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@freeform LISTEN

1. We /all/ know The Bold Type is the most critically acclaimed show your network has ever had. Let’s not kid ourselves here.

2. You have been clamoring about a network re-brand for years and The Bold Type is literally the perfect show to pilot this around with all of the positive publicity it is bringing to your network and well… brand.

3. You pride yourselves on your networks diverse storylines and The Bold Type is the epitome of inclusive storytelling.

4. The cast on this show is phenomenal. This is not a cast of teeny-bopper dreamboats (although the cast is pretty dreamy). These actors are delivering deep resonating performances across the board every episode that stick with you long after an episode has aired. Isn’t this what you want your shows to be doing????

5. Speaking of actors… PLEASE make Nikohl Boosheri a regular for season 2. I have seen otherwise really great shows turn disastrous because they did not lock down a talented fan-favorite actor. I do not want this to happen to a show as beautiful as The Bold Type.

6. Announcing a renewal will actually bring more views and streams to the show because fans will see that the show is “worth” investing in. Believe it or not fans are more likely to invest in a show when they know the network it is on is invested in it too!

In conclusion, STOP DRAGGING YOUR FEET AND RENEW THE BOLD TYPE.

writing-prompt-s

While putting your favorite condiment on a sandwich, you accidentally make a magical occult symbol and summon a demon.

teawitch

You silently take two more slices of bread out of the package and make another sandwich. You put it on a plate with a handful of potato chips and hand it to the demon. He takes the sandwich, smiles and vanishes in a puff of demonic smoke. The next day you get that job promotion you were after. There was no contract. No words spoken. You owe nothing. But every now and then, another demon pops in for lunch. Demons don’t often get homemade sandwiches.

geeko-sapiens

Can I keep this going? I’m going to keep this going.

It would be a little annoying, if they weren’t so nice about it. You don’t know what you expected demons to be like, but you certainly didn’t expect them to be nice about it. There’s no demands, no voices like wailing babies, no blood on the walls (well, there was that one time, but Balthazak was very apologetic about the whole thing and cleaned it up right quick). Just the occasional demon stopping by for lunch. In fact, you could almost forget that they weren’t just ordinary people, the way they act. Nice people, too.

You start talking with them, as time goes on. In the beginning you carefully pick your words so they couldn’t be spun to even imply a contract or reference a soul, but when they seem politely eager to have a normal chat, your words become a bit looser. You even begin gossiping with them - turns out, demons have breakroom gossip just like anyone else. You listened to Rek’ththththtyr’s account of Drokyarix’s torrid affair with Irkilliz, and Ferkiyan didn’t even know what Drory was doing behind his back, poor dear, and you kept quiet and let Ferkiyan cry on your shoulder after Drokyarix finally broke up with him (the shirt was a bit of a loss, demon tears are ruinous to cloth, but Ferkiyan’s a good sort and you couldn’t just turn him away). You even managed to talk him down from going and starting a fight with Irkiliz, who didn’t even know that Drokyarix was in a relationship, and who was almost as horrified as Rek’ththththtyr.

After that event in particular, you start to get a sort of a reputation as a place where a demon can come to relax, talk, and - of course - get a sandwich. Your sandwich-making skills have really improved since this whole thing began. Your luck seems to have improved too - you’re not sure if you can attribute the whole thing to the sandwiches and the reputation, but you don’t really want to know anyway.

One day, there’s a bright flash of light from your living room. Nothing unusual in itself - most of the younger demons haven’t quite got the style of their elders, and usually just go for a materialization in a flash of hellfire over your fireplace - except that it’s white instead of the usual red. You look up, and who do you see but an angel looking at you with a spear in his hand. Shrugging, you tell him to sit down and you’ll have a sandwich for him shortly, and meanwhile he can just tell you all about what’s on his mind. This clearly is not at all what he was expecting, but after a moment’s thought, he decides to take you up on your offer and starts talking. Apparently, he’d been dispatched to take care of some demon summoner in the neighborhood, and while he’d evidently got the wrong house the right one shouldn’t be hard to find - have you seen anyone practicing satanic rituals nearby? You laugh, a little, and tell him that you don’t really summon them, they just come on their own. They do like their sandwiches, and they’re quite nice folk.

The angel’s jaw drops, and you remind him to chew with his mouth closed.

just-for-ship

And I’m going to take this even further. Here we go.

It took a bit of explaining with the first angel to arrive. Telling him about the first accidental summoning and then how the demons just started stopping by around lunch time on your days off. But once he understood what’s been going on (and finished his sandwich) he nodded solemnly and said he would get this all straightened out “upstairs.”

You eventually start getting more angels coming around for lunch. Sometimes they bring a small dessert for you to share after the sandwiches, and the dishes are always magically clean and back in the cupboard when they leave.

You lean that angels don’t have much of their own drama, but they do know all the truths about human tabloid drama and they’re more than willing to dish on what the Kardashians have been up to.

The first time an angel and a demon show up for lunch on the same day is a little tense. You tell them that ALL are welcome for lunch in your house and that you would prefer it to be a no-conflict zone. It takes a while for them to settle, but eventually they grow comfortable enough to start chatting. Which is when you learn that because demons are technically fallen angels, you’ve been having two sides of an estranged family over for lunch regularly.

Soon, you have an angel and a demon at every lunch. Old friends and estranged siblings meeting up to reconnect over a sandwich at your dinning room table. You help the ones who had a falling out reach an understanding, and you get to hear wild stories of what the “old realm” was like.

One day, as you’re pulling out the bread and cheese, a messenger demon appears. You greet him and tell him a sandwich will be ready soon, but he declines. He is here on behalf of Lucifer to ask if it’s alright by you for him to “enter your dwelling so as to meet with his brother Michael over sandwiches.”

A little stunned, you agree. The demon disappears and you prepare three sandwiches, setting them at the table.

When Lucifer (the actual devil!) appears in small puff of smoke, you welcome him and ask what he’d like to drink. As you’re fetching the apple juice, a blinding flash of light comes from the dinning room indicating Michael’s arrival. You grab a second cup and walk back in to find a tense stand off between the brothers. You set down the cups and juice while calmly reminding them that this is a conflict-free zone, and if they are going to fight, please take it to an alternate plane of existence.

They don’t fight. They sit and enjoy the sandwiches and talk about what happened. You learn a lot about why creation started, what the purpose of humanity was and what it’s grown to be. You only have to diffuse two arguments. And at the end when it’s time for them to leave, they hug each other, agreeing to meet up again somewhere else.

In the following weeks you have the usual assortment of demons and angels stopping by. The regulars ask how you’re mom is doing and if your friend is settling in to their new apartment nicely. At some point during each visit though, they ask if it’s true. Did Lucifer and Michael really come for lunch? You tell them yes, but won’t say what was talked about. They’re disappointed, everyone likes the gossip, but they understand. Before they leave, you ask each angel and demon about this idea you have for the summer, what if you had a barbecue on the back patio for everyone who wanted to come? They think it sounds like a fun idea.

secondalto

I would pay good money for this to be a movie/tv show

the secrets we keep close to our hearts

“What happened to us?”

The question hovers in the air, unanswered. Poppy’s afraid to touch it, let alone acknowledge it. She shifts on her butt, anxiously tearing some grass out from the ground. It’d taken them the whole summer to get here. To get to this very moment. It had been all Poppy had wanted, and now that it’s here, she’s afraid it’s another dream.

She lifts her head. Ellie’s staring at her, waiting. She wants an answer. She wants a list of reasons. She wants to be able to pick them all apart to ensure they won’t happen again. Poppy knows this, she knows that Ellie needs this, but still, she keeps her mouth shut.

“Real mature, Day. Real fucking mature.” Ellie pushes herself off the ground. She hovers for a moment, as if Poppy might suddenly beg. She can’t. Ellie nods once, sharp and defiant. “Alright, if that’s how you want it. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you, because right now? You just started a war that may never end.”

“Ellie,” Poppy whispers. But it’s too late. Ellie is already halfway across the park by the time Poppy can find her voice. She hugs her knees close to her chest now and rests her forehead on her knees. Nothing will make this okay. Nothing. But it’s for the best. It is. It has to be. Poppy needs to protect Ellie, and this is the only way she knows how. It had to be done.

A sob breaks out of her, startling some of the ducks down at the pond. Poppy doesn’t know what to do, but when she finally manages to stand up, she has a feeling that she can’t go back now. She made her decision, and if Ellie ever found out, well, Poppy’s sure she’d feel worse than she already does.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and Poppy reaches into her pocket to read the text message.

#poppy day #poppy day updates #c poppy #c ellie #c tom #c vernon #bittersweet #poppy day fic

rebamazing

poppydaystories

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

davidfarland

Boosting Your Story (a Checklist)

When I used to write for competitions, I would make lists of ways that judges might look at my work in order to grade it. For example, some judges might look for an ending that brought them to tears, while another might be more interested in an intellectual feast. A couple of you asked what my list might look like.

So here is a list of things that I might consider in creating a piece.

First, a word of warning. When I was very young, perhaps four, I remember seeing a little robot in a store, with flashing lights and wheels that made it move. To me it seemed magical, nearly alive. My parents bought it for me for at Christmas, and a few weeks later it malfunctioned, so I took a hammer to it and pulled out the pieces to see what made it work—a battery, a tiny motor, some small colored lights, cheap paint and stickers.

Your story should be more than the sum of its parts. It should feel magical, alive.

But when we go through a checklist like this, we’re looking at the parts and not the whole. When you’re composing your story and editing it, you must be constantly aware of the whole story, keeping it in mind, even as you examine it in detail, making sure that one part doesn’t overbalance another.

Setting

My goal with my settings is to transport the reader into my world—not just through the senses, but also emotionally and intellectually. I want to make them feel, keep them thinking. This can often be done by using settings that fascinate the reader, that call to them.

Do I have unique settings that the reader will find intriguing? In short, is there something that makes my setting different from anything the reader has seen before?

If my setting is in our world, is it “sexy” or mundane? (People are drawn to sexy settings. Even if we place a story in a McDonald’s, we need to bring it to life, make it enjoyable.)

Do I have any scenes that might be more interesting if the setting were moved elsewhere? (For example, let’s say that I want to show that a king is warlike. Do I open with him speaking to his counselors at a feast, or on the battlefield?)

Do I suffer by having repetitive settings? For example, if I set two scenes in the same living room, would one of them be more interesting if I moved it elsewhere?

Do my descriptions of settings have enough detail to transport the reader?

Did I bring my setting to life using all of the senses—sight, sound, taste, touch, smell?

Do my character’s feelings about the setting get across?

Do I want to show a setting in the past, present, and suggest a future? (For example, I might talk about a college’s historical growth and importance, etc.)

Can a setting be strengthened by describing what it is not?

Does my setting resonate with others within its genre?

Do my settings have duality—a sometimes ambiguous nature? (For example, my character might love the church where she was married, have fond memories of it, and yet feel a sense of betrayal because her marriage eventually turned ugly. So the setting becomes bittersweet.)

Do my settings create potential conflicts in and of themselves? (If I have a prairie with tall grass and wildfires are a threat, should I have a wildfire in the tale?)

Do my characters and my societies grow out of my setting? (If I’ve got a historical setting, do my characters have occupations and attitudes consistent with the milieu? Beyond that, with every society there is almost always a counter-movement. Do I deal with those?)

Is my setting, my world, in danger? Do I want it to be?

Does my world have a life of its own? For example, if I create a fantasy village, does it have a history, a character of its own? Do I need to create a cast for the village—a mayor, teacher, etc.?

Is my setting logically consistent? (For example, let’s say that I have a merchant town. Where would a merchant town most likely be? On a trade route or port—quite possibly at the junction of the two. So I need to consider how fully I’ve developed the world.)

Is my setting fully realized? (Let’s say I have a forest. What kinds of trees and plants would be in that forest? What kind of animals? What’s the history of that forest? When did it last have rain or snow? What’s unique about that forest? Etc.)

Does my setting intrude into every scene, so that my reader is always grounded? (If I were to set my story in a field, for example, and I have men preparing for battle, I might want to have a lord look up and notice that buzzards are flapping up out of the oaks in the distance, already gathering for the feast. I might want to mention the sun warming my protagonist’s armor, the flies buzzing about his horse’s ears, and so on—all while he is holding an important conversation.

Are there any settings that have symbolic import, whose meanings need to be brought to the forefront?

Characters

I want my characters to feel like real people, fully developed. Many stories suffer because the characters are bland or cliché or are just underdeveloped. We want to move beyond stereotypes, create characters that our readers will feel for. At the same time, we don’t want to get stuck in the weeds. We don’t want so much detail that the character feels overburdened and the writing gets sluggish.

So here are some of the checkpoints I might use for characters.

Do I have all of the characters that I need to tell the story, or is someone missing? (For example, would the story be stronger if I had a guide, a sidekick, a love interest, a contagonist, hecklers, etc.?)

Do I have any characters that can be deleted to good effect?

Do I have characters who can perhaps be combined with others? For example, let’s say I have two cops on the beat. Would it work just as well with only one cop?

Do my characters have real personalities, depth?

Do my characters come off as stock characters, or as real people?

Do I know my characters’ history, attitudes, and dress?

Does each character have his or her interesting way of seeing the world?

Does each character have his or her own voice, his own way of expressing himself?

Are my characters different enough from each other so that they’re easily distinguished? Do their differences generate conflict? Remember that even good friends can have different personalities.

Have I properly created my characters’ bodies—described such things as hands, feet, faces, hair, ears, and so on?

Do each of my characters have their own idiosyncrasies?

Do I need to “tag” any characters so that readers will remember them easily—for example, by giving a character a limp, or red hair, or having one who hums a great deal?

How do my characters relate to the societies from which they sprang? In short, are they consistent with their own culture in some ways? And in what ways do they oppose their culture?

What does each of my characters want?

What does each one fear?

What things might my character be trying to hide?

What is each character’s history? (Where were they born? Schooled, etc.?)

What is my characters’ stance on religion, politics, etc.?

How do my characters relate to one another? How do they perceive one another? Are their perceptions accurate, or jaded?

Does each character have a growth arc? If they don’t, should they?

How honest are my characters—with themselves and with others? Should my readers trust them?

What would my characters like to change about themselves? Do they try to change?

Do my characters have their own family histories, their own social problems, their own medical histories, their own attitudes? Do we need a flashback anywhere to establish such things?

Conflicts

Keep reading

#1 #q

kinslee-the-normal-human

So I walked into Walmart with my sister, and I was wearing my Spiderman jacket. A guy that looked a bit older than me was walking passed us with a serious look on his face. But he was wearing a Deadpool jacket, so I’m like oh my gosh. I smiled and did the finger gun thing at him. His face went from dead serious to a lit up smile, and he finger gunned back at me, and I have not laughed so hard since last year. To the guy who I saw, you are a wonderful person and I wish you a happy life.

sarahconnorjr

#Meetcute

wlweddings

Jordan & J.J. by Mark Tioxon, seen on Leah and Mark

prepfordwife

This is so gorgeous.

magicgoose123

this is the most beautiful wedding i have ever seen

baskerville-leviathan

Have I ever mentioned that this man is a genius? No?

blechbah

@determamfidd

determamfidd

how has this person gained a livefeed of my brain

fozmeadows

I feel personally attacked.

baseball-boyfriends

drunp-archive-deactivated201711

squad goals

she keeps me warm

[trigger warnings: deaths; mentions of abusive adoptive parents; general anxiety]

x x x

Poppy wraps the apron around her waist and ties it. When she’s done, she looks up at her best friend. “Thank you so much for getting me this job, Tom.”

“No problem, babe. It sucks that you’ll be doing the night shifts and I’m on days, but I’m sure we’ll end up working together again at some point.” Tom spins around and takes her over to the register. “So we’re a cash only place, as you know. When people complain, point them to the ATM. And tell them that we’re going to get a debit and credit machine soon. Most of the regulars live to complain.”

Poppy laughs, feeling as if she’s going to enjoy this job. She needs it desperately; she’d finished college, moved out on her own, and lost her job as a teaching assistant at the high school because the principal’s niece had applied. She needs this job to pay for her bills, and make it through until summer. Once summer hits, her lease is done and she’s moving in with Tom.

She’s listening intently as Tom walks her around the diner, explaining things, showing her how to do something and then making her repeat his actions. It takes her a couple times to figure out the coffee machine, but she finally masters it. “Yes! I did it! Suck on that, ancient coffee maker.”

Tom laughs and shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous, Pops. Okay. Now, let’s go into the back. I’ll introduce you to some people you’ll be working with during the night shifts.”

“Sure.”

She follows him into the back break room, and glances around. It kind of warms her heart at how many photos they have up on the walls around her. The staff look like they get along well together, and there’s even some silly signs up too. There’s a very large black man sitting at the table, reading a book. He doesn’t have too much hair, but when he lifts his heads, Poppy’s struck by how beautiful his brown eyes are.

“Vernon, this is Poppy Day. She’s your new waitress for the night shifts.”

Poppy holds out her hand and Vernon’s smooth skin touches hers. “Hi.”

“Hello, Poppy. Have you ever worked the graveyard shift before?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. Tom tells me it’ll probably take a week or so to adjust to working from 11pm to 7am.”

“Yeah. You get used to it. It’s not usually crazy busy, but we do get quite a few regulars, and we’re the go-to place after the bar closes.” Vernon gives her a warm smile.

Returning his warm smile, she takes a deep breath and glances at Tom. “Alright. So Vernon works in the kitchen, and Jane is the night manager. You’ll have to introduce yourself when she gets in. I think you’re all set though. Any questions you have, just ask Vernon. He knows this place inside and out.”

Vernon nods.

“Thanks. Okay. So...” Poppy looks at the clock. “I start in fifteen minutes. Is it okay if I go make a quick phone call?”

Tom knows exactly why. He nods and Vernon gives her an approving look. She grabs her phone from her purse, which she’d previously dropped by the counter when she’d arrived, and then she makes her way down the hall and steps outside.

Poppy dials a number she knows all too well and puts the phone to her ear. It rings four times before she hears someone answer. “Hello?”

“Hey, darling,” Poppy says, smiling. “What are you doing still awake?”

“Binge watching Netflix. I lost track of time,” her younger sister answers. “Why are you calling so late?”

“I just wanted you to know that I got it --the job, I mean. I got the job at the diner. So if you need to reach me at all, call me here, okay?” Poppy tells her.

“Okay,” Alicia responds. “Do you think that I could maybe spend the weekend at your place? Mom is...well, she’s apparently travelling to Vegas again. Tom’s dad is freaking out because he thinks that Dad needs to send her to an G.A. meeting again.”

Poppy rubs the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, you can stay with me. And god, we both know how well that turned out last time. Is Dad home this weekend?”

“Nope. He’s gone for a construction job. Somewhere up north. I didn’t really listen.”

Poppy nods, remembering how annoying and upsetting it was. It’s not as though their parents were necessarily bad people. They just figured their job as parents had ended the second Poppy and Alicia had passed age thirteen. Poppy’s still not entirely sure why Judy and Hank had decided to adopt her and her sister. They weren’t a happy couple in love; they weren’t even friends. Why they thought adopting kids would be a good idea is beyond Poppy’s mind.

“Yeah, you can spend the weekend at my place. I’ll be at work, so just let yourself in. Once my lease is up, you and I are moving in with Tom. Okay? I promise.”

She hears the smile in Alicia’s voice. “Okay. I love you, Poppy.”

“Love you too, kiddo. Stay safe.”

“I’m binge watching Netflix. How much trouble could I possibly get into?” Alicia counters.

Poppy laughs. “If anyone could, it’d be you.”

She can picture Alicia grinning when she says, “Yeah, you’re right. Okay. Good luck on your first shift!”

“Thanks, kid. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Poppy hangs up her phone and makes her way back into the diner. When she makes her way to the front, she pauses to thank Tom and hug him goodbye. Then she goes to stand in front of the diner. The girl who had been standing there thanks her and leaves.

“It’s just us,” Vernon tells her. “It’s a Monday night, so we only have about ten or twelve regulars. The guy who comes in and sits at that booth...get him two coffees. No menu. He never orders anything else. And it’s just him.”

#thepoppyday #poppy day updates #c poppy #c ellie #c tom #c vernon #c jane

maruader

kyleehenke:

enemies-to-friends/lovers relationships fuel my life force. like. give me two people who experienced enough personal growth to change their perspectives and set their pride aside to understand one another. give me a hard-won companionship made rock solid from experiencing each other at their best and worst, give me two people who went through to hell together and came out the other side with forgiveness and humility. just kill me dude

otp-headcanon

Has anyone done a soulmate au where the things your soulmate loves shows up on your skin? Just think.

Your brother has an ice skate, a small orange cat, and the sunset.

Your best friend has a guitar, a mug of coffee, an older couple who’s probably their soulmates parents, and chocolate.

You have the complete cast of multiple shows you don’t even know the name to and the tumblr logo.

But when two soulmates fall in love, they get a picture of themselves showing up, cause now they’re added to the list of things their soulmate loves.

I just really like this idea.

whoson1st

Listen to me.

Happy endings are not bad.

Wanting characters to be ultimately happy is not the same ignoring conflict.

Writing good conflict WITH a satisfying and believable resolution takes time and talent.

You are a good writer even if you only write happy endings.

Grimdark sad endings do not have more depth than happy endings.

Anyone who tells you otherwise is probably a grimdark writer with a disproportionate sense of their own ability and depth.

Let your characters be happy, and don’t let anyone tell you that you are subpar for wanting that.

wlwwriting

when I was 17 the first girl I’d ever loved told me if her parents found out about how I looked at her she’d be homeless.  we cried for 2 days straight,  and I told about concrete counter tops. I told her about dark hardwood floors with at least three knit blankets on every couch. Our bedroom facing west  because even though I love the sunrise,  you look the best in our bed  covered in nothing  but the deep purple of sunset. The library that would smell like our books  had been there longer than our home had been standing on solid foundation, stone, reliable. Sweet girl, I know they say not to make homes out of people  but I don’t want anyone else’s dirty dishes on my counter. I don’t want to take the trash out for anyone else at 11pm. You’re the only person I’d race to kill a spider for in the shower. How could you ever be without a home  when every time I look at you I’m building ours.

anonymous (via wlwwriting)

dysfunctunal

me and my roommates took some photos and I think we doing slight black girl magic ✨

kirstencreates

I fell in love with a mermaid

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