the timing i got it to work i did it it works yes

Come Closer

Summary: It’s the 19th of October, 2009. This is Phil’s story.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 10.5k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Extra tags: 2009 phan, reality, slow burn

A/N: So I’ve been working on this fic since late July??? And honestly, I can’t believe it’s finally ready to go out into the world! Huge huge thanks to the wonderful @burgundyhowell and @insectbah for looking this over and just being lovely people in general! This fic wouldn’t be where it is now without your awesome help!

Happy 8 years, everyone!

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Trust nobody | Pt. 1

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader, feat. all of BTS 
Genre: Smut/ Angst
Words: 5,4k
Summary: The first thing someone should know about you is that you’re an escort. Yes, you have fucked for money. One day your boss made you an offer you couldn’t say no to. One year - seven boys. One rule: never fall in love.

The air felt heavy, filled with loneliness on a cold december morning. Sometimes you dont even remember who you were before you came here. Who you were before you took on this job, this life, this world – but this was you now. Your heels clicked on the sidewalk as you rushed through the winter morning in Seoul. You were on your way to get a coffee before you headed off to your meeting. A meeting – was that even the right word to describe it? You laughed to yourself, letting your warm breath hit the cold air forming a cloud of vapour.

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New Beginnings Part 10

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 5,881

Warnings:  Swearing, Fluff and Smut (Unprotected Sex, wrap it before tap it)

Ratings: NC-17 (Explicit)

Summary: After your grandparents pass away, you find out they leave everything to you, including a large sum of money.  Deciding to take the advice of your grandparents, you live your life to the fullest; which means moving to Boston and bumping into Chris Evans.

The grand opening of “Bean There, Read That” could only be described as one word: successful.  You knew, deep down that it really helped bring in more people since Chris was on hand for autographs and photographs; but you didn’t care.  He was your loving, compassionate, caring boyfriend who honestly did you a favor, and you loved him even more.

The achievement that you accomplished with your shop was something you would never forget.  Little kids came up to hug at your legs; parents stopped by to shake your hand and congratulate your new business, saying how excited they were to have a new book and coffee shop in town.  

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call no man happy - 2

Mo Guan Shan watched as the parchment rolled up like a scroll and vanished . No shit - vanished. He must have had a stupid look on his face because the other man laughed.

“Alright, what now?”

Mo Guan Shan raised his eyebrows, puzzled.

“I have to go to work.”

“Oh, that’s right. You work at a bank or something.”

“Library.”

“Whatever.”

“Right. I have to go. So…”

He Tian grabbed a backpack Mo Guan Shan hadn’t noticed before from the ground next to the couch and swung it over his shoulder.

“Let’s go, then.”

“Do you want me to drop you off somewhere? I guess you could stay here…”

The man laughed again and said, “I’m coming with you.”

“Coming with me… to my job?”

“No, we’re going to fuckin’ Disney World. Yes, to your job.”

“I don’t think I can just take you with me.”

“Sure you can. What are they going to do, kick me out of the bank?”

“Library.”

“What. Ever.”

“Seriously, it’s not ‘bring your crazy person to work’ day, I can’t take you with me.”

He Tian sighed.

“Calm down, George McFly, I’m going to be working there as an intern. You get to teach me all about the glamorous world of whatever it is that you do.”

“I work in a fucking library!”

“Wow, hostile.”

Mo Guan Shan checked the time.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

“Lead the way, bossman.”

-

Mo Guan Shan fumbled with his keys pressing the unlock button halfway through the parking lot. The car chirped and lights flashed. He Tian groaned but Mo Guan Shan held up a hand to quiet him.

“Do you have a car?”

“No.”

“Then don’t even fucking start.”

“At least let me drive.”

“Why… would I ever do that?”

“Because-” He held his hand out for the keys, “-if you drive, we’re going to be late and I want to make a good impression on my first day. Don’t you trust me?”

“No!”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I’ve known you for less than an hour and you’re clearly insane.”

“And yet…”

Fuck.

And yet, here he was.

Because he’d apparently lost his fucking mind, he handed over the keys.

“Alright, asshole, get us there in seven minutes and i’ll buy you lunch.”

“Make it a drink and we’ve got a deal.”

“Six minutes.”

Sans seatbelt, He Tian threw the car into reverse and stomped the accelerator, burning rubber - read: fucking up his tires- out of the spot. He cranked the wheel to the right, shifting to drive and peeling out of the lot.

Mo Guan Shan started to give him directions, but the man shushed him.

“I know this city better than you.”

Weaving in and out of morning traffic, getting them a fair amount of honks and verbal abuse, He Tian reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a phone with a sparkly pink case.

“You have a phone.” Mo Guan Shan stated, stupidly.

He Tian cocked an eyebrow, turning to look at him and nearly side swiping a Prius.

“Yes.”

“They have phones… where you’re from?”

“Hell? Of course, who do you think invented roaming charges and limited data plans?”

Mo Guan Shan gaped at him and He Tian rolled his eyes theatrically.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m kidding. You really need to get the stick out of your ass or you’re really going to hate me.”

“I kind of already hate you.”

“See, that’s the stick talking.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Not quite.”

-

Five minutes later they pulled into the library’s parking lot.

“Told ya we’d make it.”

“Yeah, and we almost died like ten times.”

“Key word- almost.”

They got out of the car and He Tian tossed his keys back. Closing in on the building, Mo Guan Shan found himself getting nervous.

“So, you said you’re going to be interning here?” He asked, holding the door open for He Tian and following him through it.

“That’s the plan. On your recommendation, no less.”

“Whoa, what?”

“Yeah, they think we’re friends or something.”

“No one is ever going to believe that.”

“I’m just telling you what my caseworker told me.”

“And who’s your caseworker?”

He Tian chuckled.

“Why? You gonna call and complain?”

They stopped in front of the door to the library and Mo Guan Shan turned to look at him.

“Any way I can trust you act like a decent person here? I don’t need to get fired today.”

“I’m not a person.”

“Dude.”

“I’m on my best behavior.”

“That doesn’t comfort me.”

He Tian shrugged, smirking, and pulled the door open. Mo Guan Shan grabbed his badge from behind the counter and clocked in. Right on time.

Being summer, the place was all but deserted. He Tian followed Mo Guan Shan to the small breakroom, looking around at the not entirely unimpressive stacks as they went.

It wasn’t so much a break room as it was a corner of the room mostly blocked off with a table and some chairs. Very fancy.

Jian Yi looked up from his phone when he heard them, ready to say something, but froze when he saw He Tian. Yeah, Mo Guan Shan wanted to say, try waking up to him on your couch.

Jian Yi recovered quickly, standing up and extending his arm for a handshake.

“You must be the new intern. He Tian, right?”

“Right.”

“Cool, well I didn’t knew you were coming until this morning so I have nothing for you to do. Just follow Mo Guan Shan around and shelve books, I guess. ”

The phone rang and Jian Yi promptly sat back down, motioning for Mo Guan Shan to go answer it. He turned to He Tian, but he’d wandered away to paw through the books to shelve. Jian Yi looked pointedly at He Tian and back, raising his eyebrows questioningly at Mo Guan Shan. Unsure of what silent gesture could use to explain the situation, turned and walked off.

-

After about a minute, Jian Yi said, “So, you’re Mo Guan Shan’s friend?”

“Yep.”

“He hasn’t told me about you.”

“Funny, he hasn’t told me about you either.”

Jian Yi looked slightly put out by that, but continued.

“When did you two meet?”

“A few days ago.”

“Where?”

“A bar downtown.”

“…You met Mo Guan Shan at a bar?”

“Sure did. We hit it off right away.”

Jian Yi looked skeptical.

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“Rude.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, you’re just not exactly his type.”

“Because I’m so far out of his league?”

“Because you’re a dude.”

“That’s never stopped me before.”

“You also seem like kind of a dick.”

“I grow on people. Like a fungus, or a parasite.”

“What’s this about parasites?” Mo Guan Shan .asked, coming around the corner.

“He Tian was just telling me how you two met.” Jian Yi explained.

Mo Guan Shan turned on He Tian. He’s not THAT crazy, right?

“What?!”

“It’s ok,” Jian Yi assured him, “I’m not entirely surprised.”

Again, “What?!”

Taking pity on him, He Tian said “I was telling him about the bar the other night.”

Mo Guan Shan glared at him like maybe if he does it hard enough he’ll evaporate.

“Yeah. That.”

“What did you think I meant?” Jian Yi asked, puzzled.

He Tian winked at him and Jian Yi laughed. Fucking spectacular.

“If you two are done gossiping…”

Jian Yi rolled his eyes, patting his pockets and picking his phone up off the table.

“Fine. Be boring. I’m going to go get some lunch, you guys want pizza?”

They decided on cheese because Jian Yi is picky and He Tian wanted mushrooms which is a punishable offense in and of itself. They watched him leave and Mo Guan Shan looked through the cart of books, deciding where to start.

He pulled his headphones from his pocket and began to untangle them. After half a minute of struggling, He Tian snatched them away, straightening them out in five fucking seconds and handing them back. Mo Guan Shan raised his eyebrows, more impressed by that than anything of the other weird things he’d done so far.

He plugged them into his phone, putting one in picking some music. He Tian followed him while he returned the books to their shelves, but made no attempt to help.

“Your friend seems nice.”

“Jian Yi? Yeah, he’s cool. I’ve known him and his boyfriend since we were kids. Fuck you very much for that, by the way.”

“For what?”

“What do you mean for what? For telling him we met in a fucking bar. He’s already jumped to conclusions here.”

“And what conclusion is that?”

“That we… you know.”

“Fucked?” He Tian asked. Mo Guan Shan felt himself flush, glad he was facing away.

“Yes.”

“Oh, God forbid.”

“Are you gay?” Mo Guan Shan asked before he could stop himself, knowing that was incredibly rude. He Tian was quiet for long enough, Mo Guan Shan wondered if he’d heard him.

“I like pretty, fun, people. I couldn’t care less what body parts they do or don’t have.”

Mo Guan Shan nodded, liking the simplicity of that, but unsure of that to say. Thankfully, they lapsed into silence. A few minutes later, Mo Guan Shan was reaching for a shelf just an inch out of his reach. Annoyed, he looked around for the step stool, but He Tian took the book from him.

“Here?” he asked. Mo Guan Shan nodded, thanking him. They made it to the religion section, He Tian staring as his phone, Mo Guan Shan froze, spinning around suddenly.

“Metatron.”

“…What?”

“That’s the tattoo on your neck. Metatron’s cube.”

He Tian smiled, eyebrows raised. He pulled the collar of his shirt down an inch, revealing the top of a circle with a symbol he couldn’t make out.

“Good eye. I have all the archangels seals as well.” He said, drawing a line from his throat to his pelvis.

“That… is actually pretty awesome.”

“I can show you later, if you want.” He Tian said, looking slightly smug.

“Yeah, sure.”

Mo Guan Shan turned back to the books and He Tian to his phone.

“Why do you know about that?”

“Theology has always been an interest of mine. I know that probably sounds ridiculous to you.”

“You think that sounds ridiculous to me? Of all people?”

“I thought you weren’t a person.”

“Fuck you.”

-

Jian Yi eventually made it back with the pizza and they ate quickly.

“We should go out for drinks after work.” Jian Yi suggested. “I want you to mean Zhan Zhengxi.”

“Jian Yi-” Mo Guan Shan started.

“Sounds good to me,” He Tian said, cutting him off. “He owes me a drink for getting us here on time.”

Jian Yi smiled, pulling his phone from his pocket, probably to text Zhan Zhengxi.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Mo Guan Shan asked.

“I really am.”

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Livin The Dream

Summary: A slow day at work turns interesting when an unexpected customer needs some help, and the two of you hit it off right away.

Pairing: Soldier!Benny x Reader

Word Count: 1,700

Warnings: Language, flirting, fluff, mention of deployment, minor altercation with a drunk man

A/N: My new baby is here: Soldier Benny! This fic is a companion to @deanssweetheart23‘s fic Cross My Heart - you don’t have to read it to understand this story but I’d highly recommend it because it’s beautiful. Thank you twin for asking me to write it, and for helping me struggle through, well, everything. This part’s a bit on the short side, but the rest (five parts total) will be longer! Let me know what you guys think of my first ever Benny AU! 

(Images are not mine, found on pinterest)

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Hold That Thought 10

Pairing: Lawyer!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Swearing. Strong addiction to coffee. Name calling. In office affairs. Fluff. Secrets.

A/N: Just a fun little AU series cause I felt like it. While I try to get my footing for Frank Castle. Btw Other Marvel cameo’s in this story.
Matt Mudrock
Foggy Nelson
Luke Cage
Jessica Jones
Frank Castle
Pietro Maximoff
Bruce Banner

The Italics are flash backs // The bold’s are Text Messages.

A one night stand at the New York Law Firms Conference, couldn’t have been more fun, and mysterious. When your new boss Bucky Barnes introduces you to his boss; the man who runs Avengers Of Law, law firm and your new place of work. Steve Rogers and your mysterious one night stand is your bosses boss. What you want to pretend never happened, he doesn’t want to let go of. When you find yourself struggling to stay away from Steve, who won’t let up on getting you to go out with him. Can you resist, Steve who is looking for more than a one night stand, while you’re struggling to get through the long days and never ending nights of being a paralegal or will you let lust and emotions distract you from your goals in life?

Tag List Is Open. Let Me Know!!

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Could you?

Summary: Y/n and Steve get stuck in a Hydra base, the Hydra agents still coming.

Prompt: ,,Did you really think I would leave without you?”

Word Count: 798

Pairings: Steve x reader

Warnings: I think it’s just my bad writing, yeah.

A/N: So this is for @buckthegrump’s ‘Pick Your Poison Writing Challenge.’ I dunno. It’s just bad. :D I’m bad in ending stories… Yeah, and if you didn’t get it, the reader has an ability to hide in shadows. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t get it, though. :D

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My student submitted the most disturbing “Living History” project I’ve ever seen 

By reddit user gretelcat

One of my least favorite parts about being a middle school history teacher is the bullshit “Living History” assignments we give at the end of every school year. Kids are supposed to sit with their grandparents and video tape, voice record, or transcribe their oldest memories for posterity (and for an easy way to bring up their GPA).

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5 things I did that improved my mental health in the last 1 year

1. I realized my worth. It was so hard because it meant letting go of those who didn’t. And those were the people that I loved. It hurt so bad. When the ropes that tied them to me were cut, I got cut too. I bled. It hurt. But then those wounds healed like wounds always do. And Now? I am free.

2. I started taking care of myself and that involved going back to the things I learned as a child. Brush your teeth. Take a shower. Sleep on time. Sleep enough. Drink loads of water. Walk. Let your skin shower in sunlight. I keep a habit tracker. It’s simple. It lets me be conscious of my daily needs and whether or not I am fulfilling them.

3. I learned that you don’t always have to respond. To what people say, to that person texting you after 8 months of complete silence, to negative comments, to accusations. It doesn’t make you a coward. Not in the least. What it really does is, is let you be at peace. But the hard part? I also learned that you don’t always have to respond to ‘I love you’ either.

4. I learned to not be extreme. Yes I don’t want to do anything with them. But do I need to burn their letters? Delete all pictures? Even when I’m not sure how that will make me feel in the long run? No. I learned to store it all away in a place I wouldn’t touch until I wanted to. It’s been a year. I haven’t once touched.

It works for all aspects of life. Had a bad day at work? Do you just yell and quit? No. Have 100 bad days at work where they don’t respect you but still continue to be silent and work? No any extreme isn’t good.

5. Food is important. So important. They just don’t say ‘you are what you eat’ to sound silly. Food is literally you putting something in yourself. You gotta be more mindful of what, when and how much you’re putting in. Don’t restrict yourself. But don’t not monitor yourself either.

THIS MIGHT BE A REACH BUT I THINK I’M ONTO SOMETHING HERE.

OKAY OKAY SO LISTEN 
There’s a lot of discorse about the new season and that’s understandable BUT I want you guys to look at something with me for a second. 

 I wanna talk about Keith and Lance. We all know Keith’s going through a lot, the blade of marmora is convincing him his own life matters less than the mission, that if he died it would just be for the greater good of the cause. So he’s pulling away, trying to make it so that Voltron doesn’t need him so that he could be… disposable. 

So Keith talks to Shiro and tries to get him to go back to being the black paladin. And *cough cough* fake *cough* Shiro tells him to buckle the heck up and stop whining and just be the black paladin. He doesn’t see, in that moment just what Keith is trying to do. So he gets mad. 

This is a face of pure dissapointment in Shiro. And Keith sees it. He really sees it, and feels it too. But he doesnt know what to do about it.

He’s the lone wolf, right? He doesn’t know how to function in a team properly. In the B.O.M he’s much more independant. Yes, he gets orders and people he goes on with missions but if you really watch most of those missions involve very little teamwork. 

So Keith is pulling away, but at the same time he’s getting the rejection from everyone in the team that’s pushing him away. When he shows up late in the begining of episode one Hunk, Pidge and Lance are super pissed at him, right? 

Right? 

No, go back and look at Lance. He’s not angry. He’s worried. 

Yeah, he says “Are you even taking this seriously?” But think about it. Keith is someone who throws himself into missions. He takes everything he does seriously and he puts a 100% of himself into what he does. He doesn’t half ass things, and it pays off. He gets results. 

Lance is used to seeing Keith do well. At the Garrison he was top of the class, when he was still with Voltron he usually spent his free time training. And now, all of a sudden he’s late to missions, falling behind while he’s the leader. 

Not only that but remember this scene? 

 Again,everyone looks super pissed right? No look at Lance. 

And remember the dialogue? 

Allura:You keep saying you’re sorry but your actions say otherwise. Do you realise that your actions put the entire team in jeoprady? 
Lance: And not Just the team but the refugees too. 

and again, look at his face as he says it. 

He’s not angry. He’s confused there. Think about it. What did Keith tell Pidge when she tried to leave? That other people’s lives were at stake if she left. Keith cares about the people he’s out there protecting. Lance understands that this is not how Keith normally is. 

We know that they got closer in season 3 with Lance opening up to Keith and all and you might even call them friends. Sure he’s not as close as (the real) Shiro is to Keith, but he’s close enough to see Keith isn’t himself. 

But what if… what if Keith did open up. 

I get that this might be somewhat of a reach BUT if you watch Keith’s vlog, it’s very likely he wasn’t alone when he filmed it (he looks like he’s talking to someone off camera. but also tells them to get them out of there. Not only that but the camera turns off and from how emotional he got and the way he was walking its unlikely he turned it off and if you watch Allura’s vlog, she definitely gets closer to turn it off). Now my first thought would be that seeming it’s tech related it would be likely that Pidge would be with him. 

But it doesn’t seem like something that Pidge would be into. Sitting and making vlogs with the paladins. Not her style. 

Okay so maybe Coran? He was the first to upload a vlog, and the camera might be some castle gear? Sounds reasonable enough. But why only be there for Keith’s vlog? Allura was definitely alone during her’s. Also, I dont see them having the kind of bond where Keith would say any of that to Coran. No offense Space unc, we love you. 

OKAY so not Coran or Pidge… so maybe Allura? 

No, the bond isn’t strong enough. As someone who is pretty similar to Keith in defense mechanisms, I don’t see him trusting her to a point where he’s this open with her especially after what happened the last time he opened up about his Galra identity. 

(We all know where I’m going with this, but for argument’s sake; I will keep going. Feel free to skip ahead.) 

Okay so Hunk maybe? He has the tech know-how and stood up for Keith during the whole Galra thing. Even if he did tease him a little… Okay but even then they haven’t really had much bonding since then. I suppose it’s possible if Keith was feeling particularly vulnerable and whatever. But… Would Hunk really bother Keith to make a vlog? and would Keith ask Hunk to help with a vlog? 

It doesn’t really seem in character. Yes, they’re closer but still… not close enough. 

So that leaves Shiro and Lance. First, lets look at why I don’t think it’s Shiro. 

As we know Shiro is someone Keith looks up to. He’s always extremely respectful towards him and it shows in his facial expressions and way of speaking. 

but then look at this; 

Thats not a face Keith would make at Shiro.

You know who he does make faces like that at? 

L A N C E 

So lets think about this. Does Lance have the tech know how? Well he’s always stealing Pidge’s shit so I’mma go ahead and say, yeah to that one. Allura seems equally technically inclined as Lance, so seeming she has no trouble with it that makes sense. 

And even if Keith didn’t ask Lance to help him with his vlog, you know what does seem Lance like? Suggesting Keith makes a vlog. 

So lets asume here, for a moment that Lance knows about Keith’s abandonment issues. That would explain why he looks so worried in the screenshot from before, right? He knows Keith is feeling rejected by his team and he knows that Keith’s behaviour has changed since he started working more with the blade. 

But while they got closer in season 3, and Lance has a better understanding of Keith now, I also think Keith was eager to put some distance between them after that outburst. So he starts working with the blade a lot, right? Meaning Lance hardly sees him. 

So they take a few steps back in their friendship.

And then Kolivan calls Keith to a mission that they all know will be dangerous and look at Lance’s face. 

Yes, you could read it as Lance not wanting his spotlight gone BUT remember that Lance isn’t as shallow as he seems at first glance. He’s not the loverboy he pretends to be and few realise it, but he masks a lot of his emotions. 

Yes, Lance thrives on attention. But do you really think that he would prioritise a show over a mission that could give them a great boost in power? No, this isn’t about the show, this goes deeper. He’s worried. He’s worried about Keith. 

He doesn’t want him to go. He needs him around. But he cant tell him that. Especially not in front of everyone. 

So what does Lance do? 

He makes a stupid argument, its not much, but it’s all he’s got. “We can’t razzle dazzle the crowd with four lions.” 
We need you, I need you. Thats what he’s trying to say. 

And Keith refuses. 

So Lance has that same expression. He’s looking at Shiro in dissbelief this time because he can’t believe he’s letting him go. 

So what we’ve established thus far is the following; 

-Lance definitely feels closer to Keith than he used to. 
-Lance was probably there during Keith’s vlog.
-Lance isn’t as straight forward as people think he is. 
-There’s probably some distance between them right now. 
-Lance has noticed Keith’s change in behaviour. 

So with all that in mind, do you really think Lance doesn’t see that Keith is in a bad place. He knows something is up. He can feel Keith pulling and he’s trying to tell him that they need him around but he doesn’t know how to say it. And then… then Keith tells them he’s leaving. 

yeah, everyone looks sad, but look at Lance. He looks deep in thought. What do you think he’s thinking? He just realised he lost Keith. And he gets it. Suddenly it all makes sense. Keith more or less reforced the bond between Black and Shiro and he was acting strange, showing up late. This is what’s been up with Keith and Lance finally figure out that this whole time, he was losing Keith. 

But he gives it one last try. 

Who am I going to make fun of? 

It’s so much more than a playfull jab. Think about it. Really think about it. 

“Who am I going to make fun of?”

Who am I gonna talk to? 

Don’t go. 

Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully - in Ten Minutes

by Stephen King
(reprinted in Sylvia K. Burack, ed. The Writer’s Handbook. Boston, MA: Writer, Inc., 1988: 3-9)

I. The First Introduction

THAT’S RIGHT. I know it sounds like an ad for some sleazy writers’ school, but I really am going to tell you everything you need to pursue a successful and financially rewarding career writing fiction, and I really am going to do it in ten minutes, which is exactly how long it took me to learn.  It will actually take you twenty minutes or so to read this essay, however, because I have to tell you a story, and then I have to write a second introduction.  But these, I argue, should not count in the ten minutes.



II. The Story, or, How Stephen King Learned to Write

When I was a sophomore in high school, I did a sophomoric thing which got me in a pot of fairly hot water, as sophomoric didoes often do.  I wrote and published a small satiric newspaper called The Village Vomit.  In this little paper I lampooned a number of teachers at Lisbon (Maine) High School, where I was under instruction.  These were not very gentle lampoons; they ranged from the scatological to the downright cruel

Eventually, a copy of this little newspaper found its way into the hands of a faculty member, and since I had been unwise enough to put my name on it (a fault, some critics argue, of which I have still not been entirely cured), I was brought into the office. The sophisticated satirist had by that time reverted to what he really was: a fourteen-year-old kid who was shaking in his boots and wondering if he was going to get a suspension … what we called “a three-day vacation” in those dim days of 1964.

I wasn’t suspended. I was forced to make a number of apologies - they were warranted, but they still tasted like dog-dirt in my mouth - and spent a week in detention hall. And the guidance counselor arranged what he no doubt thought of as a more constructive channel for my talents. This was a job - contingent upon the editor’s approval - writing sports for the Lisbon Enterprise, a twelve-page weekly of the sort with which any small-town resident will be familiar. This editor was the man who taught me everything I know about writing in ten minutes. His name was John Gould - not the famed New England humorist or the novelist who wrote The Greenleaf Fires, but a relative of both, I believe.

He told me he needed a sports writer and we could “try each other out” if I wanted.

I told him I knew more about advanced algebra than I did sports.

Gould nodded and said, “You’ll learn.”

I said I would at least try to learn. Gould gave me a huge roll of yellow paper and promised me a wage of 1/2¢ per word. The first two pieces I wrote had to do with a high school basketball game in which a member of my school team broke the Lisbon High scoring record. One of these pieces was straight reportage. The second was a feature article.

I brought them to Gould the day after the game, so he’d have them for the paper, which came out Fridays. He read the straight piece, made two minor corrections, and spiked it. Then he started in on the feature piece with a large black pen and taught me all I ever needed to know about my craft. I wish I still had the piece - it deserves to be framed, editorial corrections and all - but I can remember pretty well how it looked when he had finished with it. Here’s an example:

(note: this is before the edit marks indicated on King’s original copy)

Last night, in the well-loved gymnasium of Lisbon High School, partisans and Jay Hills fans alike were stunned by an athletic performance unequaled in school history: Bob Ransom, known as “Bullet” Bob for both his size and accuracy, scored thirty-seven points. He did it with grace and speed … and he did it with an odd courtesy as well, committing only two personal fouls in his knight-like quest for a record which has eluded Lisbon thinclads since 1953….

(after edit marks)

Last night, in the Lisbon High School gymnasium, partisans and Jay Hills fans alike were stunned by an athletic performance unequaled in school history: Bob Ransom scored thirty-seven points. He did it with grace and speed … and he did it with an odd courtesy as well, committing only two personal fouls in his quest for a record which has eluded Lisbon’s basketball team since 1953….

When Gould finished marking up my copy in the manner I have indicated above, he looked up and must have seen something on my face. I think he must have thought it was horror, but it was not: it was revelation.

“I only took out the bad parts, you know,” he said. “Most of it’s pretty good.”

“I know,” I said, meaning both things: yes, most of it was good, and yes, he had only taken out the bad parts. “I won’t do it again.”

“If that’s true,” he said, “you’ll never have to work again. You can do this for a living.” Then he threw back his head and laughed.

And he was right; I am doing this for a living, and as long as I can keep on, I don’t expect ever to have to work again.



III. The Second Introduction

All of what follows has been said before. If you are interested enough in writing to be a purchaser of this magazine, you will have either heard or read all (or almost all) of it before. Thousands of writing courses are taught across the United States each year; seminars are convened; guest lecturers talk, then answer questions, then drink as many gin and tonics as their expense-fees will allow, and it all boils down to what follows.

I am going to tell you these things again because often people will only listen - really listen - to someone who makes a lot of money doing the thing he’s talking about. This is sad but true. And I told you the story above not to make myself sound like a character out of a Horatio Alger novel but to make a point: I saw, I listened, and I learned. Until that day in John Gould’s little office, I had been writing first drafts of stories which might run 2,500 words. The second drafts were apt to run 3,300 words. Following that day, my 2,500-word first drafts became 2,200-word second drafts. And two years after that, I sold the first one.

So here it is, with all the bark stripped off. It’ll take ten minutes to read, and you can apply it right away…if you listen.



IV. Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully

1.  BE TALENTED
This, of course, is the killer.  What is talent?  I can hear someone shouting, and here we are, ready to get into a discussion right up there with “what is the meaning of life?” for weighty pronouncements and total uselessness.  For the purposes of the beginning writer, talent may as well be defined as eventual success - publication and money.  If you wrote something for which someone sent you a check, if you cashed the check and it didn’t bounce, and if you then paid the light bill with the money, I consider you talented.

Now some of you are really hollering.  Some of you are calling me one crass money-fixated creep.  And some of you are calling me bad names.  Are you calling Harold Robbins talented?  someone in one of the Great English Departments of America is screeching.  V.C. Andrews?  Theodore Dreiser?  Or what about you, you dyslexic moron?

Nonsense.  Worse than nonsense, off the subject.  We’re not talking about good or bad here.  I’m interested in telling you how to get your stuff published, not in critical judgments of who’s good or bad.  As a rule the critical judgments come after the check’s been spent, anyway.  I have my own opinions, but most times I keep them to myself.  People who are published steadily and are paid for what they are writing may be either saints or trollops, but they are clearly reaching a great many someones who want what they have.  Ergo, they are communicating.  Ergo, they are talented.  The biggest part of writing successfully is being talented, and in the context of marketing, the only bad writer is one who doesn’t get paid.  If you’re not talented, you won’t succeed.  And if you’re not succeeding, you should know when to quit.

When is that?  I don’t know.  It’s different for each writer.  Not after six rejection slips, certainly, nor after sixty.  But after six hundred?  Maybe.  After six thousand?  My friend, after six thousand pinks, it’s time you tried painting or computer programming.

Further, almost every aspiring writer knows when he is getting warmer - you start getting little jotted notes on your rejection slips, or personal letters…maybe a commiserating phone call.  It’s lonely out there in the cold, but there are encouraging voices…unless there is nothing in your words which warrants encouragement.  I think you owe it to yourself to skip as much of the self-illusion as possible.  If your eyes are open, you’ll know which way to go…or when to turn back.

2.  BE NEAT
Type.  Double-space.  Use a nice heavy white paper, never that erasable onion-skin stuff.  If you’ve marked up your manuscript a lot, do another draft.

3.  BE SELF-CRITICAL
If you haven’t marked up your manuscript a lot, you did a lazy job.  Only God gets things right the first time.  Don’t be a slob.

4.  REMOVE EVERY EXTRANEOUS WORD
You want to get up on a soapbox and preach?  Fine.  Get one and try your local park.  You want to write for money?  Get to the point.  And if you remove all the excess garbage and discover you can’t find the point, tear up what you wrote and start all over again…or try something new.

5.  NEVER LOOK AT A REFERENCE BOOK WHILE DOING A FIRST DRAFT You want to write a story?  Fine.  Put away your dictionary, your encyclopedias, your World Almanac, and your thesaurus.  Better yet, throw your thesaurus into the wastebasket.  The only things creepier than a thesaurus are those little paperbacks college students too lazy to read the assigned novels buy around exam time.  Any word you have to hunt for in a thesaurus is the wrong word.  There are no exceptions to this rule.  You think you might have misspelled a word?  O.K., so here is your choice: either look it up in the dictionary, thereby making sure you have it right - and breaking your train of thought and the writer’s trance in the bargain - or just spell it phonetically and correct it later.  Why not?  Did you think it was going to go somewhere?  And if you need to know the largest city in Brazil and you find you don’t have it in your head, why not write in Miami, or Cleveland?  You can check it…but laterWhen you sit down to write, write.  Don’t do anything else except go to the bathroom, and only do that if it absolutely cannot be put off.

6.  KNOW THE MARKETS
Only a dimwit would send a story about giant vampire bats surrounding a high school to McCall’s.  Only a dimwit would send a tender story about a mother and daughter making up their differences on Christmas Eve to Playboy…but people do it all the time.  I’m not exaggerating; I have seen such stories in the slush piles of the actual magazines.  If you write a good story, why send it out in an ignorant fashion?  Would you send your kid out in a snowstorm dressed in Bermuda shorts and a tank top?  If you like science fiction, read the magazines.  If you want to write confession stories, read the magazines.  And so on.  It isn’t just a matter of knowing what’s right for the present story; you can begin to catch on, after awhile, to overall rhythms, editorial likes and dislikes, a magazine’s entire slant.  Sometimes your reading can influence the next story, and create a sale.

7.  WRITE TO ENTERTAIN
Does this mean you can’t write “serious fiction”?  It does not.  Somewhere along the line pernicious critics have invested the American reading and writing public with the idea that entertaining fiction and serious ideas do not overlap.  This would have surprised Charles Dickens, not to mention Jane Austen, John Steinbeck, William Faulkner, Bernard Malamud, and hundreds of others.  But your serious ideas must always serve your story, not the other way around.  I repeat: if you want to preach, get a soapbox.

8.  ASK YOURSELF FREQUENTLY, AM I HAVING FUN?”
The answer needn’t always be yes.  But if it’s always no, it’s time for a new project or a new career.

9.  HOW TO EVALUATE CRITICISM
Show your piece to a number of people - ten, let us say.  Listen carefully to what they tell you.  Smile and nod a lot.  Then review what was said very carefully.  If your critics are all telling you the same thing about some facet of your story - a plot twist that doesn’t work, a character who rings false, stilted narrative, or half a dozen other possibles - change that facet.  It doesn’t matter if you really liked that twist of that character; if a lot of people are telling you something is wrong with you piece, it is.  If seven or eight of them are hitting on that same thing, I’d still suggest changing it.  But if everyone - or even most everyone - is criticizing something different, you can safely disregard what all of them say.

10.  OBSERVE ALL RULES FOR PROPER SUBMISSION
Return postage, self-addressed envelope, all of that.

11.  AN AGENT?  FORGET IT.  FOR NOW
Agents get 10% of monies earned by their clients.  10% of nothing is nothing.  Agents also have to pay the rent.  Beginning writers do not contribute to that or any other necessity of life.  Flog your stories around yourself.  If you’ve done a novel, send around query letters to publishers, one by one, and follow up with sample chapters and/or the manuscript complete.  And remember Stephen King’s First Rule of Writers and Agents, learned by bitter personal experience: You don’t need one until you’re making enough for someone to steal…and if you’re making that much, you’ll be able to take your pick of good agents.

12.  IF IT’S BAD, KILL IT
When it comes to people, mercy killing is against the law.  When it comes to fiction, it is the law.



That’s everything you need to know.  And if you listened, you can write everything and anything you want.  Now I believe I will wish you a pleasant day and sign off.

My ten minutes are up.

5 things I did that improved my mental health in the last 1 year

1. I realized my worth. It was so hard because it meant letting go of those who didn’t. And those were the people that I loved. It hurt so bad. When the ropes that tied them to me were cut, I got cut too. I bled. It hurt. But then those wounds healed like they always do. And Now? I am free.

2. I started taking care of myself and that involved going back to the things I learned as a child. Brush your teeth. Take a shower. Sleep on time. Sleep enough. Drink loads of water. Walk. Let your skin shower in sunlight. I keep a habit tracker. It’s simple. It lets me be conscious of my daily needs and whether or not I am fulfilling them.

3. I learned that you don’t always have to respond. To what people say, to that person texting you after 8 months of complete silence, to negative comments, to accusations. It doesn’t make you a coward. Not in the least. What it really does is, is let you be at peace. But the hard part? I also learned that you don’t always have to respond to ‘I love you’ either.

4. I learned to not be extreme. Yes I don’t want to do anything with them. But do I need to burn their letters? Delete all pictures? Even when I’m not sure how that will make me feel in the long run? No. I learned to store it all away in a place I wouldn’t touch until I wanted to. It’s been a year. I haven’t once touched.

It works for all aspects of life. Had a bad day at work? Do you just yell and quit? No. Have 100 bad days at work where they don’t respect you but still continue to be silent and work? No any extreme isn’t good.

5. Food is important. So important. They just don’t say 'you are what you eat’ to sound silly. Food is literally you putting something in yourself. You gotta be more mindful of what, when and how much you’re putting in. Don’t restrict yourself. But don’t not monitor yourself either.

Rivals

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Taehyung

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex, biting / growling / thigh riding / overstimulation - ENJOY)

Word Count: 3,557

Summary: Taehyung is your biggest competition in the workplace. Everything he does just makes you want to scream. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @rudeboywonho , as part of your week of pain fun. 

Originally posted by jeonstyle

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All His Fault

In the large mansion, isolated from the bustling city, a place was covered in mystery, a place was covered in death. On these grounds, an atmosphere so thick laid like a blanket around the house, suffocating the people in it.

One shouts so loud that the people outside- the butler, chef, and gardener- cringe in hurt. They know what is real. They pack their backs and get ready to get out. They know what is happening. One, sadly, is still shrouded from it.


William shouts as loud as his lungs could give.

Damien? Celine? Come out! You got me! This was an elaborate prank, you got me, now, come out!”

At first, it was a call for them, come on, pleasepleasepleasecomeout. No one’s dead, right? But as time went on, it was becoming a chant. A chant of his heart, for his mind, to keep working, keep moving, keep calling. They’re not dead. They’re playing a prank.

“Come on William.” He whispered to himself, fiddling with his lenses. “Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it. D-Don’t…” He swallowed, a sharp short pain in his dry throat. “They’re not dead. Come on! Damien! Celine-!”

“William.” A voice calls from his back, and he looked at the corner of his eyes.  A cracked mirror. His friend, reflected on the smooth, jagged surface. A look of anger, vengeance, burning. “Stop.”

“You don’t understand, Mark.” He grits out in a faux happy tune, but both knew it was fake as it can get. “Those two- they were— are, my friends. For years!  And you know they love pranks. They’ve got to get out soon!”

The other man steps forward, and it was only this time did William register the familiar cane in his hands. A surge of disbelief ran through him, and blindly, as if his body knew what his mind wanted to do before it instructed him, walked briskly towards the other and snatched the cane, clutching it close to his chest.

“This- this isn’t yours. It’s Damien’s. Not. Not yours.” He stammered, not knowing why. Was it anger? Disbelief? Or was he hurting already? What did it feel to hurt? “You’re not supposed to hold it. It’s his. Mayor’s.”

“Colonel-“

“You shut your mouth!” He retaliated, hands shaking, and he felt his body drop. ‘Stop.’ He yelled desperately in his mind, a slow hysterical feel creeping in his internal voice. ‘Stand tall! At ease! Parade rest! God fucking-‘

A firm hand landed on his shoulder. A familiar touch, yet not so. It felt cold, as if owner’s anger that he was feeling was ice-hot. William blinked the tears from his eyes, and removed his glasses, drying the tears on them. And-how peculiar was that. He was on his knees. When was he on his knees? Did he do something wrong?

“Did I kill them?” He asked no one, no one in particular, absolutely removing anyone around him from his midst. He was alone in this room, wasn’t he? Or was the man behind him, no, not just a man, Mark, behind him? “No, no, I didn’t, right? Mark’s alive?”

“Yes. But-“

“Oh god. Oh god. Goodness gracious. I thought- and Celine, and Damien, and-and-and, and Y/N, right, I didn’t kill them?” He tried to stand, but his knees were too wobbly, and he had to balance himself upright. “Mark, I didn’t kill them?”

Mark didn’t answer. The anger that was projected on his face earlier waned, morphing into something drastic, pitying, hurting, all at once. “William- I, I’m trying to tell you, please, listen-“

William’s smile grew, a painful one, and his eyes, oh his eyes, filling up with hot tears.

“Mark, I didn’t kill them?!” He asked once more, and he stumbled, losing grip. He stared at the cane first before looking up at the other’s face. “T-Tell me, you’re alive?”

“I-“ Mark brought his hand up to his face, massaging his nose. “It’s hard to explain, but yes, I am alive, but- but not in the way that I used to be. William.” He bent down and gripped the steadily hysterical man. “William, listen to me. I am alive. But I- I am Celine. I am Damien. We’re both here, but- but we’re dead, William. Do you understand?”

The man stared at him, and Dark, who had been just letting his anger reign himself in, bit his lip, seeing the absolute pain in his eyes. Celine and Damien, in his conscious, struggled, gasped. Both tried to control themselves to project the man they wanted to take vengeance as.

Then they heard the ramblings. The ramblings, by god, the ramblings, they figured out, my god, where was their friend going?

“D-Damien in the body? C-Celine in the body? That’s- that’s great! They’re not dead! Mark’s not alive! That’s even greater! No one’s dead! No one’s dead! F-Fuck, no one’s dead!

However when they saw their childhood friend break, absolutely break, Dark knelt, and shed a few tears.

“William, please.” He looked at his friend. “William-“

The other man stood up, fast as lightning, and shouted upwards. “No one’s dead! They’re all alive! Hah! G-Good one, good one!” He smiled, a painstaking, hysterical, twisted, and deranged smile. “That must be pretty harsh! To be there in there! What do you call yourselves?”

In a small, but relenting voice, he whispered, “Dark.” And he winced at the bigger smile that took over his friend’s face. “William, do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“Yes!” He smiled, and- were those tears? Tears of a man so far from reality. Tears from a man who can’t accept reality and forged his own. Tears that signified the great loss of a man.

Dark stood up, and looked at him, with baited breath. Celine and Damien’s friend’s sanity was long gone. In a broken giggle, William beamed widely.

“No one’s dead! No one is dead!”


And that was the final straw for Damien. In Dark’s mind, he paced gripped his lapels as hard as he can, and grinded out through his teeth his words.

He fucking did this to him! Look at him! Fuck, Celine!” He demanded, and Celine watched his tirade, eyes widening as she saw the anger overtake him. “He took everything away from us! He took me. I could deal with that. He took you, and I couldn’t. But- but William! The man was damaged enough as it is! That fucking son of a bitch-“

“Damien, please-“

“Don’t Damien please me, Celine!” His voice was getting higher. “No matter what we could do, magic arts or not, there is no way with helping William anymore! All he sees is Dark, Mark’s face, accommodating us, and we don’t have any way to show him that we’re here. He doesn’t comprehend it!” He yelled, watching her reactions. “You cannot tell me that I shouldn’t destroy his work, his loved ones, his life! Look at how he destroyed him without an ounce of thought!”

Celine bit her lip and exhaled. “Damien. I-“

A gunshot suddenly brought them out of their reverie. Dark blinked, looking at the scene in front of him. A bullet, on the floor, punctured. William, with a gun on his hand, looking lost, like a child without their parents. His eyes wide, he turned a questioning look at the other, who smiled in response.

“You weren’t responding to me.” He laughed, and something unsettling was in his eyes. “I just wanted to check if you were still there. With me. Alive.” He put the gun in his holster. “Y-You weren’t moving, and I know I didn’t put a bullet in you, so you couldn’t have died- but you weren’t moving anymore, so I figured, why not put a bullet on you?” He chuckled even louder. “That seems to bring people alive!”

Dark chose to be silent, and Celine could only sob in her hands, as Damien stood up tall in Dark’s subconscious, unyielding, and hateful. He watched his childhood friend, his comrade, the man he had grew up with, the man he sought out in times of trouble, break as if he was just a plaything; crumble, as if his sanity was just an insignificant sand in the wind; and disappear into a pit of madness, right before his eyes. 

He commanded Dark’s body to stand, and hug the other man, whispering reassurances that he was alive. William would nod and whisper “No one’s dead” again and again, further angering Dark.

This was all Mark’s fault. This was all Mark’s fault. Mark’s fault. Mark’s fault.

And he will pay.


So. What do you guys think? Hope you like it! Comments will be appreciated ahaaaa

Mr. Min - Chapter 07

Description:  Your CEO caught your attention the first day you started your new job and it seems the attraction is mutual.  Too bad he’s only interested in a relationship that benefits him.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 13079

A/N: Originally this was only the first half of chapter 7 but I wanted to get something out for you guys so I decided to split it. I hope it was worth the wait. :)

PlaylistPrologue - Ch 01Ch 02 - Ch 03 - Ch 04 - Ch 05 - Ch 06 - Ch 07

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Harry laughed happily as he landed on the grass. Draco was only seconds behind him clutching the snitch with a massive grin on his face.
“Good one, Draco.”
“Oh, it wasn’t really a good one. Pretty easy actually.” Draco drawled with a smirk.
Harry laughed again as he shoved Draco’s shoulder. “Whatever, that dive was pretty amazing.” Draco’s smirk became a proud smile. “Come on, let’s go eat something. I’m starving!” Harry said.
The smile morphed into a frown. “No. We each won one, it’s a draw. We have to play another.”
Harry grinned at him. “Let’s leave it a draw.”
Draco arched a brow. “Scared Potter?”
Laughing, Harry slung an arm around his friends shoulders. “Yes, scared you’ll pout and ignore me all day when I beat you.”
Draco sniffed. “First of all, I am not so petty. And who says you’d win anyway? So arrogant, Harry.”
Harry laughed and squeezed his friend in a hug. “Yeah. I’m the arrogant here, Draco.”
Draco gently bumped the side of his head against Harry’s as they walked to the castle. “So long as you know.”

On the following Sunday they found themselves trudging through a mountain of homework, much to Harry’s displeasure. Ron and Hermione had gone for a picnic on the grounds, since Hermione always made sure they were up to date on their work. Sighing Harry dropped his head heavily against the couch. Draco, who was curled up in the corner of the couch next to him, looked up with an arched brow. “Giving up already?”
Harry groaned and closed his eyes. “Yes.” He jerked up when he felt Draco flick him between the eyes. “Hey!” He protested, rubbing the sore spot with his fingers.
“You’d better keep going. Don’t think that you can leave it and get me to help you just because Granger won’t let you fly until it’s done.” He went back to looking at his book.
Harry turned to him with wide eyes. “That is a fantastic idea.” When Draco just let out a soft laugh but otherwise ignored him, Harry moved so he could lie leaning comfortably against Draco’s side. He closed his eyes and let out a relieved sigh.
“Potter!” Draco groaned. “I am absolutely not doing your work for you.” But he didn’t move or shove Harry off, which Harry knew he wouldn’t. After several blissful minutes, right when Harry was sure he was on the cusp of a wonderful dream, he fell to the floor as Draco stood up. He pointed a finger accusingly at Harry, “Do some work, Harry. Or we will go to the library.”
Sighing in defeat, Harry sat up and faced his books once more.

Hours later they were sitting in front of the crackling fire eating Bertie Botts beans. Draco was sprawled across a single seat with his legs hanging across the side while Harry sat on the floor with his legs crossed and back against Draco’s seat. Draco had the box of beans and alternated between taking one and lowering the box for Harry.
Ron and Hermione entered the common room with cheerful greetings. Harry appreciated everyone’s efforts to get along, since he knew it was only for his sake, but he did wish his three best friends were more than just polite to one another.
“Did you have a good picnic?” Draco asked them.
“Oh, yes it was lovely thanks.” Hermione smiled at him. Ron nodded a bit awkwardly at him.
“Oh, Harry. You’ll never guess what.” Ron started, and Hermione shot him a suspicious look. “We saw Terry there, he was in the middle of a big fight, seems like him and his boyfriend broke up.” Hermione’s look of suspicion became one of horror as she tugged on Ron’s hand. Harry’s stomach dropped as he willed Ron not to continue. But he did. “So he’s single now, and you can finally ask him out. I know you used to have a massive crush on him.”
Harry closed his eyes, but the thick silence wouldn’t be ignored. He was so glad he couldn’t see Draco’s expression at that moment. There had been a hundred moments when he meant to come out to Draco. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed or anything. It was just that he really enjoyed their friendship. He didn’t know how they’d become so
comfortable touching each other all the time, but he was scared that it would change if Draco knew. He opened his eyes to find Ron looking from him to Hermione with confusion brewing in his eyes. Hermione was watching Draco carefully, which could only mean that he most definitely wasn’t looking at them.
Harry sighed internally. He cleared his throat. “Uh, thanks.”
Hermione looked at him pitifully and quickly started talking about their day, filling the silence as best she could. She asked about how their studies went, Harry responded and Draco said a word or two.
After suffering through it as long as he could, Harry wished everyone good night. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Draco as he left, but let his hand trail along his shoulder as he walked passed.

The next morning, Harry lingered in bed. If he could, he’d avoid seeing Draco all day. Unfortunately, his last class was potions where they were partners. At breakfast he managed to get away with only a smile and a wave since Draco sat at the Slytherin table still. Harry tried hard to focus on his lessons all day, but he couldn’t deny he was nervous to see him.
When he arrived in potions at the end of the day, Draco was already there with all the ingredients for the days potion. He was chopping furiously when Harry reached him. “Hi, Draco.” He said nervously, fidgeting with the strap on his bag.
“Hi, Potter.” Draco glanced up with a small smile. After a few seconds he rolled his eyes. “Are you going to help or do you expect me to do all the work?”
Harry could have laughed with relief, but he didn’t. He gave Draco a grateful smile which was returned with a small quirk of the lips and they got to work.
The rest of the lesson passed in the same manner as the ones before. After, they walked together to dinner and Harry felt relieved. Until he couldn’t find Draco anywhere after dinner. He went to bed with a sinking feeling.

The week passed in the same pattern. The only time that Harry really saw Draco was during potions, his behavior seemingly unchanged. But Harry missed him. After potions on Friday Harry had had enough. As they walked together to dinner he blurted out. “Where have you been all week?” Grey eyes glanced up from the floor to meet his before flickering away. “I can never find you after dinner.” He said accusingly.
Draco answered softly. “I’ve had detention every day.”
“What?” Harry asked, reaching out to grab Draco’s arm. “For what?”
Turning to face Harry, Draco sighed. “You know how it is, some teachers will make up reasons to punish me.”
Harry frowned and opened his mouth to express his outrage when Draco gave him a defeated smile. “It doesn’t matter. Okay?”
Harry deflated. Draco twitched his arm awkwardly and Harry realized he was still holding him. He let go quickly but noticed the blush on Draco’s cheeks.
He deflated a little more.

On Saturday morning when Harry returned from breakfast he found Draco in the common room with his homework. After fetching his own, he sank down on the couch next to him.
Draco shifted to make more room for him.
After working for a little while Draco got up to get a different textbook and settled down again on the single couch. Harry frowned. He wouldn’t have thought anything about it before, but..
He sighed heavily and tried to focus on his work.

The next day he found himself working alone in the library. When he returned to the common room he found Draco curled up on the single couch with a book. He looked up when Harry entered and frowned slightly. “Where were you today?” He asked.
Harry shrugged, struggling to meet his eyes. “Thought I’d concentrate better in the library.” He moved to walk past where Draco was sitting, when Draco’s hand shot out as if to grab his hand but stopped suddenly, quivered in the air for a moment before disappearing just as fast.
Harry hesitated briefly. With a disappointed sigh he carried on walking.
“Harry.” Draco said.
Harry half turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. Draco cleared his throat. “Would you like to go fly for a bit?” Harry frowned skeptically, unsure of what how he wanted to respond. “There’s enough time for at least one game to end our draw before the light goes.” Draco said, smiling uncertainly. And that’s what got to Harry.
“Yeah, alright.” He answered finally.

The walk to the quidditch pitch was filled with awkward silence. At least it was for Harry. Once they were flying though, Harry felt better.
The light started to go quickly and Harry was scanning rather desperately for the snitch, it was the one he had caught in first year and he was rather sentimental about it. A glint of gold caught his eye and he dove toward it. As he neared it he saw Draco coming in from a different angle, slightly ahead of him. He pushed forward, urging his broom to go faster. At the last moment, he realized Draco would get there first and Harry would barrel into him soon after. Unfortunately, the last moment didn’t give him enough time to stop or change direction. All he could do was slow down to soften the impact.
Thankfully they were low to the ground so when they tumbled over one another and onto the grass, it wasn’t too hard a fall. They rolled and Harry landed half on Draco’s chest with a massive groan. Draco was gasping heavily. Harry lifted himself to quickly pat Draco down for injuries and once he was satisfied that he was fine he fell half onto Draco’s chest again. They caught their breath in silence.
It was the happiest Harry had been all week. Until Draco said, “Two one, Potter.” Harry looked up to see Draco clutching the snitch with a triumphant grin. He laughed and pushed himself up onto an elbow.
“You can’t tell me this one was an easy win.” Harry teased.
“No, I can’t.” Draco chuckled and smiled at Harry. Harry smiled back, happy to have his friend back. He noticed the pink tinge on Draco’s cheeks as Draco’s eyes flickered away and he shifted awkwardly. Harry sat up quickly and Draco scooted away from Harry. His heart sank.
Draco cleared his throat, “Well, let’s go back.” He stood up and retrieved his broom. Harry sat there with his knees bent and his elbows resting on his knees, drowning in unhappiness. He wasn’t going to get his easy friendship back. Draco had walked a few paces back toward the castle when he turned around. “Harry?” He said tentatively.
Harry sighed. “I can’t do this, Draco.” He shoved his hands in his hair and looked away, frustrated.
Draco frowned and came back. “What do you mean?” He asked softly.
“I mean I want you to just freak out about the fact that I didn’t tell you and be honest if you have a problem with who I am. I can’t take this dancing around it. I miss you.” He bit his lip to stop himself. After a long pause he looked up to find Draco staring at him in shock.
“You think I have a problem with who you are?” He asked quietly, which set warning bells off in Harry’s head. “You think I’ve been acting strange because I don’t accept this part of you.” He added. Then he laughed, a self deprecating sound that Harry knew well. Draco lifted a hand to his forehead. “Why wouldn’t you? It’s the obvious conclusion.” He laughed again, a little hysterically this time, which broke Harry out of his daze. He stood up and slowly approached him.
“Well, if it’s not that then what is it?” He asked.
Draco closed his eyes briefly before meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry watched a flush creep up his neck as he seemed to search for words. “Well, I couldn’t exactly be mad at you for not telling me when I’ve been keeping the exact same secret.” His cheeks were a deep pink now. Harry’s ears were ringing.
“What?” He whispered, disbelieving.
Draco gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” Harry could only stare at him. Draco swallowed nervously. “Anyway, I was trying to find the right time to tell you about me. But, as you know, it’s not easy.” He laughed awkwardly again. “And somehow knowing about you made my little crush seem less impossible which is stupid, really I know, so I was just giving myself a bit of space to dispel that illusion. That’s why I got detention everyday. I couldn’t focus, I was useless in class.” His gaze was flickering from Harry’s shoulder, his collar to his throat. Anywhere but his eyes. After a fortifying breath Draco added. “Our friendship is important to me. I didn’t want to mess it up.”
Harry was confused. He was shocked. But he knew that that made him happy. He pulled Draco towards him and wrapped him in a tight hug. “I missed you, you idiot.”
Draco melted into the hug which made Harry’s heart soar. They stood like that for a long time. Eventually Draco pulled back, much to Harry’s regret. Harry searched his gaze. “It’s not impossible, you know. Or an illusion.” He whispered.
Draco’s breath caught. Harry smiled at him. “I don’t think.” Harry amended. But as he watched the moonlight play over Draco’s features he thought it was probably extremely possible. Probable in fact.
Draco watched Harry watch him for the longest time. His look of shock slowly abated until Harry was staring at Draco’s trademark smirk. “You’d better not think that counts as asking me out, because my standards are considerably higher than that.” Harry laughed and Draco smiled before adding, “I’m serious.” With that he turned and started toward the castle. Harry scrambled to catch up.
“I’ll write a poem.” He said.
Draco groaned. “Please don’t. I’m pretty set on saying yes. Don’t make that hard for me to do.”
Harry grinned. Feeling bold, he reached out to grab Draco’s hand as they walked forward. He let out a content sigh when Draco laced their fingers together.

10 Things I Learned as an Interviewer for the Interviewee

As a fourth year medical students (yikes) I was able to become an interviewer for my medical school. So yes, that means maybe someone I’ve interviewed may one day see this. Though probably not. Anyways, it was very surreal to be on the other side of the process all these years later and while I’m getting ready for interviews myself (anyone want me for residency, btw?)

A lot of expectations and previous notions about interviews that I had really did change and I can see how intricate the process actually is, and I get why we get asked the questions we do. At least somewhat better.                                                                   

All experiences and interviewers are different but here are some things I think can really help out the interviewee. Maybe things you thought were hard and fast rules but aren’t or things you didn’t expect us to be looking for. Anything to help! And while this is directed at pre-meds, the advice should still general enough that anyone can use it, if they want.

Some things to know beforehand; I was part of a two-on-one interview setting which lasted 30 minutes with a few preset questions we needed to ask. The interview was blind, so we couldn’t see stats.

Take a second to observe your interviewers.

This isn’t an open invitation to judge your interviewers, but most of us are pretty telling in the way we present ourselves. If you can take a break for the nerves for a second pay attention to our introductions, our demeanor and how we’re dressed. It can give you a sense of how relaxed or stringent we may be and what our personalities may be like even if we were told to stay stone cold poker-faced. And always keep in mind who your interviewers are and what departments they’re from. It can help guide the tone we set for the entire interview.  

Play off the interviewers.

Now that you’ve taken a moment to take in your surroundings use those to your advantage. If we’re playing tough, answer with strength and intention. If we’re relaxed, don’t sit so stiff and maybe get us to laugh. If you are asked thought provoking questions, take time to think about it and provide thought provoking answers. The more you work with us, the easy and more open a dialog becomes and the more personable the interview will become. It’s a great way to show flexibility and adaptation, and for the interviewers who did this well we found ourselves impressed.

If I’m offering you information, take it.

If I am telling you that I am a 4th year and I can answer your questions about rotations, classes, or student life I am literally giving you questions to ask me in the event you have forgotten all of yours. If faculty tells you which program they are a part of and what they specialize in they are opening that line of information for you. They are telling you were their interests and focuses are and you can run with that, if you like.

Please, please do your research.

We had an application who couldn’t tell us what they liked our school. Had no idea what the mission statement was or what the goals of the school were. Didn’t have a clue. I had to use my doctor face so I could stay neutral. It was bad. I get that you just want to be in medical school but come on. Point blank, there is no excuse for anyone to know nothing about the program they’re interviewing for. You should also have worked out answers for frequently asked questions. Getting stumped on classic medical school questions…it’s a big red flag. So please plan ahead and do your research.  

Pick the length of your answers carefully.

Different types of questions prompt different types of answers. There are a lot of questions that can prompt follow up questions. Hobbies for example; going into every detail about your hobbies is probably counterproductive. But that’s assuming you have a fair amount of things you like to do that aren’t medicine. You can add a snip here and there, like “I’ve done that for 15 years” or “it’s really a huge passion of mine” but if there is interest in hearing more, we’ll most likely ask. If you only have one thing, don’t think “I like running” is a good enough answer. Give us something to work with. There are questions, especially theoretical ones or tell me a story situations that are meant to be longer. And always keep in mind your time limit.

Be confident, not cocky.

There is a huge difference between smug and confident. We had one prospect who gave this shit-eating “gotcha” grin after every question they thought they had aced. It was almost like they were trying to directly challenging me. It got to the point that I stopped caring what they were saying and was just getting pissed. The answers could have been great (they weren’t) but all that stuck with me was the cockiness. Not sure if you do that unintentionally? That’s what practice interviews are for. There are very clear differences when someone was proud of an answer and were pleased, and what this individual was doing. And if you do act that way, personally, I don’t want you representing my school, regardless of what your application looks like.

I don’t care about the “right” answer. I care why.

I know there are certain questions answers that are kind of set in stone. And I know straying too far from say, an ethics question, is hard to do in a new and unique way. The way to make yourself stand out from the crowd is to explain the reasons why you believe this to be the “right” answers since those tend to differ among applicants and shows your critical thinking skills past “well obviously this is the right answer”. Aside from that most interviewers don’t have specific expectations for most questions. We’d rather just hear about you and your personal experiences, honestly.

We’re not always looking for your spoken answer.

Sometimes we’re looking at your body language. I will purposefully ask questions I know there are only a few answers too. Not because I want to know if you know it, but rather how you viscerally respond. Do you look uncomfortable when answering an ethics or grades question? Did you answer robotically? Are you still looking at me? Can you pick yourself back up after a rough question? What you do speaks just as loud as the things your saying and I’m looking for it.

Use your personality and responses to show you want to be here. Not your grades.

This was not an isolated event. I had a few prospective students speak about a class and sneak in “which I got an A in” and continue. Not really a fan of that. I naturally assume that everyone we interviewed had good enough grades and scores because, well, you’re at the interview. At this point in the process all I want if for you to shine beyond those things and prove to me that you can be a doctor on paper and in person.  

Make me feel connected to you.

In the end, I want to feel like I know who you are. I want to know what you stand for and I want to experience the person who wants to become a physician. I want to appreciate your story and how far you’ve come. We don’t need to become best friends, we don’t need to have similar thoughts or values or personalities. But I want to feel like we could understand each other now and in the future. Let me be excited about you and for you. Let me want you to be here so I can check accept.

I hope someone was able to get something useful from this because for all of you here dying to enter this crazy profession I want you to reach your goals. I really do, and I’m just doing all I can on the internet. Good luck to everyone on your interviews!

ANOTHER LOVING PSA TO ALL YOU TWEAKERS, JUNKIES AND ADDICTS FROM YOUR FAVORITE FELLOW TWEAKER...

**FIRST AND MOST IMPORTANTLY**

  • “THERE’S NOTHING SLOWER THAN A TWEAKER IN A HURRY” MOTHERFUCKER, KEEP TRACK OF THE TIME OR USE A REMINDER OR DOZENS OF ALARMS. NOBODY LIKES WAITING FOR 5 HOURS FOR YOU WHEN YOU SAID YOU’D BE THERE IN 10 MINUTES. IF YOU CATCH YOURSELF FLAILING AND TRYING TO DO 10 THINGS AT ONCE, STAND UP, FOCUS AND GATHER YOURSELF AND GET YOUR ASS MOVING. THIS IS MY BIGGEST PEEVE. BE FUCKING CONSIDERATE. I WANT MY DRUGS IN A TIMELY FUCKING FASHION. I HAVE PLACES TO BE AND A JOB TO WORK AT.


  • ARE THE FEDS AT YOUR DOOR? NO, YOU TWACKED OUT MOTHERFUCKER. THEY ARE NOT AT YOUR DOOR. DON’T BE A PARANOID FLOYD OR FANNIE AND RUIN EVERYBODY’S HIGH BECAUSE YOU GOT TOO HIGH AND THINK THE FEDS ARE GONNA GET YOU. YOUR FRIENDS MAY JUST BEAT THE TWEAK OUTTA YOU.


  • IF YOU’RE A NEWBIE, WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT BURN THE FUCKING PIPE, TIP OVER THE PIPE WITH FRESHLY POURED METH, SET YOUR PIPE ON YOUR BAG OR JUST SPILL THE BAG IN GENERAL. THIS IS A SURE WAY TO DIE A TWEAKER DEATH AND GET KICKED OUT.


  • YES, YOU SELFISH SAVAGE, YOU MOST CERTAINLY DID GET A BIGASS HIT. DONT YOU DARE SAY YOU DIDNT. WE JUST SAW YOU SMOKE HALF THE BOWL.


  • HEY ASSFACES, YOU HEAR YOUR STOMACH GROWLING? IT’S TELLING YOU TO EAT SOME FOOD SINCE YOU’VE FORGOTTEN TO SHOVE TASTY THINGS IN YOUR MOUTH FOR 5 DAYS. YOU’LL BE ABLE TO POOP TOO FINALLY.


  • OH, YOU KEEP COMPLAINING ABOUT HOW YOU CANT PISS? GET A MOTHER FUCKIN GALLON OF WATER AND DRINK IT. ACTUALLY. MAKE IT 3 GALLONS SINCE YOU WANT TO THINK YOU’RE PART CAMEL. ALSO, KEEP A CUP NEXT TO YOU SO YOU CAN SWISH WATER AROUND YOUR MOUTH TO GET THAT LAST LAYER OF METH OFF.


  • “nobody even knows or notices!” HEY YOU DOOFUS, YES THEY DO. THEY CAN TELL. YOU PROBABLY SMELL LIKE A HOOKER’S OVERUSED VAGINA FROM NOT SHOWERING FOR A WEEK. THE FUCK, BRO?


  • YOU REALLY JUST SKIPPED WORK BECAUSE YOU GOT HIGH AND FORGOT YOU HAD TO WORK 3 HOURS LATER? UH HELLO A JOB IS IMPORTANT AND YOUR BOSS PROBABLY WONT FIRE YOU IF YOU AT LEAST SHOW UP.


  • HAVING A PLACE TO LIVE IS REALLY IMPORTANT. PAY YOUR FUCKING RENT, YOU FOOL, WITH THAT FULL TIME JOB YOU KEEP FORGETTING TO GO TO.


  • ARE PEOPLE SHOCKED THAT YOU FINALLY EMERGED AND CAME OUTSIDE AFTER ABOUT 3 WEEKS OF BEING M.I.A? HEY, YOU NEED SOME FRESH AIR AND TO BE PART OF OUTSIDE WORLD AND HANG OUT WITH YOUR FAMILY.


  • YOU’VE BEEN GETTING HIGH FOR THE LAST 6 DAYS BUT YOU CANT SEEM TO GET ANY HIGHER? HELLO, DING DONG, THAT’S YOUR TOLERANCE TELLING YOU TO TAKE A BREAK FOR A DAY. LET IT DROP LONG ENOUGH FOR THE NEXT TIME YOU GET HIGH, YOU ACTUALLY GET HIGH. YOU’RE JUST WASTING YOUR PRODUCT, KIDDO.


  • HAVENT HEARD A PEEP OUT OF YOUR PET OR YOUR CHILD? THAT’S PROBABLY BECAUSE THEY’RE FUCKING DEAD DUE TO LACK OF FOOD. DONT BE AN ASSHOLE AND FORGET ABOUT YOUR ADORABLE ANIMALS AND YOUR CHILD(REN). THEY NEED YOU. THEY LOVE YOU. TINA DOESNT LOVE YOU.


  • REMEMBER TO TEXT PEOPLE BACK. DONT FUCKING GO GHOST FOR 3 DAYS BECAUSE YOU’RE TOO HIGH AND DISTRACTED. PEOPLE WORRY AND ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS YOURSELF, YOU SELFISH FUCKFACE.


  • YOUR PLACE LOOKS LIKE A TORNADO, TSUNAMI, HURRICANE AND NATURAL DISASTER HAPPENED? DONT FORGET TO CLEAN YOUR PLACE AT LEAST ONCE A WEEK. HELLOOOO.


  • IF YOU’VE BEEN SOBER FOR AN EXTENDED PERIOD OF TIME DUE TO JAIL OR RECOVERY, BE SMART. YOUR BODY CANNOT HANDLE THE SAME AMOUNT YOU WERE DOING BEFORE YOU SOBERED UP. YOUR TOLERANCE LITERALLY DOESNT EXIST SO YOU’LL PROBABLY END UP OVERDOSING AND BEING DEAD. LIKE PLEASE DONT DO AN ENTIRE GRAM SHOT AT ONCE IF YOU’VE BEEN SOBER FOR LIKE A YEAR. T H I N K.


  • GET OFF THE FUCKING FLOOR. YOU’VE BEEN CARPET SURFING FOR 5 HOURS. THERE’S NOTHING ELSE THERE. GET THE FUCK UP.

IN ALL SERIOUSNESS, SET A BUNCH OF REMINDERS IN YOUR PHONE SO YOU DONT FORGET TO DO THESE THINGS.

happy tweaking :)

Intertwined

Prompt: Fairy Tale AU for @marvelous-fvcks ‘s 3k followers writing challenge, congratulations love!! (also I’m so so sorry that this was late!)

Summary: Working in the royal castle leaves no time to yourself, but at the castle’s busiest time, you meet someone in the market who, despite his charming mannerisms, hides things that you wish you could find out. Then suddenly, your worlds collide in a way you would’ve never expected. 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 6128 words (woah this is the longest fic I’ve posted oops, but it’s prob one of my cutest)

Warnings: slight angst, too much fluff

Notes: Thank you to @buckys-fossil and @whyisbuckyso for beta-ing this fic, you guys rule <3 

Originally posted by kingsebastian

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