What she says: I’m fine

What she means: why do people give writers such a bad rep? Why are people convinced that we sit around doing nothing all day and just stare at a computer screen and one day words magically appear and then they magically turn into a book and then we never have to write ever again because they think publishing a book means you’re set for life and can travel the world and never have to work again? Where does the notion that creating art is lazy come from when it used to be the most celebrated form of work in history? Why do people think that that writing isn’t a Real Job™ and just a hobby, and that writers somehow freeload their way through life to avoid the Real World™ and that all writers somehow live in a disconnected utopian fantasy and need to grow up? Why? Where does that come from?

I’ve just had either the best or worst idea for a story that I’ve ever had.

“The Parent Trap” crossed with “The Prisoner of Zenda” as a portal fantasy. Twin girls, separated at birth, one raised as a princess in a fairy tale realm while the other one was raised in our modern-day universe. The one in our universe finds the portal back to the fantasy world in her bedroom, discovers her long-lost identical royal twin, and has impersonate her for complicated political reasons. Wacky hijinks ensue.

It combines two cheesy and unrealistic plots into the ultimate fluff!

Update Thing

I have survived the second day of work. There is a lot to learn, and we’ve just logged onto the computer for the first time. We have mostly be learning customer-service-related skills. Today we explored various database and search functions, and listened to phone calls.

I am using the “where jogging shoes during travel to and from work, where horrible wedge heels at work.”

I have made a few navigation errors, but have corrected them. (Within the building.)

there is a tiny concession area with a tiny self check out I haven’t figure out yet. there are two conventional snack/drink machines.

I am finding near-lack-of-internet-due-to-connection-issues to be somewhat frustrating.

The breaks two fifteen minute breaks and one hour lunch. The lunch hour is good for writing. I got a few paragraphs down of the next chapter of Safety Dance. The fifteen minute breaks are…slightly difficult to manage.

If I can post this, and the connection is still good, I might blather about chapter nine of (they flow from form to form.) I might also attempt to post a link for the second chapter of the Horrible Fic.

sugarspiceandcursewords replied to your post “ughhh in my absence a wolf spider seems to have decided my bed is her…”

I’ve lived in the Midwest for 15 years now and have my first huge-ass (black and yellow garden) spider housemate; she’s setting up shop in our front bushes. It’s been 36 hours since I discovered her and I think I’m showing remarkable restraint in not burning the whole damn thing down. So you’re braver than me, is what I’m saying.

I tell you what though I bet those three pieces of information (US, huge-ass, black and yellow) are enough to tell me that she’s probably an Argiope Aurantia and those are the ones that make the cool zipper shape in their webs. I took a bunch of pictures of a really beautiful one last year. 

They’re so beautiful, is the thing. 

I’m not a super big fan of spiders. They’re creepy as fuck and so alien there’s basically no way to not react badly to them. I can’t bear for them to touch me, and I’ve had some unpleasant spider bites and I don’t like it. And I don’t even live anywhere with poisonous spiders! I can’t imagine if I did.

But when you touch one or startle one they react so exactly the same way as you do, I can’t help but find it funny and find some common ground in it. They’re always like EW EW NO EW NO OH GOD NO DON’T TOUCH ME AUGHHH and I’m like SAME EW SAME. So I kind of at least find that common cause with them. 

I’m kind of deliberately working on being cool with them, because the thing is, they’re going to be around. That’s just how it is. That’s the environment I live in. It’s going to have spiders in it. So I’m kind of deliberately being chill with it. Because if I freak out, I won’t have time to do anything else, because they’re fucking everywhere.

I feel sympathetic for the people around me who really do have phobias– Brother In Law, improbably enough, who for example personally murdered 185 chickens today that he’d also personally raised from chicks (my point being that he’s not a man prone to flights of fancy or overpowering emotion), has a terrible spider phobia and is working super, super super hard not to pass it on to Farmbaby; he learned his unreasonable fear of spiders from his own father, and he really really tries not to let on when she’s around, but he’s fucking terrified of spiders. And uh. They’re everywhere. He works outdoors and in a creepy old barn. They’re just everywhere. I can’t imagine how exhausting that must be. 

I just don’t like them, and freak out if they touch me, but I can handle them, on principle. 

Rules: Tag 9 users you want to get to know better
I was tagged by @firstladyofcasterlyrock. Thank you!!

1. How old are you?
21 yo

2. Current job?
Crying eternally. Also known as fourth year uni student.

3. Dream job?
Writing or conservation. Like reintroducing beavers or something.

4. What are you talented at?
Being awesome, duh. Having commitment issues. eating chocolate. ya know The important things in life.

5. What is a big goal you are working towards/ have already achieved?
Getting a first degree! And publishing novels. Both a lot of work and some time away but hopefully not impossible.

6. What’s your aesthetic?
casual 95% of the time and overdressed but looking fab 4%. The 1% is wishing I was a cat.

7. Do you collect anything?
jks haha beanie babies i guess? Only if they’re cheap in charity shops.

8. What is a topic you always bring up in conversation?
I like talking politics. Or I like getting angry about it. I like deep convos.

9. What’s a pet peeve of yours?
Poor grammar/sentence structure (when not used ironically). When my boss says something like “your all great!” in the fb group chat I die a little inside.

10. Good advice to give?
90% of people are as lost as you. Few people have their shit together. Life doesn’t work like that.

11. Recommend three songs!

A Little Piece of Heaven by Avenged Sevenfold
Money Power Fame by Don Broco
Rise (cover) by Superfruit. <<< gave me goosebumps. Very powerful cover.


@boxofsims, @wannabecatwriter, @lilyshadowwriter, @treborness, @grumpysimmies, @simsinthewoods, @blurrypxls, @crystaldollhouse, @valitrixtasims if you guys wanna do this, that is. You can just ignore, don’t worry!

Do you ever just suddenly feel really shitty because you’re not particularly good at anything and you don’t know what you wanna do with your life and like you didn’t ask to be born and have to deal with all of this and yet here you are, confused and anxious and paying to exist on this trash planet

Common Occupations in the Middle Ages
  • Almoners: ensured the poor received alms.
  • Atilliator: skilled castle worker who made crossbows.
  • Baliff: in charge of allotting jobs to the peasants, building repair, and repair of tools used by the peasants.
  • Barber: someone who cut hair. Also served as dentists, surgeons and blood-letters.
  • Blacksmith: forged and sharpened tools and weapons, beat out dents in armor, made hinges for doors, and window grills. Also referred to as Smiths.
  • Bottler: in charge of the buttery or bottlery.
  • Butler: cared for the cellar and was in charge of large butts and little butts (bottles) of wine and beer. Under him a staff of people might consist of brewers, tapsters, cellarers, dispensers, cupbearers and dapifer.
  • Carder: someone who brushed cloth during its manufacture.
  • Carpenter: built flooring, roofing, siege engines, furniture, panelling for rooms, and scaffoling for building.
  • Carters: workmen who brought wood and stone to the site of a castle under construction.
  • Castellan: resident owner or person in charge of a castle (custodian).
  • Chamberlain: responsible for the great chamber and for the personal finances of the castellan.
  • Chaplain: provided spirtual welfare for laborers and the castle garrison. The duties might also include supervising building operations, clerk, and keeping accounts. He also tended to the chapel.
  • Clerk: a person who checked material costs, wages, and kept accounts.
  • Constable: a person who took care (the governor or warden) of a castle in the absence of the owner. This was sometimes bestowed upon a great baron as an honor and some royal castles had hereditary constables.
  • Cook: roasted, broiled, and baked food in the fireplaces and ovens.
  • Cottars: the lowest of the peasantry. Worked as swine-herds, prison guards, and did odd jobs.
  • Ditcher: worker who dug moats, vaults, foundations and mines.
  • Dyer: someone who dyed cloth in huge heated vats during its manufacture.
  • Ewerer: worker who brought and heated water for the nobles.
  • Falconer: highly skilled expert responsible for the care and training of hawks for the sport of falconry.
  • Fuller: worker who shrinks & thickens cloth fibers through wetting & beating the material.
  • Glaziers: a person who cut and shaped glass.
  • Gong Farmer: a latrine pit emptier.
  • Hayward:  someone who tended the hedges.
  • Herald: knights assistant and an expert advisor on heraldry.
  • Keeper of the Wardrobe: in charge of the tailors and laundress.
  • Knight: a professional soldier. This was achieved only after long and arduous training which began in infancy.
  • Laird: minor baron or small landlord.
  • Marshal: officer in charge of a household’s horses, carts, wagons, and containers. His staff included farriers, grooms, carters, smiths and clerks. He also oversaw the transporting of goods.
  • Master Mason: responsible for the designing and overseeing the building of a structure.
  • Messengers: servants of the lord who carried receipts, letters, and commodities.
  • Miner: skilled professional who dug tunnels for the purpose of undermining a castle.
  • Minstrels: part of of the castle staff who provided entertainment in the form of singing and playing musical instruments.
  • Porter: took care of the doors (janitor), particularly the main entrance. Responsible for the guardrooms. The person also insured that no one entered or left the castle withour permission. Also known as the door-ward.
  • Reeve: supervised the work on lord’s property. He checked that everyone began and stopped work on time, and insured nothing was stolen. Senior officer of a borough.
  • Sapper: an unskilled person who dug a mine or approach tunnel.
  • Scullions: responsible for washing and cleaning in the kitchen.
  • Shearmen: a person who trimmed the cloth during its manufacture.
  • Shoemaker: a craftsman who made shoes. Known also as Cordwainers.
  • Spinster: a name given to a woman who earned her living spinning yarn. Later this was expanded and any unmarried woman was called a spinster.
  • Steward: took care of the estate and domestic administration. Supervised the household and events in the great hall. Also referred to as a Seneschal.
  • Squire: attained at the age of 14 while training as a knight. He would be assigned to a knight to carry and care for the weapons and horse.
  • Watchmen: an official at the castle responsible for security. Assited by lookouts (the garrison).
  • Weaver: someone who cleaned and compacted cloth, in association with the Walker and Fuller.
  • Woodworkers: tradesmen called Board-hewers who worked in the forest, producing joists and beams.

Other medieval jobs included:

tanners, soap makers, cask makers, cloth makers, candle makers (chandlers), gold and silver smiths, laundresses, bakers, grooms, pages, huntsmen, doctors, painters, plasterers, and painters, potters, brick and tile makers, glass makers, shipwrights, sailors, butchers, fishmongers, farmers, herdsmen, millers, the clergy, parish priests, members of the monastic orders, innkeepers, roadmenders, woodwards (for the forests). slingers. Other Domestic jobs inside the castle or manor:

Personal atendants- ladies-in-waiting, chamber maids, doctor.

The myriad of people involved in the preparation and serving of meals- brewers, poulterer, fruiterers, slaughterers, dispensers, cooks and the cupbearers.

By Lise Hull READ MORE

All right, ladies (and non-binary folks!): real talk time.

We currently have zero female developers or designers on the Pathfinder RPG staff. (I know, right?) 

EDIT: I made a big stupid mistake. We DO have a female designer, the awesome Tanis O'Connor, on the Pathfinder Adventure Card Game. We don’t have any female designers on the RPG. Sorry, Tanis. *blush*

But we have an opportunity to change that. We’re hiring a new developer.

A developer is basically the movie director for their products. They work with the managers and other developers on the production team to come up with ideas for what each book is going to be about and fit it into our overall product array (so, if you’re a campaign setting developer, some of the areas of our world you cover will tie into current adventure paths or modules or hardcovers, while on others, it’s basically carte blanche to do something interesting). Then they outline the book, assign it to freelance writers, work with the art team to figure out what art is going to be in it, and develop the freelancer text to ensure it’s exciting, well-written, and sounds like Pathfinder.

Even junior developers do that – they just may get help from our more senior developers, but it’s still a position where they get to have a direct hand in building our world, writing stuff that’s published in our books, and so on. It’s a creative position with the sort of influence and direct control, at least from my experience in video games, for which you usually have to work at a company for years to get even a small piece of. 

It’s a chance to be at the center of making the best-selling tabletop roleplaying game in the world, on a team of A+ human beings who are wildly creative, funny, and devoted to making great games that welcome everyone into our world. 

I really want to see this position go to someone who’s new and fresh. If you are a strong writer who plays and loves Pathfinder, I want you to apply. Yes, you. I don’t care if you’re just out of college. YOU. 

Now let me talk to you not as a Paizo employee, but as a woman who’s been around the block in games several times. 

We’re doing blind applications-writing/design tests, which means no one is going to know who you are when they review your test. Any unconscious biases anyone might have about your name or your school or your previous experience or whatever? Not going to be a factor in reviewing your test. (And if you’ve read much about women in predominantly male fields, you’ll probably know that blind applications are one of the single best things for women’s chances of getting hired.)

There’s no embarrassment here if you don’t make it to the round of people who actually get interviews. We’re not going to mock you for applying. You’re not being presumptuous or arrogant by applying. You’re being a badass, like Mythic Kyra up there.  

So put aside your impostor syndrome. Stop telling yourself that you don’t have the experience or the talent or the qualifications – I guarantee you there are a ton of guys who are less qualified than you who aren’t telling themselves that – and stop worrying that we’re going to think you’re presumptuous or silly for applying. We’re not.

And believe me when I tell you this is one of the good ones. You’re not going to make as much as you might in video games – tabletop’s a different industry – but you will have more creative input than you’re likely to get in your first job in video games. You’ll also have Wes Schneider, the single best manager I’ve ever worked with, as a manager. You’ll have a great team around you, full of people who genuinely want to make great games and want to work with you instead of competing with you. You’ll get to work with awesome freelance writers like Amber Scott and Crystal Frasier. You’ll have the chance to hone your craft in a supportive environment. I’ll be there and I’ll have your back. 

You’ll be working for a company with a female CEO. She’s a badass and one of the founders of the entire RPG industry. 

You won’t have to put up with daily sexist microaggressions. You won’t have to be one of the boys to be one of the team. I mean that. 

(Also, you’ll get free copies of everything we make, and yearly bottles of Goblin Fire red wine.)

So. Do you live (or want to live) in the Seattle area? Are you a strong writer? Do you GM Pathfinder and create your own content? Do you have an English degree, or equivalent writing experience?

Apply. Do it now. Yes, there’s a big, scary-looking list of requirements. There is for every job. Do it anyway. Did you answer yes to all the questions above? Then apply. Look up at Mythic Kyra. She believes in you. 

We want you to apply, we want you to be good, and we all had to take leaps of faith at some point and say, “I believe I am good enough to do this.” That’s how we got here. 

Come tell stories and build worlds with us. 

Art: Mythic Kyra by Eric Belisle

How To Write A Cover Letter When You Have No Experience

For students who have no fancy internships or summer jobs on their razor-thin résumés, here’s some advice:

1) The first paragraph should say who you are, where you go to school, what the job is that you’re applying for and how you came to apply. It helps a lot if you can include a name of someone with a personal connection.

2) The second paragraph has to connect the dots between you and the employer. Describe how your experiences meet the challenges presented in the job description.

3) In the third paragraph, further describe your personal traits and how they make you a great candidate for the job.

4) To wrap up, say when you’ll get in touch.

5) In most cases, send the letter as an attachment and format it like an old-fashioned business letter with your address at the top, then the date and then the address of the recipient.

6)  Proofread carefully and get someone you trust to check for spelling, grammar and word use.

Read more.



Stiles could understand why he wasn’t the most likeable person on the planet, or even in his high school. 

He was abrasive, loud, analytical, and gave about zero fucks on people’s comfort level. Which, honestly, was fine. He only cared about a handful of people in this God-forsaken world, so other people’s opinion of him could really not be bothered. 

Enter Jackson Whittemore. 

Ever since Stiles professed his love to one Lydia Martin in the fourth grade with a ring pop (which she ardently did not accept), Jackson has wanted, and sometimes succeeded, in making Stiles’ life hell. 

In elementary, it used to infuriate Stiles. How Jackson would always steal his dessert at lunch, or push him too hard on the four-square court, and would always never cease to let Stiles know that he would never get to be friends with Lydia Martin.

And, yeah, sure, eleven-year-old Stiles would ball his fists and try to fight back, but that quickly changed in high school. And he started learning some, interesting, things about himself. Soon enough, Lydia Martin was the last thing on his mind, and so was Jackson and his taunting. In fact, with both of their academic success, he and Lydia found themselves in similar upper-class and AP classes throughout high school. Some would even call them, dare he say it, friends. 

But, Jackson, not so much. Even now, at their senior year, Jackson still makes it his mission to give Stiles hell, even though he’s been dating Lydia Martin practically since he tossed the ring pop out of his hand. And it doesn’t help that now, with Stiles and Lydia being friends, and Allison and Lydia being inseparable, and Allison dating Scott, that Jackson has somehow integrated himself into their group of friends. 

Which is exactly how Stiles finds himself rolling his eyes at Jackson as they pack up their equipment on the field after practice, Jackson whapping him with this lacrosse stick. 

“You’re literally an infant, Jackson.”

“At least I don’t throw like one, Stilinski.” Jackson scoffs. 

Scott snickers next to him, and immediately looks regretful when Stiles glares at him. 

“I bet an infant would be better to deal with than you.” he snarls, stripping off his practice jersey to throw in his bag. 

Lydia and Allison walk over from the bleachers, smiling faces, per usual. 

“Good practice,” Allison says to them all, but leans into Scott for a kiss. Lydia’s moved to Jackson’s side, too, and when Stiles glances at them, Jackson has a snarly grin on his face. 

“Jealous, Stilinski?” A common phrase from the asswipe since they were kids.

Stiles barks out a laugh. “Not in the slightest.” He ignores the small grin Lydia gives him.

Shouldering his bag, he lets out a long sigh. “Can we go? I’m starving.”

Everyone nods in agreement, starting to move towards the parking lot.  Jackson throws an arm around Lydia. 

“Yeah, must have worked up an appetite from all that standing around and doing nothing.”

This time, Stiles whacks him with his stick.

“Okay, but to be fair, my jeep has gotten us to Mexico and back.”

“It broke down half way, Stiles.” Lydia deadpans.

“We fixed it! Since when did you guys get all mean about getting into my car.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised it’s been alive this long.” Jackson scoffs.

“Walk your happy ass to the diner, then, Jackson. See if I care!”

And yet, all his friends still make their way to his jeep, because they know damn well Roscoe will get them anywhere. 

But, when they get to the car, there’s one Derek Hale leaning against the hood, looking as ominous and broody as always.

“What do I owe this pleasure, Sourwolf?” Stiles preens, walking up to him, but Derek doesn’t move. 

“You left your wallet at my place.” 

Before Stiles could even reach in his back pocket to check, Derek straightens and tosses it to Stiles, causing him to, of course, flounder and very much not catch it at all. 

“Aww, always looking out for me, huh Derek?” Stiles coos, shoving his wallet into his pocket. 

“You’re pathetic, Stiles.” Jackson spits. 

Stiles whisks around, and God does he want to smack that silly little smug look off Jackson’s face as he walks over. 

“I swear to holy Hell, you can walk h-”

“You know he has a crush on you, right?”

Everyone stops cold, and suddenly all eyes are on Jackson, who is looking straight at Derek likes he’s fucking Sherlock who solved the case. 

Derek scoffs.

“He does,” Jackson continues. “He likes you, and it’s embarrassingly obvious to everyone.”

“Oh, my God,” Stiles groans, putting his face in his hands. Scott, on the other hand, is bright-eyed and excited, like a puppy who just saw a bone.

Derek quirks an eyebrow. “Do explain.”

And Jackson, oh Jackson looks like he’s just been given a whole litter of bones. “He talks about you constantly, he invites himself over to your place all the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he jerks off alone in his room to a picture of you.”

Derek’s head whips to look at Stiles, but he already has his hands up in protest. 

“I do not do that, okay?”

Jackson steps up to Stiles, face inches from his. “Just admit it, Stilinski. You have a crush on Derek.”

It’s quiet for a second, and Stiles is really considering what level of Hell would even want to welcome someone like Jackson Whittemore, when Derek speaks up.

“God, I hope so, or this would be really awkward.”

Jackson’s face drops, and he spins to look at Derek. In the background, the snickers of Allison and Lydia or ever so sweet to Stiles’ ears.


“I said,” Derek lifts himself off the car hood, and makes his way to Stiles, who practically beams up at him when Derek takes his hand in his, entwining their fingers. “I hope he has a crush on me, or this would be really awkward.”

Stiles watches as Jackson does a double take from him, to Derek, to their hands, and oh does it feel so, so good.

Scott’s outright barking with laughter now, and Jackson looks as pale as a ghost. 

“Great job, dickweed. You just told my boyfriend that I liked him.”

“You… and Hale? Since when?” he spits out. 

“Almost a year, sweetie.” Lydia pipes up, probably more smug than anyone since she was the first to know about Stiles’ flagrant homosexuality. And his impeding crush on Derek.

“Aww, babe? Almost a year! Did you hear that? We should celebrate.” Stiles preens, and even leans up to nudge his nose at Derek’s cheek, just to rub the salt in the wound a bit more for Jackson. 

“I just found out you have a crush on me. I think we should take things a little slower, don’t you think?” But Stiles catches a hint of a smile on Derek’s face.

Stiles doesn’t stop himself when he feels Derek gravitate towards him, and happily leans into the kiss. It’s sweet and quick, but enough to get Jackson to pretend to vomit. 

“Matter of a fact, I think I’ll walk.”

Later that night, when Derek is driving Stiles back home, Stiles reaches out to hold Derek’s hand over the console. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, and Derek acknowledges him with a slight nod. 

“Do you have a crush on me?”

Derek’s quiet for a moment, and suddenly Stiles feels a squeeze on his hand that makes his smile spread wider than his face. 

“Every day.”