A Published Author Told Me To Stop Writing Fan Fiction — But The Lunar Chronicles Author Marissa Meyer Disagrees


New One Shot: Trending Now — Makesmyheadspin

Okay so here’s the backstory on this little… geez, I don’t even know what to call this mess. I mean there’s only one chapter to it so it’s a one shot, but it’s not like anything I’ve ever written before. In fact, it wasn’t even my idea. So there’s your summary, kind of, for what […]

via New One Shot: Trending Now — Makesmyheadspin

The Wicked Paps

No not the one you should get once a year to make sure you’re sans crotch crickets and crotch fruit. But those pesky other cuntbugs that interfere in the private lives of our beloved celebmates.

Of course without them we wouldn’t have those great day-in-the-life pics but at what cost? I personally got sick to my stomach at all the photos I do/did have that are pap shots or personal ones pilfered from a relatives site of Alexander Skarsgard. I’m not on my soap box to tell you how to live it just made me uncomfortable at the sheer amount. Of all the photo shoots he’s done in the past and present and all of his movies I have screen shots from, it only made up 25% of over 8,000 pics. So I dumped them and I don’t ‘like’ them anymore and try hard not to comment (but c’mon the rain guys) and make it a point to scroll past them.

I’m wondering your thoughts on the subject? Wondering how it would feel if someone had personal pics of me or my kids.

And ladies it’s just curiosity and publicly stating that yes I am addicted to that man’s fine ass 😘💞.


P.S. Thank you World Of Skarsgard for the awesome pic from a red carpet event. Love you WOS 😘💖

The Bar

Eric let out a frustrated sigh again as he looked at his list of

prospective interior designers. The first had

been an annoying unnatural red-head that was

so snobby and unprofessional that she

laughed in his face when he described what

he wanted for his bar Arlene Fowler of C&L

Studio had pictures cut out of magazines as

her portfolio. The second hit on him the

whole 20 minute meeting while she slutted

up a poor cousin version of Sharon Stone in

that movie. Her ‘professional’ attire

consisted of a barely-there skirt and

practically open blouse which screamed

desperate, not naughty office. She was on the

down side of  ageing, maybe late forties, with

a bad Cheetos colored streaky bottle tan. She

had no prior work to show me, I think it was

a store front for prostitution: Dawn Greene

Parlor Designs more like $10 handy’s and

$20 happy ending’s. The last had been a real

estate company that had a side division for

staging houses to be sold and final design

walk through with pre-existing furniture

and such in place. Sort of like re-arranging

someone’s furniture, feng sui and shit like

that. I thought I was shit out of luck till I ran

into a willowy brunette coming back from a

coffee run.
“Hi can I help you find your new home?” she

smiled at me.
“Humm….oh sorry what was that?”
“Hi I’m Aude. Adrianna Quinn realtor and

freelance interior decorator here at

Pumphrey and Ball Interiors. Can I help

you?” she winked  and licked her plump

shiny pink lips and I groaned.

I’m so not into getting involved right now.

She was sexy and sweet and I haven’t gotten

laid in 3 years. If I just fuck her then work

with her it will be awkward and I don’t do

one nighters or flings as a rule.

I learned my lesson with Felicia in college.

I’m just not a hit and quit type. She fucked

with my head, stringing me along while

fucking my friends and it was humiliating.

Nope just stick with your plan Northman. I’ve

got a deadline. I’ve got to focus and I’ve got a

shit load of money, not just mine, riding on

this endeavour.

I smile back and I’m about to reply when I

catch a glimmer from her left hand holding

the coffee caddie. What the fuck is with all

these women in this city  itching to get

scratched. She’s wearing a ring for God sakes!
I so do not want to call Pam and have her

send Miriam from NY. I’m on a  beer budget

and that gluttonous viper lives on carbonated

angel blood.

Oh she’s staring me. “Hello, Eric Northman. I

was wondering if you could refer me to an

interior design company. I’ve struck out all

over Shreveport so far. No one seems to get

the style I’m envisioning for my bar. ”

“Ah… sure. It’s slim pickings in these parts

and NOLA offers restoration mostly. What are

you trying to achieve. Wine bar, Jazz

collective, cocktails, maybe a lawyers club?”
Huh? This sounds promising. She

motions me inside the automatic doors to a

small showroom with desks off to one side

and a small cubicle to back. Like a tiny bank

slash furniture store.
” Just a bar were you can enjoy good music,

good drinks, great atmosphere whether you

be lawyer, businessman, truck driver, school

teacher or small town neighbors. Everyone’s

“Wow tall order. People round here don’t

socialize to much. You have city folk,

in..Shreveport, Monroe, Bossier and then

country folk, Bon Temps, Hot Shot, Maynard.

It’s either sawdust and beer or snooty wine

and cocktails.” She taps her chin thinking.
This is not sounding good.
“That’s why Shreveport needs a place like

mine. Why Louisiana needs a place like mine.

We are all Louisiana no matter were we hail

from. It will work.” I was getting desperate.
I i wanted this as local as I can be. All

building materials, marketing, liquor, beer

,food all from Louisiana.” I pleaded.
She smiled a great big smile.
“Come with me. I know just who can do this”
She grabbed my arm and we walked about 5

blocks from her office to an old book store.

“Go on go inside and look. Tell me how this

place makes you feel.”
Well here goes nothing. A design store front

for prostitution and now a bookstore that

designs bars.
I walk in and am blown away. instead of

bookshelves it’s wall to wall repurposed

fireplace mantels of all sizes. The columns

aged wood fit in to vintage book vibe. Several

small reading areas are set up with

re-upholstered antique furniture. Small stools

and side tables spread about topped with

wrought iron lamps, the shades made of old

newspapers from different local newspapers

around the state. The floor is all reclaimed

wood. Beautiful and fitting for this place. A

picture hanging by the door catches my eye

while I’m leaving. It’s a small 5×8 black and

white photo of two young men and a little

boy standing by a barn. The placard reads

J&H Design.
I walk out smiling and hug Aude. I’m elated

it’s exactly what I’m looking for.
She looks bewildered but smiles awkwardly

and I thank her again. She totally changed my

impression of her, for the better.
We head back to her office were she gives me

the address, her card and I’m off.
It’s not till I reach the interstate that I notice

there is no phone number to make an

appointment. I pull out my phone and call

Aude to ask for it. She tells me its ‘word of

mouth’ only. No appointments. Just show up

and someone will be there. Oh and to keep

an eye out for a giant wooden hummingbird.

That’s my turn off when I get to Bon Temps.

Well back woods here I come.