cschoolgirl

following the awesome

[wolverineholic]

by Mike D

[spiderrrling]

I am a(n):

⚪ Male

⚪ Female

🔘 Writer

Looking for

⚪ Boyfriend

⚪ Girlfriend

🔘 An incredibly specific word that I can't remember

[what-even-is-thiss]

*wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat*

WAIT IT’S CALLED A THROW PILLOW

[holorifle]

here is a super helpful website for this kinda thing!

the first result isn’t always the one you’re looking for but when you press enter it’ll give you a ton of words related to your query that’ll probably have what you’re wanting, or something better

here’s some examples:

[tinytony-snack]

Reblog this to save a writer

[myloversgone]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Hugh Jackman (@thehughjackman) on Mar 3, 2020 at 4:24am PST

WHY AREN'T WE ALL TALKING ABOUT THIS???????

[ridethedarktrail]

These are too painfully beautiful to be left as a slide show. Would die for some singles.

@roguelotus did you see these?

[averbaldumpingground]

Phrase prompt: "fingerprints in dust"

The touch of your hands on my skin, the sun in the late afternoon, they are all memories that shatter like wine pitchers dropped on the packed, earthen floor. There is so little remaining. 

I fed you olives here, in the sparse shade of this tree. I spun the thread of your garments. 

Here, in this courtyard, you wooed me, with a bondman with a lyre.

You stood so handsome beside me, myrtle twined into your hair, your crooked smile when the hostess had toasted your honor.

And over here, you were buried. I joined you after a fortnight. Would you still love me, with my cheeks flushed from the fever? What are we now but the strands of a lost DNA?

Your touch on my skin leaves its fingerprints in the dust of this hillside. Will some poor researcher find them, under the cracked terracotta? Or did we die once again with the show passage of time?

[ridethedarktrail]

Wow!

[prokopetz]

I see so many authors bagging on themselves like “why can’t I ever finish anything, I’m a terrible artist and a terrible writer”, and what I want to say based on my professional assessment of their work and where it tends to fall apart is “your art and writing are fine, your real problem is that you’re a shitty project manager” – but of course you can’t actually say that, because while it’s true, it’s almost never helpful to tell someone out of the blue that their real issue is that they entirely lack a critical skill-set they didn’t even know existed.

[prokopetz]

(This is, of course, complicated by the fact that the culture of art-as-a-hobby – particularly on certain popular social media platforms – seems to encourage artists to internalise the belief that people are either intrinsically good or intrinsically bad at completing long-form projects, so they’ll tend to actively resist the idea that project management is a skill that can be learned.)

[copperbadge]

I think a factor that also plays into this is that project management is seen as something only an essentially organized person is capable of, and we separate people out into organized or disorganized, which is an unhelpful and also totally false binary. 

A person who thinks of themselves as fundamentally disorganized can still be good at managing large projects and can in fact still present and function in an organized way if they have the right workarounds in place. The problem comes in where nobody else can give them those workarounds – it’s a matter of understanding how oneself functions, which is not only difficult but also time-consuming and painful. It took me ten years to figure out how my brain works, minimum, and I’m still adjusting things ten years after THAT. But the end result is that I am an incredibly mentally chaotic person who happens to appear to be highly organized because I’ve built a lumpy but functional container for every cupful of hot mess in my brain. I’m still chaotic, I just have an system.

So if you think of yourself as someone who can’t be organized, and most large undertakings require some form of organization to complete, it feels like a super hopeless task. 

[lookslikechill]

Okay, but how do you build the skillset you need to be a good project manager?

[themightytej]

OP may have a different take, but if you don’t mind I’ll offer some input. Ultimately, you only build the skills by using them, so practice at project management is going to be the best way to build those skills. Games that require you to look both at details and at individual parts, like sudoku, help, but are not really necessary.

A good project manager is nothing more or less than someone who can look at a whole project, break it down into necessary (not always sequential) steps, and then assign those tasks in a way that works for their team. The catch with this kind of project is that you are your entire team, but you don’t really have to think about it that way. After all, the mode you go into when you’re daydreaming about your story is going to be better at laying out scenes than the mode you’re in when you make moodboards (which is a great mode for laying out themes and characters and settings) or even the mode you’re in when you’re actually writing (concerned with sentence flow and grammar and such). If you are the type of person with perceptible modes like that, then treat them as members of your team and understand which is going to handle what and the resources each requires.

Each of those are necessary tasks, and there are times of day or locations or environmental factors or whatever that help you settle into one or another. Figure those out, then start using them. Figure out each of the steps you need to finish and write those down. With each one, write down the things you need to be able to do each step, which may include things that help you switch modes. Then come up with a rough schedule that allows you to move at a comfortable pace and change steps often enough to keep everything together and far enough apart to actually get things done while working on each step.

I read in the afternoons. I do this because my writing involves research and my chronic headaches prevent me from writing around that time, but they do allow me to just shovel info into my brain to sort out later because I know that’s how my mind works. Everything needs to sit and ferment for a bit, the actual act of reading isn’t my research as much as the letting information stew and interact. I know that gathering information to process later is a necessary step in my project with the ‘team’ I have, and I figured out that this is the time to do it. I have different playlists for writing than I do for thinking through scenes and plot, because I need thematic lyrics for the latter but I need a total lack of lyrics for the former. Find things like that that work for you. And the more you do it, the easier it will be to do.

[adventures-in-a-world-of-fiction]

I think that having a ton of WIP projects that never get finished is actually fine for a writer. You don’t have to finish every single WIP. Sometimes you have to start a story five different times in five different ways before you find what works for that particular story.

Sometimes you have to write a whole bunch of an idea before figuring out that there’s a fundamental flaw with what you were working on. Maybe you can salvage some bits (a plot idea, a character you particularly like, a nice bit of description) and put them into a future project, but as a whole it doesn’t quite work.

I start a lot of stories. Maybe I start three stories and there’s one that takes over and interests me enough to keep going with it while the other two fade into oblivion. That doesn’t mean those other two beginnings of stories are me failing as a writer. I learned that the other story was more interesting to me and therefore probably more interesting to future readers.

Finishing something is important if you want to be published, but finishing something doesn’t mean you have to finish everything.

[myloversgone]

There's still time for #WolverineWednesday, right?

[ridethedarktrail]

Wolverine can be on my dash any day of the week he pleases. 

[whitepeopletwitter]

[ierosylia]

how many stories have been wrecked because the author was scared they weren’t grand enough? how many incredible books have we lost because of people’s obsession to only praise stories that seem ‘big’ and have ‘worldwide stakes’? how many writers give up before they even start in fear that their story won’t be enough? please don’t forget how charming mundane stories can be. and please, write. believe in yourself, believe in your stories. write, because out in the world, there is at least one person who needs to hear what you have to say, and that makes your story worth sharing

[whitepeopletwitter]

[ridethedarktrail]

Here I thought we had a good thing going, in a brand new notebook. We were all in agreement where this was headed. Everyone was doing their part... until they ran the story off the road. What is an author to do when the characters turn on her? Out them on tumblr of course. 

Smut behind the cut. 

Slamming into her, he knew he’d regret it later but right now he was so high on adrenaline and her endorphins he couldn’t help himself. He gripped her hips in a bruising hold, feeling the start of her convulsions as she worked her clit. She pushed away from the low wall she was using for support and glanced back over her shoulder at him. Moving his hand up her spine and along her neck, he forced her to watch him.

“Oh god,” she moaned and he leaned in swallowing her scream.

Wolverine knew he was addicted to this, to her and no matter how badly it ended he wouldn’t willing give her up. Another shallow thrust and she bit his lip, her hand moved between her thighs until his balls rubbed against her fingertips. He growled, but she wouldn’t release his lip or allow him to push her feet apart to go deeper. Rogue was in control and he filled her with his hot seed.

Moments later they were straightening their uniforms, no time for anything else. Pausing, she tugged at his mask correcting it. She left her hand at his sideburn for a moment, a spark of mischief in her eyes as he placed his hand over hers. Moving, she pressed her fingers to his mouth before he could say her name. There was so much he wanted to tell her.  

Her earpiece crackled and she tilted her head. “Be there in a minute,” she responded and tapped his earpiece. “Later tater,” she said with a laugh as she trotted off into the distance.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he growled at Cyke. He’d heard most of it from Rogue’s earpiece. The battle had been mostly over when he’d run into her, now he had to track down a sneaky villain.

The regret set in later as Rogue boarded the jet. He’d been discussing a plan to deal with the sneaky villain with Scott and Jean. Rogue walked passed with Kitty, and her eyes lingered on his a second too long. Scott, if he cared to notice, continued with his discussion. Jean, on the other hand, watched Rogue walk by with a thoughtful look.

Frankly, he didn’t care who knew he was fucking Rogue, when or how. He wasn’t using her any more than she was using him. They were both consenting adults and handled the sex as such.

Logan’s real concern was that he’d developed feelings for Marie and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. That thought alone made it sound like she was suffering from a split personality. It was nothing like that at all. It was the uniform.

Every time Marie put on the uniform her attitude changed. She really did become a rogue. Daring and fearless, which was a plus for a superhero. However the moment the uniform came off she was unsure of herself and no manner of coaxing by anyone changed that fact until she put the uniform back on.

The difference was noticeable when she’d started training to join the team. At first, it was a simple boost in confidence after she was fitted for her uniform and began wearing it in the Danger Room. As she mastered her mutation and learned to use borrowed mutations to the advantage of the team, she began to take more risks to the point of needing to be healed a time or two.

He’d never deny her the healing, couldn’t bring himself to see her hurting. Yet her assurance of his need to heal her only reinforced her behavior in uniform to the point that something had to be said. Only he didn’t anticipate how far the talk would go.

During her second mission, she’d borrowed Colossus’ mutation and not enough of his humility. Thanks to the two of them the team was able to stop the Juggernaut in his destructive path. Luckily, all she incurred were some cuts and a sprain that Logan easily healed up.

He’d stayed behind in the hanger bay in the hopes of talking some sense into her. She’d listened willingly enough until it was just the two of them left there. The talk had gone well up to the moment he thought she was going to promise to be more careful.

Damned if she didn’t smile up at him all innocent-like, big, brown eyes full of mischief and whispered, “I know what you want.”

There had been a lump in his throat over the things he thought about her and he’d hidden them well. Things he’d wanted to do that made his hands itch with need. Things that a cold shower couldn’t quell.

Before he could turn away, she’d pulled him to her with the last vestige of borrowed strength. Her mouth was on his and he was helpless to resist as she did know all his secrets. There had been a brief struggle with his uniform, hers needed only a quick jerk at already ripped seams.

She bit his shoulder to muffle her cry as he thrust into her. It wasn’t how he’d wanted this to happen with Marie. But she whispered things he needed to hear, things that made his feral side strain to make her belong to him. The best he could do was kiss her softly as she came on his cock. He followed her seconds later over the edge.

When all was said and done, the knowing smile she flashed him told him all he needed to know. He’d succeeded in making her his but not at all the way he wanted. Rogue belonged to him completely, but Marie was an uncertainty.

~~~~~~

The door never creaked when she opened it. Marie appreciated that just like the fact that Logan kept his room orderly so she wouldn’t stumble over things in the dark. Those little things he did for her let her pretend they had a normal relationship, at least for a few hours at night.

They’d dispensed with the formality of him answering the door months ago. Anymore she slipped into his room on her own to make her apology. Tonight she was late and he was already in bed. When she closed the door, he flipped the covers back in a low pressure invitation. Hesitating a moment, she knew she shouldn’t but it was the only way she knew to make a proper apology.

The first time she’d come to his room to admit her failure in their interactions hadn’t gone as planned. He’d answered the door and let her in. The guilt had lain heavily on her and she wanted to tell him how sorry she was for her behavior in the hanger earlier that day. Yet she’d been afraid he would mistake what she was sorry about as there were no words to adequately express her feelings. She was appalled at herself for taking liberties with his need for her, but she didn’t regret the sex.

It had been the first awkward silence they’d ever shared. When she’d finally had the courage to look at him, she’d seen the misery at the situation plainly written on his face. She’d done this to him and wanted to ease that pain. Instead of talking, she’d hugged him hoping to convey her own feelings more clearly.

A hug led to a kiss that led to sex. Again she’d used his secrets against him. Let him make love to her in the slow, methodical way he’d wanted and she’d loved him all the more for it.

Now she simply slid under the covers next to him, she worried that someday Logan would tire of her inability to go beyond the broken relationship she offered him. Tonight though he pulled her closer with an arm around her shoulders, willing to once again accept her poor substitute for repentance.

The weight of her deficiency was almost unbearable at times. There was fear in her at this cycle of desire and penance. Of what ending it would mean. It was something she didn’t care to think about.

Marie placed a kiss on his broad chest, letting a hand glide further down his body. His muscles tightened in anticipation as her hand crossed his abdomen. She liked the way he grunted when her hand wrapped around his hardening flesh. She only wished this was under different circumstances.

He whispered her name, low and needy in her ear. His hot breath sent a shiver up her spine. She lifted her head for a kiss and he obliged with a slow, languid exploration of her mouth.

Drawing her on top of him, she wanted to resist this position. It was selfish and she enjoyed it way too much. This was supposed to be about him and she preferred to be underneath him, caged in by his strong arms.

She bit her lip, looking away from his imploring eyes. Acquiescing, she lifted herself up as he tugged her panties out of the way. Descending on his hard cock, she shuddered when his thumb grazed her clit. He let out a soft growl, his hands already on her hips moving her.

No sooner had she begun to find the rhythm on her own then his hands moved elsewhere. Tonight they were at her breasts, fondling one and keeping the other at his mouth to suck at. She loved to ride him, it was always hard, fast, and loud. It never failed to make her vocalize her climax.

Her insides were already tightening too quickly and she felt him shift, crossing his ankles in the attempt to last through it. She gripped his shoulders trying to hold back the moan building in her throat. He twisted her nipple, the other hand back on her hip. He mumbled, “Don’t stop.”

She cried out as the orgasm hit her. He kept her moving, she knew he was wanting the second wave that usually accompanied the first. Her body didn’t disappoint them and his name was wrung from her lips with the new rippling of her muscles.

He was flipping them over by the time she tried to slump down on his chest. She was a wreck and he knew it, letting her catch her breath. Readjusting her legs, he set a leisurely pace. Again she had to turn away as he whispered all those things that were no longer secrets. She wasn’t worthy of the love he talked about.

[wolverineholic]

by jarold Sng

[soundofbloom]

X-MEN dir. Bryan Singer

[mymindsmadness]

Every time, man

[cyberclays]

Wolverine - X-Men fan art by my friend David Ferreira “A tribute to Wolverine Game model 75k Tris Based on [Fengyi Gong concept] Rigging and animation done by [Rui Silva]”

[justanotherfilmfanatic]

In The Greatest Showman’s opening credits, you can see Wolverine’s claws next to a literal Easter Egg... Very sneaky

[olivermajor226]

Love!

[ridethedarktrail]

Wow

[bleusarcellewrites]

"How many kudos does my Fic needs for it to be considered 'good enough'?"

None, because that number in the kudos/comments/hits does not measure your effort or passion you have for your own writing.

Numbers do not define you.

[ridethedarktrail]

snowcation

Not too long ago these two items where on my dashboard. 

I’m unsure of who to blame for the resulting fic so I will list them in alphabetic order. @avarip​, @hurtslikeyourmouth​, and @roguelotus​ They can hang their heads in shame at the resulting piece of fluff. 

~*~

“This reminds me of when we first met,” Marie’s breath warmed his ear. It was a welcome reprieve from the cold. 

“Darlin, you didn’t have it this easy back then,” Logan answered. He’d almost made the biggest mistake of his life that winter by attempting to leave her on the side of the road. 

“You can put me down,” Rogue told him as he trudged on through the snow. The huge flakes had dissipated, and the wind was picking up, pushing already deep snow into drifts. 

“Told you we’d make better time this way,” was his reply almost lost in the wind.

They had made better time with her piggyback because she’d struggled to keep up. She’d learned long ago to do a quick step to make up for his longer strides. However, with the added snow that hadn’t been possible. He’d insisted on carrying her the remaining distance, even though she was positive it was further than she’d walked. 

The project at the Massachusetts Academy would have to wait until they could get the vehicle out of the snow. She’d tried to text them before they began this trek but there was no service, maybe she could call when they got to the inn. “Are you sure we’re still going the right direction?”

Logan had been in his share of snowstorms, a few blizzards too and knew better than to just keep walking. That was the best way to walk in circles and never get where you thought you were going. He’d stopped several times to gain his bearings and realign their path. They’d been headed for the last place they’d passed, a little inn on the main road. 

“There’s a light up ahead,” he said to reassure her. No need to tell her he’d only now spotted it since the snow let up. It was only a pinpoint of light that he occasionally saw, but it was the heading he was using. 

He’d started to worry that they should have stayed with the vehicle. This storm was something he shouldn’t have drug her out into, especially since he had no clear line of sight to their destination. Yet there was no telling how long before the road would be plowed and the vehicle freed.

Finally, his boot struck gravel, and he realized he’d found the driveway. The pinpoint of light turned out to be a candle in the window. The porch was drifted in and he swung Marie down on the steps, helping her up them. As their feet hit the porch itself the front door opened. 

“We’d about given up hope,” said the dark-haired woman waving them in. “Robert, they made it.”

They stepped in and she closed the door behind them. “No bags? Did you have to walk the last bit?” 

For a moment Rogue thought the Professor must have been alert to their situation and contacted the inn, but the woman put that notion to rest. “The power went out just after you called and we weren’t certain that you were even coming. Oh my, where are my manners? I’m Jackie, you must be Heidi and Jeff, we’ve talked on the phone.”

Jackie didn’t seem to breathe, “We can talk properly in the morning, I best show you to your room. Walking in the snow must have been tiring and cold. Robert started a fire in the room and it should be warm by now.”

Rogue tried to correct Jackie, but couldn’t get a word in edge wise. They simply followed her up a set of stairs to a room as she rambled on about the inn and the power hopefully being restored by breakfast. They didn’t see Robert, however, there was a fire burning merrily in the fireplace's grate. 

Once again Rogue tried to correct the mistake of who they were to no avail. Logan shrugged as they were left alone. “I suppose it would be too confusing to ask for a separate room?” she asked holding her hands to the fire. 

Logan had taken off his jacket and was in the process of pulling off his boots. “Go ahead, Heidi,” he answered with a smile. 

With a huff, she turned to warm her backside. She didn’t suppose there was heat in any of the other rooms and he seemed perfectly content to stay in the same room. 

“Better get your shoes off and your feet warmed up,” he told her as he joined her by the fire. 

She was reluctant to take anything off. Even though the room was warmer than outside, she was still as cold as before. This confirmed what she’d known for a while. It would take quite some time for a girl from the South to properly acclimate to the long, cold winters. She also knew he was right about the shoes as her feet hadn’t even warmed a little. 

Slipping off her shoes she put them close to the fireplace and wiggled her toes around to restore the feeling. He glanced at her then kneeled down and took one of her feet in his hands and began massaging it. After all that snow and cold, he had warm hands. It figured, his healing factor never stopped surprising her and tonight she didn’t mind taking advantage of it. 

Logan switched to the other foot once he was certain the first one was no longer the block of ice it had been. At least she’d taken his advice before they’d started the trip and had worn some long johns. He could see the cuff at her ankle as he rubbed her foot, too bad she hadn’t put on the second pair of socks before they got out of the vehicle. 

When he finished, he studied her a moment. “Give me your damp stuff and crawl into bed.”

He saw her eyes shift back and forth between the warm blaze and the blankets piled up on the bed. Sighing, she handed over her coat and then stripped down to her skin-tight long johns. Pulling over one of the wooden chairs to the fire, he arranged her clothes on it to dry while she scurried to the bed and climbed in. A quick glance at her made him smile. The only part of her sticking out of the bedding was her hair on the pillow above a balled-up lump of Marie. 

Rogue could hear him undressing but didn’t dare stick her head out to look. At first, the room had felt warm after the blowing snow, but now it felt as if the bed was stealing what little warmth she had acquired. The bed dipped as he got under the covers on his side and she shivered at the thought of cold air making its way to her side.

She knew he wanted to tell her they should share their body heat. He also knew she’d refuse because… well, she didn’t have a good reason it just wasn’t part of their relationship. Being this close wasn’t something they’d discussed even though she was pretty sure they were on the same page where their feelings were concerned. They shared something deeper than friendship and both had been more than happy to leave it at that. 

After twenty minutes of listening to her teeth chatter, Logan had had enough. Gently he pulled her over to him. He felt her stiffen a little, but she relaxed almost as quickly into him. 

“My god, you’re…” she started then stammered the next part clearly not wanting to say it.

“Hot,” he offered. Tonight he wasn’t going to misconstrue her meaning. It was a side effect of his healing factor and he was more than happy to share the heat. 

“This isn’t a good idea,” she said, her teeth no longer making noise.

A simple grunt sufficed as an answer. It wasn’t a bad idea as far as getting her warmed up was concerned but he knew what she meant. His heightened senses were already picking up on the change in her scent. Knowing her as he did, he knew she’d want to talk about it. He didn’t see the need to hash anything out; it was obvious how they both felt. 

“Why haven’t we done this before?” she asked, cuddling into him. 

“Do you want to get stuck in the snow more often?” he countered even though he knew exactly what she was talking about. 

“You know what I mean, why haven’t we ever taken this step without the snowstorm?” She almost giggled as his chin scrapped against her shoulder. The shiver that went through her body, that had nothing to do with how cold she was, wasn’t as easy to suppress. 

Tossing that thought around he said, “We’re both too stubborn to make the first move.” He knew he had been reluctant to change their relationship with his track record. As long as Marie hadn’t become frustrated with the status quo he’d been fine with staying in a holding pattern. 

“Hmm… I think you’ve been scared?” Not that she wanted to admit it but fear of a commitment with Logan had held her back sometimes. She didn’t want to mess it up. 

“Is that so?” he mumbled. She sighed in contentment as he breathed behind her ear, the heat making her skin prickle. He wasn’t of the mind to argue with her as long as she continued to let him touch her. 

“Yep, cause I’m the best damn thing that ever happened to you,” she giggled as his hand slid across her stomach. 

“That you are, Darlin’.” He started to turn her, but she stopped him with a hand on his. 

When he raised up and quirked an eyebrow at her, she smiled. “You have to finish warming me up first, Jeff.” She made her point by burrowing deeper into his embrace.

He settled back down behind her. He’d waited this long, what was a few more minutes to him now. Marie was finally in his arms and that was all that mattered. 

end