writing wtf am i doing

A Good Fit

i don’t actually know how or when to stop.

more of “All My Friends Are Here,” featuring Jack/Tater.

wtf do i even tag this?

also on a03

Late-October roadies are the worst. Jack is used to the cold and the darkness of oncoming winter but that doesn’t mean he likes it, and all the traveling in between hockey games makes him feel twice as worn out.

When the Falcs are on the road, Jack does his best to take care of himself. He sleeps, eats, Skypes Bitty, and checks in with himself every morning and throughout the day to find out where he is on the spectrum of stress. He knows himself by now, and although the whole point of anxiety is that it sometimes bites without warning, there are certain things he can do to reduce the chances of it rearing its ugly head.

One of those things is staying in contact with people he cares about. People who remind him that he’s not alone.

Recently, Kenny has become one of those people.

They’ve been friends (again) for almost a year, now. When they first took the plunge back into civil conversation, it was stiff and awkward. They were different people and they had to learn how to treat each other as adults with control over their lives, not underage kids thrown into a hockey-fame pressure cooker and seasoned liberally with teenage hormones. Kent’s still kind of a dick but he’s finally making a concentrated effort not to be, and Jack is trying his best not to let the hurtful history between them color his judgement of Kent’s actions now. He wants Kent to be his friend. He never really hated Kent; just how hard Kent always had to make things.

It was one of the weirdest moments of his life, finding out that Tater and Kent were dating.

Tater. Tater and Kent.

And then, a month ago, Tater and Kent and Bitty.

Jack’s almost glad they’ve started the regular season and he’s got an excuse to be fully distracted by hockey.

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“I never run voluntarily so if you see me running, you should probably run too because something must be coming.” With Wally? (Girl s/o please)

Author: Mod Harley

A/N: I wrote this with Young Justice Wally in mind but im pretty sure it can apply to any version of him so  ¯\_()_/¯

The chip was approximately 5 centimeters away from his mouth when he heard the shrill sound of his name being screamed. Though it was dampened by the walls of the house, the disturbance was startling enough not only for him to drop the chip, but also for him to let out a small scream of his own, which he very strongly hoped no one but himself had heard.

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yall gotta learn how to write more than fragments and choppy sentences my friends. this isn’t specific to anyone on my dash either because this post comes from someone talking about seeing it on THEIR dash and it made my head fucking SPIN.

i don’t give a flying flip if you’re writing something sweet and cute or if it’s bloody and brutal or if you’re writing your muse doing the do with their boo, you have GOT to see a sentence through or it loses steam and becomes a mess. it turns into the most choppy writing that can exist and it’s not even aesthetically pleasing enough to excuse.

if it were written in LEGIT POEM format then MAYBE you could make it work but i know for a fact most of you AREN’T soo..


EXAMPLE OF A BAD FRAGMENT as mostly seen in terrible s/mut:

fingers pulling clothes. head tilts. small moans fall from her mouth. hips pump.

that’s not even poetic enough to be excused as a poem in motion either, it’s just lazy writing.

WHOSE fingers pull at WHOSE clothes????? it should be HER head tilts, and for god’s sake give people more than two measly words of action to keep something going.

This is part of the whole “you get what you give” vibe some folks don’t understand. If you want a thread to feel like it’s moving forward and going somewhere and isn’t just repetition of the same shit you have to do more than that.

And no, it doesn’t have to be purple prosed to death either. Overdone and underdone are two sides of the same damn coin my friends. You can fucking do it, I know you can. PRACTICE, READ YOUR REPLIES OUT LOUD OR IN YOUR HEAD.

i don’t give a shit if you use proper caps when writing, if you format like crazy or not at all… but that lazy shit is driving me up a WALL.

Taeyong talking about Febreze
  • TY: Sniffing breze everyday like the swaggie boy I am
  • TY: No swag? No breze
  • TY: Gotta be swag to get the good stuff
  • SOMEONE: What's your favorite smell? Like perfume?
  • TY: What I like to smell?? What perfume? Hoe don't ask me. It's obvious. CUZ IT'S BREZE FOR LIFE BROOO!!!
  • TY: Breze before guys
  • TY: Breze before girls
  • TY: Breze before ass
  • TY: I live the dangerous life with breze
  • SOMEONE: Do you smoke Taeyong?
  • TY: Do i smoke? No i breze. Breeze iz da shiet
  • TY: Nothing make my ass as big as breze. Suddenly my flat ass is looking good just with breze. I fart breze now cuz I live this breze life
  • TY: TY TRACK? More like TY BREZE
  • TY: *starts thinking a bit*
once more with a story...

Okay! (-O  ^O-) so i was serious when i said earlier that this drawing (and some definite influence from @gentleman-caller and @crackedverbosity ) made me write a little bit. a micro fic i guess? so… here it is! this shit always gives me +100 to my respect levels for you writers out there, because i post my art without a hint of hesitation, but right now i’m literally shaking. i’m dyslexic and i can’t keep myself together when it comes to words! HAHAHA!!! but i hope some of you still like it! it’s 100% pure fluff. btw, me and commas aren’t friends. i appologize.

He had hoped to find Hux already asleep when he slipped inside the door to the general’s quarters. For once, Kylo hadn’t come there to fight. As he passed through the darkened sitting area, Millicent cracked one glowing green eye to observe him as he crossed, barefoot, to Hux’s bedroom. If she distrusted his intrusion she made no show of it. As soon as his hand was pressed to the door he could feel that Hux was still awake; his mind conscious, yet clouded and fraught with pain. He entered as silently as possible, not wishing to announce his presence until it was absolutely necessary. Even if Kylo had no plans for an argument tonight, the general would surely still give him one. They were equally stubborn in that regard.

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two cute  Soos & Stan headcanons:

1st headcanon: Soos knows how to box from Stan. they were taking a break one day when he was still a kid, and a boxing ad came up on the TV. Soos was super impressed by it, but Stan was like “Hey kid, don’t buy into that fake stuff, It’ll do ya’ no good. Now, if you wanna learn some REAL boxing, well, I could show ya’ a thing or two!”

Soos doesn’t actually box at all, but he was so eager to learn something from Stan (something that Stan offered to teach him!!!) that he took all of Stan’s lessons to heart and still remembers them to this day

(’this is probably what it’s like to have a dad,‘ Soos thought happily to himself, later that day.)

2nd headcanon: a little after Soos was hired, he started growing like a weed. Soos always sorta wanted to have that experience, where his mom or dad would measure his height every year with notches on a door frame. so he started to do something similar at the Shack. he’d measure his height against the displays (last month he was as tall as the giant glass eye, but this month he’s a little taller than the weird stone calendar!)

Soos didn’t wanna draw on the Shack walls because he was afraid Stan would fire him for it. Stan noticed a few months after he hired Soos and asked the kid what the heck he was doing. Soos timidly responded “Oh, u-uh, just, you know, measuring myself…”

“Well, kid, you’re doing it all wrong. Here, lemme grab a pen.”

Stan led Soos to one of the Shack’s door frames, a little ways away from the touristy areas, and measured Soos’ height. complete with a little black notch on the splintered, worn down, old wood. Soos almost cried.

Stan started measuring Soos a few times a year after that, whenever he noticed that the kid was a little taller than he was before.

before either even realized it, Soos passed Stan’s height.

“Whoa kid, slow down there, you’re sproutin’ like a weed! Haha, can’t believe you used to be such a shrimp before. Now look at ya, you’re towerin’ over me!” Stan laughed, slapping Soos on the back after adding another notch to the well used door frame, lined with dozens of similar little black notches. “Why don’t you grab a little something from the gift shop, free of charge? To celebrate! Bein’ taller than me ain’t no small feat, after all.”

“You-you really mean it, Mr. Pines?”

”Yeah yeah, now go grab something before I change my mind. Nothing too expensive, of course.”

Soos grabbed a cap that day. A small, brown, nondescript cap. He held it to his chest as if it were a priceless heirloom.

“Alright, alright, play times over Soos. Get back to work. Time’s a-wastin’.“

Soos spent most of work that day trying not to cry on his repairs, and restraining himself from randomly hugging customers. he never took the cap off.

only several years later did he finally switch the cap out for something else. a well worn red fez, with a golden design on the front.

he still has the cap.

  • Sirius Black smirking in the mirror everytime he sees himself
  • Sirius Black running a hand through his dark shoulder lenght hair all the time when he sees Remus walking in the room
  • Sirius Black stealing glances at Remus as he works on his Potions essay
  • Sirius Black losing his appetite when he sees girls looking at Remus
  • Sirius Black curled up in the common room on the couch, resting his head in the crook of Remus’ neck
  • Sirius Black breathing in Remus’ scent everytime they hug each other - which is a lot, Sirius can’t keep his hands to himself.
  • Sirius Black smiling down at Remus as he sleeps; he was exhausted after a long and difficult full moon
  • Sirius and Remus falling asleep on each other
  • Remus being the only one who can run his hand through Sirius’ hair - whenever the hell he want ‘cause Sirius will never tell him off
  • Remus staring at Sirius’ lips when he talks and laughs
  • Remus long fingers tracing over Sirius’ back as they talk
  • Their kisses are always all over the place
  • Their teeth will clash together when Remus decides he wants a kiss
  • Bloody wild and rough sex


Like Magnus is one of the consultant/helper people and Izzy comes in for a dress and brings Jace and Alec and Clary (bc she’s Simon’s bestwoman) and probably her mother and Magnus gets assigned to her. And the two of them squeal over the dresses he brings her together and just shake their heads in disgust at a few and basically become best friends

And Magnus keeps noticing how silent her supposed brother is being through the whole thing and also he’s really fucking hot omg and then she comes out in the dress and Alec just starts crying because she’s beautiful and that’s his perfect baby sister there and Magnus just thinks “wow he’s so sweet and perfect and omg i think I just fell in love”

and that’s the story of how they ended up on Say Yes To The Dress: Bridesmaids arguing over what to put Izzy and Clary and Jace and Simon in bc no, Magnus, we are not doing rainbow glitter.

Question for History students familiar with Chicago Style:

I’ve only ever used MLA and APA, but my professor’s instructions seem very…contradictory to everything I’ve learned about writing. (I used to be an English major but have written papers for a lot of different subjects.)

It seems…wrong to me to put quotes around what my professor is describing as essentially a very close paraphrase. Throwing quotes around things authors haven’t *actually* said seems academically dishonest and manipulative in my opinion, but I’m not sure if this practice is the norm for Chicago Style or just my teacher having vastly different opinions about writing than I do.

Also, wtf am I supposed to do with “you must quote non-quotes but also you’re not allowed to use quotes in this essay”? I have NEVER had a professor explicitly ban quotes in an essay. I just??


based on this post lmao this took forever to write, also wtf am i doing with my life.
Edit: Also on AO3

Being woken up to incessant pounding on the front door at three in the goddamn morning did two things to Mickey Milkovich: piss him the fuck off, because honestly; and send a surge of panic through him. 

He immediately climbed out of bed and pulled his sweatpants on, glaring at Ian, who only stirred and mumbled something under the covers; asshole could sleep through anything. The knocking continued and seemed to get more urgent the longer it took Mickey to thump down the stairs. 

As soon as he heard a muffled string of angry Russian coming from the other side of the door, he sighed, letting his head fall back. At least she didn’t sound panicked or scared or something warranting anything other than en eye-roll.

“Seriously?” he groaned, unlocking the door before he swung it open, “The fuck?”

Mickey wasn’t expecting his son to be standing next to Svetlana. Before he could open his mouth to question what was going on, the Russian shoved her way inside, her grip tight on Yev’s upper arm. The sixteen year old flinched, but followed without a fight.

“Sure, come on in,” Mickey mumbled, closing the door.

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troye’s instagram + troye’s instagram

Dean was just so beautiful

The way he glinted in the fluorescent light; how the tin shone so bright, and how his crust was perfectly brown, no flakes, no burnt spots. He was just perfect

Castiel was not perfect. His top was cracked in half and he was fairly certain he only had half of the amount of cream he was supposed to have. 

He was not beautiful; not to mention he was under a cellophane wrapped package, and the only reason he could see Dean at all was because he happened to be next to the little tiny clear window. And Dean was sitting beneath his display case so beautifully. Majestically. 

Castiel sighed. Dean would never want him; he was just a measly Oreo… he wasn’t a pie or a creme brûlée. He wasn’t cake or ice cream. He was just… stupid, broken, half completed Oreo. 

But when Castiel shifted to look at Dean more, he could have sworn he saw the pie wink at him.