#Amanda writes

[aperrywilliams]

That look. Please, mister, give me a break 👀

Some inspiration to get some writing done. I can’t even tell you how much I love this man.

[amandawritesxo]

WIP Intro: The Spymaster

Genre: paranormal horror, possession, Kafka-esque dread

Status: In the Discovery drafting stage

Synopsis:  Sucked into the routine of a dead-end night-manager shift, Jonas yearns for the Good Ole Days, back when he and his two best friends used to break into abandoned buildings and do seances and EVP sessions. When he meets a beautiful young woman, she encourages him to get back into the Ghost Hunting gig to win her heart. Only his first date results in a two week time lapse of which he has no memories. Jonas, alongside his best friends, fight to uncover exactly what transpired during that fortnight. Can they find the mystery girl and seek justice for the horrors wrought on Jonas, or will the horrors he enacted outside of his conscious catch up to him first?

Setting: haunted houses, convenient stores at night, the glow under street lamps, dirty train stations, the comfort of a best friend having your back

Vibe: elder millennials, emo music, the waft of cigarette smoke, clean up on aisle 12, the pain of adult friendships, the stolen potential of lost dreams, curvy goth girls that appear and disappear in clouds of smoke, night-vision cameras

Touchstones & Inspiration: Project Fear, My Best Friend's Exorcism, Metamorphosis, Carmilla,

Characters:

Jonas - the grocery night manager who dreams of something more profound

Wayne - a sound engineer who is just worried about his best bud

Sammy - an exchange student turned physical therapist that would rather be anywhere but the seedier sides of town, but steps up for the emotional support

Unnamed Babe - the beautiful woman that lured a scrawny boy under her streetlamp and offered him a drag

Excerpt:

Jonas sighed, toes of his sneakered teetering over the precipice of the bread. Deep red liquid spilled between the cracks in scuffed linoleum. Shattered glass clinked beneath stiff broom bristles. More red splattered the cuffs of his khakis.

He dropped the CAUTION: WET FLOOR sign, and it wobbled on busted legs. 

“Think I found the culprit, boss,” Brenda chirped, bubbled snapping between lipstick-stained teeth. She pointed one long, pink fingernail toward a kid’s soccer ball wedged between 24-packs of soda.

Jonas rubbed at tired eyes and nodded. Summer inventory was often the culprit of store-wide disasters. Last summer, a woman “tried out” a kayak in the middle of aisle 12, resulting in a domino of technicolor cereal boxes that nearly “crushed her to death”.

“Thanks, Brenda. Mind putting that ball back in seasonal while Aidan and I get this mess cleaned up?” He gestured back to the puddle of Pinot Noir.

Aidan swept in vain, corralling broken bottles and labels while the red continued to spread and splatter. From the adjacent aisle, one could probably guess someone had been stabbed her and was slowly bleeding out.

Jonas wished it was him.

[initiala]

Story where the new monarch isn’t crowned by a religious figure or by themselves (either because no religion ranks higher than them or that no one takes up their god’s particular priesthood), but they are instead crowned by the person who hates them most.

Maybe it’s their worst enemy. Maybe it’s some kid in the slums. There’s a ceremony to discover the person who hates the heir presumptive most, magic that tells the realm’s protectors who it is and where to find them. When it comes time for the coronation, the heir has 72 hours to convince their biggest hater why they deserve to be crowned the realm’s next monarch. If they can, then their enemy places the crown on their head, as a sign that while they may dislike the monarch they trust their ability to rule.

If they can’t, the heir presumptive is removed from the line of succession. Maybe it goes next to a sibling, or to another branch of the Royal tree. But if you can’t convince the person who hates you more than anything else in the world that you’re the best person for the job of ruling the realm—not a good person or a kind person, but the best person capable of making the sort of hard decisions that come with rulership—then this person isn’t going to make excuses for why you should be the next monarch anyway. It doesn’t matter you were firstborn of a firstborn going back several generations. You suck and you’re cruel and you’re not going to do the realm any good, so the crown passes to your uncle.

[tallmadgeandtea]

Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Turn (TV 2014) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Benjamin Tallmadge/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Original Female Character(s), Benjamin Tallmadge, Caleb Brewster, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, Alexander Hamilton, Tench Tilghman, George Washington, John André, Peggy Shippen, James McHenry (1753-1816), John Laurens, Washington's Aide de Camps, William "Billy" Lee (Turn), Robert Townsend (1753-1838), Basically everyone at Valley Forge Additional Tags: American Revolution, American History, Historical Accuracy, (kinda), Valley Forge, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Angst, Found Family, Period-Typical Sexism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Major Character Injury, Me taking you on a tour of 1778 Pennsylvania, I suck at tags, Secret Relationship, POV Multiple, sometimes Series: Part 1 of The Summer Soldier and the Sunshine Patriot (SS&SP) Summary:

"The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph." Elizabeth Walker knows her place in the world, but that doesn’t mean she is happy with it. That doesn’t mean she is happy to be staying- to be sheltered- at her father’s estate while he deals with congress in York, and her older brother, Joseph, deals with the parties and games of Philadelphia, while she makes sure her house stays put- and out of British hands. And that doesn’t mean she is happy to be dragged into the war itself, after months of defeats outside Philadelphia, when finally on a cold December night, a dying soldier shows up at her door, and his commanding officer follows. But, deep down, a part of her is happy when it means change- change in the war, change in her life- when she is recruited by the young, passionate, and downright angry Major Benjamin Tallmadge to help revive the army’s dying supply system and keep the men staying at Valley Forge alive. By whatever means possible.

[castielsprostate]

having talented friends is so wild!!!!!! like. YOU!!!!!!!!!! YOU made THAT. YOU DID THAT?!?!?!?! YOU created!!!! THAT!!!!!!!!!!! WOAH!!!!!! praise!!!!!!!! praise for one thousand years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[perfectquote]

When you care about someone, you just do, and nothing changes that.

Amanda Hocking, Lullaby

[aziraphale-is-a-cat]

DP X DC unknown variable

"This is not my suicide squad," Amanda Waller's static-filled voice called over the comm set from her place on the edge of the battle field, where they stood now used to be sprawling urban development, now reduced to rubble. "Taskforce X actually listens to me when I talk."

Some people just knew how to be reassuring, but Waller was not one of them. Nightwing sighed as he sucked behind a crumpled Nissan Altima (a hearty car), the idea that she had other options available and yet continually chose to utilize Taskforce X instead wasn't a particularly reassuring sign. The level insubordination necessary to make Harley Quinn seem cooperative by comparison was actually pretty impressive.

He was about to hop out from behind the toppled car when something green and bright shot past his hiding spot.

"Hey, you!" He looked around confused at the sound of a young voice. "Yeah you, behind the car. What the fuck is going on?"

In the air thirty feet away floated a white haired teenager in a black and white rubber suit trying to find something in the chest cavity of one of the androids the Justice League had been struggling to beat.

"Waller, what the fuck?!"

[bxnnywrites]

🖤 Killers Reacting to Nervous!Reader Holding Their Hand 🖤

[PT: Killers reacting to nervous!reader holding their hand]

Pt 2 Here [link]

Danny Johnson ::

Oh! You're holding his hand!! That's so sweet, you hadn't done that yet-

Oh

Oh Wait

Are you fucking blushing???

Oh my god your face is so red oh it's so cute

Grabs your face very gently in one hand and teases the fuck out of you for it

"Aw, doll, are you nervous about holding my hand?"

Yes of course you are shut up Danny

"Nah, I won't. You're fucking cute like this. What, nervous about holding hands before marriage?"

Would bully you so fucking much about it

You wanna kill him /j /aff

Michael Meyers ::

A sudden weight in his hand catches him off guard, so he looks at you.

And there you are, small hand in his.

Oh god he could absolutely crush your hand if he wasn't careful

And he looks at you and you're so damn cute

You aren't looking at him and your face is that soft pink

He (very gently) gives your hand a squeeze in response. Just to let you know he's ok with this.

Definitely isn't letting go of your hand anytime soon though.

His Hand Now you will get it back in an hour dw about it

Amanda Young ::

You're holding her hand

Holy fucking shit you are holding her fucking hand

Oh my god ok Amanda, calm down. It's cool, this is cool. Everything's cool. Everything is fucking cool ok????

Just as nervous as you are, can't make eye contact for a bit

You're both blushing messes.

Finally gives your hand a soft squeeze to show she likes it.

Literally can't speak otherwise, too flustered.

Sweet Baby has not been given a lot of love after all. She ain't used to it.

The Huntress ::

Oh! You are holding her hand! How sweet!

Loves this so much, loves physical affection, biggest love language.

But...oh! Your face is so red, little rabbit! Are you alright?

Softly coos at you and brushes your face with her thumb, mildly worried.

When you explain you're fine, just flustered and nervous, she giggles.

Forehead kisses time and nice soft hugs.

Will do everything she can to make you feel more comfortable, so soft and sweet.

Sadako Yamamura ::

Just stares

Like for a really long time

Just staring at your hand in hers

Why are you doing that? Why are you being so tender?

She doesn't understand, but she doesn't want you to stop.

Slowly takes your hand and brings it to her face so you're instead holding her cheek in your palm.

Unsure what else to do, just knows she enjoys your touch. Knows she doesn't want you to stop being so loving.

If she had the ability to cry anymore, she probably would.

All from some hand holding. Poor thing.

BONUS!!

Ash ::

Smiles at you and squeezes your hand

Definitely thinks it's adorable how you're blushing

Would tease you a bit, but nothing like Danny

"What, all embarrassed from some handholding, sweetheart?"

You pout at him and he just chuckles, giving your hand another affirming squeeze.

"It's alright, you look cute like this."

You are blushing more than before, but you do feel better.

Prefers when you hold his good hand, the mechanical one doesn't have the same feeling.

[thoughtkick]

When you care about someone, you just do, and nothing changes that.

Amanda Hocking, Lullaby

[shesmore-shoebill]

amanda learning about chappell roan from shayne is the funniest thing in the world to me actually. feels completely right. and its also soooooo fucking funny like. yeah. yea. of course. of course this is how it happened. Amanda learned about the queer pop icon from Shayne (who is really getting into music these days).

[thehopefulquotes]

When you care about someone, you just do, and nothing changes that.

Amanda Hocking, Lullaby

[initiala]

I wrote this up last night on the Stardew Valley Reddit in response to a question so I’m copying it over here cuz I like it.

Morris is found dead in a ditch. No one knows who did it or why, but we know one thing for certain: Pierre is 100% innocent. So, who did it and why?

Linus.

What we don’t know is that decades ago, before most of the under-50s in the town were really aware of what was going on or had much time outside of starting families or finishing school, Linus had a reasonable plot of land in the area where the Joja Mart is now. He got swindled out of it when Morris’ predecessor came through (going on SVE’s extra story parts, Linus could have been affected by an economic downturn and thought this was his way back up, but alas) and the gold never came through.

Linus, being a pretty handy woodsman, just kinda went with it and figured he could do just fine outside as inside. His heart was broken that anything his family had worked for was gone and being torn down for development, but there wasn’t much he could do now. He didn’t have much to fight a big corporation, and what he did have he needed to put into making sure he has survival gear.

I say this happened decades ago because Lewis really doesn’t seem to care much about what Linus is doing—he knows Linus can take care of himself and no one else in town seems bothered by it. Gus may be newer to town or didn’t realize Linus was scavenging that much for food. George and Evelyn don’t know it’s Linus, just that there’s a noise in the bins, and Linus may have some of his pride left to not want these people closer to his age to know how things have fared.

Everyone younger probably just doesn’t recognize Linus the wild man as Linus the owner of what was there before Joja. He doesn’t match what they remember from their youth.

Now, Morris comes along after Linus is established as the wild man of the woods, unaware of the connection. He’s just a big city boy coming in and sees a homeless man. He either taunts or ignores Linus if their paths cross, just as he might to an unhoused person in Zuzu City. Linus lets it roll off him for the most part, but the smarmy city guy gets to him.

And then he starts letting the pollution get worse.

Linus lives off the land. Stardew Valley is a beautiful spot, fresh water and sea, full of flora and fauna ready to harvest for anyone who knows what he’s doing. And Morris is killing it.

Linus knows people. He knows nature. He knows nature reclaims people, sometimes, if they’re left to it. Linus just… lets Morris walk out in the forest to really appreciate its beauty. The wonder that the valley has.

Shame he was found dead in the river. Real shame.

[tallmadgeandtea]

On Fire, Trying Not To Show It

For today’s Turn Week prompt, no one will be surprised when I say my favorite male character is Benjamin Tallmadge. For all the reasons why I love Benjamin, you only need to see my blog, but anyways. I decided to write a scene that was also set after one of my favorite significant events, the Battle of Germantown. Benjamin is exhausted and sad- just the way I like him. This fic is set in the SS&SP timeline but takes place before Benjamin meets Elizabeth. I hope you enjoy!

Scene under the cut!

The battle was lost.

The battle was lost, and he was trying not to think about it. He was trying not to think about the fact that at the beginning, they were winning- in the early October dawn, the men and officers whispered about how similar it was to Trenton and Princeton, marching late into the night and early in the morning. They switched sides- finally, they were prepared while the British were not. It had worked once, why wouldn’t it work again? He wasn’t at either battle, but he felt the excitement, the anticipation in the air, exhilarating and infectious, like a disease spreading through camp. He was tired, but it washed away when he heard the first roar of gunfire, the slashing of swords, the hooves beating underneath him. He dove straight into it- like when he was younger, swimming in the sound, going further than his friends, fighting against the water, dragging himself under until he couldn’t breathe, until he had to give up control- another challenge. When he was home, everything was a challenge. He was outgrowing the town, but he couldn’t outgrow the water. He could only go deeper. Deeper until he was so far out he didn’t hear anyone calling his name. Only Caleb caught up with him, but Benjamin was still the faster swimmer.

The battle was lost.

The battle was lost, and he didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand it, because at first, they were winning. They’d driven the first set of the enemy back into the town to meet the rest of their force. God, they were winning, and they needed it. Brandywine followed them, a demonic, cruel shadow, and this was their chance to get rid of it. No more bodies laid along the creek, scattered across the farmfields. No British in Philadelphia- that was the unspoken goal, that was what they all wished for and wanted. It was what General Washington wanted, and Benjamin was going to help get it for him. Why do you want to impress him so much? He asked himself. Why do you need to prove yourself to him? Constantly, incessantly.

He couldn’t answer.

He didn’t know when he’d be able to.

The battle was lost.

Fog. Fog, for God’s sake. It settled over the town, heavy in the air like the cannon smoke. It was hard enough to see through gunfire, but it dissipated, and a good soldier could try his best to hit his marks. Fog, on the other hand, and the rain that followed, did not leave unless it wanted to. It was a stab from a bayonet, destroying their bleeding strategy. He watched as confusion set in, quick and lethal. Men started to run in every direction, and he tried his best to catch up with them, to do something. Something besides giving in to the anxiety, the frustration, the anger. He could still hear Washington agreeing to Knox’s plan, could still hear the first volley of cannons, the harsh beating against the stone walls. It all happened so quickly. He could still hear Washington- “Tallmadge! Stop the retreat!”

And he could still hear the men underneath his squadron’s line, desperate and dangerous, crawling underneath the horses. Screams and curses and even more shots. Was he dreaming? Was this another nightmare? An anxious trick?

If there is one thing you should have learned by now, it’s that plans always go awry.

The battle was lost.

It had ended hours ago, but it felt like it had only been thirty minutes since he reached Headquarters, dismounted from his sweating horse and walked into the farmhouse. He was greeted by silence- after Brandywine, Headquarters had been loud, Washington’s voice echoing through every room in the small house, but the uneasiness in the air was louder.

He found his general in the makeshift office, surrounded by the aides, Hamilton, Harrison, Meade, and Tilghman- they always looked at him when he walked into the room, and he hated it. He was still new to them, still unfamiliar- he wished he couldn’t see it, wish he couldn’t tell. But he saw everything, he thought of everything- another challenge he couldn’t stop himself from taking. He didn’t say anything to them unless it was necessary. It was the same on the other side.

“I’m here if you need me, sir.” He said.

Washington was sitting at the desk. He was looking at a piece of paper. An unfinished letter.

“Thank you for assisting in the retreat, Major Tallmadge.”

“You’re welcome, sir-”

“Even if it was unsuccessful.”

God, what did he say to that?

He nodded and left the room.

It was getting dark, now, the fog and the rain finally disappearing. He leaned against the wall of a different stone house- the only one they managed to keep that day, out of the town. A line of trees stood behind a barren field, their autumn colors dulled by dusk, rusty reds and orange contrasting against the deep green of the grass and the hills surrounding him on all sides. Washington had picked the house because it was on high ground- you could see the outline of Philadelphia from the windows. But all Benjamin saw was the hills, so different from New York- where the hills led to the water, the rivers and lakes and the sound. In Pennsylvania, the hills led to meadows and plains, tall grass and wheat and flax and whatever else the farmers grew. The hills were a reminder of how far he was from everything he knew. He was so tired of looking at them.

He closed his eyes, thought of the Hudson River and the Long Island Sound. Sometimes, right now, all he wanted to do was swim. Take off his uniform, his swords, the reminders of war, and go as far as he could. Swim until he was so tired he couldn’t breathe, until all he had in him was laying on the shore, feeling his chest rise, the sand underneath him and the sky above him. Water was so calming. Did they know what they were missing here?

All he wanted was a respite.

Selfish, needy, greedy.

You can’t have it.

I know, he said to himself, not listening.

The battle was lost, and he was tired.

He didn’t care if anyone saw him collapsing onto the grass, sliding down the wall until he landed with his knees in front of him, until his head was hanging in his hands. The stone was cool against the back of his neck, still damp from the fog. He inhaled a deep breath, then another.

How long could he stay out here? An hour? A night?

Until this damned campaign was over?

Until the war was-

Don’t even think about it.

He didn’t care if it was going to rain- he’d catch his death if it did, a repeat of his fall into the Delaware. Would Caleb come and find him?

Did he want anyone to?

He wanted a respite, and a plan, and a way to make things better, a solution for Washington and for- for the intelligence that could only go so far, that couldn’t walk over the hills of Pennsylvania.

Was that another failure?

How many more losses could there be?

His throat was heavy, but he didn’t know if he was holding back a sob or a scream.

“Major Tallmadge?”

He turned.

Captain Tilghman was standing in the doorway, yellow light highlighting him, basking behind him in the house. Benjamin heard hushed conversation emanating from the dining room. He didn’t want to know what they were talking about. “Why don’t you come inside and join us for dinner?”

For some reason, Tilghman had been trying to reach out to him for reasons he didn’t understand. You’re not a permanent fixture. You’re not in the inner circle. What does he want with you?

All of the sudden, he felt sick. God, when was the last time he ate? His stomach turned, and he couldn’t remember the meal.

“Come on,” Tilghman beckoned with his hand, a small smile on his face, “you can have Laurens’ spot.”

“Will he be alright?” Benjamin asked.

“So he says.” He tried again, “Come inside, Ben.”

He unbent his knees, sprawled his legs. He wanted to lay down. “I’ll take whatever’s left.”

Tilghman sighed.

“Can’t take whatever’s left when we’re already eating it, Tallmadge.”

God, he hadn’t even thought about what else they were losing everyday- supplies Meat, rum, and grain were becoming harder to find. The stores were running out, the evidence showing on the men’s morning meals and plates at dinner. Rumors about the quartermaster followed along with Brandywine’s shadow. Two things that seemed helpless. Hopeless.

Maybe that was why he couldn’t eat- he didn’t know if there’d be a next meal.

He didn’t know so many things, and he thought he did.

That was why you left home.

That was why you joined this war.

All he knew was what he believed in, and maybe they weren’t going to get it.

“Benjamin?” Tilghman stepped down into the grass, holding out his hand like Benjamin was fragile and someone he cared about- Tilghman was older than him, wasn’t he? “Are you hurt? If you need my help-”

“No,” he said, but he didn’t force himself to stand, like he should’ve. “No, I’m fine, Captain.”

“We gave them a good fight today, Major.” He believed it, didn’t he?

“Is that what His Excellency says?”

“Come inside and see for yourself.”

And face Washington? With no idea? With nothing to give him?

Falling short and failing the challenge?

He couldn’t do it.

He just wanted to sit out here, figure out what he needed.

Tilghman waited another moment before going back to the step, going inside. “I’ll try to save you a piece of meat or bread.”

Benjamin looked at the country road.

If he left now, could he find something?

Find what he needed?

Or was the night empty?

Was Pennsylvania run dry?

There had to be something, a solution , hiding in plain sight, hiding in the hills and fields of wheat-

“We need someone to help us, Tilghman.”

The man didn’t respond, but Benjamin knew he was still standing there. All of Washington’s aides were determined.

“We need someone to help us, and I’m going to find them.”

[shittysawtraps]

Can you help me to animate again? I've been feeling unmotivated and I don't honestly like myself so it's probs fair that I get a push from someone

hey, speaking as a former animation major, animation is hard as hell. for me, it was always a struggle to work on a project that slowly, to put consideration into every frame, rather than blowing through it as fast as i could in order to finish it before i lost motivation. it can be very frustrating to commit yourself long-term to something that will only be a couple of minutes long.

that being said, you're not animating for current you, you're animating for future you. for the you who looks at the finished project and says, "wow, i made THAT?" it's like with any art form– you write or draw or animate or sew for the version of yourself who has forgotten how hard it was and only sees art that's cool as hell. just make something that excites you a lot, even if it's not as polished as you would want it to be, because rewatching/rereading/re-looking/re-wearing the final product will continue to excite you a lot. it's free serotonin. i still look at the archvillain animatics i made when i was 14-17, for an audience of maybe five people, and get HYPE.

idk if this helps, but you should make something that makes you feel like you just snorted coke, because even if you get frustrated making it, at the end of the process (and every time you revisit it) you will get that !!! feeling again.

[mynephewmarriedajaguar]

was rewatching them play let’s get talking (because it’s my comfort video) and come ON courtney! she was slipping!

“no, we’re-” *motions at shayne* girl who are you trying to fool lmao