You guys, can you imagine what it’ll be like for Cas the first time he experiences a hot bath and the wonders it does for tense muscles? The first time he was without his grace he was homeless and always cold, so when team free will find themselves at a motel with an actual bathtub, Dean uses Cas’ dirty state after their hunt as an excuse to convince him to take a bath instead of a shower.
When Cas comes out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, he looks more relaxed than either Sam or Dean have ever seen him, so Dean takes it upon himelf to recreat that moment as often as possible. He even finds his way into a Lush store (athough he will deny it until the day he dies) and buys several different bath bombs for his favourite ex-angel.
Cas, still not giving a shit about appearing “manly”, has absolutely no qualms to admit that he likes the ones smelling like roses and olive oil the most. They remind him of a more peaceful time in heaven.
(And if eventually, Dean joins him and finds out he likes them, too, Sammy doesn’t need to know that.)
I don’t think about Harry Potter a whole lot, typically, but today I saw a video that featured Harry wearing some cool shades and I started wondering: what if Voldemort’s killing curse had struck Harry just a little lower? What if, on the first of November, 1981, the Dursleys had discovered on the doorstep their infant nephew - not with a conspicuous jagged scar, but instead with eyes the colour of electricity? How would blind Harry Potter’s life differ from the story we already know?
The first divergences are small and predictable. On his eleventh birthday, Harry’s letter from Hogwarts is written in delicate braille and the signature of Minerva McGonagall is elegantly embossed. At the Hut-on-the-Rock, the newly-revealed wizard boy is impressed not by Hagrid’s size but by the unusual depth of his voice.
Arriving at Hogwarts, we get no description of Draco Malfoy’s appearance, but instead learn the self-important scuffing sound of his footsteps, plus the fact that Crabbe and Goyle smell of old oatmeal, too much candy, and something that reminds Harry of grumpy toads.
Instead of learning “Lumos”, our blind Harry learns spells like “Oros” - which makes books and letters whisper their contents to him in their papery voices - as well as “Divinus”, which causes his wand to hum like a tuning fork the closer it gets to the object he’s thinking of.
One very notable thing has changed, however. In this world, no-one will ever tell Harry that he has his mother’s eyes. It’s hard to tell how much this changes Harry’s story; perhaps, without Lily’s eyes to stir up such emotion, Professor Snape won’t inflict Harry with the sadistic cruelty of a jealous lover - though he still treats the Potter boy with the same distance and hostility he felt towards Harry’s father, James (this, plus the acrid fumes and addling, humid vapours of the potions classrooms, continues to make the subject one of Harry’s least favourite).
With eyes that mark him as “The Boy who Lived” he may not be able to see the reflection of his desires in the Mirror of Erised, but upon placing his hand on the mirror’s cool surface Harry’s head is filled with the murmurs of familiar and comforting voices - his uncles, grandmothers, great-aunts and second cousins - and he is taken by an overwhelming sense of belonging, of being home.
Our sighted Harry always relied on the help of his friends to overcome challenges, and this remains true through the challenges to reach the Philosopher’s Stone. Hermione will still fend off the devil’s snare and solve the potion riddle, while Ron’s command over the chess board will still get the trio through the fourth chamber. Unable to see, Harry may yet be able to capture the winged key in the third chamber; instead of chasing the key like a daring snitch-seeker, he rises cautiously on his broom into the middle of the whirling, fluttering cloud and waits patiently until his keen ears distinguish the slow and clumsy flapping of the injured old key, grabbing it cleanly out of the air as it lumbers past him.
In his second year, Harry’s blindness is if anything an advantage in the fight against the basilisk, making him immune to the serpent’s petrifying gaze as he follows the sound of Fawkes’ voice to rend it through its head. (Incidentally, the repercussions of Dobby’s meddling this year will be slightly lessened, as who could blame a blind twelve-year-old for knocking over a sugared violet pudding - although the Dursleys will try - or bumping into a wall at Central Cross station?)
Professor Trelawney’s classes in third year could only be incredibly tedious for Harry, being unable to read tea leaves or see into crystal balls. What’s more, the Divination professor makes near-constant references to “blind prophets” and “third eyes”, which Harry can’t help but feel is somewhat offensive. Hermione will be very patient with Harry when they sit down to practice their astrology readings and Harry has to ask “Where are the stars, Hermione? The stars? Is Mars in the house of Jove right now? What’s the moon doing?”
With all the talk of The Grim this year, all Harry notices is the lingering ‘shaggy dog smell’ that seems to follow him around whenever he’s outside the castle.
Will a blind boy be allowed to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Of course he will! Wizards don’t understand ‘safety’. Our Harry may not be a confident flyer, but he still has command of the Accio charm, as well as an entire stash of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products under his bed in his dormitory. Even a Hungarian Horntail can’t see you through Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, not can it smell you once you’ve detonated a few dung bombs. After being tricked into devouring an entire case of Skiving Snackboxes, any dragon is going to feel like taking the day off.
Harry doesn’t recognise Hermione at first when she attends the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum: her improved posture changes the sound of her footsteps, and her voice has taken on a new lilt and clarity after Madam Pomfrey shrunk her teeth to undo Malfoy’s hex. Masking her characteristic smells of library books and toothpaste, she carries with her the flowery scent of the cosmetic potion she put in her hair.
Harry will be incapable of seeing thestrals, even at the start of his fifth year; after hearing the clopping of hooves from his carriage and remarking that “regular, horse-drawn transport seems rather mundane for Hogwarts”, he will be drawn into a very awkward and illuminating conversation with Luna Lovegood about the nature of death.
Umbrige will be described to us not as “toad-like”, but in terms of her voice “like an indignant budgerigar stuck in an expensive vase”. Her classroom smells strongly to Harry of talcum powder and too-sweet tea, with an undertone of vinegar and hints of nightshade.
With a fragment of Tom Riddle’s soul trapped within his eyes, Harry’s visions of Voldemort are stronger than ever, and he rushes as always to confront the Death Eaters - a group of determined friends by his side - at the Ministry of Magic.
Of course this Harry will succeed in hunting down the remaining Horcruxes and tracing the paths of the Deathly Hallows. How could he not, with his magical talents, his powerful capacity for empathy and love, and the endless help of his his allies and friends?
Coming to in a spectral representation of King’s Cross Station, Harry recoils from the whimpering fragment of Voldemort’s should before being greeted by the figure of Albus Dumbledore, whom Harry recognises from his distinguished voice - like a grand old oak tree, its branches bowed under the weight of a thousand stars. Harry’s figment of Dumbledore smells like soap and gold wire, like ink, polished wood and lemon sherbets, and very faintly of kind and humble tears. Occasional wisps of the old man’s expansive beard brush past.
Harry has the same conversation with Dumbledore about life and death, about his own plans and foils, and about Voldemort. Harry is offered the same choice: to go back to the land of the living or to board a train into the beyond. Harry still chooses to return to Voldemort’s camp in the Forbidden Forest, for the sake of his friends, whom he knows and loves by sound and smell and touch.
Harry - The Boy Who Lived - the boy with eyes like lightning, duels Voldemort without ever seeing his snake-like features or the contempt and malice in his red-ringed pupils, and defeats the dark lord just as he does in the original story, because the sum of one’s strength is more than any one sense, just like a community’s strength is greater than that of any one person. Beside the skinny boy with the dark glasses held together by Spell-o-tape stand a frizzy-haired muggle girl who has read every book, two of redhead siblings from a huge and loving family, a forgetful boy raised by grandmother, a girl who still carries around a battered pair of Spectre Specs, and countless other witches and wizards who know that love, acceptance and cooperation are the most powerful magics of all.
turned off spellcheck and never looked back
"lol fuck canon"
would actually be a pretty good writer if they would stop calling characters by their hair color all the damn time
can't imagine a fanfiction where they write their favorite character shagging anyone but their OC
three words: Throbbing Meat Wand
can't describe anything without writing at least 30 fucking adjectives for the same thing in front of it
"Ohayo, Snape Sensei," Harry-kun said blushing, "You are looking Sugoi today, desu."
Thinks their writing is better & more mature the more times they have the characters curse at & insult each other, no matter how inappropriate (ie. Smurfs)
"Hi my name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears"
has written 10 different fanfics about their most hated character dying within the past month
writes the most anatomically impossible sex you've ever seen
"hi this is my first fic sorry i suck at summaries hope you enjoy"
- You stare blankly at the page. There is nothing on it. You blink once. It is still blank. You blink again. There’s 4000 words on the page. - You start a sentence with “The.” You get distracted looking for the right word on an online thesaurus. You go back and the word “The” has been written five times in succession, all capitalized. - You are typing. You turn to look at the text your friend sent you. You have written the same sentence six times in a row. You sigh and write it again. - You activate spellcheck. You’ve misspelled every word. You begin to cry, and spellcheck underlines your teers. - You click save. You write another word. You click save. You write another word. You click save. you write another wo— - You forget a character’s name. You open up the chapter you think you introduced them in. It’s the wrong chapter. You open up another. You cannot find their name. You swear it started with J - You start writing at 10:00 PM. You are startled by the morning sun peeking in through your windows. You begin writing at 8:00 AM with fresh toast. - You finally publish the next chapter of your ongoing work. You proofread it 10 times. Upon you reading the live version, you notice you put the the twice. - You are crying onto the page. Your tears manifest as words of encouragement. Your character promises you they’ll do what you want this chapter.
For most people, especially people who have been playing for years, today’s Pokémon games are extremely easy, offering little to no challenge whatsoever. If you’re anything like me, you don’t find this lack of challenge fun. So I put together a list of things you can do (most of which I personally do in my playthroughs) to make your experience with Pokémon a bit more difficult. I’m definitely not saying that you should follow all of these steps strictly or that they’ll be everyone’s thing, but they helped me get much more out of my Pokémon experience so I thought I’d share them. :) [more]
I’ve been mulling over this message for a bit since there are so many problematic aspects of it and I can’t decide which is the most upsetting:
- that someone thinks a fifteen year old girl deserved to be murdered for being female, Jewish, or both.
- that someone thinks a strange woman on the internet deserves to be murdered for voicing opinions on feminism.
- that someone created a tumblr blog for the sole purpose of sending vitriolic message(s?) to strangers.
- that someone felt strongly enough to voice this hate, but not strongly enough to be held accountable for it.
- that someone might not actually feel this way, but thinks it’s a funny joke or an effective way to shut down people they don’t like.
- that someone thinks this is an acceptable way to behave because they’ve seen it happen repeatedly all over the internet and don’t think there are any consequences.
- that someone equated themselves with Ahab, often considered a devil-worshipping man on a doomed quest to destroy greatness out of spite and impotent rage, and probably was not considering it ironically.
- that someone thinks captain is spelled captian.
jack won’t watch a british show without french subtitles because it’s too hard to understand their accents, but he also watches foreign movies with english subtitles even though the french option is right there??? jack????
unclear on how his own name is pronounced. his parents don’t seem very sure either. he is afraid to ask.
jack hates english punctuation so much. so much. why is it always cramping his style.
shitty can tell when jack’s writing a paper in English because his texts get increasingly capital-F French
shitty replies with “hello jack . when are we going to annie ‘ s . lardo says << i ‘ m hungry >> .”
The Autocorrect Struggle
autocorrect is also cramping his style
marty texts to ask about the game schedule the next day and jack, being half asleep, forgets to change his language settings and replies “Devonshire entire la a 17 heiress pour lo dinner”
marty always replies to these texts with “thanks, jacques, that was helpful”
he is a jerk.
jack’s slowly teaching his english autocorrect to speak french; shitty claims that if you yell “hey siri - FUCK NO” when it corrects to the wrong word it’ll learn faster
autocorrect knows to leave tabarnak alone, because jack is a great teacher.
speaking of siri - why does she not understand anything jack says ever, any of the time. jack and siri Are Not Friends. they are not bros and jack does not like her.
absolutely refuses to watch disney movies in english. that is not the language of disney. he’s seen a whole ten minutes of the english version of the lion king; all of the voices were Wrong
he thinks bilingual puns are so funny!!!! he only gets say them every once in a while but they’re hilarious!!!!!!!
jack once called ransom, with an actual honest to god phone call, just to tell him a great pun that bitty didn’t react to strongly enough
(a key part of rans’ impression of jack is the phrase “i just told bitty this one but he didn’t laugh”)
he takes german for his language credit freshman year (shitty: HAVE YOU NOT DONE ENOUGH) and fails a test on possessives because he never learned how to use apostrophes in english and he can’t figure out how to translate plural possessives. he may be the first person to fail a german test because his english isn’t good enough.
just?? random gaps everywhere in his english knowledge, honestly. he can write a paper but he doesn’t know what an adverb is. he missed two spelling tests in high school because of a concussion and he still just lets spellcheck tell him how to write “occurred”
jack knows history vocabulary but he learned a lot of it out of books and he doesn’t actually know how to pronounce any of it in english
he does presentations with his Absolute Most French Accent just so everyone is really clear that he doesn’t know what he’s doing
has no idea about science words and won’t discuss it with anyone in english, no thank you
someone claims that jack once implied that petroleum comes from exploding fish bones; every time they try to ask jack about it he dodges the question and then runs away.
To put it quite simply, editing is boring. And slow. And mind numbing. And frustrating. And long. Here’s a checklist to make it a little bit easier.
Write It. Then Don’t Touch It: Finish the scene, story, novel, paragraph, vignette, prompt, or chapter, then stop. Take a step away from your computer (or notebook. Hardcore) and leave it alone. There’s no hard and fast rule for how long, but the idea is to literally forget as much of what you just wrote as possible. The more you read the same thing over and over, the more your brain skips over what you think you already know, and that means you will forget things. Lots of things. So leave it alone.
Spell-check: This should be the most obvious thing in the world, but if you haven’t, run the whole thing through a spellchecker. You may have turned it off so you don’t see red lines under things you know are spelled correctly. Yes, thank you spell-check, I understand that my made up fantasy names seem to trigger something in you, but tone down the enthusiasm.
Run it through again anyway. See red, squiggly line? Fix it. Run it through a grammar checker. Still see lines? Fix it. Then get Microsoft Word or something with a built in spell-check. Seriously.
Focus on one thing at a time: Focus on dialogue on the first run through, then do description next, punctuation after that, etc. Pick one thing to focus on for each pass so you don’t get distracted or confused. Create your own checklist of things to keep an eye out for and do a run through every once and a while.
Check for repetitiveness: Make sure your sentences and paragraphs don’t start with the same word/letter. If you can say the same thing in less words, do it. If the character says something twice in a row, cut it out. If two sentences in a row starts with the same letter, adjust it. Same with paragraphs. Vary sentence and paragraph length, as well. Occasionally, you’ll have dialogue or description that naturally falls this way, this is fine, just don’t make a habit of it, and be aware of it.
Watch your dialogue tags: How many times has your character ‘laughed’ or 'sighed’ or 'smiled’ in this chapter? This leans into the repetitiveness we talked about above. Use new words. Get them to do new things. Don’t just add for the sake of adding, but adjust accordingly.
Change how you read it: As stated above, the more you read your story, the less you see of it. Change the font size, or the font itself. Print the story out on paper (not really applicable for novels). Change the color of the font in your favorite word processor and mark problems in red, good passages in blue, things that need to stay in green, etc.
Keep notes as you write: This doesn’t help unless you’ve done it before you’ve started editing, but it’s helpful during edits. Keep track of everything. Add them everywhere. “Sarah has green eyes.” “John doesn’t like peas”. “Need to figure out a name for a town” “Need name for background character #7”, etc. That way you can write without needing to stop at every little question, and you can go back to make sure you stay consistent and Sarah doesn’t change eye color mid story.
Make your description match your scenes: Action scenes don’t need big words and flowing prose. Make it quick, concise, and urgent. Romance scenes and historical novels can take more description. Add all five senses. Describe more. Describe less. Make it work for what you’re writing. Give them different voices for dialogue. Make then all sound different and have distinctive tones.
Put the story away and wait.
Fix all major spelling and punctuation problems.
Clean up the format (not majorly, just paragraph and sentence length and dialogue).
Go over notes. Adjust accordingly. Make more notes.
Make sure you have a good opening line.
Make us love (or hate) the characters accordingly.
Start close enough to the good stuff so it’s interesting, but not confusing.
Make your description match your scenes.
Make your dialogue match your characters.
Create conflict. Once you think you have enough, create more.
Cut out any and all dead spaces in your novel. Be brutal. Characters, dialogue, whole chapters. If it doesn’t fit, or make the story go forward in terms of plot, cut it. Don’t delete it though, create a document and save all your bits and pieces.. They could go in something else or spark some more ideas.
Make sure there’s enough to keep the reader engaged.
Fix all plot holes and add in back story.
Add in foreshadowing.
Make sure the story arc makes sense and ends with a satisfying climax.
Now that you’ve done all that, you’re ready for peer feedback! Find a good writing workshop, either in person or online, and post your newly edited story. You’ll get even more help and feedback and it will help polish up any and every part of your story. Plus you’ll get insight and ideas you’ve never even thought of.
Sarah knocked on the door of room
107 and then wondered if the girls inside knew what a knock meant. Or if she could
even call the things inside the room girls. Probably not, all things
But one of them shouted “Come in!”
and so Sarah did.
After a second, she managed to say,
“I like what you’ve done to the place.”
Here was the thing about
changelings: one of them alone would usually try very hard to mimic the person
they’d replaced. Two of them apparently didn’t give a collective fuck. When the
banshee of Kappa Alpha Omega had begun screaming the Wednesday before last, the
sorority had gotten together to say the customary uncertain goodbyes. But no
one had expected Tiffany and Payback
to disappear. Their replacements had apparently made the most of the shared
One bed had been lofted almost to
the ceiling. Sarah could see Not-Tiffany’s pretty pale face peering curiously
down from the six inches between the mattress and the ceiling. The other bed
had been raised just high enough to create a cave of sorts below it, brightly-patterned
blankets draped over the sides to protect the inhabitant from the light. Several
hundred small, jewel-like birds whirled around the room and settled again like
leaves in a draft. The window was wide open, but despite the snow outside, the
room held a baking reptilian heat that smelled papery and ancient. Pink ivy
bloomed from the beige plaster of the walls. In the center of the room, the solid
school desks had been overturned and stacked on top of the wardrobes, creating
a hazardous wooden tower stuffed with what looked like about three hundred jumbo
bags of Skittles.
In comparison, the floor was a
glossy unmarred ivory, with the exception of one corner. Sarah could make out
two expensive laptops, a tangle of miscellaneous electronics, a stack of notebooks,
and a pair of sad mittens, one of which had the thumb chewed mostly off.
Not-Tiffany didn’t move or blink as Sarah
gingerly shut the door behind her, but the blanket cave rustled, and then Not-Payback
Tiffany, as far as Sarah could
tell, still appeared mostly human. Not-Payback, on the other hand, wasn’t
making an effort at all. Her cheekbones, her pelvis, and her shoulder blades
all stretched winglike and obscene, pulling the salon-tanned skin taut.
Payback’s hair had been painstakingly straightened and just brushing her
shoulders; Not-Payback was hallowed by a wild, tangled mess that would have
reached her knees if she straightened to her full, considerable height. Each of
her eight fingers seemed to have several knuckles too many. Sara dug her hand
into her pocket to grab her lucky Eiffel tower keychain and hoped this wasn’t a
“Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah,”
Not-Payback chanted. She seemed prepared to continue indefinitely, but Not-Tiffany
broke in with, “What do you seek?”
“I wanted to ask if you needed me
to type for you,” Sarah said. The last time a KAO changeling had touched a laptop
with bare hands, it had shorted out the changeling’s glamour for a few
terrible, eyeball-filled seconds. The laptop had no longer needed a power
source, but it had also replaced every instance of the letter ‘a’ with ‘YOUR TRUE LOVE IS ALREADY DEAD’.
Sweetheart had taken a lifting weight to it on day three. Sarah continued, “If
you wrote out your assignments on paper, I could transcribe them for you onto
the computer and email them where you need me to.”
Not-Payback stilled, candy-colored
birds settling in her hair like flower petals. Not-Tiffany’s head asked,
Sarah smiled, and then hoped that
was the right thing to do. “Of course not.”
Listen up y'all, this shit is ironic Strider’s beats are best suited to trolls hooked on phonics
Karkalicious definition makes Terezi loco
She wants to know the secrets that she can’t taste in my photo Dyin’ just to know the flavor I ain’t doin’ her no favors No reasons why I tease Her flush just comes and goes like seasons
I’m Karkalicious (so delicious) No, I don’t do kismesis And if you read any fanfics All that shit is fictitious I blow kisses (mwah!) Don’t matter if we’re just moirails Trolls be lining down the veil for a chance to fill a pail
(Four, three, two, fuck you)
So delicious (super sweet) So delicious (fuckin’ adorabloodthirsty) So delicious (even egbert wants a piece of me) I’m Karkalicious (l-l-l-l-like candy, candy)
Karkalicious def-, Karkalicious def-, Karkalicious def-
Goddammit, doc scratch, stop fucking around with my mic-
Karkalicious definition makes the shippers crazy Nepeta’s always squealin’ cutsey pet names like Karkitty I’m the K to the A, R, K, the A, the T, And the majority of pairings had better include me
I’m Karkalicious (so delicious) My body stays vicious All the highbloods feelin’ nervous ‘cuz I’m doing some fitness Zahhak’s my witness (*whistle*) Bet that ship curls Nepeta’s tail And he’ll be needing all the towels ‘cuz I'mma make him sweat pails
(Four, three, two, fuck you)
So delicious (super sweet) So delicious (fuckin’ adorabloodthirsty) So delicious (even egbert wants a piece of me) I’m Karkalicious
Now you nooksuckers hold the fuck up, check it out
Baby, baby, baby, If you really want me, Honey get some patience, Maybe then you’ll get a taste I’ll be tasty, tasty, I’ll be laced with lacy, It’s so tasty, tasty, It’ll make you crazy
T, to the A, to the S T E Y - fuckin’ tasty
T, to the A, to the S T E Y - fuckin’ tasty D, to the E, to the L I C I O U S
To the D, to the E, to the, to the, to the-
I’ll just spell it out for you!
All the time I turn around trolls gather round
Always sniffin’ at me, wanna guess the color of my blood I just wanna say it now I ain’t trying to round up any drama, little fucker, I just don’t want you to know And I guess I’m coming off as just a little insecure although I keep on repeating how the secret’s fucking awesome But I’m tryin’ to tell, it’s a secret that I just don’t wanna tell
Terezi says I smell delicious (so delicious) No, I don’t do kismesis And if you read any fanfics All that shit is fictitious I blow kisses (mwah!) Don’t matter if we’re just moirails Trolls be lining down the veil for a chance to fill a pail
Four, three, two, fuck you My body stays vicious Zahhak’s been feeling nervous 'cuz I got down to business Nepeta’s my witness (meow~!) I’ll even let her first ship sail Just watch that kitten be the first in line to fill a pail
So delicious (Eridan, see) So delicious (you can trust me) So delicious (I’ll help you be) I’m Karkalicious (l-l-like candy, candy) It’s so delicious (ay, ay, ay, ay) So delicious (ay, ay, ay, ay) So delicious (ay, ay, ay, ay) I’m Karkalicious, (she says my blood is like candy, candy)
T, to the A, to the S T E Y - fuckin’ tasty
T, to the A, to the S T E Y - fuckin’ tasty T, to the A, to the S T E Y - fuckin’ tasty
T, to the A, to the, to the, to the, to the
To the D, to the E, to the L I C I O U S
To the D, to the E, to the L I C I O U S
To the D, to the E, to the L I C I O U S
To the D, to the E, to the-
Now, wait just a motherfucking second!
Do I seriously have to spell this shit until the end of the fucking song?
I mean, whoever fucking wrote the original never had access to spellcheck I guess
Because T-A-S-T-E-Y does NOT spell “tasty.” Was this Fergie douchemuffin illiterate or something?
What do you mean human rap artists are the only ones brave enough to write their own grammatical trainwrecks and call it music!? What the fuck even is Will Smith doing?
He doesn’t throw down sick fires anymore!?
Fuck this shit, I quit.