this one is way better than the first two

kazuma14  asked:

Ah congrats on the Lucy figure. I have the same one! Wish I had the other Lucy too and a Natsu one. I wish we got more statues of them in general I want another Lucy 😭

Yay! I really like this one, probably better than my first Lucy. The reason being the first one I had to super glue her clothes together. (You can remove the top and skirt if you want to be a perv) So I was happy when I saw that wasn’t an option for this Lucy. Although, it feels weird receiving two heads to choose from. I sorta hid the other head behind my manga so I didn’t have to think about it. 

I have an Erza and a Gray on the way, but they’re taking longer than Lucy did to arrive. It’s probably a good thing. It will give me more time to figure out where the hell I’m going to put them. 

  • What she says: im fine
  • What she means: ive been waiting literally nearly four fucking years for season two of attack on titan. attack on titan first aired way before pepe existed, and season two came later than his meme's death. most people think waiting one or two years for a new season to start is painful, but do you understand how painful waiting four fucking years for season two of a show to come out? no, you don't. dont give me that "it took how many years for finding dory though" bullshit because nobody was anticipating it. finding fucking dory was never postponed multiple times. ive been suffering the postponed season two for four years. you better believe im not fucking fine.
rebound

 highschool au

 genre: pure, complete fluff

 pairing: jungkook // you

 word count: 6k

 warnings: none

Description: Your grades are slipping too low for your liking, you’re reprimanded by the student council president, Jeon Jungkook has got you feeling some type of way, and additionally, you agree to go to his basketball game. What could go wrong?

A/N: the first fic oops i don’t really know if this blog will go in the fic direction, i’ll see how it goes. feedback is appreciated!!


You slam your locker door shut after you throw in your gym clothes, breathing out of your nose as slowly as you can as you lean against the locker, hands clenched so tightly the veins were visible.

“Woah, what’s up with you today, Y/N?” Tzuyu, Jackson, and Yerim,  three of your closest friends, gather around you. All three of them have concerned looks on their faces.

“That little…” you mutter angrily, looking up. Tzuyu’s eyebrows rise at your frustrated look.

“Hey, I asked you, are you okay?” She pokes your shoulder. You wordlessly yank out a rumpled piece of paper out of one of the many folders in your arms and flap it in front of her face.

“Just look at this,” you seeth, eyes smoldering. “My average for physics dropped. All because I wasted my time to help Golden Boy study. How am I supposed to be valedictorian now?”

At that, Yerim rolls her eyes as Tzuyu scans the paper. “Are you serious? You’re upset about, like a 2% drop? I have a 87 for your information.” Jackson just snorts.

“You should know how Y/N gets about her grades, Yerim. She’s ranked one, so obviously she has to keep her grades up if she wants to keep her ranking.”

“Well,” Tzuyu says breezily as she hands the piece of paper back to you, “I don’t get what you have against Jeon Jungkook. I mean, he’s actually really nice, smart, and good looking. Oh, and athletic since he’s also the basketball team captain now that Yoongi is injured.”

“He asked you nicely if you could help him too,” Yerim adds. “Always a first.”

“You don’t get it,” you grit out, brushing the hair falling over your eyes out of your face. The four of you begin to make your way back to your homeroom classrooms, with Jackson bidding a farewell as he is a year older.

“One, he’s not attractive Tzuyu-” you begin, disgusted (you’re lying to yourself but no way were you admitting that), “and two, I helped him for two hours studying for that huge test, and while I only got a 94, he got a perfect. His grades are better than mine at this rate. It’s not fair.”

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bbc.co.uk
The Radio 1 Breakfast Show with Nick Grimshaw - Everyone the One Direction boys have collaborated with on their solo material so far - BBC Radio 1
As rumours swirl about Louis working with Bebe Rexha, we look at the boys' other collabs

Exciting news for One Direction fans: it looks like there’s more solo material on the way from both Zayn and Louis. While Zayn’s collab with PARTYNEXTDOOR is confirmed and dropping “soon”, the Louis rumours all stem from one excitable Bebe Rexha.

“[I just finished a new song] with somebody really big from a boyband,” Bebe told CBS Radio’s Culinary Kitchen. “It’s a really massive record. We just finished it and it’s about to come out in a month or so and it’s amazing. It’s probably one of my favourite songs I’ve ever been a part of in my whole career.”

Hmm. We know what you’re thinking: there are many, many boyband stars Bebe could have worked with. But, when you consider Louis recently followed her on Twitter, and she followed him on Instagram… Yes. All fingers point to a Louis Tomlinson and Bebe Rexha collaboration (we hope).

While we await further news from Team Tomlinson, check out everyone the 1D lads have worked with on their solo material (so far).

(very positive, nice summary that includes everyone)

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2

Okay. Let’s talk about the head pokes.

The first time this happened, we saw Viktor completely out of breath while Yuuri was still hanging in there, ready to keep going. Yuuri demonstrated here that his stamina is better than Viktor’s.

This was one of the first glimpses Yuuri had of his idol being flawed and demonstrating a weakness. He sees that Viktor is real and human instead of something out of reach and untouchable.

So that’s what Yuuri does. He touches Viktor. *poke poke* It’s like him saying, “Viktor Nikiforov is real. He’s standing right here in front of me, and … he’s just a person like me.”

It’s not meant as an insult. It’s the two of them on their way to seeing each other as equals.

I want to point this out as well. Viktor covers his own head after Yuuri pokes him because it makes him feel insecure. We’ll come back to this in a moment.

Let’s jump ahead to Episode 7 (click here).

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★ Giveaway Time ★

So I decided I should finally start getting active on this tumblr blog, and what better way to start than by hosting a giveaway! :D For reference, I’m Cedric #37250 on fr. You do not need to be following me to enter this giveaway.

I’m giving away a total of 10,000 gems. There will be 3 winners. The first winner will receive 5,000g, while two other winners will receive 2,500g.

Reblog with your username and ID to be entered! Every user is allowed one entry, likes don’t count.

Winners will be drawn 11:59pm FR time on March 15th and announced during the rollover.

Good luck to everyone! :D

Giveaway is over, and winners have been drawn! Thank you so much!

Finding Home

Summary:  After Cas is rejected by his homophobic parents, his roommate Dean invites him to stay for the holidays with him and his family.  He never expected it to turn into this.


“They don’t want me anymore.” 

Dean blinks in surprise, looking up to see his freshman roommate standing in the doorway, antiquated cellphone in his hands.  To his surprise, the kid looks to be on the verge of crying, which is strange – Dean’s joked with his friends about how emotionless Cas appears to be.  Or rather, had appeared to be, up till now. 

“Cas, you alright there, buddy?”  Dean asks, chair screeching as he pulls away from his desk.  He’d been trying to finish his research paper for his physiology class, but whatever Cas’s problem is seems to be more pressing. 

“They don’t want me,” Cas repeats, swallowing wetly.  “My parents.  They say don’t want me to come home for Christmas break, and they don’t want me contacting my siblings anymore.” 

Dean blinks comprehensively.  “What?  Why the hell not?” 

“They, ‘still love me,’” Cas snuffles, rubbing his nose with the sleeve of his ever-present beige trench coat with one arm and making quotey fingers with the other.  “But they ‘don’t approve of my lifestyle.’”  

Oh.  Oh, so that’s what this is about.  

Dean hasn’t known Cas for all that long, and he doesn’t know a whole lot about him:  just that he’s a bio major with plans to become a doctor (Dean himself is going into nursing), he’s cute (though he’d never, ever tell Cas that), not a little weird, and yeah, if the time he’d come home to find him making out with Crowley (the poncy British upperclassman from accounting who Dean already loathes with a passion) he is into guys.

His parents must not have been cool with it. 

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Outside of images that the Care Bears would find insipid, “Money can’t buy happiness” is what middle-class people tell each other when someone is trying to decide between two different jobs. “I make 70k right now and the new gig only plays 60k, so I wouldn’t be able to travel as much. But I’d have more free time to play Ultimate, the benefits are better, and there’s no way my new manager could be any worse than my current one.” That’s an important decision to the person making it, but they’re debating between two different kinds of comfort. It’s safely assumed that the money they will need to exist will always be there. It would be nice to have more – to be able to go to more restaurants or to justify buying a second Roomba because deep down you know that the first one is lonely – but there’s always enough to keep the lights on and the kitchen stocked.

You may have seen the study that claimed $70,000 a year is the ideal salary – after that, more money generally doesn’t make you happier. Well, that’s great news for people hovering around that benchmark, but if you’re poor, more money will abso-fucking-lutely make you happier. More money means healthier food, or a chance to get out of the house and have some fun. It can mean knowing the rent is paid for next month, or being able to afford medication.

The middle class isn’t immune to money problems, especially if there are kids in the mix. Getting laid off at the wrong time sucks, no matter what your income is. But the middle-class people with money problems I’ve known were generally suffering from self-inflicted wounds. They had no savings because they wanted the new car or the luxury vacation. They wanted one of those experiences they were constantly told was more important than money, because the money for day-to-day necessities was always there, right up until it wasn’t.

5 Ways The Middle Class Is Taught To Despise The Poor

Stress Relief - Wolverine x Reader (NSFW)

I currently have no life…For real, sent me your requests, I have a broken wrist and nothing better to do than write “x reader” things because I enjoy them.

Another piece with Logan, this time, he needs to relieve some stress. Totally NSFW by the way, fluff and SMUT yo. First one I write actually, so, sorry if it sucks. So, yeah, you know.

PART TWO

______________________________________________________________________

When Logan came up with the idea of making a new school for mutants, you didn’t expect it to be that stressful. It had been quite some times since Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters closed. After the professor’s death, it just wasn’t the same anymore…But there were still kids all around the world in need of help. Kids that parents chased away, kids that were forced out of their homes, or kids that were just too powerful to take care of themselves without hurting anybody else. You agreed with your boyfriend, there was a need for a new school…Ororo and Kurt directly jumped in. They missed teaching as much as you. And eventually, you opened your own school. Jean Grey’s institute for higher learning. You didn’t really like the name, as you and Jean never seen eye to eye (probably because Logan used to be crazy about her, and that she was a bit jealous that he completely forgot his feelings towards her when you entered his life), but you thought it was a cute hommage nonetheless.

Logan and Ororo became headmasters, and you were happy that you’d declined the offer to be one, because it was Hell to take care of a school like that. You didn’t know how Professor Xavier did it all those years.

A particularly stressful day took you to Logan’s office.

On the door was a handwritten note stating : « Taking a break, fuck off !! ». You smiled at it, imagining Logan becoming very angry at whoever knocked on his door…Whoever but you.

You knocked.

-Can’t you fucking read !! I’m busy !

-Busy relaxing ?

You heard his heavy footsteps coming from his desk to the door. He opened it and as soon as his eyes met yours, his harsh expression soften. He took your hand and led you in, closing the door behind you. You knew right there and then that he had a bad day, as he didn’t attack your lips with his mouth, pinning you on the door and tearing away your clothes. Instead, he gestured for you to sit in a chair in front of his desk, as he went around to rest in his own chair.

He looked exhausted, both physically and mentally, and your heart ache a bit to see him in such a state. Oh no, that wouldn’t do. You needed to make your Wolverine feel relaxed for good.

You didn’t take the seat he gestured to, and instead went around his desk, and settled yourself behind his chair. He looked at you curiously, twisting his neck to see your face. You rested your head on his shoulder and gently kissed his jaw, his neck. You could already feel his tensed muscles relaxed a bit. He let out a content sigh.

Probably to the surprise of many, The Wolverine, behind closed door, loved being affectionate, and loved receiving affection. Hugs, kisses, snuggles…and lots of sex. With him, sex was never boring, wether he was making sweet love to you or fucking you roughly. Your needs always came first, and that’s how he liked it. But today, he needed you more.

You lifted your head from his neck, he groaned at the lost of you, and you smiled. You started to massage his shoulders, applying the perfect pressure, according to his low moans.

-I don’t know if your muscles are tense, or if it’s just your adamantium bones that I feel right now, but it’s hard. Don’t you dare make a dick joke.

-Haha, didn’t even cross my mind, too tired. And I’m pretty sure it’s a bit of both.

-Tough day ?

-Tough fucking month.

-I hear ya. Some of the kids have been a bit of a…handful.

-Kids, parents, teachers, paperworks, damn bamfs…Everything here is a handful.

-Well, you asked for it.

-Shut up.

You laughed and kept massaging his shoulder. Your hand slowly crept under his red flannel and over his muscular chest, all the way down his abs, tracing the well defined muscles with the tip of your fingers. You gently unbotonned the shirt while doing so. He didn’t stop you, and let his head fall back on your shoulder as he closed his eyes, enjoying your touch.

-This is nice.

-Yeah ?

-Yeah. You’re definitely a good stress relief darlin’.

You smiled as you resumed kissing his neck, nibling slightly there and there. He raised one of his hands and tangled it in your hair, tugging lightly on it so that you’d raise your head. Your eyes met. You kissed his forehead, you could feel him totally relaxed under your hands. He gave you a weak half-smile, and you knew he wanted to speak, to tell you how he felt, but couldn’t. He wasn’t the kind of man to just express his feelings with words much, but when it happened, it made your heart sing. However today, he just didn’t had the strength in him to conjure words to explain what was going on in his head, in his heart. So you just leaned in and kissed him, you bent down behind him, him twisting slightly his neck up to reach you. The hand he had in your hair stayed there, and tugged once again to direct you around the chair to face him. It started as a sweet and tender kiss, but it was definitely beginning to get hungrier. You straddled him on the chair, and his other hand went to support you on the small of your back.

His tongue licked tentatively on your lower lips, and you gladly let him slip it in your mouth, not even fighting for dominance, giving it to him right away.

You pulled away and he groaned, trying to get you close again, but you resisted, and he just stared at you with an annoyed look in his eye. He wasn’t in the mood for teasing…but that wasn’t what you had in mind at all.

You got off of his laps, and started to trail kisses on his jaw, down his neck, on his chest, licking slightly over his right nipple, biting there and there, slowly going further down, down, down…

-I like where this is going.

You winked at him. You knew he liked giving more than receiving, but on days like this, he would gladly let you do whatever you wanted to him. One hand caressed his abs softly, as the other unnuckled his belt with expert fingers. He raised his hips to allow you to slowly take his pants and boxers down, letting his half hard cock out free. In just a light touch on the side of his shaft, you saw it raised quickly to become hard as a rock. He was staring at you, mesmerized at the effect you could have on him. Before you, it’d take him quite a while to get even half-hard. Which is why he was big on the foreplay. He never had a problem having an erection, but it always took time and work to get him fully there…while you, a swipe of your fingers and he was gone. You just smiled shyly, and fisted your hand around his lenght, squeezing just a tiny bit. He held his breath, and grip the side of his desk chair in anticipation. You slowly stroked him, putting your head on your free hand lazily. He just scoffed, and you got the message. He really wasn’t for the teasing right now.

You kissed his thighs, and, while resting a hand on his abdomen, you stroked his cock more firmly with the other one. He grabbed the hand caressing his abs, and squeezed it. He felt your lips rise in a smile on his tigh, and you raised your head, locking your eyes with his. With a sultry look, you started licking his tip slowly, tasting the saltyness of pre-cum. He let out a groan of pleasure, and the hand that wasn’t holding yours slipped back into your hair. You licked his cock from top to bottom while still stroking him, enjoying his little moans there and there.

-Please…Y/N…

He pleaded, and you took your cue to finally put him in your mouth. You sucked on him, hard, your head bobbing up and down faster and faster, stroking what couldn’t fit in your mouth. You had no gag reflex, so you let him kick the back of your throat repeatedly. You felt his hand tightened in your hair, and with a gentle caress of your hand on his chest, he understood that he didn’t had to hold himself, as he started to set the pace he needed by guiding your head with his hand. The obsene sounds of suckling filled the room, and you realized that, even though there was an angry note on his door, someone could interupt the two of you, and it would be extremely awkward…with the help of your telekinetic powers, you locked the door, the click it made distracting Logan for a split second, before he understood and the hand in your hair became even more eager, almost hurting your neck by forcing your head up and down quickly. He realized that you might be uncomfortable and tried to ease his move, forcing himself not to buck his hips in your mouth…but you erased every worries by slightly tapping his abs with the hand he was holding.

He fucked your mouth mercilessly, feeling the knot in his lower stomach tighten and tighten, reaching a point of extreme ecstasy.

He tried to pull your head away, unable to speak and therefor to tell you he was going to come. He didn’t really like coming in your mouth, as he thought it was somewhat disrespectful…but you snaped his hand away and kept on sucking hard. Your name on his lips, and a heartfelt « I love you » later, and he let his seed came all at once, so much of it that it overloaded your mouth, and you slowly took him out, wiping the corner of your mouth, and smiling at him.

He was panting, trying to catch his breath after his strong orgasm, but he stopped you as you were going to tuck him back in. No, he wasn’t going to let you go that easily. But he needed a minute, that you gave him, letting wet kisses all over his chest, collarbone and neck.

When his breathing calmed down, he gripped your arms, not hard enough to hurt you, but enough for you to understand that he was back in control, and that he also needed that.

You let him do whatever he had in mind.

He reached for you, grabbing you under your thighs to ease you up on his desk. He dragged his chair closer, and pulled you down for a kiss. Even sitting lower than you, he could reach you easily, as you were quite short.

He could taste himself on your tongue. With loving movement, he took your shirt off, and your bra, kissing between the valley of your breast. You thought that in this position, someone could see you threw the window, and with a swipe of your hand, you closed the curtains. You felt his smile while as he was gently biting on your pulsing point. He licked quickly around one of your nipple, flicking the other with his fingers. He loved the feeling of your breasts’ soft skin, and he fondled away.

In one swift movement he took your pants off, without unattaching his mouth from your hardening nipple, biting a bit more roughly. As you did to him, he slowly kissed down your body, and, bringing his chair ever so closer, ligned his face with your sex.

-I don’t have to ask if you’re enjoying yourself, do I ?

He smuggly said as he lighly brushed one finger at your slick entrance. You were dripping.

He didn’t waste any time and made you gasp as he lapped at your cunt eagerly. Logan had a thing for eating you out, and you knew it, so, even if you were dying to feel him inside of you, you decided that his tongue was going to do fine for now. He gripped your thigh with force and made you buck your hips in his face, licking and sucking shamelessly. Yes, his tongue was definitely going to be fine for now. He made sure to leave countless marks every where on your inner thigh and around your sex, just for his personal enjoyment later.

You tried to muffle your moans and cries as best you could, knowing there could be people in the corridor just outside his office, but he made it so difficult.

You could feel your orgasm building up quickly, his tongue left you for a split second as he licked his fingers. You knew what was coming…and you were right. He finished you by rubbing your clit between two fingers, while his tongue was still inside you, and he slowly inserted a finger of his other hand in your arsehole, making sure it wouldn’t be uncomfortable, but quite the opposite.

You screamed of pleasure in your hands, muffling the sound as best you could, and he kept licking you threw your orgasm to prolonged it, waiting for you to stop shaking before pulling away.

He directed you into his laps once more, and you rested your head on his chest, fondling lovingly with his coarse chest hair.

-Relaxed yet ?

-Not quite.

-Really ?

-Well, ready for round two ?

You smiled and looked at him, a hint of challenge in your eyes.  

-Sir, I originaly came here just to check if you were alright, cuddle a bit maybe, nothing more.

-Yeah, and then you just…came.

You wacked his chest lightly, and pulled him down for a heated kiss. He raise you and sat you down on his desk once again, lining himself up with your entrance.

-Are you ready darlin’ ?

-For you, always.

Kissing you once again, he pushed into you in one swift thrust, and you both swallowed each other’s moans. He stilled, letting you adjust to his size and grumbled :

-No matter how many times I enter you, you’re always so goddamn tight.

-No -you had difficulties talking when he was fully sheathed inside you like so- you’re just too big.

Your kisses were getting sloppy, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him even further in. He was all the way to the hilt now. You sucked on his neck, leaving love bites, as you whimpered to him the word he had been waiting for : « Move ».

He slowly pulled all the way out, before slamming back into you, so hard that it made his desk creak. Your hunger for each other knew no bounds, and your hips met him thrust for thrust.

He pushed you so that you’re back was on the desk, he was still standing between your legs, his hands holding your shoulder onto the desk to pound into you roughly, just like he knew you liked. Your hands grip his forearms for some support, and both of you had the hardest time not making any loud sound, the sound of skin slapping skin insanely obscene in the silence of the room. He set a fast and hard pace that made your eyes roll to the back of your head, and if his groans and desperate little cries were any indications, he was also very much enjoying himself. The man had the stamina of a horse, and you weren’t so bad yourself, this could go for a long time. After a while, you said :

-Flip me.

In a breath, and he obliged. Not loosing the connection, he expertly flipped you on your stomach, and with this new angle hit all the right places. Unable to hold yourself, you cried out, and he placed one of his hand on your mouth while the other griped your waist to keep slamming into you. You gripped the corner of his desk so hard your knuckles were turning white, you were definitely goin to walk a bit funny for a while.

After a few minutes, he felt his knee start to buckle, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to finish in this position, so he took you with him as he fell back in his chair with a loud thud, and continue to fuck you in a reverse cow girl position. His pace faltered, and he slowed down, caressing your entire body with loving hands. You pressed your back against him, and just enjoyed the tender moment. You were a flexible woman, and you flipped yourself to look at him in the eye, slowly riding him as you knew you were both very close from exploding. He quickened his hips again, and you slammed down his member hard.

You both threw your heads back for a silent cry, your orgasms racking violently threw your bodies. You could feel his seed warming your insides, as he felt you clench around him, unable to hold anything back. You fell in each other’s arms, exhausted and beyond pleased, shaking slightly. Your heavy breaths filled the room. Logan was embracing you, as if he was afraid you’d suddenly disappear…You definitely fulfilled your duty, you relaxed your Wolverine with success. He was melting in your arm, content beyond measure, whispering words of love and devotion in your ear.

A knock on the door disturbed your peace, and you hurriedly pulled off of him and tried to gather your clothes thrown aphazardly around the room. A slight panic in your eyes, as Logan pulled his pants up, and buttoned his flannel back.

Storm’s voice came in threw the door.

-Logan, when you’re done having sex with Y/N, could I please talk to you ? It’s quite important, we’ve got a school to run here !

anonymous asked:

Do you have a favorite guide? something like "Story Plotting for Idiots" type thing? I think I'm pretty well read in terms of lit and movies and such. But I'm at a loss as to where to start to start working on my own. I have TONS of ideas, always have, but the organizing of something longer than say, 500 words always gets bogged down. HALP?

I guess the closest thing to a favourite writing guide that i have is Stephen King’s On Writing, though there’s less ‘this is how to do writing’ and more ‘this is how Stephen King does writing’. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you think of it, there’s no single way to approach writing that is going to work for everyone, it’s all very subjective and personal.

Even going from one project to another, sometimes the same approach won’t work, it’s a matter of what works for you at that moment, for that project.

You can google ‘how to write’ and you’ll come up with dozens of ‘foolproof’ guides and approaches, ‘save the cat’ or ‘the snowflake method’ or a dozen other things. Some of them will have elements that will be helpful to you, and you should feel free to cherrypick what you need and discard the rest – these approaches are written by people for whom they’ve worked. If it doesn’t work for you don’t agonise over it, just move on, try another approach. Keep on plugging.

That said, the one approach that I’ve consistently been able to use and have work for me, is a very blunt approach. Similar to Stephen King’s ‘write three pages a day every day’, and sort of inspired by the whole NaNoWriMo approach to writing, “BICHAK” (Butt in chair, hands on keyboard).

I call it ‘tippy tappy’.

What I do, is I have my ‘outline’ – which is usually a single sentence describing what will happen in a scene, plus a couple of sentences about the emotional/ conflict outcomes that should come from that scene – and then I sit down, set a fifteen minute timer, and just type until the buzzer goes.

So long as you keep tippy tappying on the keyboard for the whole amount of time, you’ll have something to show for it. One scene at a time, one fifteen minute chunk at a time, and that’s pretty much the only way I get anything substantial done.

Now as to HOW to plot?

I seldom know exactly how my story is going to go, or how exactly it will end. I’ve talked about a Problem based approach to narrative, and I start with that, generally. Here is a Problem that is going to affect the characters, who are these people and how are they going to react to it, what is going to happen in their lives as a result of the problem?

I’ll use my current project as an example, I’m about 4000 words in, it will probably wind up being around 60-80k by the time it’s finished. My outline so far encompasses the first two chapters. At the moment I don’t know exactly what the antagonist is going to do, but I do know how to lead up to it.

My outline looks like this:

[Sorry about the blurring, I just wanted to show how I have it laid out without folks reading my awful notes!]

So I have an A4 notepad, ruled with a line down the middle, just for personal preference. In blue headings and green notes, I have my outline for chapter one. I’ve finished all but the last scene in chapter one, and I’m at 4000 words in the manuscript, so you can see it’s a fairly compact way to outline. 

The black heading and red notes is for chapter two. It also just happens that I’m writing from alternating perspectives between my two protagonists, so the different colours helps keep those two POVs distinct. I may or may not write a chapter or two from the antagonist’s perspective at some point, and when it gets to that I might pick a third colour set to write those in, depending on how complex my notes are to look at.

When outlining, the main thing that needs to happen is that you have to be able to tell at a glance what you’re up to and what you wanted to happen next. I quite often get into trouble because I’ll start writing an outline and then wind up accidentally writing on my outlining page, I get so caught up in details that I forget the longer-term goals that I set out intending to write down.

Using bullet points to keep outlines manageable is something else that I’ve found helps. Keeping things simple ‘Jack wants X but he’s conflicted about Y and that leads to trouble with Z’. These are just the notes to remind yourself of the path you’re going to take. And if you find a path that branches off in a direction you didn’t expect, but it looks more exciting? Take the branching path. Keep your old notes in case it leads to a dead end, but after wandering around you’re going to have more material to work with, and more material is always good.

No writing is wasted.

I have TONS of ideas, always have, but the organizing of something longer than say, 500 words always gets bogged down

Okay, having tons of ideas is a way better problem than having not enough ideas, so we can work with this. 500 words is a great starting point.

  • Pick your favourite ideas that you think will fit together.
  • Decide what you think the big Problem of the story is going to be, what do your characters need to resolve in order to have an ending?
  • In one sentence, write down what will happen in the first scene
  • In 1-3 sentences, write down how the main character will feel about it, what changes for them in the course of that scene, and what they want going forward.
  • Do the same for the next two or three scenes.
  • Sit down at your writing implement of choice (computer, notebook, stone tablet, etc)
  • Set a timer. You can start with ten minutes and work your way up. Sometimes I do 20 minute or 30 minute stretches, but mostly I find that 15 minutes works best for me, personally.
  • Close all windows except for your writing project, pause netflix, turn the tv off. Have your outline beside you.
  • Start the timer and until it goes off you’re either writing, or you’re staring at the blank page. Trust me, writing is a whole lot better than looking at a blank page.
  • Keep writing. Tippy tappy.
  • When the timer goes off, go get a drink, walk around. Look at facebook or scroll tumblr, whatever you want to do.
  • Repeat until you have a novel.

Essentially, whatever system you pick can only take you so far, no matter how you organise it, writing a novel is a whole lot of just sitting down and writing. One letter after another until you have 80k words. Tippy tappy.

I find that not worrying too much about the whole novel helps. I just focus on the next 5000 words. I know what will happen in the next 5k, and I can write 500 words and then 500 words and then 500 words, and it adds up. 

The overarching Problem of the story keeps the gist of the scenes pointing in the right direction, and having the open-endedness of the plot as a whole means that if I suddenly discover a new direction as I’m writing I don’t have a whole bunch of outline work that I suddenly feel like I’m abandoning or losing.

Figuring out what outlining method works for you is going to take trial and effort, but you’ll get there. One scene at a time, one paragraph at a time. Every little bit will help you learn what you’re doing and what you want to do.

Send My Love (To Your New Lover)

Requested: Could I request another baekhyun angst scenario…a mistress maybe? You know the cliche break up stories lol. Thanks!!

Summary: You come home to find Baekhyun has been unfaithful, which you expected, but what no one expected is your reaction. 

SPECIAL FEATURE ALERT: This is a reader-interactive fic, so in the box below, if you enter a name (yours or a character’s, for example), and click “submit”, it will swap out “Y/N” for that name. This feature does not work on dashboard/feed/mobile app unfortunately.

Your name: submit What is this?

Originally posted by blondejongin

It’s 4:00 AM when your plane lands and 5:00 AM by the time you finally come home to your apartment, and you’re exhausted, physically and emotionally. You thought that taking a week off from life to evaluate your situation from a distance would give you some perspective – and it has. You just don’t like this new perspective. You hate the clarity that cracked your rose-colored glasses because you were happy pretending that everything was fine.

But there’s only so much you can take for so long.

You reach the door to your apartment and drop your bag on the floor, fishing your phone out of your pocket and turning it on for the first time in a week.

Thirty-eight missed calls and fourteen voicemails from Byun Baekhyun.  

A smile quirks on your lips despite the lead in your chest. You hadn’t told him you were leaving when you took off, and it’s still nice to see his concern. You sigh. Smooth your shirt. Pat your hair and steel your nerves. Then you click 1 on speed dial.

Briiiing. Briiiing. Briii

“Y/N?” His voice is thick with sleep but then you hear a rustling – of sheets, presumably – and his voice comes back more alert. “Oh my god. Where are you – are you okay – why haven’t you called me back, I was so worried, I thought something happened—”

“Hi,” you say softly. That’s all you can manage because you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the sound of his voice. Even just one week without his husky timbre had left you feeling like something was missing, and now it’s as if everything has fallen back into place. Stupid. Don’t be stupid.

“Hi,” he replies after a moment, and you can hear his smile. “Are you on your way home?”

“Yup, I’m an hour or two away,” you lie.

“Great, jagi. I can’t wait to see you. Aish, I should probably clean up before you get home.”

“Yeah. Clean up. I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you,” he says. So casual. So familiar.

Your hands are cold as you whisper back, “I love you too.” Then you hang up.

The apartment you share with Baekhyun is small, not a studio, but really only meant for one person – so you can hear noises through the thin walls now as he gets out of bed and prepares for your return. Shuffling, thudding, creaking. Laughter. Chairs scraping and feet padding across the hardwood floor and muffled speaking. Quick movements, very quick. Urgency.

You hear footfalls heading towards the door and you step back just as it swings open, and Baekhyun and the girl beside him freeze on the threshold as their eyes meet yours.

Ah. Well, you can throw the rose glasses away now, you suppose.

She’s pretty – that’s your first thought, but you immediately look away before you can start comparing yourself to her. You don’t need to agonize over all the ways she might be better for him than you, all the missing parts in you that she probably has. She has the decency to look ashamed, at least.

Baekhyun, for once, seems at a loss for words. The silence stretches between the three of you until it feels like dynamite. And frankly, you don’t want to say anything. There’s nothing to say. One week, you’d spent trying to understand your feelings, his feelings, and what happened between the two of you – and now you just feel…

Alone. More alone than you’ve ever felt.

“Y/N,” he starts to say, but you cut him off.

“We need to talk, Baekhyun.” Doesn’t matter if you don’t want to – you’re the type to bury your head in the sand if it means protecting your heart, but not this time. Not anymore. Your eyes slide to the girl. “Alone.” She nods, never meeting your gaze, but before she slinks back into the apartment room, she looks to Baekhyun, and you feel your heart clench at the adoration on her face. Whatever is going on between them clearly isn’t just lust. You just wonder when exactly you were pushed out of the picture.

The girl closes the door behind her, and then it’s only you and Baekhyun.

He looks as good as ever, you can’t help but notice, with his jeans belted loosely around his hips and shirt sleeves lazily rolled back to his elbows. His hair is still tousled from sleep, and you almost reach up to fix it. Almost. Instead, you pick up your bag and sling it over your shoulder.

“Walk with me,” you say. His brows arch in surprise but he follows you down the stairwell and out of the apartment complex. You really needed to get out of there – it was starting to feel claustrophobic.

The sun is just rising over the parking lot, and you try not to notice the way the light touches Baekhyun, as if even it can’t help but want to cling to him. He’s silent beside you as you walk but out of the corner of your eye, you can see emotions flitting across his face as the situation continues to spiral out of his control. Guilt. Defensiveness. Fear. Anguish. You imagine your face is a mirror of his.

On the other side of the complex is a quaint little courtyard complete with trimmed hedges, a fountain, and a gazebo. You walk down the path, trailing your fingertips along the hedges, and step onto the gazebo, placing you bag down. It’s beautiful here. A beautiful place to end a once-beautiful relationship.

Baekhyun sinks against the railing and laces his hands together. His eyes are everywhere but on you. “If you would please just hear me out—” he tries.

“Baekhyun-ah,” you say gently, and both of you are surprised at the softness in your voice. He’s looking at you now and you meet his stare. You should be angry – furious, betrayed, heartbroken, but you just feel the grief that comes with endings. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“Jagi—”

“Please.” You wrap your arms around yourself at his term of endearment. “You don’t have to explain, but please don’t be dishonest with me. Don’t call me ‘beloved’ if that’s not what I am.” You take in a shuddering breathe to soothe your nerves, and then you continue. “I have loved you, Baekhyun. At times, more than life itself. And you have loved me.”

“More than life itself,” he whispers.

“But I fell in love with you, and you didn’t. Not with me, anyway, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.” You remember the youth of your love, the early days when holding his hand gave you butterflies. You were both so young and there was only innocence in your feelings for one another. Handwritten notes and long phone calls before bed and mixtapes specially made for each other. All that was gone now, lost.

Baekhyun grasps your hands then, and you look down as you feel his trembling around yours. “Then I’ll change—”

“I’m not asking you to,” you shake your head and gently pull away. “I’m asking you to be honest. Be brave. We’ve been together since we were children, and there’s a security in that – but you can’t live your life clinging to safety, to what’s familiar. You…you need to let me go so that you can be free to find who and what you really want.”

“And what do you want, Y/N?” he asks quietly.

“I want you to be happy, Baek. I wish I was the one that made you happy—” he flinches, and you break off, sighing. “But we all deserve a chance to find that true joy. Our soulmate.”

“We can still be friends, right?”

You feel that grief again like water in your lungs, and for a moment you can’t speak because you’re trying too hard to fight back the tears. Friends. As if to torture you some more, your mind suddenly pulls out a reel of all your favorite memories with Baekhyun. Sharing ice cream with him on a hot summer’s day at the beach, him purposely tipping the cone forward whenever it was your turn to lick so that you would get some on your face and he could kiss it off you. His arms snaking around your waist as he hugged you from behind while you washed dishes, his chin on your shoulder. You lying on his lap while he ran his long fingers through your hair and read manga. Being held by him, kissing him, loving him. Feeling loved.

“In time,” you manage. “You’re not the only one who has to let go.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is small, like a child’s. “For not being right for you. For hurting you. For…everything.” He laughs humorlessly. “I almost wish you were angry with me. That would’ve been easier than this – but you’ve always been too good for me.”

We were both too good for each other. “I was angry. That’s what the week away was for.”

“And now?”

“And now,” you sigh, “you’ve got a girl to get back to, and I’ve got a thousand emails waiting for me.” Life really does go on. You start to turn away but Baekhyun’s hand catches you again and you find yourself only inches from him. Well, physically anyway.

“Even if we don’t have a tomorrow, you and I, I’m glad we had a yesterday. I’m glad for the time we did spend together.” He’s not smiling, but there’s such warmth in his expression as if he’s reflecting all that light on him. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“You know what,” you nod, “I wouldn’t either.” One last time, you slide your arms around his neck and pull his head down to kiss him on the forehead. He closes his eyes.

They’re open as you walk away though.


Due to popular demand, I have posted a Part 2 [here], a Part 3 [here], and a coda [here]! However, this was meant to be a one shot, so if you are satisfied, you can stop reading here. Whatever floats your goat <3

[Masterlist

With Mars Bars, Snickers and Skittles

Happy birthday @mysenia. I’m so sorry I’m late but I’m in the middle of a writer’s block and just couldn’t write. It’s taken me forever to finish, sorry! It’s nearly 5am here so maybe it’s not too late??? Hopefully you’ll like this and it will be worth the wait T.T

Peter officially wakes up exactly on his birthday.

On that 27th of October, dark clouds greet him when he painstakingly turns his head and everything indicates that it’s one of those rare cold days in California. On that 27th of October his doctor nearly drops the chart she was holding and her little entourage of interns flutter around excitedly because it’s a… miracle.

(Peter has a feeling that he will come to hate that word pretty fast.)

They make him go through a battery of tests a mile long that leaves him even more exhausted than he already felt. By the end of it all, he finds himself in a new room, in a new bed, with a tray with soup and a strawberry jello that the nurse has plated and placed a candle on. Peter doesn’t know how to feel about it but he has always loved sweet things, so he thanks the nurse, blows the candle and eats it anyway.

He regrets it later. Not because he gets sick or anything, but because he doesn’t and that’s a miracle too.

(It’s been less than a day and he hates the word already so he was right about that. Shocking.)

He asks. He knows who’s dead, of course. He became the alpha the moment Talia died, so the bonds transferred to him instantly and he felt most of those snap before he could even reach home. But three of those were still active after he tore the unsuspecting Kate and Gerard Argent’s throats apart and forced his way inside the house. None of those were in there, all the ones he found were already dead, and he lost consciousness just after managing to crawl his way out. Those three bonds are still active right now, so what happened?

The nurse tells him that Laura is on her way, that they had tried to reach her the moment he woke up but were unable to. She should be here any moment now, she says. However, it’s not her who makes it first but a sweaty and winded Cora.

Peter has never been a family man. Ever. He was more likely to skip the once a year family reunion than to actually attend it. However, he has to admit that he has always had a soft spot for Talia’s brats. He used to call Cora his tough crybaby because she would power through whatever was upsetting her like a seasoned warrior and then go to Peter’s downtown office to vent. If Peter was in a meeting she would patiently wait outside until it was over. Then she would unceremoniously enter, grab her pastel and sparkly stuffed unicorn (that he kept in plain view just for the entertainment it provided via his client’s reactions) and bawl her eyes out. Peter would let her vent and not intervene until she either sat on one of the chairs he had in front of his desk or on his lap. He then would give her a Mars bar that he kept in his first drawer just for her (Snickers for Derek, Skittles for Laura) and they would talk (she normally wanted revenge, Derek just a good vent and sometimes advice, and Laura could go both ways) until she felt better. If this happened at home, he more often than not would find himself with a squatter in his bed.

Peter fell into a coma in January and has woken up nearly in November, but of the next year, so it’s been nearly two years and Cora is fourteen already. She has gone from slightly chubby to spindly and Peter frowns inwardly, because he doesn’t like what it implies. She waits until the nurse excuses herself to walk towards the bed and try to muster a smile. Peter sighs and draws her in. She lands with a grunt on the bed and holds herself stiffly for a few seconds before she collapses and he starts to feel something wet where she has hidden her face on the crook of his neck.

Laura and Derek arrive shortly after but Cora doesn’t emerge from her hiding place. They both look startlingly thin and worn out, but Laura specially so. She tears up the moment she sees him awake and comes to hug him almost immediately. Derek remains by the door, looking miserable.

“I’m sorry,” Laura babbles. “My boss is an asshole and I couldn’t give him an excuse to fire me and-”

“Shush,” Peter croaks simply and she quiets and collapses just like Cora beside him.

Derek is still by the door.

Just before her death, Kate Argent was bragging about the methods she had used to get what she needed. Peter knows. Derek is sixteen years old right now, so he was fourteen then. He was a kid and even if some part of Peter wishes he had been fully an adult so he could blame him, rage and let his own anger out, he can’t. If anyone is to blame here apart from the obvious, it’s Peter and Talia and Mathew. They were the adults, they should have noticed something. Peter should have noticed something amiss.

And so, he does the most difficult thing he has done in his life and says, fully believing it.

“It wasn’t your fault, Derek. Come here.”

And Derek shudders, swallows thickly and unravels before his eyes. Cora starts crying again, Laura shakes even harder. The nurse has enough tact to not say anything when she finds all of them in a pile.

How Laura managed to keep Derek and Cora’s guardianship, Peter doesn’t know, but he suspects strongly that the Tribunal moved things along to facilitate it to make up for what happened. Their “kindness” and “helpfulness” ended right there, though, because Laura has been running herself to an early grave with three jobs to keep up with the hospital and their livelihood expenses. She should have received the life insurance dues but the company contested them and in the end she ended up with more expenses (from the lawyer’s fees) than what she started on, so she had to let it go because she couldn’t afford the risk of not being able to pay for the little flat where they live at the worst part of town. She never even started college in UCLA like she was supposed to.

She has been arguing a lot with Derek because he wants to leave his studies to work full time to relieve her of some of the pressure and she won’t have it. Cora is still in mandatory schooling but she helps sometimes at Derek’s workplace before going to school and around the neighbourhood for a pittance after it.

They are tired, worn down, stressed and downright miserable.

This situation is unacceptable.

The first thing he does is contact the Tribunal. If it was only about Peter, he’d prefer to make it on his own without having to depend on them, but this is about Laura not looking a step from keeling over, about Derek not feeling guilty about continuing his studies, about Cora not looking like a strong wind will blow her away, so he will swallow his pride. He may not be able to get what he wants from the insurance company, but he can strong arm the Tribunal into doing that for him.

On another front, Peter finds out that he has just missed the chance to take the bar exam again and the next examination period is in February, so he can’t do anything about that. The thing, though, is that his clients chose him mainly for his deviousness and his smarts, and those are more than fine even if he just woke up. He can try to reach out and offer his services as an external consultant until he has his license again. He doesn’t lose anything by trying and even if it doesn’t work, he will have let them know for when he goes back full time on February. If it does work, he’ll get another source of income that will give them a reprieve.

He even knows with whom to start.

Peter, love, I have missed you so much!” one of his favourite clients gushes when he offers his services as a consultant and briefly demonstrates that he’s still as capable as ever. This particular client likes very hung Latinos that always turn to be golddiggers that want to steal his fortune. “My new lawyer is just no good! Dear Pablo got a veritable fortune out of me when he left me and that’s no good. I thought it would happen again with Roberto but here you are again to save me from a cruel fate!” He sighs dramatically. “He was so cute when we married, love, and he worshipped me so much…

“You mean your cock,” Peter points out dryly, like many times before.

Well, that too,” he giggles. “He did this thing with his tongue that… Let me tell you, I’m going to have trouble finding someone who knows how to do that, love, and I’m already mourning because it was fantastic.

“You always say that, Anthony,” Peter says amused.

It’s your fault, darling,” the man pouts. “You know you are my one true love. We would be so good together! Ah, but no use crying over what will never be.” He sighs again. “I’ll have my assistant send you all the necessary documents to your temporary address. Get back to me as soon as possible, yes?

And so, by the time Peter finally gets fed up and leaves the hospital AMA, the insurance company has paid up everything it should have and he has a somewhat steady and hefty source of income.

There are a lot of changes in that first month. Among other small things, they move to a bigger flat while Peter sorts out the Hale land issue, Derek stops talking about leaving his studies and only works at the weekends (because apparently his work is not that bad, which in his case is as good as a singing endorsement), Cora stops helping around the neighbourhood (she just gives a hand at Derek’s workplace because she likes it too) and Laura is currently unemployed because Peter flat out ordered her to leave all her works when she couldn’t bring herself to make the decision even though she really wanted to. Peter also enforced the rule of having as many meals together as they can and has watched satisfied as they gain weight steadily.

All in all, he’s satisfied with the progress even though he knows they need to address what happened. He knows better than to push it, though, because even if the kids are as different from each other as day and night, they do share a common feature between them and with Peter. None of them do well when pushed to talk, they need to make up their minds by themselves first, so Peter just waits while they do. Peter is ready for when they feel like it.

And as he expected, Laura is the first to crack. Ever since she found herself with as much free time as she could ever want, she hasn’t known what to do with herself. Oh, the first few days (a week if he’s being generous) she enjoyed it. She slept in, watched series, went out and so on, but it got old pretty quickly and she started feeling antsy.

He’s working late in his office (the fancy way to call the kitchen until he actually gets himself a real one) when she slips in silently. She makes a show of looking inside the fridge but Peter already knows. Just like when this happened before the fire, though, he lets her be. After a couple of minutes, she sits in front of him with a mug of hot milk that he knows she probably won’t even touch and that Peter himself will end up drinking.

“I don’t know what to do,” she says finally. “I just… don’t know?” She rubs her mouth and then her forehead frustrated. “I used to and now I just… don’t?”

“So what?” Peter replies when it looks like she has run out of things to say.

“I-what?” she stutters bewildered.

“So what if you don’t know what to do?” Peter elaborates. “What’s the problem with that? What’s the rush?”

“I’m already twenty! I should-” she cuts herself before continuing desperately. “I can’t just stay doing nothing!”

Peter understands what she doesn’t say. She has devoted every second of the last two years to make sure the family stays afloat and now that she has nothing threatening to weight her down, she finds herself adrift.

“Then do something,” Peter says simply and she gapes. “You don’t know what to do with the rest of your life? Ok, fine, then decide what to do for the next day, week, month. Whatever you feel most comfortable with. Work, treat yourself, learn to do something new. You said yesterday that you wished you knew how to bake, right? Then find a course and learn. No? That’s no good? Then what else? Knitting? Martial Arts? Languages? If there’s anything that sparks your interest, even if it’s just a vague one, then go for it until you find your own way. And when you find it, you found it.”

“But-”

“Laura, you’ve more than earned the right to be unsure and try your way around. Your parents would have been proud of who you have become.” Peter reaches into his bag and gets a little bag of Skittles out to hand it to her. “I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

Laura laughs and laughs as she catches the bag, then cries and cries, then she laughs again and then cries.

“Sorry,” she hiccups when she finally can get a hold of herself, just like she used to I’m the rare occasions that she cried this hard when she was younger. “I’m a mess.”

“Tell me something new,” Peter answers dryly, also like he used to.

That startles another laugh out of her and she throws a Skittle at him, again like she used to. Peter grabs it before it can impact on his eye (the little shit has always had deadly accuracy and one Skittle to the eye in his lifetime is all that Peter will tolerate) and then eats it. He makes a gagging face right afterwards, because he likes sweets but not the mass produced and just plain sugar kind. She laughs again when he steals her now lukewarm milk.

“You can come in, squirt,” she says after a few seconds, prompting a disgruntled Derek to come in.

Even as kids they had the rule to not intrude when one of them needed Peter, and he has always found that endearing and amusing in equal parts. He doesn’t let it show, of course, even if he shares an entertained look with Laura when Derek’s back is to them.

“You finished the milk,” he grumbles put upon and Peter nearly snickers.

“Here,” he says instead, handing him the mostly untouched mug of milk and Derek nods gratefully.

It looks as if he just came for something warm but he stops before leaving to fidget at the door. “Stiles is looking for a helper,” he finally lets out after a lot of hesitation. For moment Peter is a little confused but then he remembers that Stiles is the nickname one Mieczyslaw Stilinski prefers. The boss that always sends Derek home with a wagon of homemade sweets (that Peter secretly steals part of) because he pays him a ridiculously high extra every month to have him as a taste tester that gives him a brutally honest opinion about his creations. Peter doesn’t want to tell him that it’s most likely because both of Stiles’ parents also died before he was an adult and he wants to help him out. “He loves teaching people and he pays well.”

“I’ll look into it,” Laura answers warmly and the tips of Derek’s ears go red. “Thanks, squirt.”

“Not a squirt,” he grumbles before leaving.

Laura does apply for a job at R&R (one day Peter will actually remember to ask what that stands for) and gets it. She comes back looking mystified and Derek and Cora keep smirking. She keeps coming back happy and relaxed, though, so Peter, who is up to his ears with work, sees no reason to investigate further for now.

Cora seeks him out a week later. Just like she did before the fire, she unceremoniously walks into his office (still the glorified kitchen but hey, coffee and snacks right at hand) and then sits in a corner with the stuffed unicorn that Peter was so fond of. She isn’t crying this time but he knows better than to let that lure him into a false sense of safety.

When she finally turns to face him, her opening is certainly not what he was expecting.

“A boy called me a bitch today because I refused to go out with him,” she states completely serious and Peter is a bit thrown because she doesn’t exactly look affected by it. He waits for the other shoe to drop. “He said that if I had a mom I would be more of a lady… or something along those lines.” Ah. “You may get a call about that, by the way, because I think I broke his nose.”

Peter blinks, then he holds a hand for her to high-five (which does the trick to relax her from her tense posture) and then speaks. “Love, I know she was your mom and you thought her the perfect saint, but… well, no use on sugar coating things. Your mother was the most perfect bitch I’ve ever met and let me tell you, your father downright adored that part of her. In fact, he got all misty eyed and it stunk all around because of it. It was disgusting.”

“Uncle Peter! I don’t want to hear about mom and dad-” she groans revolted and can’t even bring herself finish the sentence. Peter hears Derek and Laura groaning too at the sitting room and he inwardly claps himself in the back.

“Yes, exactly! That was exactly my face,” he continues outwardly unfazed but deeply amused by her reaction. “I didn’t want to hear my sister doing the nasty either.”

Uncle Peter!” they chorus from everywhere.

“Okay, okay. You’re such an overdramatic child…” He sighs as if put upon. “But back to your mother being a bitch and that being a fantastic thing.”

“Yes, please.”

“Your mother nearly broke the pack apart once.”

“What?!”

“What you just heard,” Peter nods. “A bit of back story for you first so you can understand what happened better. Before your mother was made the alpha, the Hales were a very traditional matriarchal family. Children were always had at least in groups of three and power would be always passed to the oldest daughter. If the main family didn’t manage to spawn one, they would lose the right of leadership and it would shift to the line that had the currently oldest daughter. As you can guess, that was the ground of very entertaining familial situations,” he adds dryly.

“Why always at least three?”

“The oldest daughter for the alpha and of the two remaining, the oldest would be the right hand and the youngest the left hand.” At her incredulous look he nods. “Yeah, I know. In your case, Laura would have been the alpha, Derek the right hand and you the left hand.”

“That’s just-”

“I know,” he nods chagrined. “Not only that didn’t let anyone choose what they wanted to be, but it also disregarded that one person may be completely unsuitable for the job.”

“That’s so stupid.”

“Also, to put it bluntly, being the left hand was the worst thing that could happen to anyone. Invariably, they got pushed to the fringes of the pack and had to do all the dirty work behind the scenes and at the same time endure being looked down for it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Exactly,” he agrees. “They had a system where the current holder of each position would teach the next one and in their eyes, that was more than enough. In reality it only served to drive the next generation apart just as much as the current one was.” Peter sighs remembering. “To make a story short, your uncle Daniel was too hot tempered and impulsive to be the right hand, your mother was too self-centred to be the alpha and I was too bitter and drawn to be the left hand by the end of the training period. None of us wanted to be any of those either. Do you know what your grandparents said?” She shakes her head in answer. “That she might be too soft to be the alpha.”

“Mom?!”

“Your mother was many things back then, love, but soft wasn’t one of them. In any case, she did a complete turn over into becoming the perfect daughter and alpha candidate. One neither Daniel nor I liked one bit.” Peter swallows remembering. “And if I didn’t want to become the left hand of the Talia from before, you can bet that I wanted to become that to that Talia even less. By then the rest of the family had caught wind of what was happening and demanded a trial period of a month before she was approved and Talia agreed to it.” Peter remembers that very night clearly even after so much time has gone by. He remembers her sneaking into his room at night and reaching to scent him with a softly whispered trust me, please. “It was one of the worst times I’ve ever had but I endured it and so did Daniel.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it have been better if some one else got the job? None of you wanted it, right?”

“Believe me, if you’d had more contact with your granduncles you wouldn’t be saying that.”

“That bad?”

“Worse,” Peter says plainly. “Needless to say, she became the alpha in the end. But here comes the good stuff. By tradition, she should have chosen Daniel and I right then, but she didn’t. She chose your father instead, the most level headed and calm person I’ve ever met. It couldn’t be a more perfect choice even if she tried.” Peter grins remembering the mayhem. “Then she refused to choose a left hand and your grandmother and your granduncle Joshua very nearly had an apoplexy just then. It was glorious. Your uncle Daniel and your granduncle Estephan couldn’t stop cackling and let me tell you, I never saw him even smile when he was training me.” Peter smiles sadly rememberring the so brilliant and so tired man. “But, wait, it got even better. They all tried to stage a mutiny just then and she roared them into submission with so much ease it was ridiculous. When one of our cousins tried to push it and called her everything under the sun, she punched him and sent him rolling a few feet. Her bitch please face was a thing of beauty and I chose right then to be her left hand.”

“After all her troubles!”

“It was never a matter of capacity in my case love, but of willingness,” he corrects her simply. “But anyways, to wrap this up, your mother chose to be a bitch, to stand for what she believed on and not feel sorry about it. You can bet your ass that she would have high-fived you too today if she could have.”

“Really?”

“Really. But Cora, dear, the left hand still left in me is cringing at the execution. Next time be more subtle and don’t get caught.”

“I knew he’d never admit a girl punched him, though. He’s one of those macho guys.”

“Ok, I’ll admit that then,” Peter hums handing her a Mars bar. She grins happily. “But those types do crumble under the right pressure, you know. One push from their mothers and they’ll sing.”

“True. What do you suggest then?”

Peter does get called because of that punch. He talks his way out of trouble and not only Cora doesn’t get punished, but he gets the boy suspended for a week for harassment, with his own parents fully endorsing the punishment.

(Yes, Peter is that good.)

(He may have inadvertently created a monster, though.)

Unsurprisingly, Derek waits to seek him out until the house is empty because Laura is working and, as if sensing something was up, Cora has made herself scarce. He’s not crying, but he smells miserable, tired and sad. He hovers on the doorway for some time before making his way in. He has Cora’s unicorn clutched tightly between his arms when he finally takes a seat, which proves completely she knew something was up. He keeps silent for so long that, for a moment, Peter is sure this is one of those times when Derek doesn’t actually want to talk and just needs the company.

“If I hadn’t- If I-”

“It would still have happened. She would have tried Cora next and, if that had failed she would have found another way.”

“But it was me. I was so stupid! How could I not notice!”

“Hmm,” Peter hums, outwardly calm in the face of the storm even though he wants to find a way to revive both of those psychos so he can torture them back to death. “So if right now something about a child being abused appeared on the news you’d think them weak? And if it was of a child being raped?”

“I- No!”

“Then what is it that makes you different?”

“I wasn’t a child!”

“Weren’t you? So you think fourteen year olds aren’t children? So if you heard news of a teacher being arrested for having sex or a relationship with a fourteen year old you would think what happened is their fault? For being gullible? Or would you think that the teacher is to blame?”

“I- It’s not- It’s not the same!”

“Why? What makes you different? Being a werewolf? You think being a werewolf changes much hormonally or neurologically speaking?”

“I should have known,” Derek whispers quietly.

“She was really good, Derek, and you weren’t the first she did this to. There were other kids before. Do you think they are to blame?”

Derek doesn’t answer. He just swallows and then cries silently.

Slowly, very slowly, Derek begins to open up. So slowly, in fact, that for a while Peter thinks that he flubbed up with his approach when they talked. But, after a while, he starts noticing little changes here and there and he can finally breathe easier.

Time passes. Despite some hiccups, the kids look healthier, happier and more motivated. Laura loves baking and is talking about enrolling into a school to get a title; Derek has been thinking about studying psychology to become a counsellor; Cora’s grades have shot up and she’s thinking about trying different clubs to see what she likes.

On one rare alone night, Peter gets out a bottle of fine whisky and silently toasts Talia, who in her final moments chose to issue another big fuck you to the stupid Hale traditions and shot the matriarchal system to hell. Then he forces himself to remember both the good and the bad of those gone and then to let go.

At a month to make a year after he woke up, the kids stage an intervention against Peter.

“I didn’t stop working so that you could work yourself to an early grave, uncle Peter,” Laura scolds him frowning. She looks so much like Talia that for a second Peter expects her to take both of her shoes off to practice her accuracy with his head. Since unlike her mother Laura does have a good aim, this could only end badly for him.

“I could up my hours again?” Derek adds softly, which is arguably worse that Laura’s promise of physical violence and Peter inwardly cringes. “I’m sure Stiles would appreciate it? Cake Wars is coming up, after all.”

“Cake Wars?” Peter asks, confused. He now knows the meaning of R&R -Rebel’s Respite, in a homage to Star Wars, but because of copyright reasons he used that acronym in the registration form. Apparently he continuously makes a pun about how by doing that he’s rebelling against the copyright Imperium. Peter hasn’t met the man yet, even after all this time, but he doesn’t really need to to know he’s a complete dork- courtesy of Laura, but this is a term he has never heard before.

“No no no no no,” Laura intervenes hastily before the distraction can work. “No changing the topic.”

“Nice try, though, uncle Peter,” Cora says smirking.

Peter narrows his eyes at her with a clear a don’t you dare sass me, young lady, I taught you everything you know and she smirks even more. Ah damn, he did create a monster, after all.

He sighs resignedly.

Over the next week, Peter reduces his hours drastically. He’s been trying to save enough money to make a good savings account for each of the kids for any emergency or situation that may arise, but he figures that he has managed to put in a good enough amount by now and that he can take it easy for now.

He lets himself be convinced to go to Disneyland the last two weeks of summer vacation. It’s simultaneously one of the worst and the best things he has done in a while.

Cake Wars (again, the name is a bad Star Wars pun, why is Peter not surprised?) is a benefit contest that Stiles organizes every year ever since he opened his shop. Peter learns all about it while Laura pushes him towards the entrance. As they pass by, Peter notices a line that goes around the building and then extends until the street ends. Even the police is there, keeping an eye on the proceedings, and Peter vaguely wonders how Stiles feels about his late dad’s department’s presence.

Whatever he was expecting about the man, it doesn’t even get close to what he actually finds. Lean framed, with tousled brown hair and almond shaped amber eyes, Stiles is a ball of energy that never stops moving. He’s wearing a black chef uniform with an apron with a Darth Baker emblazoned on it. He’s also waving around what Peter knows to be lightsaber salt and sugar shakers and he hasn’t stopped grining even for a second since they got here.

When he spots them, he solemnly passes the lightsabers to a kid that looks scared shitless (Liam, Peter’s mind provides) and then leaves him to the wolves in favour of approaching them.

(Oh, if Peter didn’t like him already because of how much he helps his kids, he would now.)

“Laura! Mrs. Whittemore says she wants to challenge your pistachio panacotta, can you believe that?”

“Whaaaat???” she exclaims before becoming a woman on in a mission and abandoning Peter behind.

“I don’t think Mrs. Whittemore is actually here for the benefit,” he confides in Derek, who just rolls his eyes in unison with Cora, prompting a wider smile from Stiles. “I think she still hasn’t gotten over her crushing defeat last year so she’s trying a weaker” he makes quotation marks with his hands, “opponent. Your sister is gonna eat her alive,” he laughs, prompting another round of snickers out of them.

“Where do you need us, Stiles?” Derek finally asks looking at the chaos around.

“Unless you prefer to go to help Kira and Mason at the counter, go to the back with Erica and Boyd, will you?” Peter spots immediately how his nephew relaxes at not having to face the crowd dead-on. He’s pretty sure that Stiles offered him an out on purpose. “And you, awesome ninja knight,” he says turning towards a preening Cora and nodding towards Liam, “go help the damsel in distress before he gets eaten by the dragons, ok? Oh, and if you spot Scott along the way, try to put a leash on him and get him to the counter again. I swear, he’s like a puppy, he gets distracted with everything and suddenly I don’t even know where he is.”

“I heard that!” someone shouts from behind, prompting a snicker out of Derek and a smirk out of Cora.

“You were supposed to!” Stiles shouts back without even turning. “Don’t think I didn’t see you filching those lemon bars!”

“Lies and slander!”

“You still have the crumbs all over your face, you pig!”

“Oops!” a man eeps as he passes them by in the direction of the counter and Stiles rolls his eyes fondly.

“You must be the elusive Peter Hale,” he greets turning towards him and reaching for a handshake. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Same here,” Peter answers warmly.

“So, I heard that you’re a really good lawyer?”

“Yes?”

“Good, because Laura looks about ten seconds away from murdering Mrs. Whittemore and about just five from castrating her son, and since Mr. Whittemore is the district attorney she’s gonna need a really good one.”

“That’s insulting, you know?” Peter answers very seriously, with both eyebrows sky high. “As if my children would be stupid enough to get caught. I taught them better than that.”

For a moment, Stiles looks surprised. Then his whole face lights up and he grins delighted. “Ohhh, I like you. I hope you know that I’m never letting you go now,” he exclaims happily.

“FYI: the Stiles package includes a very high content of sweets, wit, sarcasm and dorkiness seasoned with a generous amount of clumsinness and nerdery. Also, when he says he’s not letting you go, he means it,” a teen pipes as he passes them and Stiles flips him the finger as the tips of his ears go red.

Peter can’t help himself and laughs, utterly charmed.

lazilydeepcoffee  asked:

(please bear with me) Okay, so, I'm a 15 year old freshman in highschool, and I've wanting to create some sort of series, whether it be a comic, or something else for a few years. I haven't too serious about it, but after one my of my friends showed me your video, for some reason, i was especially inspired. Now, I already have one character... but that's all i got. How did you come up with the things in your film? And did you ever experience "writer's block"? and if so, how did you deal with it?

No worries dude!  So okay, I’m gonna’ be honest, when I read this, I was hit with such a weird mix of, like, “god this is literally impossible to answer”, and “man I remember feeling that way when I was 15″.  So I guess the best thing I could do is elaborate.

<ENTIRE poorly-structured NOVEL BELOW THE CUT.  I MISTAKENLY THOUGHT THIS WAS BEING POSTED TO MY PERSONAL BLOG.  YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.>

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URGENT: #KeepHerInTheGame Home Stretch Plans

Pitches, Our #KeepHerInTheGame Campaign is down to its final days! We are excited about the work that we have all done so far, but we have a bit more to do. We know you may be feeling slightly down from recent news but hey, we are still in this! The game has not been called. So we need to make the most of these last few days. After some reevaluation, we’ve decided to shake things up a bit. We need a BIG LAST PUSH and we can’t do it without you all. All Pitches on deck. Pretty please (yeah, we’re not too proud to beg), we have ONE WEEK TO EXECUTE THIS… 

 The Plan: 

Fox went through a big shake up this week with the ousting of a prominent network figure. Without mentioning any names - let’s use that to our advantage. Right now more than ever Fox needs to show female viewers that they matter. Pitch is all about female empowerment and advancement. There is no better way to prove that by keeping Pitch. 

Dana Walden is one of two executives who will make the final decision whether Pitch gets another swing or not. Before she is an executive, she is first and foremost a woman, a mother, a wife, and a sister. Let’s appeal to those sides of her. Undoubtedly, as mother (possibly of a daughter) she too must love the message of empowerment and courage Ginny Baker sends not just to girls, but everyone. As a high powered FEMALE executive at a major television network, some of her struggles may have been similar to Ginny Baker’s. She must have been there to fight for S1, & we trust that she believes in S2 as well.

That’s why we are asking that you guys 1. call the main Fox number (310) 369-1000 and ask to be connected to Dana Walden’s office. Obviously we’re not going to get to speak directly with her, but we’ll be connected to her office and leave a message for her with someone (probably an assistant) asking Dana to renew Pitch and briefly tell her what the show means to you. 

Example: This is ___________, I’m from ____________, and I would like to ask Mrs. Walden to renew Pitch because of the positive message that it sends to women. I would also, like to thank her for taking a chance on it last season. Thank you for your time. (Have a nice day!)

Remember to be brief!!! These are business people so they’ll be quite busy, and hopefully they will get LOTS of calls, so let’s not take up too much of their time. 

Also please remember to be POLITE and RESPECTFUL. Ranting, rambling, and rudeness gets us nowhere. Please keep those things in mind. Again, we emphasize being brief. The call should be no longer than 30-45 seconds. We’d love to keep the calls coming until at least May 1st. We know we have asked a lot of you all, and you have met us in the middle every single time. Thank you so much from the bottom of our hearts. 

2. Snail mail is tangible and it goes so far with our message. Please, please consider sending Dana a short note by mail starting today 4/21/17 all the way until 5/1/17 emphasizing why it would be a good move for Fox to keep Pitch on the air. Remind them that they already have a gem in Pitch and it would be foolish of them to let it go. They got it right with this one, they just need to nurture it. Again PLEASE SEND A SNAIL MAIL NOTE. These notes could really make the difference. 

3. Finally our last twitter push will be on Wednesday, April 26th at 7PM. We will be trending #ThankYouInAdvanceDana. Let’s thank our lady executive ahead of the big decision for keeping Pitch on!! Let’s show her that we trust her and we know that both her and Gary will do the right thing by keeping Pitch on the air for another season! Remember: we don’t want to be lowkey passive aggressive, we want to be genuine. How will you feel when you get the news? Translate that feeling into a genuine thank you tweet to Dana for all she’s done for Pitch and will do in the future! Please come and join us for this one! You guys really showed up for #WhoseLineDriveIsItAnyway and we’d love to have that kind of response for this one as well! Invite your friends and make it a party!!

Let’s show Fox just how awesome and grateful our PitchFam is!

Examples: #ThankYouInAdvanceDana for putting women first at Fox by showing your support with Pitch S2!

 #ThankYouInAdvanceDana for getting it right with Keeping Her In The Game for another inning. 

We gave you a few options, that way everyone can join in, in a way that makes you comfortable! We really ask that you do the phone calls and notes especially though. Those are going to be directly reaching her and will definitely get noticed. Tweet us when you do and we’ll RT your hard work!

If you’re still reading, we love you, you’re the best most dedicated fans who deserve the world!!!

If you haven’t participated in any campaign activities thus far, NOW! IS! THE! TIME!  ALL PITCHES ON DECK in the final stretch. 

Every MLB team has its closer who comes out in those final innings to secure the game. Starting today #WeAreAllClosers. So get out on that mound and throw some balls folks. 

Originally posted by amusementforme

Strawberries

Pairing:  Tony Stark x Reader

Featuring: none

Words: 1498

Warnings: none I think

Tags: @gingie4life

Request: requested by @gingie4life:

“Hello, would love a Tony Stark reader best friends fic that’s like work husband wife relationship, that maybe turns into something more. Maybe Tony takes the first move kinda deal. Thanks.”

Notes: sorry it took me so long! Uni got me really really busy, probably you already forgot about the request but I hope you like it!

Originally posted by stark-industries

Roller coaster. That was the best way to describe the past year of your life. Somehow, a year ago, Tony Stark itself showed up at the company where you used to work demanding you to work with him. He didn’t even ask. He just told you to do so. At the beginning you weren’t too sure about working with him. He had a name and a reputation behind him so of course it made you hesitate. At the same time, you knew it was the opportunity of your life so that same week you signed your resignation letter and left the job you had been doing for the past five years.

It was a huge step, and huge change. Specially, when you found out you weren’t going to work for Stark Industries, you were going to work for the Avengers. When you first found out about it fear was all you felt as you remembered all the chaos caused in New York and so many other places because of them. Yet, when you thought about it, you saw a chance to make a difference, to make the world a better place. Maybe the caused chaos, but it was their work and it had to be done. Immediately, you signed your contract. Tony had you move there the moment you signed your contract since it was safer. You used to live alone so you didn’t have a single complain about it.

Ever since, the Avengers had become your family and the Avengers Tower had become your home. You loved your work at the lab with Tony. What did you do? Well, you were an engineer so your work was create or improve the team’s weapons and suits. You loved it. And they were so happy with your job and with you. Some of them were sceptical with someone new at the beginning, especially Bucky, but you ended up making your way through him eventually and at that point he was like a big brother to you. An overprotective one, you had to admit. But you loved him and you loved every single one of them.

“Morning Tony” you said walking a Monday morning into the lab with two cups of coffee. “You spent the night here again?” You asked as you saw the rings under his eyes.

“I had to” he said taking the cup you offered. “Thanks, love” he said.

You smiled a little. It had been a time since the pet names between you two became a thing. It started out accidentally but now you were both used to it, and you liked it. It made you feel special somehow.

“You have to sleep, Tony” you said sitting at your usual spot.

“Sleeping is overrated. The sooner I figure this out, the sooner we defeat that freak” Tony sighed.

You had spent a week now trying to figure out how to defeat a guy who could create breaches and move to whenever he wanted. It looked cool, but it became a problem when he suddenly appeared behind anyone on the team and attacked from behind. Not funny.

“And what will happen when you fall asleep while you’re flying?” You asked raising an eyebrow.

“Unlikely” he replied turning again to the screen.

You shook your head as you watched him work all focused. It was true that you had become close to everyone in the team but it was more with Tony. You had been his protégée from the very first day you started working there. Soon, you had found yourself trusting that man with your problems and fears, with your life and stories. With everything. Eventually, he opened up to you as well. By that time, you two knew each other better than anyone else in the team. You had a special connection that no one else shared.

So you knew better than talking him out of keep on working. He wouldn’t sleep until he found a solution and you knew the only way to get it done was helping him, so you put the coffee down and turned on the computer, opening all the files with the data you had about this guy.

“The world is crazy” you sighed as you read all over the info again.

The morning went by quite fast and before you knew it, your stomach was asking for food so you got up and headed towards the kitchen to make sandwiches for you and Tony. Meanwhile, you thought it would be a good idea to make a milkshake as well so you opened the fridge looking for the strawberries but they were nowhere to be seen. That was weird considering you bought them yesterday.

“Stark” you mumbled and closed the fridge before going back to the lab. “Tony! Where are my strawberries?” You asked the moment you walked into the room.

“3 am cravings. Sorry not sorry” he said not looking up from the screen.

“Couldn’t you just tell me?” You asked crossing your arms.

“I forgot” he shrugged looking at you with a small smile. “Sorry, I’ll buy more later today ok?” He said with an innocent smile. You rolled your eyes and left the lab once again. You knew he wasn’t going to buy any strawberries anytime soon.

Like you had planned, you made a sandwich for each one of you but this time you didn’t put mayo on his, knowing he really really liked his sandwiches with mayo. You put his plate next to him and went back to work.

“(Y/N)?” You looked at Tony when he called your name. He was holding his food. “Where’s the mayo?” He asked.

“12 p.m. craving. Sorry not sorry” you said smirking.

“You ate all the mayo!?” He asked horrified.

“No, but I craved not to put it on your sandwich” you replied trying your best not to laugh.

“But…I love mayonnaise…” he mumbled.

“And I love strawberries” you shrugged before turning to your screen once again.

You knew you were overreacting but it was the only way Tony would actually listen to you. Suddenly, you heard him getting up. When you looked up, you saw him walking out of the lab with the sandwich on his hand. That was weird. You imagined he would be back soon so you just went back to your work.

But it took him longer than expected to come back and when he did he was carrying a big wooden box that was put next to you.

“What the fuck?” You asked as you looked at him.

“I’m sorry” he said uncovering the box.

When you saw what was into the box you started laughing. He had bought a stupid amount of strawberries just for you as an apology. This man had no filter.

“Can I have mayo now?” He asked.

“Did you really buy all these so I would put mayo on your sandwich? Wouldn’t it have been easier go to the kitchen and get some yourself?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe but it tastes better when you do it” he shrugged before going back to his work.

You smiled warmly while you looked at him. He may get on your nerves many times but there were no sweeter man than him in the whole world. With a smile, you took the box and went to the kitchen having no idea what you were supposed with so many strawberries. Probably a cake. Or many milkshakes. For starters, you made another sandwich for Tony, with mayo this time and also a milkshake for each one of you.

“Here” you said going back to the lab. “Extra mayo” you told him with a wink.

He looked at you the whole time until you sat down and even then he didn’t look away from you. Eventually, you forced yourself to look at him since he didn’t stop staring.

“What?” You laughed.

Silently, he got up from his spot and approached you. He kneeled down in front of you so he was at your height, took your face and kissed you slowly, out of nowhere and catching you completely with your guard down. It was true you had feelings for him, it was true the whole team had told you Tony had them too, that you two were already like a couple and sometimes like a married one, but you didn’t believe them. Until that moment which was too short. Soon he pulled away.

“What was that for?” You asked as he went back to his chair.

“I love you” he shrugged typing away. “I thought you knew, I just wanted it to be clear” he added.

Hearing those three words from him made you melt. Slowly, you got up and pushed him away from the computer just to sit on his lap and kiss him again. This time, he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you back.

“What was that for?” He asked when you pulled away. You shrugged smiling.

“I love you too”, you replied.

Couples Counseling

Summary: What better way to investigate a marriage counselor (who may or may not be responsible for the death of six of her clients) than to go to marriage counseling? It’s just pretend right? No different than putting on the FBI suits. Of course, nothing ever goes according to plan, and Sam and Dean quickly get more than they bargained for.

Warnings: Wincest, eventual smut (all the smut), slow burn, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 9,200+

A/N: This is the first of two parts, because the fic got away from me and ended up being too long to post as one part. The second part is complete and will be up tomorrow! Feedback MUCH appreciated on this one!


MONDAY

“Remind me again what we’re doing here?” Dean is only half-sitting down in his chair, looking very much like he’s one wrong answer away from fleeing.

“Calm down,” Sam answers, keeping his voice low and steady. “Three people, all from the same small town, murdered their spouse then committed suicide, all within the span of a week. The only thing they have in common is this therapist.”

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And the Swan Queen vs. Sanvers ugliness begins...

Now, I have nothing against Sanvers but SWAN QUEEN is my OTP. I am loyal to Swan Queen. I like their story better. I like Lana Parrilla and Jennifer Morrison together BETTER. This is a personal preference. But for Sanvers fans to come forth, rain on my parade, and call us a “crack ship”, that is just messed up. You should know better.

Femslash pairings are not interchangeable. I don’t just ship Swan Queen because they are two women and for representation. I LIKE all their circumstances. I LIKE that they’re Henry’s moms. I LIKE the way they look at each other. I LIKE how they sacrifice for one another and put each other first. Just because they are not kissing (yet) doesn’t make them any less worthy than Sanvers.

It doesn’t matter if SQ is canon or not. Emma & Regina STILL matter to fans. So stop with your silly selves.

When Sanvers shippers start sounding like CS shippers, you lose my respect.

BTS Reaction to You Having Tattoos

Request- “ I have another request, if that’s ok? Idk if you’ve done this, but if you haven’t, could you do a reaction for BTS where they find out that their gf has a few tattoos that they couldn’t see at first? Because of winter clothing or something?”

A/N- Hi there! I hope you enjoy this reaction! I have a tattoo of my own, so this was very fun to write! :) - admin mace 

__

Seokjin- You knew your boyfriend could be a bit…traditional. He wasn’t the bad boy type by any means, so you knew as soon as you started dating, you’d have to keep your tattoos a secret. Though, your secret only lasted a little while. It was the first warm day of the year, and you foolishly decide to slip off your warm sweater and put your ink in full view of your boyfriend. “Y/N, what’s on your arm?” he exclaimed, eyes wide and full of shock. You stuttered for a few moments, trying to find words to explain, but your attempt fell short when Seokjin interrupted you. “They’re…they’re so cool!” i really wanted to use this gif lol

Originally posted by akaishinkirou

Yoongi- You and Yoongi told each other everything. You completely trusted each other, with pretty much anything. Well, except for one small thing- your tattoos. You’ve kept them a secret from everybody, hiding them with long-sleeves and such. You thought that nobody had any idea about them. You should’ve known better. “Hey Y/N, did it hurt when you got your tattoos?” Yoongi suddenly asked one day as you two were cuddling on the sofa. You stiffen and look up at him, incredulous. “How did-” He cut you off, smirking as he placed a kiss on your cheek. “I know more than you think.” He paused and tapped your side. “By the way, I like the one on your hip the most.” *insert smug wink here* 

Originally posted by jeonsshi

Hoseok- Your boyfriend was known for being a bit…scared. At first, you didn’t know how much was an act and how much was the real him. But you quickly learned that is just how he is, and that was exactly why you couldn’t let him know you had tattoos. You had no idea how he’d react. Currently, you two were in the dance studio as Hoseok was trying to teach you BTS’s latest choreo. “Here, let me help,” he said and wrapped his arm around your waist. Though, during the process, he accidentally lifted your shirt up a bit too far, exposing your ink. “Y/N, what the hell is on you?!” he yelled as he traced over the image on your ribs. “You have tattoos?” You nodded. He smirked and gave you a thumbs up. “Badass.” 

Originally posted by hobioppa

Namjoon- You and Namjoon had been together for six months. You truly loved him, and you were ready to take the next step with him…except that he still wasn’t aware of your tattoos. You’ve kept them expertly hidden throughout the months, and you knew you’d have to reveal them sometime. You just weren’t sure when. “Happy Anniversary, baby,” Namjoon whispered. You two were deep into a make-out session, and you were so into it, you didn’t realize your boyfriend had started to slip your shirt over your head. “Oh, wait-” You looked up and saw him staring at your tattoos with great interest. “Why have you kept these hidden?” he asked, licking his lips. You shrugged slightly as he began to trace the lines, slowly, with a darker look in his eyes. “They’re beautiful.” 

Originally posted by simondismydaddy

Jimin- You have had your tattoos for a few years now, and you were incredibly proud of them. There was just one problem- you didn’t want to tell your boyfriend, Jimin. There was such a stigma against tattoos where you two lived, and you weren’t ready to tell him about your own. You had just gotten back from work, and as you were changing in your room, you heard the door open. “Shit, Y/N, I- wait, what are those?” You quickly covered yourself with a t-shirt and turned around, smiling nervously. “They’re, uh, tattoos?” you replied. Jimin’s eyes widened as he approached you. “For real?” he asked. You nodded and let him observe them up close. He especially took interest in the one on your shoulder blade, rubbing his thumb over it lightly. “There are amazing.” 

Originally posted by daffodiltae

Taehyung- Although you and Taehyung had a fairly open and accepting relationship, you were beyond nervous to let him find out you had tattoos. They all were very special to you, and it made you anxious to share something so meaningful. “Tae, you better stop,” you yelled in between laughs. The two of you were in the middle of a tickle war, and Taehyung was currently winning. “Never!” he said back, reaching for your ribs. Somehow, he managed to pull your shirt up, revealing your large side tattoo. Taehyung instantly stopped and looked down at you, his jaw dropped. “Whoa, Y/N! You never told me you had this!” You shyly tried to cover it up. “It’s so cool! Tell me all about it!”

Originally posted by cyyphr

Jungkook- You knew that Jungkook found tattoos fascinating, but you were still hesitant to reveal your own to him. You didn’t know how he’d react, since you were fairly young to have so many of them. So, you did your best to keep them hidden beneath your clothing. Today, you and Jungkook had spent your time lying around and watching reality TV, which somehow turned into a wrestling match. “Say Uncle!” Jungkook squealed as he held your hands above your head. “Never!” you said back, giggling. You squirm beneath him, trying to break free, when you accidentally push your t-shirt up too far. You watch as Jungkook’s eye’s grow even rounder than before as he catches a glimpse of your tattoos. “Oh my God, you have tattoos?” he exclaimed, a smile wide across his face. “That’s wicked! You have to take me to get one!” 

Originally posted by hohbi

Aaron’s Top 5: Pokémon Villains

Originally posted by djsockpuppet

Pokémon evil teams. They range from the mafia to eco terrorist to teenagers who couldn’t even steal a bus stop. But no matter the generation, one thing that can be said about the teams, is that they’re entertaining through their simplicity. For the most part. While the teams do have an easy to follow motive and plan (exceptions vary), there’s a lot more depth to these sprites than you may think. Just because the character has 10 facial expressions, doesn’t mean there was only 10 minutes spent writing them. Evil doesn’t have to be complicated. Hell, some of these people, I wouldn’t even classify as evil. They still need to go to jail for what they did though.

Just how evil are they? Well, let’s take a look.

Originally posted by deadpoolian

Guys, Gals, & Non Binary Pals. This is Animated Aaron’s Top 5 Pokémon Villains!

5: Team Plasma

Originally posted by x-mozillafennekin

It’s Monty Pythons flying circus!

I wasn’t really into the designs for the grunts at first. But then I realized, it actually works better than some of the designs for the villain teams. Plasma wants to ‘liberate’ Pokémon from the ‘oppressors’ known as trainers. They see themselves as the, well, knights in shining armor standing for what is right! Might as well buy your own hype and dress the part.

Pokémon has always had some sort of self-aware humor or comment at some point in the adventure, but this was the first time it was in the player’s face throughout. The idea of the series is to show Pokémon respect and be nice to others. The whole world shares one sky. So…what’s with the tournaments where we force magical animals into legalized dog-fights? Yeah, you’re really showing the love there. Now, of course, the gen 5 games try and play it down the middle showing the pros and cons introducing a clever debate for the characters to have. It’s a competition and these Pokémon can take the hits. Like how mma fighters get a beer after they go 3 rounds. But you’re still capturing the animals against their will and training them to fight.

Team Plasma was a great challenge for long time Pokémon players. In the sense that they bring attention to an often ignored plot point in the games I mean. They’re still the villains. Meaning, they’re doing something in some kind of way that you (the player) need to stop. It kind of loses its meaning when you’re stopping two plasma grunts from assaulting a Pokémon to get an item from it. Or when they destroy a city to send a message.

This doesn’t bother me too much since it proves going to one extreme isn’t the way to fix another extreme. But…guys…come on.    

4: Aether Foundation

Originally posted by sailorcinnamonroll

You know what’s better than a villain team that thinks two wrongs make a right? A villain team that doesn’t even know they’re the villains. …Well, the ‘grunts’ and the public don’t know anyway.

Aether is basically a wildlife foundation. They take in lost and injured Pokémon nurturing them. At first I figured this was a lie since the opening cut scene is a girl being chased by some employees before escaping with a Pokémon. So obviously they’re bad right? Well, no. Lillie stole that Pokémon from the higher ups. Security is just doing their job.

Meaning, the twist is that the board of directors of the company are the ones up to something. The employees are just that. Employees. They come into work and get paid to make sure the Pokémon are safe. They’re just as surprised as you are when ‘Pokémon from another dimension’ just start showing up. It’s one of the few teams where the ‘evil’ comes 100% from the leader. Lusamine.

So what makes Lusamine ‘evil’? Well, they don’t show it (thank God) but she abused her two children Lillie and Gladion for not being ‘perfect’. Basically, ‘be a doll that I can customize both physically and in personality and I’ll respect you’. She applies this logic onto the Pokémon as well. How? Well in her room are some Pokémon kept frozen in state so that she can ‘love them’. What the hell does that mean? Don’t know. And I think that’s the best part.

This witch is zubat-sh*t crazy and needs to be stopped. She can’t be reasoned with nor was she in the end. She honestly can’t tell that what’s she’s doing and what she’s done is wrong. And I like that. Sometimes you can’t talk ‘the bad guy’ down. It’s good to know why they might be doing something, but that doesn’t take away the fact that they’re hurting someone/something because of their arrogance. Lusamine is conducting illegal experiments as well as ripping apart the fabric of space of time while telling her lower ranked employees, ‘Don’t be late for our Thursday picnic! We’re holding a raffle!’

I wish there was an option to punch her in the face.

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Disclaimer: If you’re here to trash on my blog, don’t waste your time, I don’t give a fuck :)

One anon sent me 6 different prompts in one message, so I don’t wanna answer directly to their message. But this prompt is “teasing dyl at school like giving him a handjob under the table”. Sorry if my fluff writing is way better than my smut because I feel like it is.

The bell rang, signaling that it was lunch time. Eager students flooded the halls of Columbine, following the smell of mediocre school food. Your class was close to the cafeteria, so you always made it there before your friends.

You sat there, pulling out your notebook to doodle until company arrived. You started sketching Dylan, one of your closest friends. You were probably closer than the average friends, having kissed before. You two were often teasing each other, seeing whose skin would turn bright red first. Your favorite thing to do was get him flustered so much that he got a boner. He would leave the cafeteria horny and embarrassed. You loved having that power over him.

Just then you felt a tap on your left shoulder. You looked to your left, but no one was there. Another hand darted in from the right and messed up your hair.

“Hey y/n!” Eric said, on the right of you. He grinned and started laughing, obviously amused with himself. Dylan stood to the left of him, laughing as well.

“Ha ha ha, you two are so original”

Dylan smiled at you, and you returned it with a mischievous one. His smile dropped and he gave you a look of warning. He knew what you were capable of. The rest of the table slowly gained more random friends, some who you didn’t know. Dylan was sitting next to you, but keeping his distance. He may have appeared to be an innocent boy on the outside, but you knew what he thought about.

“Wooh, it’s getting hot in here, isn’t it Dylan?”, you said, taking your jacket off, leaving only a skimpy tank top on. You stared at Dylan and watched his throat move as he gulped. He shifted in his seat and you smirked.

He looked at you with dark eyes and mouthed the words “Don’t get any ideas”.

You leaned over to him and whispered in his ear, “I know you want me to touch you, Dylan. I know how hard you get when I tease you. I think it’s time I fix your problem, yeah?”

You turned your head slightly to look directly at Dylan, his eyes were wide as you moved your hand to his inner thigh. You moved your fingertips gently, barely touching him, but enough to make him shift again. His eyes trailed to your hand touching him, and he scooted in closer to the table when he noticed his growing boner. His head shot up, nervous about Eric and the others seeing, but everyone was in their own conversations.

Your hand traveled closer and closer to the now obvious bulge in his jeans, finally finding your way to his dick. Dylan took a deep inhale of breath, gritting his teeth like he was in pain from the anticipation. You rubbed your hand against the warm denim material, making him jerk his hips up into your hand.

You looked up to see his eyes glossed over, and his mouth slightly hanging open. He looked so, so submissive. His look of utter defeat and acceptance pushed you to pull his zipper down. You leaned over to his ear once again, “Y’know for someone who didn’t want me to do this, you sure seem desperate Dyl”. You popped open the single button at the top of his pants, and slid your hand into his boxers, “Is this what you want me to touch? Your cock?”. Dylan gasped, louder than he should have.

Eric looked over with a confused expression, “Hey Dylan, you okay?”

Dylan gritted his teeth and mumbled out an “I…u-uh…”

“Dylan just forgot to do his math homework I asked about”, you spoke while applying gentle but rhythmic pressure to his cock, “silly guy always gives up when things get too hard”.

Eric chuckled and resumed to his conversation. You caught Dylan off guard, as he was still watching Eric, making sure he wasn’t paying attention. Your hand slipped inside his boxers and pulled out his leaking dick. Dylan spread his legs further apart and let out a needy whimper. You stroked your hand up and down his shaft, your tight grip gliding smoothly thanks to his pre-cum.

You continued for a minute, teasing him with small and slow strokes. He thrust his hips up into your hand, desperate for more friction. His head lowered down to the table, hiding his facial expressions that so clearly showed the immense pleasure he was feeling.

He desperately grabbed at your arm, urging your hand to move faster. His short fingernails dug into your arms, leaving small crescent indentions.

You leaned forward to his ear, covered by thick hair.

“You’re such a dirty boy Dylan.”

He let out a stuttered breath.

“And you just love my hand touching your cock like this, don’t you?”  You ran your thumb over the tip of his head in one unexpected motion and he was done.

Muted moans and groans and gasps filled your ear as he tensed. You felt the warm liquid spill out into your hand. His fists clenched as you finished him off, slowing your rhythm. He slowed his breathing as you wiped your hand off on the waistband of his boxers.

He lifted his head from the table, still flushed from his orgasm. You looked at him quickly but with seduction still lingering in your eyes. He hurriedly buttoned his pants back up, eyeing everyone at the table, oblivious to what had just happened. Dylan sighed and leaned back in his chair, still in a post-orgasm haze. You smirked to yourself, content with your days’ work.