what-i-feel-like-doing-right-now-with-my-novel-in-progress

Black Girl, NYC

Greetings people. I identify as a Black female who was born and raised in NYC. I am slowly progressing through my study of education and history in college. Other then that, I spend (probably) an unhealthy amount of time reading and writing sci fi and fantasy. But by high school, I got sick and tired of the same story featuring blonds and brunettes saving the day with their straight, lean male heroes so I turned to my librarian seeking something new. She pointed to Octavia Butler and the rest was history. I’ve been seeking diversity in media ever since.

Family life and Culture

I grew as the middle child of six siblings with my single mother and grandparents. Yes, my working-class household fits the stereotype. We even have an absent father *sighs* But, hey shit happens. And with the biological father turns out not to be the best father figure, shit had to go right out the door. Yup. But make no mistake that this is a norm. Most households on my block do have both parents involved in their children’s lives. Our circumstances called for us to have one. That’s all.

The house was full, loud and rambunctious. We made up a good portion of the children on the block (unsurprising) and basically ran it. There’s a whole novel that could be fleshed out of my childhood if I wanted to. Our neighborhood is very tight knit. Next door neighbors were treated like Aunts and Uncles. When summer came around, we were sometimes divided into groups as the parents who were off from work overlooked us while braiding our heads. Blackouts became an all night bbq and sleepover on each other’s porches. Crooklyn by Spike Lee was a good representation of what it was like in fact. Somewhat. Minus the brownstones, plus a couple more fights (lol).

My grandma was a nurse who’s pretty big on us knowing our family history. She made sure to talk a lot about our Gullah Geechee roots. We also had some Dominican culture influence since her closest friend and our Madrina was, well, Dominican. But she is fairly strict on gender norms and how my sisters and I should act especially with brothers. She antagonized me the most growing up because I continued to ignore this. We don’t get along but i can’t say i don’t get why she’s the way she is. She has a pretty dark past. My mother, a latchkey kid of the finest stock, is more laid back and gives all of us free range to make our own mistakes. Most times. Other times, she’d rather lecture us. Depends on our crime.

I don’t know what my grandpa used to do. He retired waaaaay before my grandmother. I also don’t know much about his culture. He’s 1st gen Jamaican who fully assimilated into American culture. Well, beside his food choices. Now, he gambles and goes to church. When I was younger, he used to teach us how to gamble too. And how to cheat and not get caught. We got a lot of free fast food while he taught us. He has gotten more frugal the older he got. And more isolated.

Dating and Relationships.

I don’t date. I have no interest. Well, no, that’s not exactly true. I’ve considered it but I rather have not seek out anything outside of platonic right now. I have a tight knit circle of friends and several other groups of friends I associate with depending on the activity. I’m realizing it seems like I’m using the term “friends” loosely but I swear I’m not. I’m a virgin and I feel nothing about being one until someone goes “*gasp* You’re a virgin really?” and then I end up on high defense saying “So?” Believe or not, that messed with me a lot.

My love life and lack of interest in having one has always been a struggle. In middle school, the group of friends I hung with were becoming more infatuated with love and sex. Yes, middle school, fifth through eighth grade, ages nine to thirteen. But, when they would talked about who’s hot or not, they would look at me funny when I didn’t join in the discussion. Instead of explaining myself, I simply copied other’s reactions and gushed along with them. This instinct followed me through High school til stopped out of annoyance. I became a listener and adviser in their relationships because I really do love stories in many shapes and forms. And I would never turn down hearing a story.

Language

My primary language is English and AAVE. I’ve been living in a neighborhood filled with Blacks and Latinx. Most of my friends are Black and Lantinx. I didn’t meet a white person my age until college. Okay that’s a partial lie. I’ve been in a summer camp that was made up of predominantly white children. But as the only black kid in my age range, I was sorta uncomfortable. I never made lasting friends there. After High School, I spent a year abroad in Tena, Ecuador where I learned Spanish and Kichwa. I still suck at both languages.

Clothing

Lots of my clothes when I was younger were borrowed or hand-me-downs. Half of them still are. It’s like thrift shopping without the hiked prices thanks to its popularity by rich white people (Thanks rich white people!) All my siblings’ taste varies. In my case, I’m fond of combining loose and tight clothing (tight jeans and a loose sweater/ baggy jeans and a tight top). No makeup. Silver accessories.

I used to have a short bob cut permed. I hated it. But I rather a perm then getting my hair straightened with a hot comb because the back of my neck and big ears would always get burned. It wasn’t until I made a friend with a natural afro that I realized my natural hair was even an option.

Academics

Lol I was a nerd with bad grades.

Religion

My family practices Santeria, which has historical roots in both Catholicism and Yoruba thanks to slavery (Yay slavery!). However, because the religion is not fully accepted or well-known, I tend to say I’m simply Catholic if asked. Apparently, a Black Catholic is hard to believe. It is assumed all Black folks are Baptists or some branch of Christianity. I have no idea where that stereotype came from. But I can give some guess. (*cough cough* Tyler Perry….).  

As I stated before, I love scifi and fantasy. I especially love urban fantasy involving witches. I blame this love on Practical Magic and Eve’s Bayou, my childhood faves. It’s because of this love that I wish to see more stories with witches of color. And no, I don’t mean that one evil/mysterious southern/Caribbean Voodoo/Hoodoo witch hollywood loves to portray so much. That always plays into the “Black is evil” trope. Give me some damn variety!

I would squeal so hard if the mythology involved in a story isn’t even Eurocentric. I’m not joking. This is serious. When my religion was simply hinted at in the Raven Boys series (It was also a great way of making even more obvious that the character was definitely not white.) and Kenya Wright’s Habitat series, I squealed. All the authors did was write the names of some of the Orishas and I couldn’t help but put my phone down for a moment and inwardly scream with glee. That being said, if a writer does decide to use afrocentric or any religion involving “witchcraft” as a basis, I would personally ask that they make sure is is not a closed religion.

Santeria is, in fact, a closed religion. And while I don’t mind mentions of it in fantasy and even a main character stating they practice it, do not go any further than that. Don’t even research the practices within the religion other than what is public knowledge (And if you don’t have any public knowledge, just ask) Respect that there’s a limit. Anything further spelunking  is consider rude, disgusting, disrespectful and dangerous. There’s things that I don’t even know because I haven’t been properly initiated. And the internet has a lot of these practices exposed when it shouldn’t be so please don’t look into it. Please.

Food

Most of the cooking in the house has been done by my grandmother. Because of her various relationships, our food has always been a mixture of Black American, Gullah, Lantinx and Caribbean influences. It is so good. So, so good!

The only thing I don’t eat of hers is her seafood gumbo because I don’t like shellfish. One of my sisters said I should have my “black card” taken for my distaste. I said she could take it if she can name more black movies than me. She still can’t take it. My other sister wishes we could switch places because she loves crab but is allergic. The crazy girl actually sends her husband to buy some benadryl so she can eat some if we ever have some on the table. Smh. Siblings.  

Holidays

My family on both sides are quite fond of reunions. On my grandpa’s side, the family uses Fourth of July and Christmas to get together. On my grandma’s side, they tend to host annual summer reunion and send out RSVP invitations complete with schedules of the whole two to three day event. I didn’t mention this under my family life, but both sides of my family are boujee to different degrees. Lots of black sorors and frats members on both sides. I can’t believe that slipped my mind typing.

I’m a little iffy with Christmas. It’s more of a holiday for the older generation and our niece and nephews. The younger generation, however, don’t particularly care for the holiday. For some of us, it’s because it’s not really Jesus’s Birthday and Santa was whitewashed. For others, it’s because we don’t care to feed into the corporate holiday. For most of us, it’s a combination of the two. But we do love getting together when we can. My older sister and I have conspired to celebrate kwanzaa instead for the past two years. So far, it hasn’t grasped the interest of anyone else in the family.

Struggles

  • Being nerds from a young age, my siblings and I have been called “Oreos” or“Not really black” by kids in school on more than one occasion. We shut them down by fighting. Probably not the best strategy but it was best one I could think of in middle school and below. Made it easier to go back to reading my manga.

  • I got compared to my sisters a lot. It was the absolutely most annoying thing ever. And a major source of my insecurities growing older.

  • Need I address colorism? My highschool was filled with it. #TeamLight v #TeamDark. I was on neither team, because in the region I live, skin color was a pretty long spectrum. I fell in the between. Who came up with this?

  • I’ll admit it. I hate my own tears. They make me feel weak. Which isn’t true…I know. But, it is a mentality I always had. I have depression and PTSD. This isn’t really a secret. I tell people if I’m asked. But have you ever had someone look at you and say, “Really? You don’t seem like the type.” ……

  • I am a black female. I’ve been labelled “Strong” and “Independent” the older I got. By my mother. By my siblings. By my peers. And I get those labels. Even from friends. I loved those labels. I call myself by those labels. I mean, who doesn’t want to be seen as strong and independent? Those are positive affirmations, right? I think they would be. If that wasn’t all the positive labels we could get. Somehow, society has decided we are beings that are incapable of being multifaceted. I was indirectly taught to hate my own tears because black girls don’t cry. You can’t cry and be strong. What a terrible mantra fed to black girl at a young age. So, instead you tell everyone “It’s fine.”

I told my therapist it was fine. Until she told me straight up it was not fine. And it was okay to cry. I don’t like to cry. But I still (involuntarily) did it.

Things I’d like to see less of/Things I’d like to see more of:

  • I’m sick and tired of seeing black and latinx folks being portrayed as only fantasy gangs members. We are not only gang members. That’s a terrible popular myth the media put out there and I hate it even more so when it’s portrayed in SFF genre..

  • I’m tired of having one black person in a novel being described as having skin the color of “midnight.” And he’s (it’s always a he) not even that important to the story

  • I hate how every time someone decides to add a person of color, they have to be ambiguous brown. I’m not saying ambiguously brown don’t exist and don’t need representation but is it really that had for a dark brown skin person to play a major role in a story that’s not about slavery? Speaking of which….

  • Why we always gotta be slaves? Or better yet….

  • Why don’t we exist at all in High fantasy stories? Urban fantasy? Brooklyn wasn’t always the gentrified white town it is now. Still isn’t. How are you erasing people of color from NYC??? We make up way too much of the population to be completely erased

  • Stop racial coding other creatures to surround your white human characters. Especially as the bad guys. That’s just shitty writing. Step up your game!

  • I love Black love

  • I love Gay love. I wish more would follow moonlight’s example and show poc are gay too and gay doesn’t always equal to stereotypical femininity.

  • I love interracial love HOWEVER, can we pair people of color with other people of color as well? I’m starting to hate seeing it always a white person paired with a Poc. Variety damnit!

  • Friendships between boys and girls that don’t transform into love.

  • Friendships between girls that didn’t start out as a rivalry.

  • Different body types besides the skinny and tall. Make a main character that’s fat for once. It’s not a problem.

  • Magical characters of color that aren’t “Noble Savages” or “Wise Monks” that used their magic for personal gain for once instead of waiting for the white hero to come.

  • Nerdy black characters who aren’t 100% competent and cries. One that isn’t in a five token band that always gonna be compare to the white main character. Make the nerd the main character!

That’s all I can think of at the top of my head. But my list really does go on. 

kissokomos  asked:

you've been asked about "@ god why" but what's the premise behind "The Devil Went Down On Georgia" because i just read that title aloud to my roommate (both of us having lived in georgia for at least the last ten years) and they laughed their ass off

pannyexpress also said: Ok but am I the only one curious about ‘the devil went down on georgia’ ???

Judging by the comments, no, no you are not.

The Devil Went Down On Georgia is actually a sequel idea for the contemporary Scottish RomCom I am writing called The Devil’s Sporran, also inspired by a tumblr post where the Romance genre was summed up as “shirtless Satan in a kilt” and I went off on a mad tangent and basically brain stormed an entire novel in the span of three reblogs. The basic summary and following excerpt goes as follows:

I’m thinking a modern setting. Young woman is the maid of honor to her bff’s wedding to be held in Scotland where both her and her beau are from, and as the maid of honor she gets introduced to all kinds of quaint traditions she’s never before encountered. Like trying to find a real silver sixpence, taking the bride out around the town on her Taking Out, the whole kerfuffle with trying to find matching dresses for three vastly different shaped women, and realizing at the last minute she’s expected to pick out a tea set for the bride despite being a coffee drinker her whole life, and what the fuck is the difference between Wedgwood and Denby.

And then there’s the groom’s best man…she feels someone should have warned her about him.

*

“What are you doing in here?” she demanded, scrabbling to cover herself with the ugly tartan shawl even though she was fully dressed.

“I was next door,” Donnie informed her, eyes darting over the length of her, “looking at scabbards. Are you all right? You sounded upset.”

“I’m fine!” but even to her own ears it sounded panicked and shrill. Her shoulders slumped, defeated. “I can’t get out of this stupid dress. There’s too many buttons and the assistant has run off.”

Donnie chuckled easily, the sound curling straight down to Kate’s bare toes hidden under the length of her skirt. It was offensive how charming this particular Scotsman could be, especially given how effortless he made it seem. She was almost certain she’d have hated it in anyone else.

“She’s helping a bride, I heard crying so you’re on you’re own. Let me?”

The question was so unexpected and softly spoken it threw her off guard, and Kate found herself compelled to turn as he stepped further into the changing room, pulling the curtain closed behind him. She’d half expected to be manhandled by rough hands, surprised when he began freeing her from the confines of the bodice with the utmost gentleness.

“There now,” Donnie intoned soothingly, as the dress began to slip away from her shoulders. “All better.”

“Thank you,” Kate murmured, the ghost of his fingertips still hot against her spine.

“You look lovely, by the way, very” he smiled tightly, catching her eye in the mirror, “honorable.

Kate snorted, and moved to hold the bodice in place against her chest, aware that a good portion of her naked back was now exposed to him. “I’m supposed to look like the bride. Some tradition about keeping the Devil away.”

“Hmm,“ Donnie hummed, the silk of her skirt trailing through his fingers as he leant in, smile broadening into a roguish grin. “Tell me, do you think it’s working?”

You can find the full conversation here:  [link]

It also already has artwork created by @songofsunset which is the background to my laptop where that manuscript currently resides:

The Devil Went Down On Georgia is so far, purely in the speculative phase, but that doesn’t stop me from writing down scenes that come into my head at random, hence the folder :D

It’s Hard Enough - Cooper!Reader X Jughead Jones - Part 2

Loved the Jughead imagine you just posted! Idk if anon is going to request part two with Veronica but if they do I have a possible idea haha. So the Cooper’s mom bombards the reader with more stress before school and she’s totally out of it until Veronica pulls her aside, comforts her and helps her approach Betty. It goes well and there’s a lot of crying between the two Cooper’s, so Veronica decides they’ll go to Pop’s to cheer up. Jughead is there and the reader gets adorably flustered

I only have one thing to ask…Part three????

Originally posted by thejugheadjones


It was a few days after you talked to Jughead in Pop’s and things had been going pretty well. You often found yourself hanging out with Jughead during lunch in the library. He would show you his progress of his novel to which you would become amazed at his writing skills. He would also ask you about your family and how you were doing. You were always truthful with one another, you were open about your feelings and he shared his own troubles. Your friendship was blossoming before your very eyes. It was the accidental brush of fingers and the lingering looks that pulled you to him further. From what you could tell, it wasn’t one sided either. Just the fact he still wanted you around whenever he could was a good sign; but then your anxiety would get the better of you. Why would he, a smart and good-looking Sophomore, want to date you, a mediocre Freshman? That answer seemed to be lost in the deepest corners of your mind, because now things were bad again.

“I can’t have you being distracted by boys like Betty. Focus on your studies, join at least 3 clubs for your transcript, and go off to a good college. Any less than that would be a disappointment, now wouldn’t it?” Your mother’s voice echoed in your head from this morning. You were walking next to Betty, who had heard it all, at school. Flashes of this morning danced before your eyes; Mother yelling then you agreeing, Betty protesting, Mother screaming, then you and Betty crying. Your mother had said some things to say the least, and going to school right after that horror show wasn’t the best idea. You could still feel the stinging in your eyes and your sniffly nose fought against you when you and Betty told Veronica that “we’re fine.”

It didn’t help that you got a few texts from Jughead in the morning asking if you wanted to hangout at Pop’s after school. When you made it to 3rd Period, your Writing Class, you were already exhausted and wanted to be anywhere but there. You sat down in a random seat and started to pull out the notes from Friday when you saw a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye. “Y/N,” he started, “are you okay?” You turned in your seat to face him and saw that his blue eyes were full of worry. “Yeah, I’m good why?” You obviously were lying, and you knew Jughead noticed by the way his eyebrows furrowed. “You didn’t reply to my texts this morning,” he said, his voice hushed to not arouse suspicion. Luckily you were saved from having to talk to him any longer because the bell rang and your teacher started class. During the whole period, you could feel Jughead’s eyes on you. If it was under different circumstances, you might’ve enjoyed the attention, but right now all you wanted to do was escape. So when the bell rang you darted out of the classroom and walked as quickly as you could to the next class.

During lunch, you sat with Betty and her friends rather than Jughead. You just didn’t want to face him after that. The lunch period was rather uneventful; Archie seemed to be quiet and wouldn’t look at Betty, so it was Kevin and Veronica that carried the conversation. You were about to chime in when your phone buzzed against your leg. You pulled it out and saw it was a text notification from Jughead.

Jughead ;} : I won’t be able to be there for you if you don’t talk to me.

Jughead ;} : Whenever you want to see me, just text me, okay?

You didn’t have the chance to reply because the lunch bell rang. You and your sister barely made it through the rest of the day without breaking down. Veronica, being one of the greatest friends ever, noticed this and confronted the both of you after school.

“If you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong, that’s fine, but I’m taking you two out to Pops to hang out whether you like it or not.” Betty tried to protest but Veronica silenced her with a raised finger, “Aunt Ronnie is not letting anyone mope.” She drove you both to the diner, in an uncomfortable silence. When you all arrived, each one of you ordered a milkshake and found a secluded booth.

“So, what’s up?” Veronica asked as if nothing was wrong. Betty was about to answer with a cliche answer but you beat her to it. “Our mom hasn’t been the kindest woman to us lately.” You looked at Betty who merely nodded in agreement. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Veronica asked, her voice laced with concern. You shrugged and Betty didn’t say a word. “Well, you two can sleep over at my place whenever you need to, okay?” She asked, reaching her hands across the table to hold on of yours and one of Betty’s. “Thank you, Veronica.” Betty said, her blue eyes happy and clear for the first time that day. You nodded in agreement and then Veronica changed the subject to Archie. She and Betty talked it out and you found yourself looking out the window of the diner.

It was a nice day outside, unlike the last time you were here. The rain pattering against the window and enjoying Jughead’s company. Jughead; you felt a pit in your stomach at the thought of him. You had left him out of the loop, lied to him. You found your phone and was about to text him when you saw the notification.

Jughead ;} : Second booth nearest to the bathroom, if you want to sit.

You smiled softly at your phone. “Hey Betty I got to go to the bathroom.” Betty nodded and scooted out of the booth so you could get out. You walked past the main door and the little divider and saw him sitting there. He looked up and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards a little. You walked over and sat down next to him, your shoulders brushing his.

“I’m sorry about before.” You said and Jughead nodded. “I understand if you don’t what to see me Y/N, I’m not the friendliest of person but at least tell me.”

“Oh, that’s not why I,” you let out a quiet laugh, “I had a really bad morning and I didn’t well, I didn’t talk to anyone at school.”

“What happened?” He asked, and you were caught off guard by the kindness in his eyes. You proceeded to tell him what happen between you, your sister, and your mother in the morning. He listened to every word and it seemed he got closer each time you spoke. “Is there-” He started, but he stopped himself. He turned his eyes to the table, hand curled in fists on the stand. You rested your hand on his forearm, causing him to look back at you. “It’s okay, Jug. I’m going to be okay.” You didn’t know what it was exactly; the fact that his handle was suddenly holding yours or if it was the way he was looking at you, but you believed what you had said. As long as Jughead was around, you felt that you would be just fine. Suddenly, Jughead was closer, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips.

“Can I?” He whispered and you felt a hot blush rise to your cheeks. Despite that, you found the bravery to answer him. “Y-yes.”

His lips were soft when they met yours. You fumbled a bit at first, this being your first kiss. Jughead didn’t seem to care, he only kissed you back harder. His hand cupped your neck and your hands found his jaw. He pulled away slowly, only to rest his forehead against yours. You were both catching your breaths, staring into each other’s eyes. You let out a winded laugh and so did he. “I’ll be better than okay.” You whispered and Jughead leaned in again, giving you a slower, sweeter kiss than before. Your hands pulled gently on his sweater, trying to bring him closer. If it wasn’t the pesky need to breath, you would probably never stop kissing him. You sensed Jughead felt the same way, judging how he brushed his nose against yours. It suddenly felt hot in the diner, and you were brought back to reality. You looked over and saw that Betty and Veronica were still talking, but you didn’t what to risk taking too long.

“I should go back, so they don’t suspect anything.” You whispered, but Jughead only kissed you in response. It was a quick peck, but it still left you wanting more. “Okay,” he whispered back, “text me if anything gets to be too much, yeah?” You gave him a soft smile and nodded. You reached your hand up, letting your fingertips brushing against his cheek. He closed his eyes at the touch, as if he was waiting for this moment for months. “I will.” You murmured as you slid out of the booth. You walked back to your sister and your friend, sitting down next to Veronica this time. “What did you do, fall in?” Veronica joked, and Betty laughed. A grin crept onto your features and you looked up and saw Jughead leaving the diner. He gave you a look, that no one else saw, and left. “Yeah,” you said with a smile, “I fell in.”

Boku No hero Academia Light Novel No.2 Translations

t/n: I overly underestimated the difference in Japanese syntax structure to that of English, and it was honestly so hard trying to translate it in a way where it’d make sense, but not stray too much from what the original writing was trying to portray?? idk but, nonetheless, I’ve come to discover my enjoyment through translating ^_^ though I’d just want to point out my Japanese is far from native, I’m terrible and have become absolute poop over the last couple months, so please when reading, please understand and excuse grammatical errors, mistakes etc. 

I also want to mention that updates or translation won’t be frequent or anything :( as I’m doing this alongside my thesis atm, but will make the effort to update parts/chapters when I have time.

and last but not least, if you can, please try to refrain from reposting and, or at least credit this post! but yeah, thank you very much and I hope you enjoy! ^_^ <3

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Vain - Jughead Jones

Summary: You’re the new girl in town! You can’t help but feel a little curious about the brooding author at his lonesome booth at Pop’s, and can’t help but be a little bit direct about him and his writing.

Let me know if you want a part 2 or send in requests/prompts because I’m obsessed with Jughead and I want to start writing a bit more <3

Jughead x Reader (Not so romantically in this part, but part 2 may happen!)

Warnings: like… one swear word.

Special thanks to @satanwithstardust & @pendletonthethird for giving this a cheeky read for me beforehand and giving me some really helpful/positive feedback!

Word Count: 1,458 

PART 2 / PART 3



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Ephemeral || 01

(adj) lasting for a very short time

Originally posted by lonastic

pairing: Jimin | reader 

genre: slight angst, not too much

word count: 2.4k

summary: six months ago, Park Jimin broke your heart, though getting over him isn’t quite as easy if you’re still in love with him

warnings: none

a/n: I don’t hate any of the people who are portrayed as dislikeable characters in this story!


prologue ; next chapter


You stared out your bedroom window as the sun started to rise and illuminate the previously nightly black sky with warm tones of yellow, orange and pink. After Jimin had called you, you couldn’t get a hold of any more sleep that night, but still there was a feeling of proudness lingering in your chest. Despite not being able to fully ignore his call, you still managed to say ‘No’ to coming over to his dorm.

It’s something he’d frequently do, call you at random times of the day, more in the early hours of the morning than when it was actually mundane. You guessed that he probably had no other mindless toy, that would willingly get up and come over at 4am when it was class the next morning. But what can you say, you’d already lost count over how many times you sneaked out of your dorm, trying not to wake your roommates, who were already hating the fact that you were still wasting your time on someone like Jimin, and quickly ran across the campus just to see him.

Him.

Keep reading

2

The raven-haired boy held his hands underneath the running faucet inside the corner store’s restroom. His t-shirt and jacket laid crumbled on the floor on top of his backpack that was leaning against the wall. He took the bar of soap and ran it under the water, rubbing it until suds began to form. Once the soap was foamy enough in his hands, he began to scrub his arms, up to his elbows and then to his armpits taking a little extra time there. He had deodorant and body spray tucked away in that backpack of his.

Jughead Jones was homeless. This little sink was going to be his bath for right now. At least he didn’t have school the next day, but he didn’t want to walk around smelling like he walked out of a dumpster. He would shower at the school, but since it was Saturday morning and they were having some sort of sports game, he knew it would be too risky. Once his body seemed to be covered in soap, he took some water into his palms and began to rinse it off. He slipped off his beanie, tucking it into his back pocket and then used the soap bar to rinse his hair. He took the towel he had lifted from the locker rooms at school and began to dry himself off.

The situation he was in sucked. It was embarrassing but he had to make it work. He didn’t have much money on him and his dad would barely offer anything to him. Maybe he would offer one or two words of encouragement, but words can’t buy food or clothes. He grabbed the deodorant from his bag and rubbed it onto his armpits. Taking a quick sniff of himself, he nodded in approval. Jughead got changed, packing up his bath supplies and slipped out the beanie from his back pocket. He adjusted it onto his head and draped the backpack over his shoulders. Walking out of the bathroom, he snatched a few candy bars and went to the counter. The clerk looked at Jughead and then started to scan the bars. Jughead hadn’t noticed the droplets of water sliding down his face until they dripped onto the counter.

The teen paid for the bars and then walked out, unwrapping one of the chocolate bars. He took a bite from it and then started down the sidewalk. He munched away and surveying the neighborhood. Inside the teen’s mind was his plot about where he was going to sleep. Which house was empty or had a for sale sign? It wasn’t going to take long to figure out how to shimmy through a window or unlock the door. However, he did have to watch out for those alarms. The last time he pried open a window, a loud beeping started and dogs in the neighborhood started to bark. Before he could close the window, he took off running in the opposite direction. He managed to find an empty warehouse and sought shelter until the cops passed, but then he ended up falling asleep.

All that remained of the candy was its wrapper. He headed to the nearby park, tossed the wrapper into the trash can and went to sit down at a picnic table. He set his bag down and exhaled. The silence broke when he heard his nickname. The boy turned his head in the direction and saw his friend, Betty approaching him with a cute smile on her lips.

Keep reading

|| Attention, Attention ||

{summary: just a lazy night spent with you and your needy boyfriend.}

dedicated to @rvnclawss for giving me the bolded quote as a prompt [♥]

here’s something short and sweet for the bae peter p. later i’m gonna immerse myself in these new books that i bought from my bookstore ;w; i’m so excited to start reading it [♥]

warnings: none

permanent tags: @psychicwitchphilosopher , @pharaohkiller , @moonlight53

peter parker only: @wavy-ley , @buckysendoftheline , @1022bridgetp , @potterjamesharry

warnings: none

**please don’t plagiarize/repost this story. reblogs are fine

——

After a long day spent at school, you were glad that you were finally able to unwind with a new book as you surrounded yourself with your pillows and blankets. Propping yourself up against the headboard, you open your book to its first page and immerse yourself with the beginning of your story.

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anonymous asked:

Any tips on writing an evil protagonist? How do I make sure people won't just go "oh he's a villain who cares what happens to him"?

Writing an Evil Protagonist

Okay, so when I started working on this question, I thought the question was how to write an evil antagonist. You know why? Because we see the word evil and immediately associate it with antagonist. So right away, it’s an obstacle you have to overcome when writing this story. You’re setting yourself up for a unconventional challenge, so as long as you’re prepared for a potentially rocky road, you’ll do just fine with this.

But let’s be clear about one thing first. Even if we were talking about an evil antagonist, readers would still care what happens to the character. Because the good fortune of the hero is often tied up in the misfortune of the villain. So every reader will care what happens to them. Rooting for a character to fail equates to caring, particularly when it comes to fictional characters.

So whether your villain is the antagonist, or in this case the protagonist, readers will care (one way or the other) what happens to them. But to address the point I think the asker is wanting, how do we get readers to root for an evil protagonist?

[Note: The following three tips aren’t necessarily meant to be used all at once. You could, sure, but it’s not always appropriate.] 

The villain doesn’t realize they’re the villain.

When a villain has a motivation they’re passionate about, and they feel their actions are justified, then they likely won’t think of themselves as a villain. They might be the type to think their work is for the “greater good,” or perhaps they’ve been wronged badly in the past and think that revenge is justified given the circumstances. When a villain’s motivations are strong and full of passion, they’ll likely believe they’re doing what’s right. And if they believe it, we’ll believe it. Because as the protagonist, they’ll be showing us the “underneath it all” revelations that go along with their evil actions. Most antagonist’s evil attacks are shown from the protagonist’s point of view, and we don’t get to see what led them to take the actions they took. 

Their nemesis is obnoxious, like really obnoxious.

It’s unlikely that you’ll be able to make the evil protagonist’s nemesis more evil than them (though maybe you can!), so instead, make the “hero” or “good” character annoying as hell. Make us want to slap that goody-two-shoes in the face. Maybe this hero is arrogant, boastful, makes bad jokes, or puts on a cheesy show for anyone watching, always trying to show that they are the one with the power. This character is probably the type who does good deeds because they love the attention, and not because they enjoy saving the world or the humanity inside it. 

Their journey to goodness is chronicled. 

Perhaps your evil protagonist isn’t always going to be evil, and you’re writing their progression from someone with evil intentions to someone with good intentions. These stories can be very interesting because to do this effectively, a reader has to get to know the protagonist very, very well, in order to see their motives progress from one extreme to the other. The writer has to be dedicated to writing the character’s thought process when making decisions, so readers can see that thought process evolve. Great consideration also has to be made when it comes to devising what plot events will push a character to make these changes.

And lastly…

A book recommendation for you: Vicious by V.E. Schwab. Confession - I did start this novel several years ago, and I didn’t make it far enough to get hooked due to other things going on at the time, so it’s been in the back of my mind on my mental TBR list for ages. But this book features two characters whose once harmonious working relationship is destroyed when their academic experiments go tragically wrong. Enemies now, they are each motivated by their own personal agenda of power and revenge. (Revisiting this book reminds me that timing is everything - just because you don’t enjoy a book at one point in your life doesn’t mean you won’t later on. You have to find each other at the right moment :)

Good luck with your evil protagonist!

-Rebekah

No More and No Less

[No Angel] [No Comebacks] [No More and No Less]

pairing: rafael casal x reader

request: many many (very…enthusiastic) requests for part 3 of no angel

summary: rafa has been teasing reader while she has work to do, then reader returns the favor

warnings: swearing, smut, dirty talk, face fucking, D/s

word count: 4,938

a/n: part three of the “No Angel” series. will make sense without the first two parts, but i suggest you read them first. this is mostly just smut, and i would say sorry except that i really am not. it goes without saying that i still want rafael casal to bone me. happy reading.


“There’s no way that Professor Hopewell expects this paper to be completely coherent,” Ava groans, a hand threading into her hair in frustration. “A comparison of Leo Tolstoy and Vladimir Nabokov? It’s apples and fucking oranges.”

“They’re both Russian,” you offer up meekly. Truth be told, you have no clue how you’re supposed to tie them together. All you know was that this paper is worth thirty percent of your grade, and you can’t afford to get anything less than a B.

“They’re from different time periods,” she huffs, flipping angrily through the pages of Anna Karenina.

You don’t respond to her, instead sinking back into the novel open in front of you. Thoughts of your lazy morning flood into your head, and you struggle to tear your mind away from the way Rafa had woken you up by slipping under the covers and settling between your naked thighs. You’re marking a particularly interesting passage with a sticky note when your phone buzzes on the table.

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hithering  asked:

Joy do you have any advice on how to make yourself sit down and write? (I couldn't find a post you might have made about it, but if you made one sorry for asking!) I have five different things outlined and fiddled with, and a fair few projects that got started and died around 20k words. I can't seem to keep myself interested or focused, and I have a very hard time forming habits enough to write daily. Any advice?

I go through this a lot, either due to mental health stuff (I can literally be screaming internally at myself to do something and my brain just…doesn’t do the thing, like I’m fully capable of it but the message gets lost somewhere between thought and action) and also just plain creative burnt out.

The latter is easier to remedy because I allow myself to rest and let my brain reset by doing something like reading a book, playing a game or visiting somewhere interesting.

The former…not so much.

The thing that helps me the most when I am well and truly struggling to write (so most of the latter half of 2016) is to set myself realistic goals. While some days I can churn out a 5000 word chapter, there are other days when I will struggle to write 5. And on those days five whole words can seem like a god damn epic.

So what I do now is I set myself a goal, every day, of achieving 500 words. 

It doesn’t have to be a good 500 words, or even words that end up in my book, just so long as it is 500 words. Even if you never use them, they still count towards the developmental process of your manuscript. It’s engaging your brain and getting you into the mindset you need to be in in order to turn out the work you want to finish. One of my favorite exercises which I’ve talked about before, is the cafe exercise.

If a story stalls or I start to lose my way with a character, I take them out of their world, and drop them into a cafe somewhere in the world. Doesn’t have to be anywhere interesting, London, Paris, the Starbucks two streets away where the tea tastes like pond swill but the wifi is free*. I let them people watch, I let their senses meander through new experiences, the smell of coffee, the copper tang of their change lingering on their fingers from the coins, the sharpness of their tea, the mellowness of the flowers behind them, the way the light makes things look like they’re not quite real, the sound of traffic, the ugly sweater that person is wearing, the way they feel right then and now. I let them have silly conversations. I do all the inane little things with them that humans enjoy doing without the stress of over arcing plot (and we wonder why there’s so many coffee shop AUs) and just generally…gives you a break from your own world, while still letting you develop your characters and practice writing. And that’s the main thing.

And you do need to be in a habit of writing every day. It’s a skill that needs to be used every day, and it has to become habit otherwise it withers and dies. Great plot was never completed by talent alone. Even Stephen King, master of writing entire novels in mere days, had a dry spell where he thought he’d never write again.

It doesn’t have to be prolific and it doesn’t have to be profound.  The wheel is already invented. Fire is discovered. You’re not trying to be original (I hate that word) what you are in fact trying to be is interesting. You are trying to engage and light up the parts of the human brain that says “hey do you know what would be cool, if the wheel was on fire.”

And if the 500 words isn’t going to be achievable, well, I allow myself 250. Because any progress is better than none, and tomorrow I will try again.

(*If you suffer like I do at the mercy of your own inability to focus, fucking turn wifi off. Just, don’t let yourself get bogged down by shiny. Don’t start writing then go “oh actually I should look that up”. Make a mark in your document to go back to it later during a rewrite and insert the relevant researched info afterwards, it doesn’t fucking matter on the first write, you’re just trying to tell yourself the story and get the lay of the land right now, you can fill in the interesting tourist info spots after we’re sure we’re not about to walk off the edge of a cliff.)

Mega Man X: The Novel Chapter 1

Aaaaaallllright, it’s been a while, but the first chapter is finally done!! Many thanks to my translator @melonjaywalk and my editors moidang, Lambency and tjerrian! If you’d like to follow the group’s progress on the novel, check out this Google Doc! Without further ado, here’s Chapter 1: Day of Sigma!

P1・2・3・4・5・6・7・8・9・10・11・12・13・A

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Everything Has Changed - Part Three | Jughead Jones

Originally posted by riverrdxle


Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: After a bonding session with Jughead, you think everything’s going to be fine but you couldn’t be more wrong.

Warnings: …i think there’s a curse in there maybe.

Word Count: 1991

A/N: OKAY SO IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS but I really want to progress things instead of them suddenly being in love or best friends again, you know? Also, the ending of this part is something I had planned but thanks to the new episode, I had an actual place for Jug to be so it worked out. Lemme know what you think and if you want adding to the tags list hit me up <3

PART ONE | PART TWO

“A crocodile can’t stick it’s tongue out.”

Those were the first words you spoke when Jughead nodded his head at your request to talk. There were so many things you could and wanted to say but for whatever reason your brain decided not to go with anything normal and thought through and decided to throw out the most useless fact in the world. There were so many questions you wanted to ask about him, his family and what had happened since you’d been gone but for some reason, as you sat there across from Jughead, his blue green eyes staring into yours, you suddenly forgot how to think like a normal human being. It was like all the gears in your brain had stopped working and instead it was replaced with nothing but air. There was nothing going through your head, not even a witty or sarcastic remark which had grown to become your speciality over the years. Why was the one thing you could usually rely on letting you down like this right now?

However, the hints of a smile forming on Jughead’s face didn’t go unnoticed. At least you’d got something out of him. That was the first smile you’d seen from him the whole day.

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” he shook his head with a quiet chuckle. “Still got a brain full of pointless facts, huh?”

“They’re not useless. That fact could save your life one day, Jug. You’ll be thanking me.” You leaned back in the booth, arms folded across your chest and a smile on your face as you looked over to Jughead.

“You said the same when we were eight and you told me kangaroos couldn’t walk backwards,” he playfully rolled his eyes. The fact that he was bringing up past memories made you feel so giddy inside. It meant that he hadn’t forgot and that he still very obviously did think of you.

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A Lesson in Love (Jealousy)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,304

A/N: The tag list for this story is officially CLOSED. Also, this one is for my love, @ourpeachskies

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist

@avengerstories - thank you for editing this and for being my friend.

Originally posted by youaremysunshinemydear

“So, what do you think?”

You look away from the bright laptop screen, the loud clamor of the dining hall hitting you full force now that you’ve left the world created by T’Challa’s story. He’s looking at you, waiting with bated breath for your response. “I think that you’re gonna get an ‘A’ for this story and if you don’t, I’ll talk to Hill for you.”

His expression lights up, eyes flickering between you and his laptop. “Really?”

You cover T’Challa’s hand with yours, offering him a smile. It’s easy to understand his need for a little extra reassurance. As you’ve come to learn, thanks to your Creative Writing class, having someone else look over your work and comment on it is nerve-wracking. What can take hours for you to write only takes a few minutes to be torn down by whoever’s reading it.

“Really,” you confirm, giving his hand a small squeeze. “And I’m not just saying that because you paid for this meal.”

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thediffernetgirlontheblock  asked:

Hey so I've just started writing fairly recently, first I found a love for reading then I tried writing and I loved it. My problem is I have great ideas but execution is a huge problem. I write a few chapters then I have writers block then I doubt myself, would people like it? Is it even good? You know stuff like that? This has lead to me deleting multiple books that I've started to write some almost complete but never published or anything.

Hello thediffernetgirlontheblock,

This is something every freaking writer on the planet, from King to Rowling has gone through. The only difference is they did it anyway. They got their butt in their chair and wrote despite themselves. I know self doubt can be overwhelming, and the entire writing process can feel big, but this is where it’s best to take a step back and just focus on the step in front of you. That’s all.

Two things popped out to me off the bat: You started as a reader, and you can write.

You started as a reader: This is great. The best kind of writers do it for the love of reading or their love of the written word. Your passion for reading will directly feed your passion for writing, but reading can fuel self doubt at times. Here are some things to keep in mind:

Don’t compare yourself to other writers. Nobody writes like you, so it’s really a moot point. The only person you are in competition with is yourself and you always want to beat yourself at your best.

If you think your writing sucks, you have good taste: Honestly that’s all it is. You know there is a better way of saying what you meant and you WILL get there with practice. Bad writers don’t think their writing sucks, they don’t know any better. You already are winning half the battle when you doubt yourself.

Give your work some air…some room to breath: I just last week looked at my nano project from last year. At the end of November I would have probably deleted the whole thing right there. It was shaky and full of rambling and had a ton of embarrassing things that made me want to punch my couch when I read it fresh. Since I gave it time, things look more redeemable and now I at least have a crap first draft to work with. It’s much better than staring at a blank page.

Don’t erase anything: I mean that. You can hide it so it never sees the light of day again but don’t erase it. It doesn’t do you any harm being there. It’s still progress. Just remember that nobody has to see it until you’re ready and that is the truth. I can’t remember where I heard this, but some of the best advice I’ve used: Write drunk, edit sober. Who cares how your writing is a first. You can edit it as much as you need to to get it there.

Remember traditionally published books weren’t written alone: Every book has gone through several editing processed before making it’s way to a shelf. An agent and several different types of very experienced editors have given it the hacking. Don’t compare your work to pub novels it’s simply unfair.

You can write: I mean that. I’ve only read this question and as a short as it is, it’s still enough to know you can form a sentence and structure a paragraph (very well). You should continue to write. If you are having trouble with the execution you can maybe try plotting more. Another option: try writing your idea out like a synopsis/jacket cover way from start to finish. You can then worry about the line by line writing, the sub-plot and the character depth et. al. One you have a solid foundation story down. This will help you stay encouraged and continue writing. I hope you do.

Happy Writing :)

-NV

‘River on the Rise’ by Debra Blake for Vegetarian Times, March 1988 (Part II, final)

How the family took their vision to Hollywood dates back 10 years ago, to their final days in Venezuela. The family had little money when they left the religious community and River, along with his sister Rainbow, often took to the streets, restaurants, and even airport waiting areas to sing to people, entertaining them while trying to earn a dollar. River had been playing guitar since before he was 5 years old, and his talent became increasingly apparent to Arlyn and John. Back in the States, the family headed straight for Los Angeles, where Arlyn took a job at a broadcasting company to get the family’s collective foot in Hollywood’s door.

“We weren’t going for the glamour or the fame of it all,” Arlyn says. “We were going to take the kids’ talent-which was so obvious-to us-and turn it into something and help make change at the same time. That’s why we went.”

Weren’t they afraid that the kids wouldn’t share their vision, or perhaps lose sight of it as the endless glittery parties began to welcome them, threatening to turn them into Hollywood brats?

“No,” says Arlyn. “I knew they wouldn’t get into the Hollywood scene. We had our own business to attend to, and it wasn’t Hollywood. It was making change in the world.”

River’s business is making change, too. He’s clear on that score. “If I didn’t think I could be a part of a movement that could influence,” he says, “and be a part of helping and change, if I couldn’t help that through what I’m doing, I wouldn’t do this. But I’m seeing that through this position-in this career, and where I have these magazine interviews- I can be an example, and I think that’s important. In all the interviews I do, I say something about my being vegan. I don’t want to come off as if I’m a savior. I’m only a very small part of anything, but I think it’s important to be involved. I’m interested in meditation and finding spiritual fulfillment. But for me to just go off and devote my life to monkhood in the jungle would be ultimately abandoning the world, and the consciousness would be on a selfish level. I think I can do a lot more good for this planet if I am out there.”


River is still young. Does he share his mother’s confidence that he’ll be able to withstand the pressures that Hollywood places on young people-pressures that make them grow up quickly, losing their dreams and ideals in the process?

“Being out there,” River says slowly, looking around at the giant oak trees on the lawn, “you can go astray, and everything can be destroyed. I’m aware of that, but I don’t think I’ll get into that. Maybe I’m lucky; I’m not really attracted to all of that now. I think I’ll be strong enough, but I do see there’s that chance.

"You can’t really make any plans about things like this, though. You go with the flow but still against the grain, not for the ego of it but for the belief of it. The only thing I have to show is how I live. The vegan thing is one of the main things. I’m a peaceful person; I think that’s manifested through how I live. I don’t start trouble. But time will tell.”

River has moved around a lot over the years. He was born in Oregon, went with the family to South America as a young child, and has lived in countless California towns. He’s traveled-sometimes with only part of the family-to different countries to film on location. Just before last Thanksgiving the whole family moved to Florida, where they now reside. They wanted to leave the Hollywood scene and revive ideals about living in the country.

Florida winter afternoons are warm, and River spends hours in the garage, hunched over his new 12-string guitar. His hands are square and strong, and after so many years they’re used to playing the chords that sound good to him. He has the guitar plugged into an amplifier, and the rock rhythms echo out in the yard. He’s not in school (he was privately tutored for most of his life), and he says he’s not interested in working until the summer. These days he’s mostly hanging around, traveling a bit, hoping a bass guitarist will read the signs he placed around the University of Florida campus. “Needed,” the signs read. “Bass guitarist with young blood who’s into progressive rock and roll, jazz. For demo recordings.” River is looking for a buddy to jam with.

If he didn’t have his acting career, River thinks he could be a musician. He’s driven to it. “I love music,” he says. “It’s so much a part of me.” The roster of his favorite musicians is long and eclectic; he’s especially into early Squeeze and U2. But the rest of his list reads like the playlist of an early ‘70s FM station. “I like jazz, folk music, Bob Dylan. Older Bowie and old Roxy Music to fall asleep to. I like old Steely Dan music and some Pink Floyd. Old Led Zeppelin, too. The Beatles are my Bible; that goes without saying. And I like classical music.”

Modern music disappoints River, and he doesn’t like much of what’s commercially produced. His tastes in books and movies also show that River has one foot in a different age. He sounds a little frustrated by that, and says things like “movies nowadays. ..books nowadays. .. music nowadays.”

He doesn’t see too many new movies, preferring witty, intelligent classic comedies, and he likes the great slapsticks. But his idealism comes through even here. “I haven’t seen Cry Freedom [about Steven Biko, a martyred black South African], but it’s top on my list for a real conscious movie. And I liked Brazil. I like intense movies. Did you ever see Brother Sun, Sister Moon? It’s about St. Francis. I felt a rebirth after I saw that.”

He doesn’t find much time for reading, though he’d like to, but somehow he’s picked up a lot of information on health and political issues. The novels he’s read, or would like to read, are those that kids grew up on 15 and 20 years ago: Catcher in the Rye and Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger, Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha, Richard Bach’s Illusions, Ray Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.

As for his own movies, he’s hot enough to be selective about the scripts he accepts, and he’s been pretty happy with the results. “I feel no need to invest in a movie unless I have an incredible passion for it,” he says. “And one that will not only be good for me but one I can be proud of-one that’s a benefit to society. I always hope the movie will, if nothing else, be a part of good art and influence people in a good way.”

Up to now, there’s been no compromising in River’s work, and he’s not planning on changing his record. Even as a child, no commercials he ever made endorsed white bread, and when he was in Seven Brides, the family made sure he wouldn’t have to go fishing or wear a coonskin cap.

River still chooses carefully, hoping the ideals he lives by will be reflected in the characters he plays. He liked his character of Chris Chambers in Stand by Me, directed by Rob Reiner. “Chris came off as a victim of the mentality of his town, but he was a good person. He was a great friend, he was loyal and he wasn’t an idiot-not just a big dumb l2-year-old. He was a real sweet guy, smart and intelligent. A good character.”

The last movie he worked on was Sidney Lumet’s Running on Empty. (Lumet directed Dustin Hoffman in the Academy Award-winner Tootsie.) River plays the son of parents whose antimilitary activities have kept them on the run for years. River likes the character but sees him as a victim, too.

“In dramas, kids usually are victims, either to their parents or to society:’ River explains. "I want to get away from that. It would be wonderful to see someone already in a clear-minded reality take it from there and maybe go beyond that, show what can happen.”

He can’t say precisely what kinds of films he’d like to do or what kind of work will draw him next. Theater would be interesting, perhaps, and possibly directing at some point. Unlike many actors, he’s not even thinking about who he’d like to work with. “I would like to work with Rob Reiner again,” he says, “Maybe just a cameo role in one of his movies. But for the most part I don’t think like that. I figure that time will tell, and if it’s right, I’ll meet the right people and work with them at some point.” Outwardly, River has few doubts about himself, as an individual and as a Phoenix family member. “I’m definitely an individual,” he said. “I feel very secure as an individual. And I’m proud of my family and what we’ve done together. I’m a product of my family, just like everybody else. These are my roots.

"I just want to live my life. Acting is what I love to do, and it’s worked out this way. I don’t know if it’s God’s perfect plan or whatever, but for me, not only do I love it and get great satisfaction out of it, but also I can work my beliefs in. I’m free to believe in what I do, and I can share those beliefs with others. Not in a preaching way, not telling others, but just by what I do. I find that very fulfilling.”

After lunch-tabouli, nori, blue corn chips, tofu omelet, tahini dressing-River and Rainbow, like older brother and sister in any family, take the family jeep to pick up the other kids from school. Back home, River runs into the yard to swing on the rope hung from one of the oaks. “Hey, look at this!” he yells. While Rainbow watches, River laughs, jumps high and grabs hold. 

A Phoenix on the rise.

Two Steps - Part 2

Hey everyone! So i kind of fell into a deep hole of watching Roswell so I didn’t post until now. But I’m going to try to do better :D So just to explain again, in this story, every part has a bit from the past and a bit from the present (after she’s admitted she fancies Luke) I have it all mapped out in a timeline to make it more clear that I just might post after I’ve posted all the parts, but if I post it now, there will be some major spoilers. 

Thanks you guys so much for reading!!!

Part 2:

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Just Benefits (M)

Genre: Smut, university!AU, FWB!AU (slight angst?)
Word count: 4331
Description: You don’t know a lot about the man you share your bed with and it doesn’t necessarily bother you. However such things are never meant to last, which makes you question what the outcome with Jeon Jungkook will be in the end.
Warnings: Mature content
Author’s note: I just got hit with inspiration to write something with Jungkook and this was the outcome. Also, FWB is one of my favorite AUs so I just had to give it a try myself. :D

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anonymous asked:

I find often can't get myself to draw or paint anymore. How do you deal with artist's block?

hm hmm this one is always tough to answer! 

i haven’t been stuck in an art block for a very very long time now because my schedule is so packed that when i actually get the chance to draw for myself i have a million ideas and i want to get right down to work!

but i think fixing it depends on the cause of your artist’s block. if it’s a matter of feeling a lack of inspiration, then i would recommend looking at art that you love. scroll through some art blogs that you love to inspire you, watch shows or movies that make you want to draw or give you ideas for characters or stories or backgrounds or anything! read a novel or a comic or brainstorm with someone to come up with some ideas. look at sculptures or sewn things or felted things. often what inspires me most is looking at people’s sketchbooks or messy in-progress work. sometimes looking at finished art is like looking at something a million steps away. so looking at stuff in progress is more inspiring because it seems more attainable

if it’s a matter of you being unable to make stuff that you like, then try and change things up a little! switch mediums, switch art styles, look at other people’s work and ask yourself what you like about their work that you find is lacking in your own. to keep yourself from growing bored or feeling like you’re not making progress i’ve found that switching mediums really does the trick! right now i’m starting sewing again :) but if you can’t go that far away from your trade like if you can’t sew or do sculpture, if drawing is your THING, then instead of ink or pencil, try watercolor! or crayon! or colored pencil!

another IMPORANT thing is just not caring anymore! it’s easier said than done but i think sometimes art block can be a perfectionist issue that can turn making art into a stressful thing. it should not be stressful! so just doodle! make anything at all, even if it’s ugly. you could even start a sketchbook that you use just for art block times that you can be ugly in and when the sketchbook is finished you’ll have a beautifully ugly book. or you can just be ugly in your normal sketchbook or on paper anywhere or whatever! don’t afraid to make yucky lines or bad work. who cares! not you! 

whatever you do just keep drawing and making art! it doesn’t have to be good, it doesn’t have to be finished, but once you stop making things because of art block it gets harder and harder to start up again the longer you go without making something!

i hope this could help!!! good luck with your work and getting out of that nasty art block!! kick its BUTT

Spectacular [Stephen Strange x Reader]

Author’s Note: I fuckin’ swear, guys, this was only meant to be like 200 words and then it just kept going and I was like wtf. I dunno what happened towards the end either–actually scratch that, the whole second half haha. I let it write itself pretty much as I was starting to get hungry. Did this whole fic or whatever even make sense?  I hope so lol.

Word Count: 1,125

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