#paula the woman that you are

[t-hirstreview]

[lukasadss]

Obviously had to do THE meeting

[smashorpass50plus]

paula toller (singer)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQE-H8Ixqt0

[red-umbrella-811]

The popular novel The Girl on the Train asks the question “Are the straights ok?”

And the answer to that question is emphatically “no.”

[wttnblog]

10 Exciting October 2024 Book Releases

We’re deep into fall now, and that means we’re starting to see Christmas books hit the shelves. I love the warmth of the holiday season, and so this list includes quite a few romances on it. Since I know a lot of you are cynics at heart, I’ve also mixed in some nonfiction and thrillers, so there’s something for everyone. Happy Autumn! Make the Season Bright Author: Ashley Herring…

[ragingbookdragon]

She huffs lightly when she hears the low growl of the familiar soldier in the room next door, followed by her nurse griping and trying to work with him. Entering behind, she lays a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Go on, Paula, I got him,” she says with a smile and Paula practically screams in relief as she leaves the exam room.

She gives him a fond smile. “Now, Lieutenant, what have I said about antagonizing my nurses?”

He scowls at her. “I don’t like ‘em.”

“I know but I still need you to be kind when they’re simply trying to do their jobs.”

“I don’t like anyone touchin’ me but you.” He’s still scowling behind his mask, holding his side where she can see the black material stained a darker color.

“Well aren’t I special,” she murmurs, closing the exam room door before walking over. “You know the drill.”

He lifts his sweatshirt wordlessly along with the t-shirt he’s got underneath and she sighs at the sight of a cut about four inches long riding up his ribs.

“Do I even want to know how?” She asks.

“Trainin’ with Soap,” he mutters. “‘e’s a slippery lit’le bastard when ‘e needs to be.”

She snorts and goes about pulling on a pair of latex gloves before she begins to clean his wound with antiseptic. He doesn’t make a sound though she knows it stings like a bitch and the only show of irritation from him is the way his muscle ripple beneath her touch.

“I thought I said not to get wounded anymore.”

“Didn’t listen,” he simply shrugs.

“If I had half a mind, I’d assume you did this on purpose so you could come see me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter you’self. I don’t like you that much.”

A laugh escapes her as she checks the depth, ultimately deciding on a few stitches for his wound. “Oh I know you like me plenty, Simon.”

Simon.

She only says his name in privacy when no one can hear them. He hates the way his chest feels funny, sternum scratchy with an itch he can’t get to.

“‘S Lieutenant,” he retorts.

“Of course, of course,” she hums. “My most sincerest apologies, Lieutenant Riley.”

He scowls again but that itch returns when she begins to stitch his wound carefully.

After a few minutes, she sets the clipped thread down and admires her handiwork. “All done, sweetheart,” she says with a gentle smile and wipes it carefully before putting a bandage on it. “Don’t get it wet and—”

“Keep it dry and clean,” he finishes. “I know.”

She laughs and pokes the nose to his mask. “Maybe one day you will learn.”

She watches as he redresses himself before standing, waving off the bottle of pills she hands to him.

“Don’t need ‘em.”

“It’s just some ibuprofen, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t need ‘em,” he repeats with a growl and she rolls her eyes.

“You are so stubborn for no reason,” she says and places her hands on her hips. “And after all the care I just gave you.”

He looks at her for a solid moment before he leans over and kisses her cheek through his mask. “Thank you, love,” he mutters. “For takin’ care of me.”

She goes uncharacteristically quiet, cheeks getting hot and he smirks at her.

“Ain’t got nothin’ to say? Cat got your tongue?”

She glares at him half-heartedly. “Get out of my clinic, Lieutenant.”

As he heads for the door, he pauses and looks at her. “It’s Simon, to you.” He says, and closes the door behind him.

[spiralsublime]

in my heart, paula has wrecked jack manhattan in such a deep way that his movie is gonna get a requel.

imagine, every 80s action hero does feel a lil gay with how DEEP they are in with their fellow man. imagine, a woman takes over your meat suit, she brings up a good point of “did i love him?” oh fuck maybe i did love him. maybe i clung to my job because i loved him. maybe im losing my wife because i loved my partner and chased both.

shit am i gay?

then this woman kisses you (in my heart the reflection sees them back not just their own face so manhattan saw paula when they smooched)

no man, she gets it. she is getting divorced or has been divorced. and maybe she hasnt let go fully, but neither have you.

yeah, fuck it, bisexuality is it. jack manhattan is in love with his partner and his wife and maybe this woman who is pushy and honest and intense.

[justawritterwithideas]

"Let's get started," Aaron commented, letting Jennifer take over to start showing the case.

"Wait, two of our geniuses are missing." Emily turned to look at the two empty chairs across from each other.

"Reid and L/N are coming late." Rossi turned to look toward the door. There was no sign of one or the other showing up. They waited a couple of minutes before Hotch signaled J.J. to initiate or they would lose a lot of valuable time saving a woman.

"Okay, this is Dorris Archer. The third woman to go missing this year in Boise, Idaho." He paused to flick through the other images. "Along with Paula Renmar and Samantha Rush, they disappeared within two months of each other." He paused to notice in the distance a shadow approaching. "Well... Hello."

It was Spencer. But it wasn't the Spencer she knew.

His long hair had been cut short and, now, he wore his hair quite fashionable, a bit tousled, but giving him that youthful air that attracted the attention of all the women in the office.

The boy gave her an elongated smile, left the notebook he was holding on the table and sat down at his desk. His gaze wandered from Hotch, who was next to him, to the empty chair in front of him, where you sat.

Where was it? Spencer wondered.

The boardroom table was surrounded by silence, everyone focusing on the youngest of the group and his new haircut.

"Did you join a boy band?"

"No."

Laughter joined Hotch's sentence, causing confusion on Spencer's face but that didn't last long as the attention quickly dissipated as a new shadow approached, at great speed, all the way to the boardroom.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry" The sole of your tennis shoes echoed in the room and was soon silenced as you situated yourself in your seat across from Reid. Your hand went to your hair, combing it before you could look straight ahead and feel the anticipation of the team for your reaction.

It was an open secret that the two of you had a clear attraction to each other, even more so coming from you when flirting was your way of responding to every comment Spencer gave you as flattery.

Your gaze lifted, stopping on the young genius and his new style. Your mouth opened slightly and, without thinking, you blurted out.

"Ay papi, who are you and what did you do with dr. Reid?" The rest of them laughed again at seeing the blush of his pink cheeks take over even his ears. "It looks good on you, very good. My compliments to the hairdresser." You gave him a wink and turned your attention back to the front when Derek muttered "Turn off Reid, or I'll have to call the fire department."

Spencer smiled as he felt his cheeks burn, perhaps his way of getting your attention had been a complete success.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

a/n: A tiny boyband!spencer x reader blurb, because I've been obsessed with boyband!spencer for weeks now, my tiktok is full of it everywhere.

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

[cevansbrat0007]

Forgive me Britt, but i cant get this filth thought out of my mind-- Andy fingering a needy Baby Girl at some outdoor dinner. I just need him fingering her someplace risky, under the table

Helping Hands

Summary: Andy helps you relieve some tension while out on date night...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Andrew Barber Being A Menace, Fingering, Manhandling, Semi-Public Sex, Daddy Kink, Reference to Oral Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Andrew Barber from my Growing Pains Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“What has gotten into you?” Stifling a giggle as you push your boyfriend away when he attempts to whisper more kisses behind your ear. He was definitely in rare form tonight, and he was only on his first glass of bourbon. 

“It’s been three days.” Andy murmurs, toying with one of your curls. “Three whole fucking days since I’ve seen my baby girl.”

“Well, you’re acting like it’s been forever.” You pick up your menu, intending to finally decide on a cocktail only to hit him with it when he starts up again. “Behave.”

“Are you seriously telling me you didn’t miss me?” He smooths your curls away from your nape before burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Because I missed you.” While his words come out muffled, you can’t help but shiver at the gentle graze of his teeth along your sensitive flesh. “So much.”

“Omigosh!” You quickly jerk away when you spot your waitress making her way towards you. “Would you – Andrew –  we are in public!” Smiling, you try to right your appearance by smoothing your hands over your skirt.

“Mmhm…” More heated kisses from him elicit more sweet giggles from you. “Why do you think I requested a table in the back?”

Andy’s free hand goes to settle on your waist, effortlessly pulling you closer to him just in time for your server to reach your table. 

“Hey there!” The charismatic brunette chirps, tapping her pen against her notepad. You were pretty certain her name was Paula. “Did you decide on your drink yet? Or can I get you started on some appetizers?” 

“I think I’ll go with the pomegranate martini. As for appetizers…” You cast a sideways glance at your boyfriend who is now making a concerted effort to look innocent while examining his own menu. “I think we’re still deciding. Any recommendations?” 

“Ooh. Good question!” The woman takes a moment to think. “The house-made nachos are always a hit, as are the pan fried oysters, and people love our sweet, gingered chicken wings. But my personal favorite would probably have to be…the herb crusted crab cakes served with our house-made remoulade.”

“Oh yeah? Any of those sound good to you, Big Man?” You rest your chin on his shoulder while you wait for him to make a decision. 

“Eh, I think I’m still gonna need a minute. But I will take another bourbon when you bring out her martini.” 

“You’ve got it! Still sticking with Bulleit?” 

“Yep. Appreciate it.” He winks at your waitress before sending her on her way, which allows him to turn his attention back to you. 

You’re grateful when you receive your drink in what feels like record time. “I did miss you.” You reassure your man after taking your first sip. Cupping his jaw, you lean up to brush your mouth over his own. You moan softly when you feel his lips curve, letting you know just how much he appreciates your show of affection. 

“Fuck, how do you always manage to taste so sweet?” He murmurs, more to himself than to you.  

“It’s the drink, honey.”

“Nah, baby girl. I’m pretty sure it’s all you.” Still grinning, you don’t stop him when he decides to adjust your positions so that you’re now sitting between his thickly muscled thighs as you both rest on the bench. “Tell me about your day. Catch me up.”

“It was pretty boring to be honest.” You offer him a taste of your martini which he declines. “I’m still working on the media plan for that one bakery’s grand opening. It should’ve been done last week, but the owner keeps changing her mind on a few key aspects.”

“Mm.” Andy presses a kiss against your bare shoulder. “You think Sugar & Spice is ever gonna open?”

“Some days I wonder. But that’s really it. Oh, and my boss told me to expect a new account to land on my desk tomorrow. So there’s that too.”

“How many accounts does that make you responsible for now?”

Too many. Although you’re pretty loath to admit it to anyone else but him.

“I can manage it.” You tell him, not missing the way his fingers are skimming along the inside of your thigh, beneath your flimsy little skirt. “You know my boss –”

“Can be an asshole.” Andy finishes for you, just he reaches your clit. He strums his thick fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves, delighting in the tiny whine that gets stuck in your throat. “Have you noticed how tense you seem to get whenever you talk about the prick?”

“Y–yeah.” Instinctively, you try to squirm away, only for you to belatedly realize that you’re pretty much trapped. It’s obvious that your man has you right where he wants you. And he has no intentions of letting you go anytime soon.

After all, wasn’t this why he’d chosen a seat in the back? And between the dim lighting and the setting of the sun, he was probably rather confident that nobody would notice a damn thing. 

“Don’t, baby. Someone’s gonna see us...ooh…” You allow your head to loll back against one of Andy’s broad shoulders as he grows increasingly more bold.

“Now, do you really think I’d let that happen? You really think I’d ever let someone else – a stranger – see you like this?” 

Oh God, his touch feels so good. You’d missed it – missed him – over these last several days. Which let you know that you were becoming equally as codependent as he was. 

“No.” Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head as those same wicked fingers dip beneath the fabric of your soaked panties. 

They glide through your wetness, reveling in your slick, tight heat. Andy groans in disapproval when your thighs clench together, making it more difficult for him to have his way with you.   

“C’mon, princess. Be a good girl and let me in.” 

“Andy…” 

Your breathy little moan is like music to this man’s ears. You know it, and so does he.

“I’m just trying to help you relax.” He purrs, nipping at your ear with his sharp teeth. “That’s all. Relieve some of this built up tension.”  

“One of these days, you’re gonna have to learn how to keep your hands to yourself.” You warn, even as a familiar warmth pools in your belly the longer he plays with your traitorous pussy.. 

But Andy doesn’t stop. Instead, you’re treated to the erotic sensation of his palm grinding against your swollen bud while his index and middle fingers continue their intimate exploration. 

“Someone…someone’s gonna see.” 

However, even though you protest, there’s also a small part of you that finds the idea of potentially being watched to be rather…titillating. You gush around him as he grips you tighter, subtly thrusting his impressive erection against the small of your back. 

“Just give me one good one.” Comes Andy’s sensual rumble. “Just one good one for Daddy and I promise we’ll save the rest for tonight when I’ve got you back at my place, in my goddamned bed, where you belong.” 

It was moments like this that had you seriously convinced that you were going to end up moving-in with this man sooner rather than later. A fact that no longer scared you as much as it once did. 

“Please…Andy…” Your thighs begin to shake as you feel that coil tighten in your belly, threatening to snap in favor of pleasure so exquisite you’re all but guaranteed to see stars.

“What’s my name?” He picks up his pace, those dangerous fingers pumping in and out of your silky heat with expert precision. Each turn, each flick of his wrist threatens to be your undoing. 

“My…yes, please!”

“Say it.” Andy’s voice drops an octave as you continue to writhe beneath his careful ministrations.

“Let me – oh shit, Daddy!” The words come on the heels of a breathless sob. “Please lemme cum.”

This proves to be exactly what your boyfriend wants to hear. And you know this because swiftly adjusts his movements so that he can reach that special place inside you, the one that usually has you speaking in tongues when it’s just you and him behind closed doors. 

“Fuckin’ do it, princess.” He snarls, burying his face once more in the crook of your neck. “Soak me. Give me something sweet to get me through the rest of this dinner.” 

“Ooh!Yes!Yes!Yes!”

Unable to help yourself, you finally do as he asks. But thankfully, Andy has enough sense to capture your mouth and swallow the scream that is only mere seconds from escaping your throat. Literal sparks dance behind your eyes as wave after wave of delicious-feeling pleasure crashes over you. 

“Drench me, sweetness. Atta girl.”

The obvious pride in his voice has you clenching your walls around him in silent askance for more. And you can’t help but whimper when he removes his fingers from your heat, leaving you feeling empty. At this point, you would even be willing to get your food to-go if it meant getting another a taste of how good he’d just made you feel on a fucking wooden bench in the back of this gorgeous, but thankfully dimly lit, restaurant. 

Your body gives an involuntary shudder when you watch Andy raise his wet fingers to his full lips before sucking them into his mouth. He moans as your own sweet, earthy flavor comes alive on his tongue.

A promise of what was to come. 

‘That was…wow.” It takes you a second to actually catch your breath, but it does nothing to still the heart that is currently hammering in your chest. “I can’t believe we just…”

“Shh.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss just behind your ear. It was his favorite place to kiss you, other than…well…you know. “Here comes our waitress.”

“Hiya!” Paula chirps before catching sight of your only half drunk drink. “Aww. Not a fan of the pomegranate martini?” 

“It’s delicious.” You rasp, still finding your voice as Andy continues to hold you close. “We’ve just been doing a lot of…”

“Talking.” Your boyfriend chimes helpfully.

“So much talking.” You agree, not the least bit ashamed of the lazy smile that ghosts your lips. “But I will take another. You good with your bourbon, babe?”

“So good.” Your smile only widens when you feel him press a kiss against your damp brow.

“Wonderful.” She jots down a note on her pad of paper. “And did we manage to decide on an appetizer?” 

“Oh yeah.” One of his brawny arms encircles your waist. “We’ll take the crab cakes.”

“Excellent choice.” She beams, again jotting another note. “And for your mains?” 

You and Andy exchange covert glances, neither one of you feeling the least bit ashamed at your supposed indecisiveness. 

“Sorry…but we’re gonna need another minute.”

END

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#388

“Hey Larry, so this is the faggot I texted you about.  He was lost a couple nights ago and came knocking on my door…. 

“Get this!  I’m watching my porn—you know the five-on-one gangbang of that Russian bitch.  She’s about 5 feet, and each of the guys are like fucking linebackers, and each with gigantic cocks.  They are smacking her around and shoving their cocks into her holes whether or not there’s already a dick in there.  At one time she had two cockheads in her mouth, one in her cunt, and one in her shitter.  The fifth guy was fucking her tits.  I love her.

“I’m going to town on my cock.  The bottle of lotion almost empty.  It’s an all night pud pounding session for sure.  Then there’s a knock at the door.  It’s eleven-thirty at night!  I pull up my shorts, that’s the only I have on. 

“I open the door and this faggot is standing there soaking wet; it had stopped raining then.  And he tells me he ran out of gas with his dead phone, and he was walking to get help.  He came across the Miller Road bridge; it was washed out.  He thought the Reed River was shallow.  Fucker got swept away.  He was walking around for hours before he found my road and me. 

“All the while he’s telling me this, he keeps staring at my hard-on tenting in my shorts.  You know that once I get a hard-on going, that it takes a long time for it to go down.  Well it was rock hard, and I didn’t care.

“So when the fag asked if I would help him, I grabbed my cock through my shorts and demanded, ‘Strip!’  I walked back to my chair and shouted, ‘Leave your wet faggy clothes on the steps and get in here and give me some head.’  The bitch did just that.  You know how hard it is for me to find a good woman who knows how to blow my fat hog.  This faggot throated me without any struggling.  He was taking me the way that Russian bitch was taking those five men in the video. 

“Just like she was getting slapped, I decided to give that a try.  Oh my god, here watch this.

“I just snap my fingers and point down, and there, just like that, the faggot comes over and kneels in front of me.

“This cocksucker can take one slap after another.  And I’m not holding back.  I’m giving him way worse than I used to hit Paula.  For her it was one slap.  I’ve already given him a dozen swats here.  But listen to what he says when I stop….

“Did you hear that?  The faggot said, ‘Thank you Sir.’  Can you believe that?  It’s grateful for me treating it like shit.  No matter what I do to him, he’s game.

“In the video after the guys nutted on her face and tits, they pissed on her.  I thought, well why not.  I pushed him off my cock.  I grabbed him by his hair and dragged him out of the trailer.  I pushed him out and he fell to the ground.  I went up to him and started pissing on his face.  And the faggot tried to catch it in his mouth!  He wanted to drink my piss.

“Watch this.  All I have to do is take out my cock and aim it at his mouth and he opens up his toilet mouth.  Oh man this is nice.  When I get done with his mouth, give him a try. 

“So, the other night, when I first pissed on him, it was a long piss, and I was pissing through a hard on.  After I was done, I kicked him.  He recoiled, but in doing so he had his ass up in the air.  It reminded me of the Russian porn star.  I had a hard on, and I just did it.  I shoved my fat cock and fucked the faggot hard.  I could tell he wasn’t ready.  It’s a good thing that the closest neighbors are half a mile away.  He was screaming like a bitch. 

“After I unloaded my balls into his shitter, threw him into Angel’s old kennel, gave him a blanket, and locked the cage.  There was no way I was going to have a stray fag in my trailer while I’m asleep. 

“You want to use his toilet mouth?  You have been telling me that I should get a good woman and have a faggot on the side to fuck.  You have that now, right?  You ever encounter a piss drinker or one you can slap around?...

“Let him suck on you afterwards.

“So yesterday morning, I took his car keys from his stuff I locked away and went looking for his car.  Found it fairly easy.  Yeah, he was telling the truth; he was out of gas.  I went through his bags.  It looks like he was driving to Chicago for that leather convention.  I brought back his suitcases, mostly full of toys.  I don’t know what the hell half of them do.  A number of dildoes.  The one that’s in his shitter right now is one with a dog tail on the other end.

“He told me he’s into something called ‘puppy play’.  I told him that he’s not fucking my dogs.  He told me he likes being treated as a dog and that being thrown into the kennel was a dream come true.  He put on this hood in the shape of a dog, and I couldn’t stop laughing.  I told him I would treat him like a dog, just without the mask.  I told him that he’ll be kept naked except for the dog tail.  I told him that I just wish that I didn’t have to look at his pecker. 

“And you know what he did?  He took out this tiny contraption.  It’s on his pecker right now.  It keeps his junk locked up so he can’t play with it or even get hard.  Look at it! There’s a padlock on it.  The faggot gave me the key!.  Never even thought of anything like this was even done. 

“Back on my dick.

“He was going to go to Chicago for the week, but he said that he would rather stay here with me and be treated like a dog.  I’m like fine.  I keep him naked, he eats his meals from a bowl on the floor, he sleeps in the kennel out back or on the dog mat beside my bed, and he’s not allowed to talk other than the thank you’s.  I put a shock collar on him like I do all my dogs, and he got so horned up.  He is one sick puppy. 

“He gives a great blowjob doesn’t he?  You were right, a faggot on the side is what men need to have to deal with bitch wives.  If I had this faggot, Paula would probably still be with me.

“Too bad, on Tuesday he’ll head on back home.  I doubt I will get to find out what all those toys were.  You know what was weird?  In his trunk, he had a toilet seat on legs.  That’s it over there.  I’m going to keep it.  You know for when we go fishing at the lake.  If we have to take a dump, instead of walking half a mile to use the one at the bait and tackle shop, or to squat in shrubs.  Now we can just sit and let go.

“Faggot, why are you grinning at me like that?  You are chuckling  Don’t you ever laugh at me.  I ought to take my belt to you.  You need to learn some manners.  You…

“…What are you trying to say?  No. No.  I told you that dogs don’t speak….  Where are you going pup?

“The toilet seat with legs?  OK.  So what?

“What the fuck?  What the hell are you doing?  Why are you crawling under…?

“…No!  Oh my fucking god.  Oh. My. God.  You want me to sit on that toilet seat with your face underneath? 

“Larry, have you ever done this?...

“…Wait, you have had a fag stick his tongue in your shitter?  I’ve seen bitches flick their tongue across a man’s ass in the pornos, but this faggot seems to want his tongue to go inside.

“Look at him.  He’s giddy.

“Larry, would you ever sit on the faggot’s face?...  You would? Ok.  I’m going to trust you on this. 

“OK faggot, you are going to be sorry….  Last chance to back out before you get smothered in my nasty crack.  I have no idea as to how clean it is, but fuck, you don’t seem to care.

“Good lord this seat is low.  How the hell…

“…Oh.  Oh.  Oh my god.  Jeeze!  Ahhhhh.  Wow.  Why the fuck did I have to wait this long to discover this?  Holy shit.  This is amazing.

“Larry.  No woman would do this…. I just can’t believe…  Damn, my dick is rock hard.  Hey, go into the trailer, or wherever, I want to take some time, enjoying this.  We’ll talk later.

“Pup, keep up doing what you are doing….  Mmmmm.  You know what?  Does this seat work the same if I turn it around.  I would prefer not to look at your body in front of me.

“Ugh!  Getting up from one of these things is a bitch.  Let’s move it to the edge of the concrete step.  There.  Now that’s at a better height.  Now I have my phone to watch some porn.  Here comes my shithole.

“Oh man.  This is the best.  You sure know how to make a man feel good.  You let me do what I want.  I said you are to go home on Tuesday.  Now, I want you to stay longer.  I want this tongue in my shithole pretty much all the time.

“That fart just slipped out….  Did you just moan? 

“Oh pup!  Let’s fucking do this….”

[chushanye]

a non-comperehensive list of everything that made me go insane in nsbu e1:

The character cards- the way theyre used and bent, stained with coffe and burned. Also how the art emphasizes real features like pimples, braces, big ass glasses, wrinkles etc. Ify describing Vic as "racially ambiguous" and how incredibly accurate that is for action movie casting. Ify's voice for Wendell. Liv's conversation with her teacher being painfully relatable if you come from a small town- eveyone telling you you're "better" and need to leave and you just kinda wanna stay. "You're gonna bury us all." Rekha. Everything about her and everything she is. The description of Usha's clothes. "I've been calling people about it." "Yelling." Russell being incredibly hot is real to me. Ally being super aware of how he hasn't been challenged and making it a point to emphasize how the first time he was in a woman's body he felt paralyzing fear that he can be hurt. Him being charming and konely. Ally's obsession with making all their characters wear thongs. Jacob being at the table. His brain was blessed for making Dang because he is an incredibly believable guy. Wallace's reluctant agreement that Dang's alien is real because he doesn't want to make him feel crazy. (was that relatable to anyone else or just me) Every part of the aesthetics of Dang - the grown out fried hair beung my favorite detail. Izy playing an incredibly emotional middle-aged woman who applies lipstick over her mouth and starts sobbung when a teenager lies to her. The teenager and the middle-aged woman being work bestiesm Izy being SO ready with the combacks as Jack. Coockadoodledo bitch. Paula attempting solidarity with Wallace. The teenagers being liars. Brennan's fucking teeth-imitating-veneers impression when exotic fruits man was wtalking. The storyboards. Every bit. Everyone's chemistry. the way that the coworker energy felt realm the way that i swear I can draw a parallel between each one of these characters an actual person I've met. 300000/10 please add your own things

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Character Development: External & Internal Journey

Every character in every great story–regardless of length, medium, or genre–has not one journey to complete but two:

An external journey and an internal journey.

And those journeys must be intricately linked. 

External Journey 

The journey that the character physically takes.

The external story is the stuff that’s happening to the hero on the outside. Examples:

The hero’s quest to find a buried treasure. The journey to another planet to recover a lost space probe. The hero fighting the evil queen who killed their brother.

Internal Journey

The transformation that occurs as a result of that physical journey

It’s that internal journey that so many of us forget about or neglect or simply don’t put enough effort into developing.

But it’s also the journey that matters and makes your story matter. 

The internal story is the emotional stuff that’s happening to your hero on the inside.

It’s the hero’s internal journey toward learning their ultimate life lesson. 

Examples

The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins

External: An alcoholic woman helps solve the case of a young woman’s disappearance. 

Internal: A troubled woman confronts the demons of her past.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

External: A girl is forced to leave her home and fight to the death in an arena with 23 other teens.

Internal: A girl finds the strength to stand up to the corrupt Capitol and refuse to be just another pawn in their games. 

Me Before You by JoJo Moyes

External: A woman becomes the caretaker for a quadriplegic man whom she falls in love with.

Internal: A woman finds the courage to live her life for herself, and stop living it for everyone else. 

Source Writing References: Worldbuilding ⚜ Plot ⚜ Character

[honey-ros3ss]

How could you!?

Daryl tells you about Leah, now you don't know how to tell him about your surprise

"Hi D, I have your supplies here!" You say to your fiance, pulling him into a hug with a giddy smile. "Hmm" he replied back not really returning the hug. You pulled back with your brows slightly furrowed "Whats got your panties in a bunch?"

"Nothin' ". "Honey it's obvious somethings wrong, but I do have something for you". You reached into your bag and pulled out a box, but before you could say anything else he stopped you. "Y/N there's somethin' I've gotta tell yea' ". The look on his face made your heart beat faster. Anticipation was taking over your body as you were waiting for him to tell you what he needed to say.

"I met someone out' here".

"Oh... that's nice I'm glad that you're not out here all alone at least you'll have some company" you say relieved he didn't say he got bitten.

" Tha's not wha' I mean... y/n I'm sorry" . It took you a moment to comprehend what he meant, it finally clicked in your head what he meant, tears brimmed in your eyes as you looked at him in disbelief . Your heart felt like it was shattering into pieces, everything you did together, all the sweet talk about you being the only one for him was gone in the wind like dust, it meant nothing to him and that made your blood boil.

You immediately got up to leave but he followed quickly grabbing you by the waist. You turned around and pushed his chest back hard "How could you!?" Streams of tears started falling down your face waiting for him to answer. You pushed him again "HUH! Was I not good enough, why Daryl, why did you do this!?"

"Yea' are good enough, I jus' wasn't thinkin' "

"Oh please if i was good enough for you, you wouldn't have went out there seeking warmth from another woman!, matter of fact"

"Did you like it?

Was it good?

Was it worth it?

Tell me Dixon was it?" You asked getting close to his face with bitterness laced in your voice. He couldn't even meet your eyes as you scoffed "unbelievable you can't even say anything for yourself" "No it wasn't and I'm sorry"

"Sorry? That's all you have to say for yourself, no I'm sorry that I was an asshole and banged another chick for the fun of it even though I have someone back at home?" He didn't say anything.

You reached down and picked up everything you brought for him and threw it right at him earning an "oof" in return. "This is the last time I'm coming out here, someone else can bring this shit to you if you want to talk about this whole fucked up situation you know where to find me".

As soon as you turned around you let the tears you were holding back fall down your face. But before you left you realized there was something you didn't know, the chicks name. "Whats her name?"

"Leah" you nodded , you reached into your bag and pulled out the box "before I forget" you threw the box over and turned back around walking back to Alexandria not caring about the protests behind you.

a/n: THIS WANST PROOF READ

BYEEE lately I've been feeling a lil angsty...I got the idea from a show I'm currently watching called Rosario Tijeras, when Paula found out Emilio cheated on her. Just added my little twist to it 😛

[campgender]

from In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado (2019)

In Dorothy Allison’s short story “Violence Against Women Begins at Home,” a group of lesbian friends gathers for a drink and they discuss a bit of community gossip: a pair of women recently broke into another woman’s house and trashed it, smashing glass and dishes and destroying her art, which they deemed pornographic. They spray-painted the story’s eponymous phrase on her wall. The friends debate police involvement and intragroup conflict mediation; but toward the end of the story, as they are parting ways, the problem crystallizes into a single, telling exchange:

“Look, do you think maybe we could hold a rent party for Jackie, get her some money to fix her place back up?”

Paula looks impatient and starts gathering up her stuff. “Oh, I don’t think we should do that. Not while they’re still in arbitration. And anyway, we have so many important things we have to raise money for this spring—community things.”

“Jackie’s a part of the community,” I hear myself say.

“Well, of course.” Paula stands up. “We all are.” The look she gives me makes me wonder if she really believes that, but she’s gone before I can say anything else.

Queer folks fail each other too. This seems like an obvious thing to say; it is not, for example, a surprise to nonwhite queers or trans queers that intracommunity loyalty goes only so far, especially when it must confront the hegemony of the state. But even within ostensibly parallel power dynamics, the desire to save face, to present a narrative of uniform morality, can defeat every other interest.

The queer community has long used the rhetoric of gender roles as a way of absolving queer women from responsibility for domestic abuse. Which is not to say that activists and academics didn’t try. When the conversation about queer domestic abuse took hold in the early 1980s, activists gave out fact sheets at conferences and festivals to dispel myths about queer abuse. [see footnote 45] Scholars distributed questionnaires to get a sense of the scope of the problem. [see footnote 46] Fierce debates were waged in the pages of queer periodicals.

But some lesbians tried to restrict the definition of abuse to men’s actions. Butches might abuse their femmes, but only because of their adopted masculinity. Abusers were using “male privilege.” (To borrow lesbian critic Andrea Long Chu’s phrase, they were guilty of “[smuggling patriarchy] into lesbian utopia.”) Some argued that consensual S&M was part of the problem. Women who were women did not abuse their girlfriends; proper lesbians would never do such a thing. [see footnote 47] There was also the narrative that it was, simply, complicated. The burden of the pressure of straight society! Lesbians abuse each other!

Many people argued that the issue needed to be handled within their own communities. Ink was spilled in the service of decentering victims, and abusers often operated with impunity. In an early lesbian domestic abuse trial, a lawyer noted the odd and unsettling detail that most of the time the jury spent behind closed doors was—contrary to what she’d been worried about—the straight jurors attempting to convince the jury’s sole lesbian member of the defendant’s guilt. When she was later questioned, the lesbian juror told the lawyer that she hadn’t “wanted to convict a [queer] sister,” as though the abused girlfriend was not herself a fellow queer woman.

Around and around they went, circling essential truths that no one wanted to look at directly, as if they were the sun: Women could abuse other women. Women have abused other women. And queers needed to take this issue seriously, because no one else would.

footnote 45: Among the myths tackled by the Santa Cruz Women’s Self Defense Teaching Cooperative: “Myth: It’s only emotional/psychological, so that doesn’t count.” “Myth: I can handle it—unlike her last three lovers.” “Myth: Staying together and working it out is most important.” “Myth: We’re in therapy, so it’ll get fixed now.”

footnote 46: Actual questionnaire language by researcher Alice J. McKinzie: “Is your abuser present at this festival? If your abuser is at this festival, is she present while you are filling this out? If your abuser is not present while you are filling this out, is she aware that you are filling out this questionnaire? If you answered NO to the question above … do you plan to tell her later?”

footnote 47: This No True Scotsman fallacy could bend these narratives in every direction conceivable; create a kind of moving goalpost that permitted an endless warping of accountability. In a firsthand account of her abuse in Gay Community News in 1988, a survivor wrote: “I had been around lesbians since I was a teenager, and although some of them had troubled relationships, I was unaware of any battering. I attached myself to the comforting myth that lesbians don’t batter. Much later, when I was ‘out’ enough to go to gay bars in a town that was liberal enough to tolerate them, I saw that some lesbians did indeed batter. However, I thought they were all of a type—drunks, sexist butches or apolitical lesbians—so I decided that feminist lesbians don’t batter.” Activist Ann Russo put it more succinctly in her book Taking Back Our Lives: “I had found it hard to name abuse in lesbian relationships as a political issue with structural roots.”

[asteria-of-the-stars]

Feminine Rage

‘As women raged, old men fumbled and cried: “we’re sorry, we thought you didn’t care, oh.” - Florence + the Machine, 100 Years

Florence Welch // Sansa Stark, Game of Thrones // Anne Carson, Norma Jean Baker of Troy // Lucrezia Borgia, The Borgias // Florence + the Machine, Dream Girl Evil // Alicent Hightower, House of the Dragon // Kiki Rockwell, Same Old Energy // Paula Alquist, Gaslight // Taylor Swift, Mad Woman

[arotheosis]

It’s all Whirred Up (NSBU Swap AU concept)

Essentially I started thinking about what it might be like if the action heroes were the ones in the real world, and the video world characters were the action heroes. I tried my best to switch things up so it feels different enough, although I’m still a little unsure about some character roles.

Will I ever actually sit down and write this properly? Who knows

In an old strip mall in Lake Elsinore sits one of the last remaining video rental stores in the country: Slater’s Video Superstore.

With the rise of streaming and digital media, however, the store is on its last legs. Its last week in fact, and its employees prepare to close down and find a new road to take in life.

Steven “King” Skin is a Princeton student with a bright future in politics. He’s nearing the end of his gap year, and wondering whether he really wants to go back to school after all. He works on the finances of the video store.

As he almost mindlessly balances the the store’s financial spreadsheets, he watches on one of the video store screens: Liv Skyler, master thief. Her name is whispered amongst criminal circles like a legend, because she can steal without even leaving a single trace behind.

Victor Ethanol is a young man with a dream of pursuing Formula 1 racing, but working several odd jobs to provide for his family. He does occasional maintanance/ plumbing work for the businesses in the strip mall, including the video store, which he visits frequently.

Trying to get him to take a break from working so hard, his brother Shaun asks if he wants to watch a movie. The movie’s protagonist? One Wendell Morris, former biker gang member who has become an informant for several underground organizations. He’s the black sheep of the Morris family, and their falling out is shrouded in mystery.

G13 is a young hacker who got caught attempting to access classified files, and was sentenced to community service. He’s supposed to be cleaning trash around the strip mall, but he mostly stays inside the video store using the crusty old public computer they have, since he’s no longer allowed to use any at home.

While attempting to bypass the many blocks on that ancient desktop computer, he sees a trailer for an old movie. It depicts Usha Rao, more commonly known by both her allies and enemies as Grandmother. She’s the head of a widespread criminal organization, and despite her sweet seeming appearance is someone to be feared. She’s been alive longer than anyone knows, she’s seen everything and knows everything, so if you mess with her family you cannot escape her wrath.

Working over by the more adult section of the store, is Jack Manhattan. After suffering through a grueling divorce with his wife and losing custody of his two children, his life is essentially at a standstill. He is very vocal about how much he prefers not being tied down, and talks about having many partners, but it’s clear that in reality he is not dealing with the separation well and is very lonely.

Unable to even look at the more unsavory content in front of him without thinking about the love he lost, he switches the channel only to see a movie starring crime investigator Paula Donvalson. While many overlook her based on her wild and sporadic personality, the crazy deductions she makes are more often than not entirely on the money, and the FBI begrudgingly hires her for many of their cases.

Jennifer Drips is a woman who does not stay in one place for far too long. Drifting quickly from town to town, she never sets up roots, but leaves a trail of lovers behind her. She is currently staying in a crappy apartment near Lake Elsinore, and working at the video store for some extra cash before she moves on.

On a screen behind her as she’s packing up the store’s inventory, plays a movie led by Russel Feelds, a mechanic developing gadgets for every organization under the sun. A self described lone wolf, he has no loyalty to any side, as long as you can pay his prices.

Greg Stocks is a wealthy man who owns nearly every storefront in the strip mall, except for the video store. He heads in every day attempting to make an offer that Slater will accept, but even as the store is close to shutting down, the video store owner remains stubborn.

Walking by the front of the store he sees, on one of the display TVs, a film about a man known only as Dang. Dang is the world’s deadliest assassin, and his methods are all just as strange as the man himself. After every kill he leaves behind his calling card, the word “rashab”. No one has deciphered its meaning yet.