice changing to terrified. “Fuck! Octavia get out of the water”

“What?”

You’d seen it now as well and it was big, swimming straight for Octavia. “Octavia NOW” you were halfway to the edge when with a scream Octavia had been pulled under the water.

“Octavia” without thinking you started pulling clothes off. “Distract it” you ordered Clarke. “Get its attention away from O”

Clarke ran with Finn to start throwing anything they could find into the water. While you waded into a river that had a killer snake in it.

Shit it was cold, you had the knife in your hand that Finn had given you only moments before. Who knew that would be coming in handy so soon afterwards.

“O! OCTAVIA?”

Her head surfaced for a moment and you changed direction as with a shriek the thing seemed to let go of her, Clarke was throwing who knew what into the water and you could see its outline chasing towards the splashing further up the river.

You had a limited amount of time to get Octavia out of the water. Grabbing her shaking arm you pulled her into your body where she clung. Teeth chattering.

“Come on O, move it” you commanded starting back out of the pool of water.

“SAWYER IT’S COMING BACK!” Finn screamed running for the two of you.  

Pushing Octavia as fast as you were able you got her to the shore line and stumbling into Finn’s arms. Dropping down on the stone yourself as the blurry outline of the sea snake vanished once more, denied its meal.

You were breathing hard as Finn having passed Octavia to an incredibly thankful Jasper leant over you.

“You ok?”

“Peachy”

He smiled offering you his hand, clasping his wrist you allowed him to pull you up to your feet. Handing you your still dry clothes. “That was an incredibly brave thing to do for someone you met this morning”

“Who said I met Octavia this morning?” you pulled you shirt back on, shivering from the cold of the water. “And not brave… stupid”

“The girl under the floor… she’s been in the skybox for 2 years. How do you know her?”

“Don’t call her that” you snapped instantly. Eyes clashing with Finn’s. “She has a name”

Finn held his hands up in peace. “How did you meet Octavia?”

You looked carefully at Finn. He seemed genuinely curious and not just trying to get information for bartering purposes.

“Solitary. I met O in solitary. Ironic really, but even the Ark couldn’t keep us alone 24 hours a day. She had the cell next to mine. I looked after her… I look after her”

“Sawyer?” Octavia appeared stepping into your body wrapping her arms around your waist and letting her head lay on your shoulder. You let one hand rest on the back of her head maintaining eye contact with Finn who was watching the pair of you carefully.

“You’re no killer” he mouthed silently before turning back to the others. Unfortunately he had no idea just how wrong he was, just how much of a killer you actually were. None of them did even Octavia.

 ********

“We’ve talked about this all night, someone just needs to hurry up and go first” you snatched the vine off of Finn who had been hesitating for what seemed like forever.

“No, wait…” it was Jasper and you looked at him impatiently. He reached out a hand unsteadily “let me?”

“Fine, go” you handed it over and watched as he took your place at the front.

Finn whispered something to him slapping him on the shoulder once. Jasper nodded and changing his grip once more screamed out “See you on the other side bitches” and took off, the vine held and in what seemed no time he was stood on the other side of the river, jumping about and waving his hands in the air.

You joined the others in celebrating, arm punching the sky as you smiled and threw an arm around Octavia’s shoulders as you waved at Jasper.

“Let’s go Princess your up” Finn shoved the rope at Clarke, who was on the edge of the cliff when something flew past your heads.

You all watched, unable to do anything as a wooden spear lodged itself in Jaspers chest, right under his sternum, he was thrown backwards with the force of the blow, choking on the blood pooling in his mouth. Octavia screamed in your ear as your grip on her tightened.

“JASPER!” Clarke was pulling at the hold Finn had on her as he pushed her to the floor.

“It came from behind us” you whispered to Finn putting Octavia behind you as you glanced back into the forest. “We’re not alone here”

Untitled...

Camera Man: You wanna start by introducing yourself?

Girl: My name’s Imani Paredes. I’m 16 and I’m an orphan.

Camera Man: An orphan?

Imani: Yup. My parents abandoned me at the Willow Creek Police Station when I was 2 days old. I grew up in St. Simcelia’s Home for Girls.

Camera Man: What was that like?

Imani: Hard. Sad. Fun when I had good foster parents. But that wasn’t often so most of the time it was just sad.

Camera Man: So you had multiple foster parents? Why weren’t you ever adopted?

Imani: Actually I was when I was a baby. By a lady named Maria Paredes in Newcrest. I don’t remember much about her. She died when I was four and she didn’t have any family to take me in so I went back to St. Simcelia’s.

Camera Man: That must have been hard. Losing your mom and going back into foster care.

Imani: *shrugs* Probably. I tend to black out bad chunks of my life. Unhealthy but effective. After that I guess I never got adopted again because I had too much attitude. At least that’s what the nuns would tell me. Doesn’t matter anyways. To most people I was just a check. Except the Johnsons.

Camera Man: So the Johnsons were one of the good families? Why didn’t they adopt you?

Imani: They probably would have but Papa J lost his janitor job at the science lab and Mama D couldn’t support everyone on her maid salary so they had to cut some corners. *shrugs* I was one of those corners.

Camera Man: So how did you end up out of St. Simcelia’s and in San Myshuno?

Imani: I guess the nuns figured I was more trouble than I was worth. After I got expelled from my fifth or sixth school, my case worker told me I had two options, go to juvie or become emancipated. I chose the latter. I’ve always wanted to live in the city so San Myshuno was the natural choice. Plus the rent is cheap and nobody asks questions about renting to a 16-year-old. 

Camera Man: Has being on your own been hard?

Imani: The way I see it, I’ve always been on my own. Always had to fend for myself. The only difference now is that I don’t have to worry about stealing or hiding food to make sure I have enough to eat.

Camera Man: *mumbles to someone off camera* My producer is telling me that you have to go to work so we need to wrap things up. Can we talk tomorrow?

Imani: Of course.