what's your mirror telling you

Why the SPN mixtape scene from 12x19 is screenwriting gold, and should be taught to the next generations of screenwriters everywhere - analysis

20 seconds. Two lines of dialogue, three gestures, a couple more camera angles. Episode 19, season 12 of a genre TV show “Supernatural”. A single strike of screenwriting and cinematic genius. The mixtape scene.

Robert Berens and Meredith Glynn, I bow before you.

This scene should be used as an example for future screenwriters how you can put maximum of meaning into minimal time and dialogue. Should be analyzed and taught at universities everywhere, how to achieve the most using the least. How to write for TV, where you only have less than an hour to built something spectacular.

WOW.

Let’s just peel off all the layers of these 20 seconds of footage and these 13 words. 13 WORDS.

(Cas knocks, Dean doesn’t say anything. Cas opens the door, apologizes for disturbing Dean in his room, and then takes a cassette tape out of his left inside coat pocket, and puts it on the desk, while tapping the label on it that says “Deans (sic!) top 13 Zepp traxx”.)

Cas: Um, I just wanted to return this.

Dean: It’s a gift. You keep those.

13 tracks. 13 words. The future. So number thirteen is important for the future. I mean, are you trying to tell us something here, writers?

(Dean takes the tape, oustreches his arm, and gives it back to Cas. We see Cas’ hand grabbing the tape, and taking it back.)

That tiny scene is ENORMOUS from the perspective of the narrative and the characterization. Let’s see what we can get out of it. (Prepare yourself: it’s gonna be long. Damn, how much meta can you write based on 20 seconds of television and two lines of dialogue?) (Hint: A lot.)

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Pretend - Part Two

Below is a subsequent part to the Yoongi x reader one-shot ‘Pretend’.  

You can find part one here.

Summary - Yoongi’s your ex.  A particularly jealous ex, actually, who doesn’t take the blossoming relationship between you and Namjoon all too well.  

Pairings - Yoongi x reader, Namjoon x reader

Warnings - heavy on the angst (like I literally hate myself a little) and smut.

Word count - 5,8K+


Namjoon’s disappeared by the time you’ve fled from the kitchen, your steps brisk and cheeks flushed, and as you enter the open plan living space of the dorm Hobi looks up from the comic he’d been reading.  Concern floods into his expression almost immediately.

“You alright?  You don’t look so good,” he comments, rolling up the comic with both hands and wringing it as though he’s anxious.  

“Did you see Namjoon?  Did he come back in here?”  you ask hurriedly, barely pausing to look Hobi in the eyes.  

“He went to his room, I think.”  Hobi stands from the sofa, discarding his reading materials on the sofa behind him and starting towards you, tilting his head.  “What the hell happened in there?”  

“Ask your asshole of a best friend,” you snap back, temper flaring as the memory of the hurt you’d seen on Namjoon’s face comes flooding back and makes your chest constrict.  You notice the way Hobi halts his approach on hearing your harsh words and another layer of guilt piles on top all the others.  It’s not his Hobi’s fault, not in any way, shape, or form, but you’re so wound up right now - physically, emotionally, sexually - that it’s not taking much to prompt you into an overreaction.  

“Sorry,” you sigh, shoulders sagging as you pull your coat tighter around yourself and send a tight smile Hobi’s way, trying to look apologetic.  He graciously smiles back.  

“I did try to stop him,” he tells you, mirroring your shrug, “For what it’s worth.”  

“At least you tried.”  You pause a moment, closing your eyes for just as second as you run your hand through your hair, trying to brace yourself for the inevitably awkward conversation you’re about to have with Namjoon.  What the hell are you going to be able to say about the mess he just walked in on?  

“I’ll talk to him.”  Hobi’s sweet, but you can’t imagine it’ll do much good.  You tell him so, and he just shrugs again, smiling kindly, ever the optimist.  You go to take your leave, heading for the door that will lead to you to the room Namjoon and Taehyung share, but before you can Hobi calls your name and makes you pause.  “You know he’s still crazy about you, right?”   You try to ignore the lump of emotion that catches in your throat, smiling sadly at the red-haired boy opposite you.  

“He has a funny way of showing it.”  

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Humans aren’t *that* special

So I’ve been really enjoying a lot of the “humans are space orcs”/”humans are space cat memes”/”earth is space australia” kind of stuff going around, but a lot of it falls a little flat for me because it takes characteristics that we share with literally everyone on our planet, like things that ants do and mice do and platypi do and whatever, and speculates, “but what if not one single alien sapient race did that thing?”

Some of it is really, really legit. Like music. There are no other mammals that respond to music like we do. I’m not sure birds respond to music the same way we do (although given that songbirds tweet for territory, I think sapient songbirds would really appreciate a lot of the hip-hop oeuvre, especially the stuff about “I am fucking awesome and you are a piece of shit” kind of thing). Or throwing objects. Nothing on Earth throws objects like a human. But stuff like… superstition? That’s a function of our incredible pattern matching engine, and all intelligent species on Earth carry something like it (we see it in other animals with avoidance of harmless objects that were previously associated with something unpleasant. Superstition is operant conditioning carried verbally.) Fiction? How do you predict the future without the ability to run “what if” scenarios in your head, and how do you interact socially without mirror neurons to tell you what others of your kind would feel, and why are you sapient if you can’t interact socially? It’s only a useful trait for social species. I can believe humans are the best at it, but not that we’re the only ones who ever came up with it.

For my own fiction, I think I’d like to nail down what traits I believe, based on evolutionary biology, are probably necessary to all sapient species, and which ones could be unique to humans. For example: love. I believe that all sapient species must be capable of love, though they do not necessarily need to be able to extend it outside their species and they do not necessarily need to employ it in mating. But all evolved sapient beings, by definition, must have far, far more that they need to be taught than that they can have pre-programmed by instinct, so all will be relatively helpless in comparison to adult forms when they’re born and need to learn, so all need to have parents who desire to protect them, teach them, and not eat the little shits even though they’re annoying and time-consuming to deal with. All species must have some concept of parental love, and from our experiences on Earth it seems that the closer to sapient you are, the more you extend emotions out from one very specific circumstance to cover multiple circumstances. Also, sapient species have to be social, so they must all have the concept of friends and allies, and that implies, if not love, at least liking and enjoying the company of your own kind somewhat. There doesn’t need to be romantic love, but love, as a concept, must exist.

(If your sapient species was created rather than being evolved, then a lot of base assumptions about what a sapient species must have don’t apply; you could have a robot society without love. But who would want to build that if they themselves are capable of love?)

I also… don’t really like the concept that humans are the only special ones. Most of this is backlash against “humans are the generic and have no special talents specific to their species” style of SF/fantasy worldbuilding, and I hate that too, but the alternative isn’t “no one has anything special but humans”, it’s “everyone has something special, including humans.” So if humans are the “hold my beer” species then someone else is the “over-analyze everything” species and someone else is the “do what the ancestors would have done” species and so forth. 

in the cal-zone [draco malfoy]

request: “45, 55, 119, 179 and 318 for Draco? Of course, you don’t have to use all of them, but I think it would be awesome if you did any combination of them, because I feel like they work well together. I also wanted to let you know I loved your Draco fic- you’re an amazing writer and you’ve got yourself a new follower! <3″ - @quills-and-quaffles

word count: ~1700

a/n: guess who’s back, back again - it me back w more draco malfoy, the slytherin asshole who i love and hate at the same time! thank u requester for ur lovely compliments!!! thank u for following a lame teen like yours truly (,: also sorry i only did 2 of them yeet i just felt like they went together really well! an additional sorry for changing “i love u, u arsehole” to “i luv u, u arsehole” even tho i’m not rlly sorry. (: i hate myself for this title even tho i laughed like a hyena when i came up with it now enjoy this - i’m hungry for calzones *ben wyatt look into camera*

55: “have i entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

119: “i love you, you asshole.” 

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PSA: Just because you’ve suffered more hardships than a person does not give you to right to dismiss their problems and say “I’ve had worse.” and “You know, that was nothing compared to…..” Their experience does not make it any less painful to them than yours. Not only that, you will also prevent them from reaching out to people when they are dealing with severe problems and force them to deal with their difficulties without the support of others. No one’s emotions are ‘superior’ to others; all of our emotions have equal priority. And remember that crying never makes you weak.

anonymous asked:

If it's really not too much to ask, could you perhaps do a 'Peter Parker dating reader with bulimia woukd include . . .' Or a 'New Avengers and reader with Severe Combined Immunodeficiency' I obviously understand if you don't want to do this as it's a bit of a deeper topic than other requests but thank you in advance anyway. :)

Originally posted by sincerelysaraahh

WARNING: EATING DISORDER

Peter Parker dating reader with bulimia would include …

-          You’d try to keep it hidden for a long time, but eventually he’d find out.

-          He’d notice the signs first, like how you’d rush off after eating, or your swollen glands, or how you always criticise your body and your bruised knuckles.

-          He’d eventually pull you away to be alone and ask you to tell him the truth.

-          After some trial and error, you eventually tell him.

-          Of course you’ll be crying, but he’s happy to hold you for as long as you need him to and tell you everything is gonna be okay.

-          He’d do his research. He wants to know how to help in the best way.

-          Compliments all day every day and all the reassurance you need and more.

-          When you come home, he’s snuck in and stuck notes around your mirror to tell you what he loves about you and telling you you’re beautiful.

-          When he notices your knuckles haven’t got new bruises, he gets really chipper and it radiates off him and it affects you as well.

-          When you do relapse he doesn’t get mad. He just hugs you and tell you that it’s a work in progress.

-          He’d only tell someone and get help if he was really concerned you weren’t getting better or with your permission.

-          He’s gonna stand by you every step of the way.


Hope you like it! If the subject has affected you or you just need advice or someone to talk to, you’re welcome in my DMs and inbox.

*Not my gif

TAGS: @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @straightasdeanwinchester @ariennisimpressed @captain-peanut-at-your-service @imbuckypositive  @abbybills22 

Casual Lunacy, Chapter 7

Love Live, NicoMaki, 3K, 7/?

Nico and Maki finally get some alone time.

Why Do Birds Sing So Gay?

Nico was watching curiously. Maki’s quick eyes darted everywhere, but Nico was pretty certain that was only a distraction from the fact that Maki was surreptitiously sniffing everything. Oh, she wouldn’t lean in too close, but Nico could tell from the facial movements and twitches that olfactory cues were taking up more of the redhead’s attention than visual ones. Or else she would have noticed Nico staring by now. And as Nico thought that, the glorious lavender eyes turned in her direction, half lidded, “Is something wrong, Nico?”

“No,” Nico shook her head, trying not to inhale deeply and mirror Maki’s motions. “Nico was just wondering what your nose was telling you?”

Maki frowned, her facial features not quite managing mask of denial. Nico waited, relaxed, only curious. After a moment, Maki gave up and grinned, “Actors should wear less cologne.’

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Out of the blue

Based on “Imagine falling into Middle Earth, but literally falling from the sky and landing on top of Thorin” from ImaginexHobbit.

Part two: Into the smoke
Part three: Under the same sky

Requested by Anonymous

————————–

There was nothing outwardly remarkable about the antique shop on Gloucester Road, except, perhaps, that it seemed to be always closed. You passed it every time you walked to the grocery store from the little shoebox of a studio at the top of a Victorian building near Kensington Gardens that you would call home for the next three months, and only ever saw the same lonely table in the display window, the white marble top laid with the same china tea set, its painted flowers fading in the sunlight.

The shop was inconsequential, certainly, in the scope of your giddy excitement that your long-awaited summer in London was underway. This adventurous detour before you went back to the grind of grad school had been financed by a lot of nannying jobs and even more ramen dinners, but you were finally there, even if you would be living on a shoestring. Your landlady was a trust-fund baby who had inherited the tiny flat from her grandparents and couldn’t be bothered to invest in the renovations it desperately needed, but the rent was dirt-cheap, so you stuffed a towel into the hole in the bathroom window casing and learned to order your schedule around the finicky water heater, and walked – after all, walking was free – down Gloucester Road to do your marketing.

Still, it came as a surprise on that particular day when you walked past the antique shop and saw, for the first time, that the sign hung crookedly in the window now read “open.” Curiosity pricked at you, and after standing indecisively for a moment, surveying the storefront, you quickly crossed the street and opened the glass door.

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Gorgeous Flaws

Requested by Anonymous

if/ when you have the time.. can i have a lafayette imagine where the reader is chubby? like , they feel bad but laf is like “honhon ur beautiful” idk im just rlly chubby and lov some lafayette .

You stare back at your reflection; your eyes lingering on the skin that hangs just a bit too loose for your liking.

You let out a deep sigh of exasperation, still eyeing your imperfections.

As you look down, a strong pair of arms wraps around your waist. Lafayette leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“What did I tell you about staring at that mirror all day?”

You shrug. “I’m not perfect.”

He rests his chin on the top of your hair, peering in the mirror.

“No one’s perfect, but you’re as close to it as possible. You’re beautiful, mon amour.”

Lovable

Can you do a one shot where the reader is chubby and insecure and dean falls in love with her awesome personality? (Sorry in going through some things with how I look and was just kinda wondering)

Sorry, this one took on a mind of it’s own here, so I’m not really sure if it’s what you were looking for.  Just a warning: there is some self hate going on, though Dean helps the reader to feel better about herself, so if that’s in any way triggering to you, please don’t read.  I hope you enjoy!

You look at yourself in the mirror, your eyes skimming up and down your body. Before you began hunting, you were able to wear big baggy clothes that hid all that you were insecure about. Now, for safety reasons, you were forced to wear tight fitting outfits that forced you to show off everything you wanted to hide. You now wore pink polka dotted pajama shorts and a pink sports bra, your tummy hanging out. Looking in the mirror every day was becoming harder and harder but you obsessed over it, taking every minute you could to glare at your reflection, wishing you could change what you saw.

You poke at your stomach, wincing at the lack of muscle that you found. You had thought that hunting would help to work off some extra weight, but all the meals on the road were adding up faster than any of the exercise was.

Tears began building up behind your eyes and a lump formed in your throat. You chew your lip angrily, letting a tear roll down the side of your face. A soft whimper escapes your pursed lips and suddenly you were sobbing. Before you can stop yourself, you curl your hand into a fist and smash it into the mirror. Shards of glass fly across the room, cutting open your knuckles and you suddenly realize what you’ve done.

You rush into the bathroom that was attached to your room in the bunker, not wanting the boys to wonder what was wrong and come in. It was no use though and you heard a light knock on the door.

“Y/N?” Dean calls through the closed door, “Are you ok? I thought I heard something coming from over here.”

You didn’t answer, knowing that your raw voice would betray you.

“Y/N?” he says again, more urgently, “Is everything alright?”

You swallow hard, preparing to answer. “Yeah, it was nothing.” As soon as the words come out of your mouth, you know Dean won’t buy it for a second. The lie sounds fake even in your own ears.

You hear the door open and loud footsteps enter the adjacent room. Dean lets out a small gasp when he sees the broken mirror. “It‘s nothing!” you shout, not wanting him to see you like this. He ignores your warning, pushing open the bathroom door to see you sitting in the shower. You hug your knees to your chest, burying your head in your lap.

“Y/N?” he asks, confused at your state. A choked sob comes from your mouth before you can stop it. “Hey what’s this?”

He crawls into the shower and sits down next to you. “What’s wrong?” You don’t pick your head up from your knees or respond, knowing that your bloodshot eyes and broken voice will give away more than you are willing to admit.

Dean takes your bloody hand in his and his eyes widen. “How did this happen?” he questions in shock, “We need to get it cleaned up. Come on.”

You slowly lift your head as the pain from your hand begins to set in. You think Dean’s eyes widen just a little more, but you can’t be sure. He helps you to stand up and crawl out of the shower and over to the sink.

As he cleans the wound, you glance at the mirror. Dean looks so handsome, so noble, almost prince-like. Your eyes study his sculpted jaw line, his glistening green eyes, the rough stubble that coats his face. He’s so perfect. I’m never going to end up with a guy like that, you think miserably as your gaze shifts to your own face. You quickly notice every flaw that you can find and hot tears begin to stream down your face again.

“Hey, hey don’t cry,” Dean reaches up a hand to brush the tears off your cheeks but you pull away from his touch. “What’s wrong?” he asks, genuine concern showing on his face, “What aren’t you telling me? Why did you break your mirror?”

“I didn’t like what I saw,” you mumble softly. Disbelief shows in his face.

“You didn’t - Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“I don’t like what I look like,” you say, still just as quiet.

“I don’t understand,” he stares at you in disbelief, “There’s so much to love about you, how could you not see it?”

“That’s the problem,” you mumble, “there’s too much.”

“Too much?” he shakes his head sadly, “No no no, look at me.” He places his hand under your chin, tilting your head up to stare you in the eyes. “You are beautiful. You are smart. You are funny. You are spunky and you are creative. You are sarcastic and you are strong. You are powerful and you are feared. You are cute and you are lovable. God, you’re so lovable.” Awe fills his eyes as he stares at you.

“You are so lovable Y/N and I - “ Dean looks away nervously for a moment, “I love you.”

You stare at him in surprise. “Me? Beautiful? Strong? Lovable? I don’t think - “
He cuts you off quickly, “So lovable baby, you’re so lovable.” Dean pulls you tight to his body, wrapping you in a hug that feels warm and safe. The breaths he takes are labored and you notice that his heart is beating fast. You stay there for awhile, comfortable in his embrace, before feeling as if there is something you have left to say.

“I think - “ you pause, feeling the words on your tongue, “I think I love you too Dean. I‘m not very good at loving, but I‘m trying to get better and - and I do love you.”

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, holding you tighter. “I know baby, I know.”

Harry One Shot #1: On the Run - When We First Met (Part 1)

A/N: This also features a few visuals :) Enjoy!

“Dad you can’t be serious!?” you said in utter shock, staring at your father through the mirror. “You can’t tell me what to wear!”

“Yes I can. That dress is too revealing and you will pick another one” Your father said sternly, raising his eyebrows as if daring you to argue with him.

“Too revealing? Are you joking?” you said gesturing to your sparkling, floor length dress that pretty much covered the entirety of your body except for your arms and a bit of your chest. “I’m not five anymore dad” you remind him. Huffing, you continued “And besides it’s not like it’ll matter, I’m sure I’ll have Josh watching me like a hawk the whole night, it’s not like any boys will dare to approach me”

“I don’t care. You’ll change and that’s final”

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anonymous asked:

My girlfriend has self-esteem issues. I try to support her, but it can be hard, especially when she avoids intimacy/sex because she doesn't feel comfortable naked. In our apartment I installed new mirrors that make people look longer and thinner. She feels much better about herself, and our sex life has been great (for her especially). She's healthy so no worries there. I feel so guilty about what I did and I'm worried that it's not good for either of us. Do I tell her? Maybe remove the mirrors?

This ask has been sitting in our inbox for a few days now and every time I think about it, I get a little more creeped out. This is so fucking creepy and underhanded, anon. I know you have good reasons, but your actions are not at all helpful.

Remove the mirrors. Tell your girlfriend what you did. Tricking her isn’t going to improve her self-esteem issues and honestly you being duplicitous about it isn’t going to help either. You’re just going to hurt her. What you need to do is help her to feel beautiful and sexy no matter her size. Let her know that you like her body the way she is and that she doesn’t need to worry about that. If you go around installing trick mirrors to make her think she’s skinnier, that only serves to reinforce the bullshit idea that she’s only pretty when she’s skinny.

The game

No, you are not
god’s gift to women.

It’s pitiful
that you need to feel superior,
before you are able to muster
the courage to speak to them.

It’s pitiful
that you play on their insecurities,
to mask your own deficiencies;
that you need to bring them down,
in order for you to feel big enough.

Big enough of what, a man?

Look into the mirror,
tell me what you see.

Even with your slick hair,
your tattoos, your tan,
and your styled goatee.

I don’t care how old you are.

You still look like a boy to me.

Grow up,
do yourself a favour, please.

The game you play has no winners,
and every single girl in the world
will eventually come to see,
there is no way
of satisfying
your fragile
little ego’s
needs.

- M.A. Tempels © 2015