the author of all things

Trouble in Canada // 2

a/n: You all have been so patient and I know I’m a bit late (4 months late soz about that). Every single one of you have been so amazing with the support of this, and it blows my mind every time I get a notification that TiC got another note. And when I posted earlier today that I was posting it, I absolutely loved the response I got in my inbox.  It made my heart incredibly happy and with each message that came in, not gonna lie, i teared up a bit. You all have been so lovely and good sports (especially when i posted that fake TiC2 WHAT A TIME). So from the bottom of my heart, thank you for all the support. I have met some of the most incredible people through TiC and I cherish every single one of you. I feel so emotional posting this, but you all finally deserve the second part to probably the most angsty piece I have ever written (and will ever write omg).  So, please enjoy the second and final installment to Trouble in Canada :)

THANK YA TO MY LOVELY @whitechocolateperfection for reading over this and giving me confidence :) you’re the best and i love you a whole lot 

Trouble in Canada (1)  |  Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“We need to talk,”

        Those four words held a weight so heavy that you lost your grip on your tea.  Your mug dropped to the floor, shattering in pieces and tea spilling all over the hardwood floor.  You immediately went to pick up the broken pieces.  On your knees, you picked up the shards of glass as Shawn was stood in the same exact position; not moving a single bone in his body to help you.

        Collecting all the tiny shards in your hand you swiftly moved past Shawn to go throw the pieces out in the kitchen.  You opened the trash bin, and right as you were about to throw out the broken mug, Shawn’s voice interrupted your movements, “Is that the mug I got you?  The one from our first Valentine’s day together?”

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Basically what happened in The Trial
  • <p> <b>Blue Diamond:</b> So. Who broke her?<p/><b>Everyone:</b> ...<p/><b>Blue Diamond:</b> I'm not mad. I just wanna know.<p/><b>Steven:</b> I did. I broke-<p/><b>Blue Diamond:</b> No. No, you didn't. Yellow?<p/><b>Yellow Diamond:</b> Don't look at me. Look at this Ruby.<p/><b>Eyeball:</b> What? I didn't break her.<p/><b>Yellow Diamond:</b> Funny. How'd you even know she was broken?<p/><b>Eyeball:</b> Because she was sitting right in front of me and she was broken.<p/><b>Yellow Diamond:</b> ...Suspicious.<p/><b>Eyeball:</b> No, it's not.<p/><b>Zircon:</b> I-if I may, the traitorous Pearl was Pink's Pearl...<p/><b>Yellow Pearl:</b> What are you talking about? She wasn't even under her authority!<p/><b>Zircon:</b> Oh, really? Then why is all of her things associated with pink?<p/><b>Yellow Pearl:</b> Because she was gay for Rose Quartz, everyone knows that, ZIRCON.<p/><b>Steven:</b> All right, let's stop fighting, I broke her, let me be executed, Blue Diamond.<p/><b>Blue Diamond:</b> No! Who broke her?<p/><b>Everyone:</b> ...<p/><b>Blue Pearl:</b> My Diamond... White Diamond has been awfully quiet recently.<p/><b>White Diamond:</b> REALLY?!<p/><b>Everyone:</b> [loud incoherent arguing]<p/><b>Lars:</b> ????<p/><b>BD [while no one is listening]:</b> I broke her. She wanted to save the Earth so I shattered her. I predict everyone will be at each other's throats in five minutes. Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.<p/></p>
Witchcraft Authors to Avoid

None. And I’ll tell you why.

I know, I know. I’m a horrible person. How could I possibly agree with all of these horrible authors? But here’s the thing: You don’t have to–and shouldn’t–agree with an author 100% just because you read them. 

Instead of telling beginner witches not to read books or presses, I think we should tell them to read A LOT of source material instead, and read with a critical eye. Here are some things to look out for:

Pay attention to when it was published. Yes, I know Scott Cunningham’s info is old and not often followed anymore. And in ten years, my information will be outdated, and so will yours. Witchcraft trends change. Yarrow and rue used to be very popular beginner plants, because they are commonly found in many areas of North America. Nowadays, it’s more popular to use kitchen spices such as cinnamon and rosemary, and therefore these two herbs became outdated and are no longer used for what they were originally used for. This is something to keep in mind when reading a book from 1988.

(As a side note, different witches use different techniques and materials. I use bloodstone to connect with ancestors; I’ve never seen any other death witch do that. That doesn’t mean I’m wrong, it means I do things differently.)

Whenever you read a work, read critiques on it as well. Triumph of the Moon is well-written, and has a lot of acclaim! But it also has a lot of backlash–cultures the author glossed over, historical inaccuracies, biased claims, and the like. Read up on these critiques, even summaries. Hell, the amazon comments section and wikipedia articles even have some necessary critiques. I know tumblr can be an echo-chamber sometimes, but when you’re studying witchcraft, you shouldn’t remain in an echo-chamber. Read other sources. You’ll decide which one to agree with. 

Research the author. How you approach the work depends on how trustworthy the author is. If people have problems with them–if they’re historically inaccurate, or disregard other cultures–keep that in mind while you read. You don’t have to completely avoid an author just because they’re inconsiderate about some things, especially if that work is historically significant. I know Gerald Gardner was iffy at best, but I still recommend reading Witchcraft Today if you’re studying Wicca, because that book was a HUGE influence on modern day.

Don’t avoid a press entirely. I see a lot of people shitting on Llewellyn Worldwide. If you don’t know, that’s one of the biggest Pagan/Witchcraft publishing presses in the world, and they’ve been around for a long time. For those who aren’t familiar with how publishing works, there are two things to know about presses. (1) It is not the press’s job to fact-check people for inaccuracies; it’s the author’s. Especially in big presses, editors and curators are there to make sure the book is readable and sells. That’s it. (2) Presses often like to change their footprint. This means that they like to publish things that haven’t been published before, or, if their last book got shit on by the community, they’ll want to find an author who’s better. Hence, the quality of authorship varies in a press. So there’s no need to flat-out avoid presses.

Read with an open mind. These books are here for us to learn. They’re even here for us to learn what NOT to do, or what we don’t want as a witch. You should be disagreeing. You should be questioning. You should be asking other peoples’ opinions on the subject. Because at the end of the day, your craft is your own, and you want to make it as uniquely “you” as possible. 

To clarify, I’m not here to disregard anyone’s opinions of certain works. It is my opinion that people should form their own opinions of works, and learn from them. Especially beginners.

Thanks for your time. Have a good one ♡^▽^♡

Sign Splicers

When your sun unites with your moon, ascendant, and/or dominant element, you get a Sign Splicer. Here are the zodiac’s hybrid breeds…which one are you?

Fire + Fire: The Big Bang. You roar with passion, and your enthusiasm reverberates through the entire universe; it’s impossible to ignore your thundering presence (usually because you are very loud!). You have tremendous visions, and believe anything is possible if you want it bad enough. Never waiting or slowing down, you dream of an action-packed life full of glory and excitement that allows room for your showy self to shine. The amount of faith and hope you have makes you very childlike, and you are convinced that you are destined to be a hero. You rebel against reality of any kind, detest details, and can be quite self-involved.  

Earth + Earth: THE MEAT. You are in control of your senses, and the only thing real to you is your physical body. In fact, you draw your impressive strength from your rock solid core of stability. Nothing has the power to uproot you, as you are firmly fixed to reality. The material realm sustains you, impracticality confuses you, and chaos scares the crap out of you, because you don’t like being out of control. You are the base upon which all others stand, and your dependable, loyal nature makes weaker types rely on you. You can be overly skeptical of the things that supersede your senses, so it is important for you to be open to change.

Air + AirTHE THINKER. A fan favorite, you are civilized and cultured, and always have a bright comment or idea to add to a conversation. Independent in both action and word, you do as you like in order to reach total objectivity, but focusing solely on the intelligence causes you to lose touch with the reality of your humanity (emotions and body). Your observational skills always have you questioning and examining the various things that blow into your life, which makes communication a necessity. Friendly, open-minded, and completely cerebral, you shun any and everything that strikes you as illogical.

Water + Water: THE RAIN. The entire world washes over you, and sometimes drowns you, as you swim in the feelings and moods of everyone; this makes discernment extremely difficult. Highly sensitive with a tender heart and soul, you feel vulnerable 24/7. Instincts and imagination overpower your intellect, causing some irrationality, and this is worsened when you dwell on your emotions. You are a sentimentalist, and have a deep connection to your past, and nostalgia often consumes you. Because you frequently underestimate your own strength, you long for deep relationships that provide you with the stability and safe closeness you crave. 

Fire + Earth: The Bull-Dozer. The epitome of spirit and sense, you’ve got drive and determination to push through life as strongly and as quickly as possible. Your feet are glued to the ground as you strive to bring your wildest dreams to fruition; you see and seize the future with certitude. A commanding ego compels you to take charge, and you never shy away from authority, because you are all muscle, with the stamina to see things through the long haul. You need both freedom and stability, and can be massively creative. You are passionate and powerful, but this can make you a stubborn brute.

Fire + Air: The Rave. A discotheque personality with confidence, wonder and bright ideas help you communicate with ease and enthusiasm, you are charismatic and expressive. Dancing through life, you refuse to limit your potential, and you are always in pursuit of the newest and coolest things to help you grow. You’re always going at the speed of light in search of wide horizons, and you absolutely hate to be bored. Social interactions of all kinds ignite your idealism and imagination, and you always aim to be the center of attention. You need large amounts of freedom and space in your life, and you may be emotionally immature and somewhat superficial. 

Fire + Water: The Fusion. The ultimate blending of male and female, you are aggressive and sensitive, with fluctuating moods and temper flares. Wistful, imaginative, and spirited, you long for independence and flee from any form of containment, yet you yearn for emotional attachment. With an exposed heart, you radiate warmth, and flourish in strong relationships because they allow you to pour out your romanticism without abandon. You are emotionally intense and passionate. Self-control and objectivity are foreign to you, as you prefer to filter things through you directly, without rationality getting in the way. 

Air + Earth: THE MAMMAL. With your head in the clouds and your feet on the ground, you grip reality firmly, and organize and build your abstract ideas into something useful. You are a rational, practical person with a scientific mind that is chock full of innovation, and you desire to improve life on earth. You are a master of the soil, efficient and steady, with enough objectivity and forethought to bring your ideals into fruition. Intellectual, social and supportive, always in tune with your senses, you tend to ignore the mysterious realm of the emotions.  

Air + WaterTHE VAPOR.  Intellect and imagery, you communicate through your creativity, but your rich imagination floats in the sky, as you find bringing your ideas to form to be too strenuous. Both romantic and scientific, your heart and your mind take turns in decision making, and you get inspired by close connections with friends, but feel both a desire for intimacy, and a need for change. You can be incredibly insightful and deeply philosophical, but your detachment is tinted with your subjective view, which makes you a little biased. You yearn for more, and adapt to fit into the world, sometimes intellectualizing your feelings.

Earth + WaterTHE FERTILITY. Your lush imagination lends itself to your creative capabilities to produce lovely fruit. Your emotions and reality-awareness make you a wise and centered problem-solver, and thus, very resourceful. A domestic classicist who is very concerned with creating a nurturing net of safety and security, you make home life a priority. You are caring and quiet, highly romantic and artistic, and apply your sensitivity with determination. But you may be possessive of loved ones, and lack the objectivity that allows you to grow fully.

anonymous asked:

Who are your favorite fic writers?

Oh goodness so many. I’m going to forget so many people in this list and I apologize. Everyone in this fandom is so unbelievably talented. 

I have a fic rec tag that I high recommend checking out because everyone I’m about to list is definitely featured in there. 

@alexanderhamllton @ourforgottenboleros @manuelmiranduh 
@secretschuylersister @strongenoughfoundation @gratitudejoyandsorrow @sunshinemiranda @imagineham@imaginebeinghamiltrash @tempfixeliza @@daveeddiggsit @diggs4life @musicalmiranda @letsgiggletogether @teamgtnw @thatoneimaginesblog @down4usnavy 
@l-nmanuel @ruth-hamilton-delrio @manuelmirandamn 
@iwrotemywayto-revolution @literallylin

AGAIN, I’m so sorry to anyone I forgot but everyone writing fics and sharing their stories is so talented. But I love you all <3 thanks for being inspirations and writing beautiful stories. 

Sunday Brunch

Request: For sequel to The Alleyway Rescue. They’re related.  In this, Credence visits Reader for their weekly Sunday brunch and after the food, finds a way to fully relax via a story.

Word Count: 1,747

Pairing: Credence x Reader

Requested by Anonymous but also tagging @gdmora

Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in

The pan clatters onto the oven’s metal rack. Closing the heavy door, you crank the timer and set it aside. Turning away, you flick your wand, sending a pair of dinner dishes dancing onto your small dining table. The bowl of eggs lands in the center of it, right next to a plate of sausage and two cartons of jam.

Keeping one ear toward the door, you pull open the fridge as the timer ticks away. The turnovers’ warm strawberry smell wafts through your apartment, sending you stomach into a growling mess. Better a growling mess than the light, nervous mess it had been before.

The timer dings just as you hear what you’ve been waiting for: four light taps on the door. “Just a minute.” You shout, sliding on an oven mitt and pulling the pan of pastries from their spot on the rack. It crashes on top of the stove where you throw it, shaking the oven mitt from your hand and rushing toward the door.

Feeling silly, you pat your hair down before you click the locks open and pull the door open. “Credence!”

His smile is small, as always, but genuine. “I’m sorry.” He stops, as though he needs to recharge to finish his sentence. “For being late.”

You smile back at him. “It’s okay. You have perfect timing, actually! The turnovers just finished!”

Credence steps in and you shut the door behind him.

“Strawberry?” He questions, glancing around your apartment.

“Of course.” They’re his favorites, as you’d found out five weeks ago at your second weekly Sunday brunch. “You can sit. I’m just going to throw the turnovers on a plate.”

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Easy-to-Understand houses in planets

House I - talks about your ego and how you project your image to the world. People say this is your social mask but what we present to the world is strongly related with our perceptions of the world and personal values, so don’t take this as fakeness. This is more you than you expect. Is related with the boldness of Aries.

House II - talks about your wealth and resources, surviving and the material world. Also about heritage, or lack of it, and how you will deal with money. Is related with the abundance of Taurus.

House III - talks about communication. How we make boundaries and our relationships - in terms of socializing with people, friends, family. To relate with others we must communicate so this is also about studies and education, basic learning and learning through others. Is related with the discourse of Gemini.

House IV - talks about family. How you deal with emotional stress at home, your relationships with relatives, memories of the past and family traumas. Also talks how you deal with the mother figure of your life. Is related with the caring nature of Cancer.

House V - talks about creation. It can be future projects, work, children, what makes you be who you are through what you do in life, what you build. This is working with passion and impulse of wanting to express and to be seen. Is related with the performer nature of Leo.

House VI - talks about work, professional image and career. It can be your work environment or your dream work, or how you deal with responsibilities and pressure of criticism. While house V is about creating with the heart, house VI is creating with the mind, doing the cruel work of availing and judging with perfectionism. Is related with the sharpness of Virgo.

House VII - talks about love and romantic partnership. What you’re looking for in a romance, what makes you feel attracted, what makes your mind blow and your feelings boil, and how you deal with these passionate emotions. Love usually brings balance to our life, so is also about personal equilibrium. Is related with the seductiveness of Libra.

House VIII - talks about life changes. It is a fatal house of development in life: can be through falling in love, experiencing sex, facing death, going through sickness, getting out of the teenage years and into the adult world, learning through traumas and hardships. Dealing with sudden changes and overcoming them to get the reward. Is related with the intense nature of Scorpio.

House IX - talks about wisdom, moral and ethics, and also your beliefs. It can be about your faith, which religious path you will follow, how you will deal with it. While house III is about knowledge and communicating, IX is about knowledge and reflecting. To learn one must be open to new ideas, so this can also be about traveling to meet new cultures, or going through studies like college and post graduations. Maybe all. Is related with the expansive nature of Sagittarius.

House X - talks about social position. This is about nobility, family pride and social power. Not necessarily about finances, like the house II, or work, like the house VI, but about being in charge of a leadership, or a very important role. Also about your relationship with your father figure, leaders and bosses, and how you deal with authorities and hierarchy. Since all these things are related with “successful” roles, this house also shows how you deal with difficulties and failures in your life. Is related with the ambitious nature of Capricorn.

House XI - talks about your place in society. Unlike house X that looks after power, this house is about what you do of remarkable in your society, in your groups, to make it better - or if you run from it if everything feels overwhelmingly wrong. Is about social development, and how you deal with and solve social problems, and everything that “upgrades” our present and build a better place. Is related with the inventive nature of Aquarius.

House XII - talks about your dreams and unconscious. This is how you imagine things to survive the cruelty of the world. Like the house XI this is a place for upgrades, but while the XI is about the collective, the XII is about the individual. They say what you think becomes real, and in this case is how you deal with your inner hopes and fears, expectations and rancors, and how they influence your life. Also talks about remarkable moments of joy and traumas that unconsciously shapes you, and if you use this to inspire or destroy yourself and others. Also your relation with places where you deal with your shadow self for recovery, karma payment, or escapism: prisons, therapy houses and rehab centers, or online games. If you believe in past life, this is about the karmas you’re paying from them. Is related with the romanticism of Pisces.

anonymous asked:

*curtsies* Duke, I need some help here. Just noticed that I have a huge lack on my character creation. I only write the "warmey hearted and happy" characters. How can I... "fix" that? I have interest in writing different characters but... I just... can't. It's like I didn't understand them enough. How do I write a cold and calculist character? Without making it either a "happey heart" or unrealist, or even the "completly feelingless stereotype"? Please help me!!! I have no idea of what to do!!!!

*Curtsies* First big rule of writing that Tumblr brainwashes out of people because we tend to balk at anything ‘problematic’: 

You need conflict in fiction. 

If everybody is nice to each other and agrees about everything and never miscommunicates, you don’t have a story. You have slow-burn fluff fic and that’s fine if that’s what you’re trying to write, but if you aren’t, you need to spice things up. You need problems. You need conflict. You need more than one personality type. 

Writing good characters is hard. You are literally inventing a human being from scratch, and that kind of complexity takes months (if not years) of work to create, so that’s the first thing I want to be clear about: 

There are no shortcuts to good character.

Writing is, in every sense, an iceberg type of art form, and what a reader will eventually see on a page is only about 1% of the work you actually have to do to make that 1% worth reading. Character, like plot and setting and everything else in fiction, requires long hard nose-to-the-grindstone hours of work. It also requires research. You can’t skimp on any of this or your characters will come out feeling like paper dolls. 

As for how to actually excavate a character: I’ve talked a lot about this under the character development tag and especially this post here, but here is what I think should be the first step for everyone who’s trying to turn a paper doll into flesh and blood: 

Start with the moment where your character first appears in your story, and work backward through every remotely significant event of their life until you get to their birth.

By ‘every remotely significant event’ I don’t just mean when their mom died or when they lost their virginity. I mean every event that was remotely significant to them, even if it was just getting their braces off or listening to their favorite band for the first time. If you really commit to this, it’s going to raise a lot of questions along the way. How long did they live in Kenosha? Where did she get that dress? Why did her dad lose that job? Who introduced her to that author? Here’s the crucial thing: 

Nothing you learn about a character is insignificant. 

Even if it’s just what their least favorite vegetable is. 99% of this information will not end up in the final manuscript, and that’s fine. What’s important is that you know it, because a character (like a real human being) is the sum of their parts, and even their childhood aversion to cooked carrots will contribute to who they become. I recently got a question on my author blog about why I can spit out so many random trivial details about each of my main characters. And the answer is because none of it’s random and none of it’s trivial. If you’re trying to bring a person to life with prose, you can’t afford not to know every little thing about them. Want to know why? 

It is a hell of a lot easier to write a character you know as well as you know yourself than to write a character you only know as a player in your story.

Characters have lives before and beyond the book you’re writing, just like real people have lives before and beyond the moments you interact with them. Our life experiences shape who we are and how we behave, so if you don’t know everything that has occurred in this character’s life prior to this moment, how could you possibly know how they would respond to a question even as simple as “How are you?” So. Spend the time. It will not be time wasted. Writing requires patience. 

Writing also requires research. Because you can’t just write a bunch of characters who are vague avatars for yourself, you will have to venture out of your comfort zone. If you do that thing I suggested where you plot each person’s life all the way back to their birth, you will inevitably stumble across things you don’t fully understand–and that’s where the research comes in. You have a hard time writing cold, calculating characters? Start with the basic questions: Why is this person this way? Coming up empty? Find some real-life examples. If you’re writing a serial killer, go buy every biography of real-life serial killers you can get your hands on. Watch Making a Murderer. Take a criminal psychology class. Writing about a chef? Read chefs’ memoirs. Follow chefs’ blogs. Go to restaurants. Learn to cook. Don’t steal any real person’s personality wholesale, but pay attention to patterns and details so that when you create your own character, they feel real. 

Use the real world for research. Learn from life.

The most important lesson you can learn from life is that very few people can be easily categorized. Most exist somewhere on a moral/behavioral spectrum that doesn’t fit neatly into those Myers-Briggs boxes everyone here on Tumblr loves so much. People are complicated and often conditional. A character who is warm-hearted and loving is much less interesting and much less believable than a character who is warm-hearted and loving but only towards children, because we immediately want to know more about her and why she doesn’t have the same sympathy for people her own age. And let’s be honest: no real person is warm-hearted and loving all the time. Figuring out exactly how this person’s life has gone will help you decide how they behave in any given situation.

We all have quirks and idiosyncrasies and learned behaviors that may, at first glance, defy explanation. We have hopes and fears and secrets and none of that is stuff you’re going to discover by taking another MBTI test on a character’s behalf. Rifle through the stuff of their life until you know not only exactly which magazines are lying under their bed but also why they have five credit cards they aren’t telling their wife about. When it comes to character, you can never know enough, even though writing in broad strokes might look a lot easier at the outset. Nothing about writing is easy, characters included.

People are messy. Resist the urge to simplify them.

Put the work in. I promise you, doing the digging and the research and learning who a person is before you try to put them on paper will make every word you write about them come more naturally and make more sense. And though a reader may never see those notebooks crammed full of every minute thing you learned about their life, they can intrinsically tell the difference between paper dolls and characters who are three-dimensional and fully formed and have been turned inside out by their author. 

Really all this advice comes down to one thing, which is that you can’t half-ass character. You’re creating a person. 


my relationships are not an act of violence against the system

epistemic warning: I am complaining about something that is (and has deliberately been made) inaccessible to me. I am certain that I’ve ‘misunderstood’ it and that you can recommend a dozen academic papers that will fix this deficiency. If you tell me that, you are completely missing the point.


hate queer theory. It feels like something crawling underneath my skin. Reading queer theory is the only thing I have ever experienced that has made me wish I was straight.

'your relationship is inherently transgressive and erodes the structures of monogamous heteronormativity' 



people used those concepts, if not those words, to decide I am a danger to their children. to decide my private experiences are a threat to their faith. those are the concepts used to justify killing people like me. 

and what I learned in response was 'my private experiences are mine. my existence doesn’t destroy or negate or transform other peoples’ relationships. loving someone is not a violent act and doing it does not hurt my friends or family.’

I am a conservative - small c - at heart, and I do not like destroying institutions that are important to millions of people. I like fixing them, I like making them flexible enough to adapt to a new world, I like protecting the people who they hurt and using them to make sure fewer people hurt. if I am very sure about what purpose they serve, and that they do more harm than good, sometimes I will decide they need to be destroyed or altered beyond recognition. I try to treat this decision as seriously as I’d want from another person planning to destroy the traditions important to me.

telling me 'your relationship is inherently radical and transgressive’ is not liberating to me. it rips away all of the empowerment I built myself. it undermines my understanding of how I can work to reduce hurt and it tells me I cannot respect the traditions which I don’t yet understand enough to toy with casually.

I am against violence and when you redefine my relationships as an act of violence you are doing so without my consent.

I do not want you to define me as  'necessarily - definitionally - in opposition to the normative’. I would like the space to look at what counts as normative, and why, and who it hurts, and then to figure out if I oppose it and from which angle. I do not want to look to you for the background to do that work and instead read about how my place in the story has already been scripted. 

the social categories you are 'denaturalizing and reducing’ are actually communities that exist in the real world and have helped support me. the project of 'recuperating social contingency’ does not bear any relationship to the project of 'not hurting people and respecting their experiences and values’. guess which one you told me I am (involuntarily) a part of?

do not draft my life experiences into your radical subversive crusade.

i am queer and i hate queer theory. 

jeemyjamz  asked:

Oh ye who's wise on all things bughead, can you please recommend me some good angsty, bughead fics. And by angst, I mean heart-wrenching, gut-twisting angst -- I wanna get deep w/ my emotions. Thanks B 😘

OOOkay - so I have to apologize @jeemyjamz for taking so freaking long to get back to you with this angsty list of fics. I also had THREE Anon requests asking for the same thing and I think because of the enormity of the ask - I felt like I couldn’t answer anyone’s asks because I have a brain block when it comes to deep devastating angst. Seriously - angst is hard for me to rec because I don’t generally read fics that will destroy my heart. I usually like flangst - fluffy angst (or angst with a happy ending) - especially when it’s plot driven - or super fluffy one shots. Too much angst hurts me - and it bleeds into my real life. (Like that couple weeks in April when we had to get through the 12 chapters of Long Live Rock. I was insufferable at home. Thought my husband would divorce me. I was short tempered and weepy. Poor Salmons.) 

But  - because I suppose I should try to keep my reputation as someone who reads a little something - here are some fics that aren’t FLUFFY and are various levels of sad that I can rec:

Firstly, I feel like I should point out that aside from the 12 chapters of Jeronica that is smushed kinda in the early middle of Long Live Rock by @ficmuse - that fic isn’t actually that angsty. It’s more of a plot driven, magic fest of campy awesomeness. That is solely why I’m not linking it on this list.

Nextly - I know I said I don’t read angst often - and this story is probably a good illustration of why. The Tales of an Endless Heart series by @lessoleilscouchants is freaking AMAZING and has literally cracked my soul open into little itty-bitty pieces a’la a horcrux. Where the fic sits now - we’re kind of on a not as angsty slide upwards (I hope permanently) but dude… literal, wet, fat, devastating, and heartbreaking tears fell down this fic reccer’s face during this series. So if you’re into masochism (like Juggie in this fic) you should read it. Seriously.

Also - my girl @lusterrdust knows how to break a heart or two. If her fic out of nowhere (and in fact - BOTH of her Somewhere in Time fics) doesn’t fail to destroy your heart, then you’re not a person. red sunrise is all about the end of the world and how scary hopeless it can feel being chased down by zombies while searching for the love of your life. And seriously heed the trigger warnings on drown because it freaking HURTS.

And let’s talk about dear @gellbellshead - who usually writes cheerful things. Well, she brought us  Don’t Leave Me as well. Freaking tearfest of a story. Thanks for that, dear.

Along similar lines - but not quite - we have a doomed soulmate fic by the ever lovely @juggydunes. To die by your side (Is such a heavenly way to die) doesn’t just have a clever name - we’ve convinced her to continue with another chapter… so that’s pretty spectacular, I feel.

Then there was a fic I came upon this afternoon by @betsjuggiecooperjones which didn’t have a name but was a Missing Scene between episodes 11 and 12 that was just so super good and mostly sad but then happy at the end (see how bad I am with the solely angsty stuff?)

Same thing with one of my most favourite stories every by @camelotskingz Your Eyes Look Like Coming Home starts out pretty freaking angsty… but there is some reprieve at the end. I mean - it’s cute and super clever - but there are a few scenes in the middle there that I felt my heart was being ripped open… so I think it fits the bill. Not to mention To B.C. I Still Love You is pretty much one angsty ‘throw-up on someone when you’re kissing them’ ride of pain. It’s one you should check out - if you haven’t already. (who am I kidding - I’m sure you’ve checked it out!)

Here’s one from the VERY early inklings of the fandom - it’s called Polaroids by AugustApollo - and it’s technically unfinished… but the two chapters that are there are pretty stand alone as they are. It’s so so good. It was in the first fifty entries or so on my big ass spreadsheet that I started in March (!) and my answer to whether this fic was gonna be epic was a big old YES - so I promise you’ll like it. And it’ll hurt you. But it’s so well written. Maybe if more people review it, we’ll get more polaroids of their life, you think?

Heartfelt by absurdvampmuse is a post Juggie’s birthday fic of pain… but pretty much any fic regurgitating the painful things Juggie threw at Betty in that garage is the epitome of angst for me - this one was just really great. I guess it’s not doom and gloom rip your heart out angst - but it’s definitely not fluffy.

Even Still by @peacelovebughead freaking crushed me. So I’m counting it as an angsty story - even if it has a happy ending.

Then of course there is As I lay Dying by @avenuepotter- which is a retelling of Hamlet… so of course it’s not gonna have a happy ending for anyone. But while it’s angsty af - it’s also clever and I’m never one to turn down a good Shakespeare retelling.

And lastly (for today) there is this one… There Was a Garden by mona_chopsis_0 - Until this afternoon, I had never read it but holy hannah on sunday! Where the hell have I been and what rock have I been living under? - because this is a freaking FANTASTIC fic - and yeah, it’s angsty - but also it doesn’t make me want to die from the pain a the end so more people need to read and review it. Seriously. AND I know I know the formatting it terrible. Whoever decided that << was a good alternative for a “ needs to have remedial fangirling lessons (sorry but that’s just my opinion) - I BEG you to read this story and ignore the uncomfortable formatting - because it’s FREAKING GOOD. Like so super good. Read it and review it! 

Okay - I’m calling it a day on this rec list for now. There are SO MANY MORE fics to rec - so if anyone else has favourite angsty fics to share - please please reblog with the links for all of us - because even though I’m going to hate myself for saying this - I could always do with more fic to read. lol. Love you, my dear, wonderful, and awesome Bughead Family.  💙💛

Today could have been the day
That you blow out your candles,
And make a wish as you close your eyes.
Today could have been the day,
that everybody was laughing.
Instead, I just sit here and cry,

Who would you be?
What would you look like,
When you looked at me
for the very first time?
Today could have been
The next day of the rest of your life.

Would you have been president?
Or a painter, an author,
or sing like your mother?
One thing is evident,
Would’ve given all I had,
Would’ve loved you like no other.

Not a day goes by,
That I don’t think of you,
I’m always asking why
this crazy world had to lose,
Such a ray of light we never knew.
Gone too soon.


#kdramawomensweek - day 4: work, work, work  ➜ choi in kyung (assembly

The 24 pillars set up in the main building (of the assembly) represent 24 solar terms (4 seasons, each season has 6 solar periods). The 365 lights in the ceiling represent 365 days. The point is to work hard for the people 365 days per year without fooling around.

Reading some of these “opinions” and hearing about how such hatred there is coming from my FAVORITE fandom, it makes me terrified to become an author. You all blame Joanne For every little bitty thing you think she did wrong in the series. Even the smallest detail. When are people going to chill out and just appreciate literature? She did her best with what she had and for that I am forever grateful. Fanfiction is there for a reason. If you don’t like the way she wrote it, CHANGE IT YOURSELF!

You all need to relax

As if saying “fuck you Hiro” or “fuck this manga” or “fuck that chapter” will change anything at all. Obviously you’ve enjoyed ENOUGH about this series to read through 500+ chapters, so at this point can you really say you hate it, AND hate the author, even though he has dedicated over ten years of his life to this?

You’re welcome to your opinions whether they be filled with praise or hatred but  p l e a s e stop saying awful things to/about the author. Literally all he has asked is for us to hear his story all the way through. 

I’m sorry if you feel the story isn’t being catered specifically to your needs, but I don’t think it’s necessary to remind some of you that this isn’t being written FOR YOU. This is Mashima’s tale, and there just simply isn’t enough time left in this story for him to fixate on every single detail. He is literally doing the very best he can.

Fic: Night Watch (1/1)

Title: Night Watch
Summary: Snow returned her attention to Emma then. Oh, her stubborn, stubborn baby girl. Maybe if she had gone to the doctor at the first signs of illness, she wouldn’t be lying in the emergency room right now.
Spoilers: If you’re current, we’re good.
Rating/Warning: PG, for mild language. Family angst/fluff, as per usual.
Word Count: 3088, so sayeth OpenOffice.
Characters: Snow, Charming, Killian, and Emma.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddy Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I’m just playing in someone else’s toy box.
Author’s Note: This story was inspired by, of all things, the ER reruns PopTV has been showing every Saturday. I’m a little rusty so feedback is very, very welcome! Enjoy. :)


Unable to resist the motherly urge any longer, Snow White brushed her hand across her daughter’s forehead. The sheer amount of heat radiating from Emma’s skin made Snow wince. Oh, her poor sweet baby.

“No change?” Killian Jones murmured, his voice catching. Hints of his earlier panic still remained in his tone.

A slight shake of her head was all Snow could manage. No, there was no change to the feel over baby’s fever. There hadn’t been a change in the hour and a half they’d been sitting in this small room in the emergency department of Storybrooke General. Hell, there hadn’t been a change since the frantic phone call from Killian that had shattered everyone’s until-then-peaceful night.

“How long had she had the low-grade fever again?” Charming asked. Sitting in the chair at the foot of the right side of the hospital bed, he was the furthest away from Emma and even that bit of distance was clearly killing him. Snow sat by her head on the right side while Killian had taken up residence on her left.

Charming’s query was mainly to fill the tense silence. The three of them had been over the hows and the whys of the situation a few times already in the last ninety minutes.

“A couple of days,” Killian replied almost absentmindedly. His gaze remained locked on his wife, who was sound asleep but squirming uncomfortably against the fire of her fever. “She was complaining of a sore throat as well but wouldn’t hear of letting anyone examine her.”

Snow returned her attention to Emma then. Oh, her stubborn, stubborn baby girl. Maybe if she had gone to the doctor at the first signs of illness, she wouldn’t be lying in the emergency room right now. Maybe this entire midnight adventure would have been avoided.

Keep reading

our unexpected life: p3

right, it is very long- and I mean it. but I can say wholeheartedly that I am proud of this little series so thank you for reading- and to the anon who requested in the first place. 


(and I have got my last 2 days of writing sorted, thank you to those who requested and as I said I’ll be back in July)

p1/ p2 

Sitting down in front of each other, a tea in grasp and blowing lightly against the ripples forming, observing the steam glide towards him and away from me. “There’s plenty of successful couples with big age gaps.” He insisted as he wore a heavy look of confusion between his brows. 

Placing my mug down I keep my hands wrapped around it for warmth as I tuck my legs under each other behind the metallic chair. “Come on, like we are the first ones.” Sarcasm rolled off of my tongue, resulting in a small smile to form on his face momentarily before going back to a harsh look of concentration. 

“Name a couple then.” He retorted and placed his hands around his mug, eyes locking with mine with such intent it was as if I were back in school being asked to answer the question in maths that no one knew. 

Rubbing my lips together I bit my tongue as my mind scanned through every celebrity couple, playing an elimination game. Lingering on one I blurted it out, “Trump and his wife.” 

His eyes dropped along with his shoulders, unable to hold back the disappointed sigh. “Not the best example.” I began to chuckle in response, only triggering him to join in. 

As our laughter faded we went back to the quiet, it no longer being quite so comfortable knowing we had to talk about it sooner or later. This being the latter of the options having suppressed the urge to blurt it out or suggest it as we walk by the beach. “I’m going to go back home the day you go.” I want to mutter it, let it be spoken without the feeling of it hanging in the air heavy. Instead I speak loudly, making him finally here it. 

“No no I get it, it’s your summer break and you have friends back home wondering about you.” He was mumbling, distracting himself, being uncomfortable and avoiding my gaze. 

Leaning across the table I hold my hand out to which he picks it up, drawing invisible triangles into my palm. “It’s not just that Dan, I mean we’ve been together for a year now and this is your biggest part of tour.” The triangles stopped, instead he held it lifelessly. “You’ve got to prepare and all since you’re going in three days.” Sighing I struggle to hide the irritation that itches away at my thoughts, never ceasing as the day grows closer. “And I, I’m nervous.” I mutter the last half, unsure how else to possibly word it.

His grip tightens on mine, “Why’d you be nervous? It’s only four months.” I can’t help but let out a dry laugh to his response. Pulling my hand away from his with some force as he grasps onto my fingertips, not wanting to let go. 

“Do you hear yourself?” I retort to him as his eyes remain blank, “Four months, that is almost half of my course in second year done.” Still, nothing besides him retracting his hands, cupping the mug tightly instead of my hands. “That is four months of me trying to not come across as needy, not wanting to seem desperate in wanting to hear from you.” Sighing I push my hair out of my face, taking a deep breath. 

“And I’ll spend those four months trying to not coddle you from thousands of miles away.” His voice falters as he tries to maintain eye contact, struggling to evidently. “We did it before with two months, we can pull through.” 

My eyes searched his for anything besides optimism as mine held reality, how the two of us would probably feel miserable one month in. We barely scraped out of the last leg of tour, only having dated for six months then. Smiling supportively I reach my hand out to intertwine with his and sip my tea, “We’ll be okay.” I mutter more for myself as opposed to him. 

Waking up knowing what today would bring feels demotivating. It makes my chest heavy, as if I can’t move out of his arms and want to treasure every minute we have together as if it were our last. Turning around to face him I tried to take internal snapshots of his sleepy form, how his brows creased together leaving small lines like those on his suit shirt. The way he wore a small smile as I shuffled closer into him and subconsciously his grip tightened around me and rested his head in the crook of my neck, mumbling nonsense. 

Smoothing his hair back I refused to let the tears fall, to allow the emotion to creep in. For the time being I have to be strong, defiant. I refuse to be weak, but deep down he knows I’m crumbling. Last time I saw him off for tour I was excited for him, enthusiastic to see his adventures when he got home but the second I saw him depart I broke down. I remember having him come up to me, tap my shoulder and hold me tightly in his arms, kissing me one last time and wiping my tears as his eyes watered. 

It’s not easy, saying goodbye to those you love. Four months can seem like nothing or everything. Neither of us are sure which yet. 

The two of us began to get ready in silence, neither of us able to commit to a conversation as all I could do was focus on the suitcases we had laid out before us. Going down the stairs I got a single message from Will, ‘how are you?’ a fair few responses came to mind as I looked at the message. Physically, able. Emotionally, struggling. Mentally, close to breaking. 

I’ll be alright, always am.’ I typed back and placed my phone away as Dan came down the stairs, his eyes gloomy like the London weather outside despite the early hour it is. “Tea, coffee?” Breaking the silence it sounds too forced despite me standing by the kettle. He shrugs in response and sits down, looking at his phone with an unreadable expression, refusing to shift his focus away from the brightly lit screen. “Look Dan, how does this help either of us?” I clench my teeth, unable to hold it back. 

The silent treatment on the day we both leave, I go back home, he goes around America. “What’d you mean?” He asked as his eyes remained on his phone. 

“I mean, you sitting on your phone. Me trying to not get upset about someone I love so much ignoring me in the last hours we have together before you leave.” Sighing I turn my back to him, waiting for the kettle to boil. 

The chair scrapes across the floor as I hear him huff, “Now who is acting like a child?” Quick to retort I turn around, glaring at him as my eyes blur with tears. 

Blinking I shake my head to him, the anger melting from his eyes as he realises what he’s done. For months I put up with his friends teasing me, I dealt with the comments online, I tried my best to keep it lowkey at Uni but somehow I couldn’t. Someone called me naive, that I had no idea what I was doing. That was the start of it all, the turmoil that followed through. Whatever I did I was called names, a ‘sugar baby’ a ‘hoe’, ‘slut’, ‘user’, ‘bitch’, ‘desperate’, ‘fake’, ‘kiddy’, ‘pathetic’ and so many more worse names. 

He knew how much hurt I went through, not that he didn’t get out of it with a clean slate but those fans adore him too much to hurt him, so they hurt me instead. Muttering my name as I ran past him up the stairs he held back, he knew his mistake. Picking my phone up I ring the first number I see on my phone, “I’ll be in touch soon, I’m sorry in advance.” I gush to him as he follows with various questions, completely caught off guard. “Just listen Will, I don’t think you’ll be seeing much of me anymore. But thank you, thank you for the friendship and constant kindness.” 

Hanging up I grab ahold of my suitcase, passing the photos of the two of us and the others on nights out, on our trip to Rome that I always dreamt of. As I reach the top of the stairs he hovers at the bottom, eyes cast over and hiding the blue sky, the sunlight I could use. He notices the suitcase in my hand and sadly shakes his head. “Please don’t go, not like this.” He whimpers and sniffs loudly as I pass him. 

Grabbing a hold of my arm and I turn to face him. His face is tinted pink at the cheeks but consumes his eyes, the once fluffy white clouds surrounding the stormy blue darkens, as if the rain is soon to come. “I can’t do this Dan,” Sighing I pull my arm away. “I’m sorry. I just don’t think we can make it through like last time.” Placing my cold hand against his warm cheek I catch a tear as it falls and feel it weave through my fingers. 

Removing my hand before he had the opportunity to hold it one last time I pick my bags up, ignoring the rings of my phone and walk out of the door. Hearing it shut slowly and lock I can feel it rising in my chest, the pain, the regret and the instant heartache as tears fall silently, no sound to be heard. 

Tapping my pen I rest against the fabric chair, staring at the title of my essay unsure how to begin. ‘How does Plato use the world of forms effectively to create an image for society and does this reflect in modern day?’ It was too wordy, bloody Plato and his world of forms. Sighing I put my pen down as I reach for my phone, a month of radio silence from him but a phone call every other day from Will. The day I left I phoned him on the train, the anger I’d never heard from the one with the soft voice. It took me a while to ease into conversation, then one night we FaceTimed. Immediately he pointed out how much of a mess I looked, in the background I could hear that laugh I subconsciously craved. 

I regret shutting down after that, the look I gave Will of fear and ended our call. He tells me somedays how Dan seems brighter then other days all he wants is to talk to me but doesn’t know how. ‘Do you still have feelings for him?’ Something he tries to ask every week, some way to make me express the truth about it all. It is undeniable, I hear a split second of his voice on someones phone and dwell over it all day, the heartache that is etched into my soul that increases with each passing day. 

Would you want to see him again?’ Today’s question, courtesy of Woody as opposed to Will. Pondering the thought I glance back to my essay and write the introduction then flick back to my phone. 

Yes. No. I’m unsure. I hate him. I love him. My heart can’t take the toying. My mind can’t cope with the abuse. My self can’t deal without him. 

Thinking through all of my options I pick my text books up and leave, wander towards the one place I can get clarity. As I see it in sight my heart twists, it feels as if my intestines have wrapped around my heart, squeezing at the nostalgia of distance flutters I had when I first met him. The smell of salt and dry seaweed, ‘fresh’ fish and chips, seagulls squawking at any who interrupt their required meals. 

All followed by the memory of our conversation, of the first time he spoke to me. The awkward stranger and the comfortable girl. Who’d of expected it, who’d of thought I’d return over a year later alone; me. Sitting down I hold onto my phone as I glance down to Woody’s message, I can’t imagine a life when I don’t hear his laugh or see that smile aimed at me. The way he’d listen to my thoughts like no one else would. How we’d dance when he was jetlagged, the glint in his eyes when I laugh or play the keyboard.

I’m afraid.’ Sending it I know it’s true, the apprehension that lies deep inside of my thoughts about the rejection, being unwanted by the one I want more than anything else. 

Closing my eyes I can almost feel him here now, sat next to me admiring my photography. The two of us walking along here, exchanging names and pleasantries like it was nothing. Neither of us knew we’d get this deep, we were naive in it all. 

If I’d been warned falling in love was this dangerous would I have backed out? No. As if I stayed clear I wouldn’t have lived, the memories I’ve made and the things I never thought I’d experience have happened. Someone I didn’t expect to love has left a hole in my soul unable to be fixed nor filled with anything sufficient besides his love. 

Opening my eyes I text Will, the first thing I can think of that’ll make any apparent sense. ‘I will always love Dan, and have done since our fourth date. He’ll know why.’ Smiling as I sent it I walked by the old coffee shop, even today I remember all of the orders and take a trip inside. 

Ordering myself a tea I sit down near our spot, I can picture us there now. Date number four, though we never called them dates as we were too nervous to title it so soon with something so official, serious. We continued to discuss paintings, my little knowledge and his combined into something else. Our conversations only got deeper, until he told me about the one night where he just stared at the sky and felt something else. He convinced me he was sober but I thought otherwise as he wore that mischievous smile. The more he talked the more comfortable he became around me, all barriers were down and we were fully exposed. There was almost a vulnerability about it that I’d never witnessed but loved. His eyes lighting up as we drank tea and laughed. 

That was when I knew I loved him, and wished for it to never end. 

Leaving the nostalgia behind me I went home, back to my flat and noticed a newly framed photo, one I’d never noticed. Suspicious I called out, yet there was no response. Letting out a hesitant sigh of relief I wandered through to my room, dumping my stuff but heard my phone ring. 

“Hey Will.” I place my phone on loud speaker as I tie my hair up, a wave of tiredness hitting me hard like the water does to the battered pier I love dearly. “I’m at my flat, why?”

“Just wondered, you available to talk for a bit- face to face?” He suggests and I agree as normal. “Just open up your door then.” 

Pausing I stare straight at my door, imagining my dear friend on the other side I hadn’t seen in months able to talk to me without fear of judgement or barriers. For once I didn’t have to wipe tears away and he’d be unaware, I could face him and laugh like old times. “Are you at my door?” Mumbling I edge closer to it, wishing I had a peep hole. 

“Open it and find out.” He chuckles in response. 

Gripping onto the door handle I speak up loudly, knowing he’ll hear it on the other side through the thin panels of wood. “If this is how I die then I will not be happy.” Opening the door I stutter on my words, unable to speak nor close my mouth. 

“Have fun.” Will cautions and hangs up, leaving me alone. 

Leaning against the door frame I tuck my phone into my back pocket, feeling as if I’m back to square one. His eyes remain focused on his feet, the same black converse and denim jacket as always. “Hi.” He mutters to me and slowly lifts his head. 

As his eyes lock with mine the tightness in my chest eases, the warmth that thawed out the pain inside increased as I felt myself smile slightly, slightly. Analysing the other details of his face I can’t help but sigh, the bags under his eyes have darkened, the stubble forming a ginger beard that I always liked. “Hi.” 

It’s as if we are on our first ‘date’ again, neither of us knowing where to begin. “Can I come in?” He politely asks and I move aside, holding the door back as he walks in, hiding his hands. “Before I explain everything I wanted you to have this.” Placing a thick book down on my small coffee table it is a simple black book, stuffed full and neatly tied with a black ribbon. “Go on, please.” His eyes widened with hope so sitting down on the sofa I took the deceivingly heavy book and untied the ribbon. 

My cheeks instantly heated and a smile unexpectedly formed. Flicking through each page I heard a chuckle escape my lips and glanced up to him, the similar look reflected that I wore. Each page of covered in candids of me, of us that I had never seen. Little slips of paper and tickets or leaflets included to remember the day for what it was. “When, when-” 

“The day I left.” He knelt down in front of me, holding my hands in his. “I knew I’d made a mistake in letting you go. I, I was afraid of losing you.” 

Staring at him intently everything returned, the laughter echoed through the rooms, our late nights captured in these photos. Everything that I’d forgotten represented in this, tied up nicely with a bow- maybe even too nicely. “I, I love you Dan but I’m scared of getting hurt again.” This time I didn’t avoid his gaze, I kept a clear focus on it. 

“One more thing,” Reaching into his back pocket he pulled out a folded up photo, making me laugh lightly as I held onto it. 

The first photo I ever took of him, well the blur that he was in the photo. Smiling at it I opened up the book, placing it on page one. “It belongs there, as that’s where it all starts right?” I raise an eyebrow and he nods, a sweet smile forming, the one unique to any I’d seen since I wandered the campus. 

“They’ve known this whole time haven’t they?” Asking him he merely smiles, the glint in his eyes returning. “And yet here we are, oblivious to it all until it was too late.” 

“Sometimes those who are meant to be can’t see it. It is so unexpected that it is too good to be true.” Standing up he lifts me with him, wrapping my arms around his neck I move closer to him, “But then there are those who get lucky.” Smiling down to me I lean in, and it was true. 

We were the lucky ones after all.