#reply or don't

[xvodkaandlustx]

"Stay the hell out of my way. I'm not in the mood for anyone's bullshit today."

[holywitchkid]

      Did she really lose sight of the demographic she’d spent for the better part of a decade writing for? Or had her middle aged editors decide some barely legal twenty year old that hauled herself up in her bedroom fangirling over some two direction little shit and took a light squeeze on her shoulder by the boss as sexual harassment and more than willing to write an op ed for a highly respected publication take precedence? It was the latter of course. 

     Goodbye Camden Girl series, hello....vampires.

     It was hard to not take it as a demotion, just when Camden Girl saw a spike in sales it was striped right from her cold clammy hands. Colleen, her editor, quoted as saying ‘It’s a better platform for you. It’s supernatural, all lines are blurred and there’s no real set narrative. You can do what you want. Just get the timelines right and make sure it’s historically accurate.” Yeah...whatever. What did she know about vampires? What did she care about vampires? She fucking hated Twilight. And this was oh, so So much worse. How was she supposed to put life into an already drained of life series? It was like they wanted failure from her. 

    Worse even still was the later and later into the season overtake of her sanctuary. A tourist destination now no thanks to the resurgence of Stephen King everything, to find peace and quiet even on her back porch was sporadic and at times a jarring reminder that her space was never truly ever hers. Some beer gut from Ohio or wherever snapping pictures of the shingle style home while her laptop sat untouched through a deep stare at the waves of nothing but annoyance. 

   She began typing the childrens rhyme, sally sold seashells on the seashore— repeating it over and over eventually saying the words out loud,” sally sold shesh—Sally sold sea—” again, “sally sold sea shells on the sesh.... “ god dammit. Her slurred speech she knew she couldn't contribute to lack of muscle memory for the poem, she’d repeated it long enough throughout life to know she could recite it without a hitch. A prep method to get the juices flowing. This was the whiskey. A full years (almost) sober curtailing the multiple drinks she found herself downing quicker that usual in the fall’s crisp slow change from warmth and for inspiration. It was the whiskey too that had her slapping the laptop shut and confronting the next person with the damn pictures, “Did you get a good shot? Good. Cus I want it. You’re on private property you know? Those signs from point A to point B that say ‘Private Property’ means anything taken between are mine. So delete them now or hand over the reel.” Maybe this was how to tap into vampires. All it was was taking. And a void filled with consumption of some sort... theoretically speaking that is. 

@annielandsbergwrites​

[lmaokookie]

So I've been thinking about putting some stories I've written on here. Just a heads up. It might be today or tomorrow. I don't have many followers but how do you guys feel about it?

[musthaveloved]

claraosiwald owedbetter dxctorofliess

He rushes forward as fast as his legs can carry him, gathering her up in his arms the moment he’s close enough to do so.

----- “You’re okay.”

[thejamesdawson-blog]

James & Ophelia || Secret Garden

The first of the springtime sunshine had come unexpectedly and James had taken full advantage of it, taking a stroll through central park and later took his notebook to a more private garden that seemed like stepping into another world. A few brave flowers had reared their faces to the sun and James sat on one of the benches to write some fragments. The sun’s soft light was comforting and soon enough, James found himself asleep on the bench breathing in and out the spring-laden late afternoon air. He woke suddenly, a hand on his shoulder shaking him softly. The sun had almost disappeared over the horizon and the air had a bite to it. Not knowing how long he’d been asleep and a little unclear as to where exactly he was James sat up and turned to the woman who had woken him. “What time is- I’m sorry, do I know you?” He asked, changing direction mid-way through. 

[thejamesdawson-blog]

Myles & James || Elevator Ride

James was probably crazy, he knew that. He had to be, or else why would he be riding up and down the elevator holding his cat trying to get her to fall asleep. He wouldn’t, because normal people don’t do that. “Just one more time. And then I have to grade those papers.” He said, scratching Lady behind her ears. Her gentle purr thrummed against his chest, calming much of the anxiety that had been building the past couple weeks. Maybe this wasn’t so crazy. At the main floor, someone got on for the first time in six rounds of going up and down. James held Lady a little tighter so she wouldn’t jump down. “Hey! Myles right? You’re Baby’s beau? Hope you-” Lady lept from his arms and rubbed her head against the other man’s legs. “-don’t mind cats.” He finished. “She’s friendly I swear.”

[thejamesdawson-blog]

Shaymes || Lost Stars

“C’mon, you’re going to love it, I swear,” James said, dragging Shayla up the stairs behind him. “And before you ask why we didn’t take the elevator, it’s because you can’t get there using the elevator.” James paused for a second on the landing, catching his breath and coughing. “Okay, last set.” When they got to the top there was a door and he pulled out out a key from his pocket. One of the cleaning staff had given it to him after the fifth time catching James trying to break onto the roof. He pulled two sleeping bags out from under a tarp and handed one to Shayla. Then lying down on the roof he pointed out a few constellations before they both fell silent watching the stars. “I’m fucking everything up Shay,” James whispered quietly when he thought she’d fallen asleep.

[thejamesdawson-blog]

James & Elliot || Thunderstorm

The sky was the kind of grey that made the air heavy with the scent of rain. It hadn’t exactly started yet, but James knew it was coming. And it was coming on a day he had left his cheap umbrella on the train for some lucky passenger to use. He didn’t mind a light rain, there was something cleansing about it. But when the wall of water barreled towards him with cracks and rumblings, it seemed the weather had it in mind for a baptism over a cleansing. Soaked to the skin, James ducked into a small burger joint, and shook his head like a dog. He went up to the counter for a coffee and was met with a friendly face. He recognized Elliot from around Willcox, always meaning to have a conversation and never really getting past the pleasantries. “Elliot right? Isn’t this your place?” James knew the answer, but he wasn’t sure how else to start a conversation. “Have anything that will warm these wet rattling bones?” He laughed.