takes less than five minutes


Wondering what a call to Congress actually sounds like? We got you.

If you’re on this website (or a human alive today) there’s a really good chance you’re afraid to call your Senator/Representative because you don’t know how the phone call will go. We’re trying to remove some of the mystery around calling your elected representative to show you a few different examples of first time callers leaving a comment with their Congressional office. It’s so easy!

On this call, you see Victoria learning that sometimes you have to call a few different offices to get through. You should also know that if you’re not calling from a big state like New York or California, you’re much less likely to have this problem. Either way, on average even the long calls take less than five minutes. Just make sure you call during standard work hours. Take a bathroom break to make the call if you have to. Promise it won’t take too long.

Read more about how to call your congressional representative here.

Protect You

Originally posted by zachdempsey

Anon requests: can you do a Reggie imagine where he gets into a fight, and at first your mad until you find out it was because somebody was saying gross things about you? thank you xox

Pairing: Reggie x Reader

Description: A beaten and bruised Reggie shows up one night on your doorstep.

Warnings: depiction of injuries

Word count: 778

Tag list: @isis278 @lost-in-wonderland-x @spam-to-follow

A/N: I’m so excited to share my first reggie imagine with you guys! hope you enjoy! (also remember to message me if you want to be added to the tag list!)

“Jesus, Reggie,” you muttered as you opened your door to find a battered and bruised Reggie.  "What happened?“

"Can I come in?” he begged, avoiding your question.  He was cradling his left wrist, and blood was dripping from his lip and nose.  You pursed your lips but opened your door wider.

“Yeah, of course,” you responded, lightly placing your hand on his shoulder.  You began to guide him towards your bathroom.  "We have to be quiet though,“ you told him, "because my parents are asleep upstairs.”  Reggie silently nodded.  You opened the door to the bathroom and immediately shuffled through the drawers, trying to find some gauze and disinfectant.  After a couple of minutes of searching, you found all of the supplies you needed.  You gestured for Reggie to sit down on the closed toilet.  Pouring some rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball, you sent a sympathetic smile towards the beaten boy.

“This may hurt,” you warned him right before you placed the cotton again the cuts on his face.  He winced as it made contact with the wound, but he bit his lip to prevent himself from making any noise.  The two of you sat in silence for ten minutes, Reggie silently watching you as you cleaned his wounds.  As you finished wrapping gauze around his wrist, he spoke up.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.  You looked up with a puzzled expression.  "I shouldn’t be troubling you with this.“

"Reggie, if you’re hurt I want you to come here,” you comforted him.  "You’re not bothering me.“

"I just… this was my fault, and I shouldn’t have dragged you into anything.”

“Your fault?” you questioned, leaning back a bit.  "How is it your fault?“

"I got into a fight,” he confessed.  He avoided eye contact with you.

“Jesus, Reggie,” you groaned.  You stood up and began to put away the medical supplies.  "Why would you get yourself into that?“

"Because I had to,” Reggie replied.  "They were saying shit that they shouldn’t have.“

"Oh like what?” you snapped.  "You don’t deserve captain of the football team?  That you don’t get as much action as some of the others?  Honestly, Reggie, if you’re gonna let that shit get under your skin so easily, then don’t bother coming over here afterwards. I’m not here to heal your ego.“  Reggie, stunned into silence, didn’t respond to you.  He sighed and stood up, signaling that he was ready to leave.  You exhaled sharply as you lead him to your door.  When you arrived, you opened it and held it, watching as Reggie exited your house.  Before he stepped off your porch, he turned around to face you.

"They were talking about you,” he explained.  "They were talking about how you have a big ass and that they would totally bang you, and then they started talking about how many points you would be worth in the book.“  Your eyes widened, and you said nothing.  Reggie continued, "I snapped in less than five minutes.  I couldn’t take hearing people talk about you that way.”  Your face softened as you stepped onto your porch, inching closer to Reggie.

“Oh, Reggie,” you sighed, placing a hand on his bruised face.  Gently, you swiped your thumb across the cut on his lip.  He inhaled deeply and grabbed both of your wrists.

“(Y/N),” he whispered.  Your heart rate increased as Reggie’s face inched closer to yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” you asked, trying to make your voice sound steady.  "If I had known-“

"I didn’t want you to know,” he muttered.  "I guess… I guess I was trying to protect you.“  You began to withdraw your hand from his face, but Reggie’s arm snapped up and placed your hand back against his cheek.  Before you could reply, he crashed his lips against yours.  Kissing back, you raised your other hand and cupped the other side of his face.  The two of you pulled apart, and you rested your forehead against Reggie’s.  Neither of you said anything, but smiles graced both of your faces.

"I should get home,” Reggie mumbled after a minute.  You nodded, taking a step back.  He held onto your hand.

“Yeah, I should probably go inside,” you said.  He nodded and slowly released your hand.  You took a few steps backwards towards your door, refusing to remove your gaze from Reggie.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he waved, and began his trek home.  You smiled wistfully and waved, even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

“Goodnight, Reggie,” you muttered, a smile etched onto your face.  You dreamily sighed as you softly shut your door, fingers hovering over where Reggie’s lips were just moments ago.

Shipping Preferences
A survey to determine the diversity of shipping preferences in the Voltron Fandom.

OK! Here is the official first survey of this blog! I’m using Google Forms so there should be no issue with how many people can respond. The survey is 6 questions long and should take less than five minutes. Now, this survey is discourse related so just a warning, but don’t worry about people seeing what you answered because the survey is completely anonymous. 

I thought about waiting a bit to involve discourse related stuff in the surveys but Iv’e been thinking for awhile about where exactly everyone stands on this issue and how many people think one way or the other so I decided to just go ahead and dive into the subject! Please answer all the questions honestly. This survey isn’t meant to judge, just to get an insight about the diversity of opinions in the fandom. The results will be posted on this blog next week!

As always, feel free to send in suggestions for future surveys! I’m willing to cover any and all topics discussed in the fandom.

When We Collide (Part 16)

Pairing: Assistant!Y/N/CEO!Luke

Rating: NC-17

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Summary: He is the definition of high class smart ass, swimming in Dom Pierre Pérignon champagne and has never seen the shadow of poverty. She is underprivileged, lives in a messy dorm room on sale and struggles working as an assistant after being thrown out of college. But how will they collide when Luke makes Y/N pregnant after a drunkenly one night stand?

When We Collide on Wattpad

“Out of all the days we could have possibly done this, you chose this day to be the one?” You looked over your shoulder tiredly to see Luke hover over a few brown boxes, the concentration on his face showing he barely heard you. 

“When I need something to be done I want it to be as fast as possible.” He shrugged like the heat outside wasn’t causing him any distraction at all. Maybe it was just the hormones making you sweat like a monkey.

“You’re insane.” You mumbled more to yourself than him and continued to go through the many CD cases he had in one of his drawers, you didn’t even know they were there in the first place.

Keep reading


He’s in the Circle Tower, held in place by a barrier as painful as it is impenetrable, and there’s blood, Maker, so much blood, and he sees the faces of his comrades, his friends, twisted in agony, their screams bouncing off the walls, distorted and desperate, and he’s begging, he’s pleading, for someone - anyone - to stop the madness, and then she turns up, the woman he’s seen before, the woman who drew his eye with her lush auburn hair and gentle brown eyes, except this time her face is a mix of fury and fear, and he’s certain, certain that it is another hallucination made to break him, and he screams to her, at her, but she looks at him in pity…

Kill them all, he says, rage in his voice. They are all blood mages, all of them.

Amell looks at him in horror and sorrow, and whatever he felt for her is twisted into something cold.

She is one of them. He is certain of it, when she convinces the Knight-Commander that the mages are innocent.

And then the scene shifts, and he’s in Kirkwall, and he looks upon the mages with constant suspicion; they’re all dangerous, he knows, he’s seen it. He sees Hawke, raven-haired with fiery blue eyes, and there’s a pull, a something when her eyes meet his… but she is a mage, one of them, and he’s convinced she’s done something to him.

Mages cannot be our friends. They must always be watched. He doesn’t listen to her try and explain the plight of the mages to him - they’re all dangerous, they must be locked away, they cannot hurt the people with their demons - but he does not listen. Will not listen. Cannot listen. He cannot doubt. Doubt is dangerous. At any time, any mage could become a monster. From the lowest apprentice to the most seasoned enchanters.

Mages cannot be treated like people. They are not like you and me.

He has many confrontations with Hawke.

It will be up to the mages themselves whether they push us to more stringent measures.

It sounds like you support this. Her face is disbelief and disgust in equal parts.

The Tranquil ritual was created as a mercy so that mages need not be killed out of hand for a threat they might pose. There is an argument to be made for applying it more widely.

Do you think it is easy to contain a mage who truly wants to deal with demons? We’ve done our best. But many mages have made it clear that they view the ritual as no better than death. They want no controls on them at all.

Is he trying to convince himself, or her? He doesn’t know. The accusations surrounding Ser Alrik… he cannot forget. Hawke is a mage, and she has helped his order numerous times. She has stood for the city, defended it, has been willing to give her life to protect it.

His doubts start to grow, no matter how hard he tries to contain them.

And then, it all comes to a terrible end. The Chantry, blown up by an apostate. The Right of Annulment invoked by his Knight-Commander. The First Enchanter, desperate to protect his charges, turning to blood magic.

Meredith going insane.

His Knight-Commander. The woman who had encouraged his suspicions, his distrust of mages. And yet, here she was, filled with hatred and loathing towards the one woman who had done more for the city than the city had done for her.

He stands with Hawke. And when it is all over, he lets her leave, unable to meet her eyes for the shame that he feels.

She is a mage, and she is a Champion. She is more than he is.

He wakes up, heart pounding, doubt and guilt and shame coiled and knotted and tangled together in his gut. He stares at the philter of blue liquid as it gently glows in the dark. It calls him, lures him, promises him dreamless sleep, of rest without nightmares.

He takes it.

The Circles hear of the events at Kirkwall, and rebel. He is unsure whether to blame them or not. For the first time, he understands why they felt the way they do, why they resent templar interference. And yet, he knows that something must be done to protect the people from the havoc that mages can cause.

This time, he has no answers. He does not know what to do. So he focuses his efforts on restoring order. He does the best he can, keeping Hawke in mind as a compass for his actions.

He still feels a great deal of guilt. Perhaps had he seen through Meredith earlier, the tragedy could have been avoided. Innocent lives could have been saved. Perhaps had he spoken up earlier - had he listened to Hawke - the Circles would not have rebelled, and the Templars with them.

And then, late one morning, Seeker Cassandra meets with him.

He has heard of her. Right Hand to the Divine, a woman fierce and righteous. He knows she is working under the Divine’s orders to bring an end to the war between the templars and mages that threatens all of Thedas.

She asks him to join the newborn Inquisition. He will be their Commander, she says, in charge of Inquisition forces.

It takes him less than five minutes to make his decision. He does not believe in his Order any more, and neither can he sit by and watch the world fall apart. Perhaps this is his chance to find something that he can believe in.

He shakes off the lyrium chains along with his Templar life.

But the Conclave falls apart, the massive explosion taking away their last chance at peace. In the midst of all the chaos, a new threat arises; the massive Breach in the sky that spews out demons. He fights tirelessly with his men, trying to protect the villagers of Haven as best he can; yet with the sheer number of rifts in the area he knows it is but a matter of time before they are all doomed.

A miracle occurs. A woman, a mage, with a glowing mark on her left hand. A woman who can seal the rifts. He cannot help but be impressed by her. She is dedicated, fierce, yet kind and caring. It is easy to talk to her; easier still, to forget that she is a mage. Trevelyan, her name is, Trevelyan with the strawberry blond hair and emerald green eyes; she is from the Circle of Ostwick, though she refuses to talk about her time there. He is afraid to ask; afraid to hear that there was someone like Ser Alrik there, preying on innocence and weakness.

She asks him about Kirkwall. There is a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, a fear that she will not look at him the same once she hears about what he did. He tries to explain as best as he can, giving her as much of the truth he can bear to confess without hiding his culpability.  She listens patiently, her eyes calm and free from judgement.

It amazes him.

She reminds him of Hawke, and Amell, courageous, willing to fight for those weaker than her. Though they converse frequently, she seems aloof with him, and though he understands, it saddens him. For the first time in a long time - he does not know how long - he looks at her as a person first, a mage second. And he wonders if she will ever be able to look at him and not see the Templar.

She allies with the mages, against his suggestions, and for the first time since they met, he is genuinely angry at her, angry that she did not heed his advice, angry that she would put the villagers at risk. He carries on about abominations, and supervision, and it is only when he sees her blank, emotionless face does he understand how his words might seem to her. He attempts to explain, but his efforts are impeded by the Seeker putting an end to their argument.

She does not come to talk to him in the days after.

The Breach is sealed with the mages’ collective efforts, and he is ashamed that he doubted her, Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste. He wants to approach her, to apologize, when the alarm sounds.

Haven is under attack.

She takes charge, a determined, strong warrior, and she is everywhere on the battlefield, fighting the corrupted templars, protecting the villagers, attacking the incoming forces with the trebuchets he had the forethought of assembling. The dragon appears, and… he knows there is no hope.

Steely-eyed, she listens to the young lad. The Elder One wants her dead, he says, but will kill the others anyway.

To hit the enemy, we’d have to bury Haven. She doesn’t understand what he’s trying to say.

We’re dying, he is more blunt this time, but we can decide how.

Another miracle. An escape route.

But they need a distraction.

What of your escape?

She turns away, silent, eyes narrowed and resolute. He understands; he is filled with respect and horror and desperate hope. Perhaps you will surprise it… find a way…

She nods grimly, and leaves with her companions. She turns around at the door, her gaze on him, and starts to say something. A loud crash from the outside catches her attention, and she’s out through the Chantry door, staff ready in hand.

He wonders what she had meant to say as he guides the villagers out of the burning village and towards safety.

Her companions return to join the last of the fleeing villagers.

She is not with them.

She is not with them.

He does not know what to feel. There’s too much to be done, too many people relying on him. Above the treeline, the signal is sent, and… a rock flies through the air, hitting the side of the mountain, and he realizes gratefully that she is alive, only to have his joy dashed seconds later as the massive avalanche rumbles rapidly down the mountain.

She is extinguished, and it hurts him in a way he does not understand, for he had not thought it possible.

It pains him more to know that she would never know how he felt about her.


She turns up, having made her way through the blizzard with a broken body. She is more dead than alive, but she is breathing, and that is more than enough for him.

She leads them to a new fortress, a new start.

She has just been appointed Inquisitor when she comes to see him. He tries to explain, to apologize for abandoning her; it weighs on him heavily, the guilt of sending her to her death mingled with the guilt of all he’s said to Amell and Hawke; it sits like lead in his stomach.

How many were lost? She asks softly, and it is at that moment he knows he is gone, irreversibly changed by her. Despite all that she has been through, all that she has suffered, she is more concerned about those she had done her best to protect.

How was he to resist a woman so caring, so compassionate?

I’m relieved that you - she stammers then, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink - that so many made it out.

He hopes she means what he thinks she means.

He makes a decision.

You stayed behind. He gently grabs hold of her arm as she turns to leave. You could’ve - and he remembers that she very nearly did. I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. His voice holds the weight of the promise he makes. You have my word.

She smiles, placing her hand on top of his. I know, she says, and all is right in his world again.

He will do everything he can to make sure she will never again have to be in a position where she is forced to sacrifice herself.

There is much work to be done; she is constantly out on the field, while he remains in Skyhold, coordinating and training their forces. Yet as busy as his days are, he never stops thinking - or worrying - about her, and to his delight, it appears as though she feels the same. She writes to him as frequently as she can, talking about what she’s seen and done, inserting an amusing anecdote or two now and then.

She in in Skyhold, a rare occasion, when she comes to see him. She is uncharacteristically jittery, and cannot meet his eyes, and he fears the worst. Did he say something in the war room meeting to offend her? Or perhaps something in one of his letters?

It’s a- a nice day, he stammers out as they walk outside on the battlements, then berates himself when she looks amused. There was something you wished to discuss? Her face turns serious, and she looks away; he prepares for the worst, even though he has no idea what it is.

Cullen… I… I care for you, and she breaks off, looking miserable.

He cannot bear to see her like this. What’s wrong?

She looks at him, nervous, apprehensive. You… you left the templars, but… do you trust mages? She adds shyly, Could you think of me as anything more?

His heart soars with hope. He did not think this was possible. How does she not see what she means to him? How can she not understand how much he cares about her? He did not think she would ever come to care for him, a templar…

And yet…  I’m still here, she points out, a dazzling smile on her lips.

He gives in.

Her lips are better than anything he - or any demon in the Fade - could ever have dreamed up, soft, pliant, comforting… home. He forgets, completely, that she is a mage.

Now, she is the woman he wants. The woman he never expected to find. And yet, she is here, in his arms, and though they are at war… he is blissful.

But the lyrium haunts him still. The nightmares are worse, the demons darker. He cannot sleep, and when he does, he awakens with a mind so clouded he cannot focus.

It is when Ser Belinda points out that he is about to send a contingent into hostile territory does he begin to fear that he will fail. That he may not be able to keep his promise to her.

So he asks Cassandra to replace him. But she does not.

Instead, Trevelyan comes to check up on him. She is kind, compassionate, everything he does not deserve, and something in him snaps. He lays bare all that has happened to him, all that he has done, his eyes pleading with hers to make the decision for him - the decision his heart does not want to make, but his mind says he should.

She hears him out patiently, letting him vent. And then says something he does not expect.

This doesn’t have to be about the Inquisition. Is this what you want?

His mind calms, and he can think clearly again. If I cannot endure this…

Her eyes are filled with so much love. You can, she says, her voice filled with faith and belief, and in that moment… he knows he can.

Because she believes in him.

She sends him to bed, then joins his side with a tray of food, coaxing him to eat even though it is the last thing he wants to do. Her fingers move to his forehead, and she hesitates, looking at him for permission. He wonders why, then realizes.

She is a mage.

And he has just told her his experiences with them.

She is afraid he will think she is going to hurt him.

He thinks of Amell, who saved him from Uldred.

He thinks of Hawke, who saved him from Meredith.

He looks at Trevelyan.

Another mage, in a long line of mages he has encountered who have been good, and kind, and gentle…

He knows the power she wields, has seen it in action. And yet…

It does not frighten him.

He does not fear she will succumb to demons.

He is absolutely certain she will never hurt him.

He takes her hands, and kisses the center of her palms before placing her fingers on his forehead with a smile.

She is his salvation.

His redemption.

In a Lover’s Eyes

Author: @neonlightwood on tumblr

Pairing: Simon Lewis/Jace Wayland

Word Count: 4,500

Summary: Soon after they get together, Jace offers to let Simon drink from him. Simon says no. And keeps saying no, even when he needs it to heal himself.

Simon’s whole experience being a vampire has frankly been a series of bizarre and unacceptable events, but even he thinks he caught a lucky break never having tasted blood straight from the source. Nothing good could’ve ever come from it. The one and only exception was that time with Jace-Clary-Jace, the life draining from Simon through the slit at his throat and – well, that whole experience just supports Simon’s theory of having dodged a bullet. Even though he was mostly delirious at the time with the only visual recollections being flashes of Clary’s frightened face and Valentine’s smug one – he recalls with startling clarity the feeling of his fangs piercing the thin skin on Clary’s – Jace’s – wrist and the sweet, metallic rush of blood traveling down his throat.

Having a direct tap of heroin in his veins would be less exhilarating, the way that first taste seemed to fire his neurons all at once, sending electricity crackling up his spine and down his veins. Simon’s sure that it’s only the extraordinary trauma of everything else that happened from the moment Simon wrenched his mouth away is the only thing that stopped him becoming an addict.

That, and remembering how afterward, Jace had looked straight into his eyes and said with the kind of seriousness that could crack an iron heart: I would’ve let you.

Months later, having Jace pressed up against him in lonely hallways has become an incredible, unexpected norm. Better still is when they’re in the privacy of Simon’s room back home, during the sacred hours of one and four in the afternoon when they’re the only living – ha – creatures in the house and Jace’s mouth is hot on Simon’s and his hands burn where they splay against Simon’s back, just under the hem of his shirt.

Keep reading

Night Stop

Description: Social anxiety can be a bitch

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Oh Sehun x reader

Word Count: 898

Originally posted by sehunnified

“Someone has to go inside and buy the snacks.” Baekhyun whined from the back of the van. “And I went last time.” “Why can’t we all just go in?” I attempted weakly. “Because that’s never how we’ve done it. Y/n, just go inside and get it over with. It’ll take less than five minutes.” He urged. I sighed, finally pushing open the door and walking inside the sketchy looking convenience store, slamming the door behind me. I grabbed one of the small, plastic baskets by the door and started searching for everyone’s snacks. “Hello Miss.” The cashier muttered from behind the counter. I uttered a measly ‘hi’ in return and dashed to the back of the store. My heart already beginning to race.

I hadn’t gotten through much, the basket barely held two candy bars in it, when my anxiety started to set in. I didn’t want to go up to the cash register, but the guys would get mad if I went back to the van empty-handed. I hated this so much. I was usually fine with this because literally any other time, three or four of us would go inside or even if I was one of the only ones inside, Sehun would come with me and would take care of paying the cashier. I didn’t wanna hassle the guys though. Sehun was sitting in the very back of the van; Not only that, but he was half asleep. I hated that I was so desperate for him for something so trivial. You’re being childish, finish getting everything and go pay for it. It’s that simple. That’s all you have to do. I tried convincing myself. It was stupid for me to just be waiting around in here, like me stalling was going to change anything. You were the one sent inside, stop being ridiculous, get the snacks, and go. I continued walking around, filling the small plastic basket with all sorts of chips, candy bars, and little cakes, as well as a few sodas and bottles of water. I stayed in the corner by the drink coolers. I wasn’t ready to go up there. I could feel my heart beat beginning to pound in my chest, and my hands starting to shake. You’ve done this before countless times. I thought to the many times I’ve bought all of us snacks. I have done it countless times…. With Sehun. I let out a defeated sigh.


You can do this. You can do this. You can do this. I repeated in my head like a mantra. However, after several minutes, it hadn’t helped anything. In fact it had only made me more anxious. I felt the tears well up in my eyes as I realized I was going to have to do this eventually. “Why are you like this?” I stuttered. The next thing I knew, my sight had gone blurry. I soon realized that I was crying. “You’re so pathetic.” I mumbled, attempting to wipe away the tears. A hand pushed mine to the side and wiped away the tears for me. I looked up to see Sehun standing in front of me. “You’re far from that babe.” I shook my head, at the same time unintentionally dropping the small basket to the ground. “I couldn’t even go up there and pay for everything.” My voice shaky as I spoke. “Stop it Y/n. So what if you couldn’t do that. You’re still an amazing person. You’re still a talented musician with an amazing voice. You’re still one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. You’re still my incredibly beautiful girlfriend that I love to the moon and back.”

Sehun pulled me into a hug. “That’s only one small thing that you can’t do against the millions of others that you can do and you’re great at.” The scent of Sehun’s favorite cologne filled my nose, encasing me in a scent of familiarity. “I should’ve came in with you.” He mumbled, planting kisses to the top of my head. I slightly leaned out of his grasp to face him. “But you shouldn’t have to, I should be able to go in a store like an adult.” Sehun pushed one finger against my lips to shush me. “No, shut up. Everybody has something they can’t do, this is your thing, and that’s okay. Quit beating yourself up over it. Baby, you are the most amazing person I’ve ever known, and it makes my heart fly out of my chest knowing I get to call you mine. I love you so much.” More tears fell from my eyes and Sehun continued to wipe them away. I buried my head in his chest again, letting myself calm down before we did anything else.

“Finish getting everything and I’ll be waiting for you at the counter. I’ll do the rest.” I nodded as Sehun picked the basket up off the ground and put it back in my hand. I finally continued walking back up and down all the aisles. I got everyone several more snacks and a couple more candy bars, to hopefully make up for the wait. After grabbing a couple more sodas, I made my way up to the cash register. My heart began beating faster in my chest, but it subtly returned to normal once I saw Sehun there, waiting for me just as he said he would.

I get so tired of the way fandoms feel entitled to their writers, sometimes. 

By sometimes, I of course mean “always,” but that isn’t the point right now. I am not the point right now. The point is this:

It’s really hard not to consider the majority of your readers as assholes when you’ve got hit figures in the hundreds and comment figures in single digits.

It’s really hard to drum up motivation to keep writing when the only feedback you get is the impossible to gauge kudos.

It’s really hard to share your work with people who look at it and then move on without reacting, especially when you see how the most basic of sketches get ten times the notes your writing does.

It’s really hard to be a fandom writer, unless you’re one of the popular ones - and even then, that comes with its own pitfalls. Sure, you get the higher comment counts, but you also get the anons. And the rude comments. 

I don’t understand why-

I don’t like this-

I don’t think you should do that-

Dear Fandom:

You don’t own your writers. Your writers are fans, just like you. Your writers are creators, just like your artists and gifmakers. Your writers are not story-machines, insert coins here to produce words below. Your writers are not automatons who unflinchingly accept your demands and abuse. Your writers are not free of any obligation save for producing stories for your amusement. 

Dear Fandom:

Your writers are people. Your writers are artists of a different medium. Your writers deserve as much praise and feedback as your visual artists.

Dear Fandom:

Everyone can write. Not everyone can write well. Help those who can’t to improve. Praise those who can and encourage them to keep going.

Dear Fandom: 

It takes less than five minutes to type “This was great, I liked it when she kicked the dude’s teeth in!” and hit Comment

Dear Fandom: 

Fic links can be reblogged, too - it’s not just visuals and meta!

Dear Fandom: 

You think that the quality of fic is declining in your fandom? Maybe you should look at why that is, instead of complaining that your writers are lazy or careless.

Dear Fandom:

It is really hard not to hate you sometimes.

Practice run. Otherwise known as, rehearsal. Pretend. Not real.

But there are no practice runs in life.

This is a short snippet of my new story, written for the @loveinpanem new author’s month. I need to thank my wonderful mentor @booksrockmyface / @hpfanonezillion for her amazing guidance and cheerleading in this story. ❤️❤️

Rated T, Modern AU

By the time I step through the front doors of the church it’s almost 5:45. I hear Delly calling my name over the din of conversation filling the atrium, and I find her waving to me over by the t-shirt line. She’s standing with an absolutely beautiful, dark-haired young lady who’s looking around with trepidation.

As I approach the two ladies I notice that Delly’s friend has the most striking coloring that I’ve ever seen. Her hair is mahogany brown, with strands of auburn flashing in the evening natural light in the atrium, and woven into a single braid that reaches most of the way down her back. She’s shorter than Delly by several inches, but she has a presence about her that is proud. I’ve never seen anyone else like her before.

“Peeta!” Delly says excitedly as I reach them. “This is my friend and archery teacher, Katniss Everdeen. Katniss, this is Peeta Mellark.”

I stand there for a few seconds, gaping at her eye color, which is the perfect combination of silver and grey. “Peeta,” I blurt out. I feel the blush creeping up my neck as I gulp and hold out my hand. “My name is Peeta. It’s wonderful to meet you, Katniss.”

She eyes my hand suspiciously before grasping it in her own. “Hello,” she says. Even in that one word of greeting, I can hear how beautifully musical her voice is. I feel my heart skip a beat as I clear my throat, which has suddenly gone dry.

I can see Delly grinning as her eyes flick between Katniss and me a few times. “So Katniss,” she says. “Are you hungry? Peeta here makes most of the goodies that we sell in the cafe.”

A slight flush creeps its way up Katniss’s cheeks. “I didn’t bring any money,” she mumbles.

“Oh no, let me get it for you!” Delly exclaims. “Do you like hot chocolate? The hot chocolate here is better than any Starbucks you’ll ever have!”

“Um, I’ve never had it before, but-” Katniss starts to say, but Delly interrupts her.

“Then you’re in for a treat!” Delly says. “I’ll be right back!”

Katniss and I watch awkwardly as Delly practically skips across the atrium to the cafe. “Um, I’m sorry if Delly seems a little pushy,” I say. “She’s really a lovely person, she’s just a bit much for some people when they first meet her.”

Katniss looks up at me. Her eyes have flecks of hazel in them, and her intricate braid is twisted around her head and tied with a piece of leather string. She’s wearing a fitted green top with a plaid shirt over it, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and the bottom tied in a knot around her slender waist. Her fitted jeans have holes in both knees and are tucked into a pair of brown leather hiking boots. She is breathtaking.

“She also doesn’t ever take no for an answer, either,” Katniss replies. “She’s been bugging me about coming to church with her since I first met her.” She takes a long look around the atrium. “But I will say, this is unlike any church that I’ve ever seen.”

Delly returns then, holding two cheese buns and two paper cups of hot chocolate, which she hands to Katniss and me. “You didn’t need to get me anything,” I try to protest, but Delly cuts me off.

“It’s an apology of sorts,” she says, wincing. “Thom came up to me when I was waiting in line and said that one of his camera operators just texted to say he was sick and couldn’t make it tonight, so I need to cover for him.” She turns to Katniss. “Do you mind sitting with Peeta during the service? I’m so sorry, but we really need both cameras covered.”

Katniss shakes her head after a few seconds. “No, that’s fine. But why do you need cameras during a church service?”

“I’m sure Peeta would be happy to answer any of your questions, and I’ll meet you again after the service,” Delly says. “I’m sorry, I really need to get on the camera, we have less than five minutes till service starts.”

I take a bite of the cheese bun. Delly even remembered to have them heated a little, since they’re always better warm. Katniss takes a bite of hers as well, and I swear I see her eyes close and hear her sigh as she chews.

“This is good!” Katniss says once she’s swallowed her bite. Her eyes narrow as she looks at me. “You made this?”

Mysterious Man

Summary: When you joined the British Men of Letters and fell for the rather mysterious Mr. Ketch, you didn’t expect some new rules you had to follow but you sure wouldn’t complain.
Words: 1208
Pairing: Arthur Ketch x Reader
Warnings: Brief description of Smut
Square Filled: Dom/Sub
A/N: This will be the first part to a Two-Parter (both fics can be read as a stand alone though), both fics written for Kink Bingo!

Written for @spnkinkbingo  

A light sigh escaped your lips when you saw the, oh so mysterious Mr. Ketch enter the room for another meeting. He looked even more charming than he ever did before and you honestly didn’t know what else to do.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t develop a thing or the Brit. You even tried seducing him but it had no effect on him whatsoever.

But he seemed to know. Because you could swear he winked at you before the meeting started. You had discussed another case of taking out monsters and eventually getting rid of some American hunters.

When everyone was dismissed and you just wanted to leave, you felt a strong hand grab you by the arm.

Keep reading

By Your Side - Jimmy X Reader


Request:  Are you taking requests? If so Jimmy imagine where you guys go on a date to the dinner and the staff try to kick him out but you encourage him to stand up for himself


Date night. Another week had gone by and left me at the day where I was always my happiest, Friday, also known as the day my boyfriend Jimmy and I go out on a date.

I eagerly applied makeup and fixed my hair in the bathroom mirror as I waited to hear the roar of a familiar motorbike parking outside my house. The sound I’m waiting for takes less than five minutes to arrive as I quickly rush down the stairs and out the front door, meeting him at his bike.

“Hey Jim.” I smile and plant a quick kiss on his lips.

“Ready to go?” I asks and I nod, climbing on behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist as he restarts the bike and we fly down the road in the direction of Jimmy’s choice.

“Where are we going?” I manage to yell over the wind.

“It’s a surprise.” He yells back and I smile at his answer. He always knew exactly the right way to make every date night just as romantic as the last. He was a true sweetheart and I loved him for it.

I started debating where we were going when we reached the main street of the town, wondering if we were leaving Jupiter all together but that thought disappeared when the bike started to slow its pace. Jimmy slowed the bike until we halted in a parking space outside the town diner.

“We’re going to the diner?” I smile and he nods.

“We always go to secluded places so people won’t judge my hands but I thought to myself, screw people, I wanna take my girl on a proper date.” He exclaims very loud and dramatically as he extends an arm inviting me to wrap my arm through his which I very gladly do. When I look down I notice his gloves are nowhere to be seen and smile knowing he didn’t bring them.

When we walk into the diner the tables go silent as if we were some type of pariahs, which in a way we sorta were. Ignoring the people staring at us, I take Jimmy’s hand in mine and lead him over to a vacant booth on the side wall.

“You okay?” I ask Jimmy as we slide into the booth, noticing the evident concern on his face when I turn to look his way.

“Yeah it’s just…” he stops and looks around to make sure that no one is in ear shot before continuing, “I didn’t expect so many people to look at us, look at me like that.”

“Just remember that I’m here and I love you and then they can’t touch you.” I whisper, lifting his hand and pressing his knuckles to my lips and he smiles.

Our conversation is interrupted by the arrival of a waitress at the table, smiling as if she knows something we don’t, but I dismiss her the evil glimmer in her eyes.

“Could we just have a few more minutes to decide before ordering please?” I ask very kindly and she scoffs.

“I’m not here for that. I’m actually here to advise you that we are refusing you service and requesting you to leave the store.” She says in a tone that lets me know she is enjoying being so nasty to us.

“And why is that exactly?” I ask, a little louder than intended as I feel Jimmy’s grip on my hand tighten,

“Well I’m not obligated to provide you with the details of our decision but I’m pretty sure it’s obvious to you two what the issue is.” She sneers and I shake my head, only distracted when I feel Jimmy move and turn my head to see him slide out of the booth and I follow him.

“Let’s get out of here.” He whispers, trying not to draw too much attention to our situation but failing as people stare at us from all directions.

“No.” I protest, grabbing his hand and looking him straight in the eyes, “Stand up for yourself. She’s in the wrong, we can’t just let her get away with it.”

“I can’t.” he says but I place my hand on his cheek and look deeper into the gaze of his eyes.

“You can.” I whisper in response and after a slight hesitation, he smiles.

“You can’t just kick us out because we aren’t what you consider a normal couple.” He says and I smile to myself.

“Actually we are allowed to refuse service to anyone if we believe we have a valid reason.” She responds bitterly.

“My hands aren’t normal, you don’t need to remind me of that. But just because I’m different doesn’t mean you need to be like everyone else in the world and judge me just because of an outer appearance. You guys call us the freaks but the people who waste their lives convincing everyone that they are normal are the real freaks.” He rants.

After he finishes we look around and realize that no one’s stance against us has changed and Jimmy takes my hand as we walk towards the exit.

“You know what, you’re all gonna lose out anyway, because none of you know what real love is if you would judge someone based on a physical flaw.” He snaps as we walk towards the door and I have never been prouder to call him mine than in that moment.

“What are you so happy about? We just got kicked out of the diner.” Jimmy asks questioningly as we hop onto his bike.

“I’m happy that you’re mine.” I respond, leaning my head into his shoulder, “You’re all I need in my life.”

All I wanted; C.H. 1

Hi everyone! This is the multiple part story I’ve been talking about :-)
Please let me know what you think of this first part!

I know my dad is scanning me from the corner of his eyes as I collect my general necessities that belong in a woman’s purse. At first he doesn’t say anything, simply lets me hop around the kitchen, scampering to the living room before coming back and letting all my items fall into my purse.

It’s only when I grasp my jacket from the hanger and sling it over my shoulders, my dad speaks up.
“And where are you off to?” I see him cock an eyebrow in my general direction and I sigh loudly as I take some money out of the wallet in one of the cupboards.
“I told you before, dad. I’m going over to Meredith. Might be that I’m spending the night, I’m not sure yet.” I stuff the paper money in the back pocket of my high waisted skinny jeans, pulling my jacket back in place as it slid off of my shoulder.

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Meredith lately. Don’t you think her parents might not enjoy that?” he turns around as he leans against the counter, watching me take a bottle of water out of the fridge before I’m off.
“Her parents are on holiday dad, I told you already. She’s home alone with Calum and she just doesn’t want to be alone, because Calum’s never there, ‘s all.” I smile before I press my lips against my dad’s scruffy cheek, pinching his side to get a reaction out of him.

“Don’t wait up for me, I’m probably staying there.” I wave as I pull the door closed behind me. I couldn’t be more enthralled when my dad decided it was time for my very own first car near the end of last year. I wasn’t confined to the bus schedule anymore, or having to bike through town dressed like a lunatic – I have the tendency to get extremely cold, even midsummer.

Meredith’s place was only a few blocks away. It would take me approximately ten to fifteen minutes to get there by foot, but since this tiny, blue car came into my life I had grown incredibly lazy and comfort came above all. That’s the main reason of course it takes me less than five minutes to park my car along the gravel in front of her house, the neighbourhood seeming eerily quiet as the night swallowed the light.

Now that her parents aren’t home, I don’t bother by ringing the front door bell. Instead, I make a right turn and follow the path along to the small fence leading to their back yard. The air was warm, the night was perfect for a drink outside, so I knew I would find her there.
“Hi babe. How are you?” I grin as I see my friend sitting on one of the lounge chairs in her backyard, book on her lap and smartphone in hand.

“Oh hi. I’m fine, it’s very hectic inside.” She rolls her eyes and closes her book, discarding it on the table in front of her as I take a seat on one of the other chairs. “How so?”
When I speak the words, I can hear the loud, booming laughter of male voices echo through the opened first floor window. “Calum’s home?”

“Hmm.” Meredith hums, closing her eyes briefly as she purses her lips. Just seeing her body language and the tension that somehow fills the air, I know something must be up.
“Did anything happen or – ?”

I flinch when I hear the dog from next door bark loudly, probably at the noise Calum, and what I assume is his mates, are producing.
“Ah, Michael and I were supposed to go out together today. Calum decided to take the day off from the bar and now they’ve spent their whole day together. So much for my date.” My mouth forms the shape of an ‘o’ when I hear her grumble out what’s troubling her mind.

Michael and Meredith have been dating for almost three years. Michael, being one year older than us, was a grade above us in high school when they met. Michael is also part of Calum’s, Meredith’s brother, close friend group. From what I’ve heard since the short period Meredith and I have rekindled, it has given rise to multiple fights already including Meredith feeling left out or plain simply, ignored.

Calum, on the other hand, was two years older than both Meredith and I. He had always been the rebel of the house, quitting college and going to work at a local bar downtown where he could pick up girls more easily. You could say that his parents wished he aspired more for his life.

“And did he apologize or something? Because it doesn’t completely sound like Michael…” I carefully try to pry, leaning my upper body on top of the table as I cross my arms and rest on them.
“Yeah, of course. He said we’d go out tomorrow and he’d make it up to me, before disappearing upstairs with Luke, Ash and Cal to do god knows what. They’ve been like this for almost two hours.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. They’re probably just playing video games.” I shrug my shoulders, leaning back again as I, this time, cross my legs over one another. Meredith grumbles something incoherent for my ears to pick up on, and I leave it at that.
After a while Meredith speaks up again and I know she’s just gnawing on herself on the inside. “That doesn’t mean he should be a complete dick to me, I’m sick of him treating me like I’m some extra bonus.”

“He just likes hanging out with his mates, I don’t think he realises that he has hurt your feelings, Mer. And I’m sure he’ll make it up to you, because that’s just how Mikey is.” I pat her arm in a comforting manner, shaking my head when I hear the boys holler once more.

“Do you mind me grabbing a drink?” I question as I push myself onto my feet by my hands on the wooden table, waiting in that same position until Meredith answers. “Oh no, of course. Help yourself.” She smiles, pointing towards the opened veranda door which leads into the kitchen eventually. I wriggle my way around the large wooden table before disappearing through the curtains inside, making a beeline for the fridge.

I freeze in my spot when I hear large, heavy footsteps come to a halt on the other side of the fridge door. “Mer?” I hear Calum’s voice chime and I stick my head from behind the fridge door to grin at a confused Calum.
“No, hi Calum. Long time no see.” I smile brightly, seeing Calum grin in response as his eyes crinkle on the sides.

Time had done Calum good. He had gotten larger, his arms toned from working out. A few tattoos were now adorning his arm, and I think I can see the tip of something on his collarbone. His skin glows a vibrant tone, making him all the more attractive. His hair is scattered and curly on top of his head. Calum looks overall good. But in the end, he had always sparked my interested, even when I was younger.

“Oh my god, Y/n! It’s been so long!” Calum chirps as he holds out his arms for a hug and when I reciprocate by letting my arms glide along his neck as he hoists me off of my feet. I giggle in his ear as I close my eyes and simply let him sway me back and forth before he sets me back onto the floor.

He holds my hand though and raises my arm as I see his eyebrows raise as well.
“Damn, look who has completely grown up now.” His vague compliment brings a red hue to my cheeks and I bite my lip as I cast my glance towards the floor. “Since when are you here?”
“I just arrived a few moments ago. Meredith asked me to keep her company.” I smile as I turn back towards the fridge and grab a can of coke out of the fridge. “You need anything?” I point to the still opened fridge, waiting for Calum to respond. “Yeah, the boys were thirsty.” He grabs a six pack of beer and winks as he brushes past me. “Tell Mer we’ll come join in a little bit… I think she’s angry about Michael.”

“Oh you bet.” I chuckle as I shake my head, watching Calum jog back up the marble stairs and out of sight. When I hear the door of his bedroom close again, I turn around myself and back to the backyard. “That took you long enough.” Meredith grins at me as I make a reappearance and I strike a pose at her words.

“Yeah, Calum needed drinks as well. He’s looking great.” I compliment, nodding my head as I let myself drop back down onto the lounge chair. I see Meredith raise her eyebrow in the corner of my eye at my choice of words. “Of course he does, that boy is bathing in bitches.”
The snort that leaves my lips is associated with the coke bubbling back up and towards my nostrils. I scoff loudly, laughing along with Meredith as I shake my head. “That bad?”

“Oh, you have no idea. Almost every night another girl is spending the night. You know, he does whatever the fuck he wants, but those girls… They’re so loud. It’s almost pornographic.” She rolls her eyes before she sticks her tongue out in pure disgust.

That might also explain why she most of the times decides to stay over at Michael’s house – whose parents are practically never home – instead of here. Her bedroom was adjacent to Calum’s and I wouldn’t want to be in her position in any other way. “That sounds like… Uh, a lot of fun?” I chuckle as Meredith raises her hand to smack my arm, but our conversation is cut short when the boys appear in our view.

Feedback is always appreciated!

Part two can be found here

ABC: Save Still Star-Crossed
Full letter to ABC Studios: To whomever this may concern, Over the course of a few months we have endured cancellations of quite a few diverse shows. Some prime examples are Sense8, The Get Down, and Pitch. These shows were important to a lot of viewers for various of reasons. Not only did these...

Please sign this petition! it takes less than five minutes! Our society needs show like this one!!!

1. Enough confidence to no longer feel the need to justify what she eats, who she dates or what she wears, not only to other people, but to herself.

2. The goal of a bank account with a few months’ living expenses in it, if she doesn’t have that already. Just in case.

3. Only the phone numbers, Facebook friends, weekend plans, and roommates she actually wants.

4. A best friend who is like a sister.

5. A space of her own.

6. A good idea of what she needs in a romantic relationship, not just what she wants, or what she thinks she needs, and the willingness to explore different people and other ideas to find what exactly that is.

7. A closet of what she considers to be her “staples,” and among these things, something to wear to an interview, funeral, wedding, impromptu Friday night drink at a casual bar and dream date if ever someone were to call out of the blue.

8. The tact and grace to ask for a raise, a promotion, a change in a relationship or a date with someone she’s into.

9. The faith that she deserves those things.

10. A favorite coffee order, go-to restaurant for when friends visit from out of town, hairstyle that takes less than five minutes in the morning, “thank you” cards in her desk drawer, the print copy of her favorite book, and bedding that she is proud to show off.

11. A hobby that has nothing to do with drinking, shopping or somebody else.

12. The recipes for a number of easy meals memorized.

13. The desire and discipline to actually cook for herself. (Just herself.)

14. A trip she tells awesome stories about and a trip she has awesome plans for.

15. A sense that she’s let go of resenting other women for what they do or don’t have over her.

16. Enough of a healthy relationship with her body that her contentment no longer hinges on comparison, or what her partner would think.

17. At least one date in her memory with the kind of partner who wouldn’t care about those things anyway.

18. Forgiveness if she’s dated men who haven’t quite matured as quickly as women tend to in their early 20s.

19. The knowledge of what she wants in bed and the confidence to ask for it without feeling uncomfortable.

20. A drill, a non-stick pan, a credit card line nobody else has access to, a bra that she was measured for at the store and working knowledge of how to change a tire, unclog a pipe, make an investment and find shoes on the extra 40% rack.

21. A relationship with her mother, even if it’s the decision that their relationship will be at least functioning, if not familial.

22. A passport, a sturdy piece of luggage, and the ability to pack the essentials at a moment’s notice should she be offered the chance to get away for a weekend, a week, or a whole new life.

23. The following emergency kit: Tylenol/Advil, eyedrops, a tampon, hand sanitizer, a fresh pair of underwear, a travel sized toothbrush, hydrocolloid bandages for blisters, $20 cash, a condom, and Plan B.

24. Forgiveness for who she was.

25. An idea of who she wants to be.

—  25 Things Every Woman Should Have By The Time She Turns 25 By Brianna Wiest