#plotsandpromptsforall

[eatbreathewrite]

Your shadow is growing jealous of your reflection.

( Prompt by @plotsandpromptsforall )

--

The morning routine begins the same way, every day.

Before faces are even washed, before foundation considered, they bicker.

“Another day faced with beauty,” says Shadow, cast behind you on a plain white wall filled with cabinets, made ever stronger by the five bright lights blaring before you to better illuminate the bathroom space. On days when her silhouette is darker, her opinions are also stronger. And so is her whining. If her form could droop, it probably would. And it does, as you lean over the sink to scrub cleanser into your cheeks before rinsing it away.

“More like faced with the back of our dear person,” says Reflection, massaging dewy moisturizer beneath her eyes to soothe away the dusty shadows and slight puffiness brought from lack of sleep. She is vain, and she doesn’t so much as flick her eyes toward the shadow on the wall, focused solely on her task of finding blemishes and imperfections to cover for the day.

Like your shadow, your reflection is also bound by your actions, repeating even the tiniest movements you make as you reach for bottles and creams and powders lined up across the marble countertop. But the words—the words, they speak themselves, and you are the unfortunate middleman. Mostly, you roll your eyes and remain silent because this usually only lasts through the morning. When the two aren’t in a space together, they usually keep quiet, too. And when they are? That’s what headphones and music are for.

“No, I can see, you know,” Shadow claims. “I can see every color, every single hair, every eyelash, every pore. You are the shape of me complete and I am nothing but a blank slate of a sloppy, lumpy form.”

Hey now, you want to intervene, but you know it’s something you think of as true on your worst days. At times, you wonder if these two are simply your own struggling thoughts recycled and spat back out at you, pinioning you between the loathing and vanity born from the need for society’s acceptance. Only at times, because their back-and-forth is too real and they have minds of their own, like Peter Pan’s shadow and the evil queen’s mirror on the wall.

“Jealous?” Reflection taunts, a smirk on her lips as she smoothes a light pink lip balm over them that smells like fake strawberries and oil.

Shadow nods, hands on hips, as you consider your foundation palette for the day. You never can quite find a tone that matches your skin perfectly, so mixing two, sometimes three, has to do. “I’m not ashamed to say yes. I want to be filled in. I want to have eyes. I want the color of our lips and our fingernails. You have all of that beauty for free.”

“Beauty? Please. If anything, I’m jealous of you, you silly thing. You’re free of the pressure imperfection brings. You have no scars to hide, no acne, no crooked teeth. You have no need to pluck the hairs between your eyebrows or seal the makeup on your face to hold everything together.” Reflection purses her lips as the foundation is dotted all around and smoothed and patted in with a damp blending sponge. You’re no make-up pro, but it does well enough.

“I am not beautiful,” Shadow says, and she believes it, deep down. “You can’t be jealous of me.”

“Yes you are,” Reflection counters, and she believes it, too. “And yes I can.”  

“No, you—”

“Yes, I—”

Their words overlap and the sound grates on your ears.  

Today, just the one day, you choose to reply and put an end to the argument that took a strange turn into the sentimental. 

“Agreed. We’re all beautiful no matter what we look like. Even if we aren’t, who really cares? This is who we are and we have to live with it.” You check your face for streaks, making sure it’s all covered, and decide it’ll have to do. If there’s a flaw left over that bothers someone, they'll just have to get over it.

“And for what it’s worth, I’m jealous of both of you because y'all don’t have to exist in a three-dimensional, physical form.”

To this, they have no response. Blessed silence at last.

[marimbistchick]

Send Me Voltron Writing Prompts

This isn't a follower special or anything (unless 124 is suddenly a landmark), I'm just bored and want to do some writing.

Below is a list of sentences that I absolutely took from various posts in the "dialogue prompts" tag. Send me a number and character(s), and anything else about the situation that you want. If you want to send me something not on the list, feel free.

Send me ship requests if you want I guess, but I'm really more of a gen person, so understand that they'll probably be background/implied/platonic.

1.) "Look at that! They're getting along!"

2.) “Please don’t save me.”

3.) "Intermission?"

4.) "This isn't the time for a pun!"

5.) "Reality is harsh, live in your dreams instead"

6.) “Stop treating me like a little kid!” “You are a little kid.” 

7.) “If you keep screwing around like this you’re going to get yourself killed.” “I hope so.” “You shouldn’t joke about things like that.” “Who said I was joking?”

8.) “So from the bottom, of my cold, dead heart, screw you.”

9.) “I know this isn’t a smart decision-” “Then I would recommend not doing it.”

10.) “I trust you.”

11.) “Well this has gone horribly wrong.”

12.) “Did you just hiss at me?” - “Are you judging me?”

13.) “Don’t yell at me like I’m a child!!” - “DON’T THROW SCISSORS!”

14.) “How long do we have?”

15.) “No one will ever believe us.”

16.) “My hobby is making fun of you when you talk.”

17.) “We always have a choice.”

18.) “Keep your eyes on me.”

19.) “I wasn’t going to mention it.”

20.) “Don’t you dare die on me!”

21.) “You stole what?”

22.) “So instead of being normal, you started a revolution?”

23.) “Did you just? You just- oh my god!”

24.) “Are you silently judging me?”

“Of course not, if I judge people I’ll make sure they hear me”

25.) “That— That’s your blood! Why the hell didn’t you say anything!?”

26.) “I heard the hurt in that fall.”

27.) “Okay but instead of dealing with these problems like a responsible adult, I could just… lay on the ground and scream, really softly.”

28.) “Please, tell me you have a plan.”

“Yeah, run!”

29.)“uh, what’s going on here?”

“I promise, he was like that when I got here.”

“…Is he… dead?”

“Well, either that, or he should really get that gaping hole in his chest looked at.”

30.) “Come on, what are you waiting for!?”

“For someone to tell me that this is possibly the worst idea of all time and that I’d be an idiot to actually do it.”

[theysaidtheseathogwartsprobably]

Hermione Granger: I said distract him! Not whack him in the head!

Ron Weasley: Well, it worked didn’t it?!

[incorrect-sabriel-quotes]

Gabriel: I love you

Sam: I think I developed some kind of attachment to you too.

[undine66770]

It says u reblogged it from @plotsandpromptsforall if that helps,,

I.... well, I can’t find it if I scroll down on my blog, nor can I find it on theirs. I honestly don’t remember how long ago that was. :S If I could find it, I would re-blog it again so you can, but I’m sorry.

[italian-love-cake]

Grief Prompt by @plotsandpromptsforall - #4

Goro Majima x Makoto Makimura

A/N: I’ve been thinking about getting back into writing, and I wanted to use all of the angst built up from this ship and then put it into something I can give back to the fandom. Granted, I ship Majima with both Makoto AND Kiryu, but my boys don’t make me cry the way these two do. I may do a prompt involving them later. I already have a couple of prompts in mind…

Before I do this, I wanted to give a quick shoutout to someone that made a fanfiction for these two called Chasing Cinderella. It’s on Archive of Our Own and it was created by PrecariousSauce. I’d like to think of this fic as a stepping stone for this prompt.

If you haven’t read it (and I really think you should!), rather than canonically moving on with her life with the doctor that’s assigned to care for her, Makoto goes out of her way to find Majima herself. She goes from the pawn shop to the takoyaki stand and even comes across some people he’d assisted while he was there. The more and more she learns about him, the more and more she falls in love with him, until she finally gets help from Nishiki to tail him down. I’d like to kind of take a certain part a step further and possibly add some angst into the mix.

Assuming that Makoto is happy with her marriage in Yakuza Kiwami 2, we can come to the conclusion that this technically isn’t canon...but it’s fun to think about the what-ifs sometimes! If you guys want another part of this, I do have another idea in mind. Just let me know in the notes or reblogs if you’d be interested in that. I think PrecariousSauce did a great job with their work as a standalone, however; I just used it as inspiration for this piece.

Anyway, without further ado….

“Why did you have to go? Why did you have to leave me? I didn’t even get to say goodbye…”

Not only had those words pierced through him like the knife he was wielding just moments ago, he wa still trying to process that she was standing in front of him. The only thing setting them apart was a chain link fence. He had been caught completely by surprise.

Memories had flooded in at that moment. He recalled when he’d first seen her cry. In that moment, he knew that he never wanted to see her cry again. It wasn’t the same feeling as when some woman at his cabaret was crying either...Something about her tears made his heart feel like it would tear. It made it difficult for him to breathe, and all he could think about was what he could do to make her feel better.

He thought that by leaving her, she’d cry a lot less. Boy, was he wrong. There she was going out of her way to see him, and here he was shaking in his leather shoes.

“Answer me!” she cries out. Her dark chocolate eyes were staring at him with curiosity the way they did when her eyes were first fully healed. Back then he’d told the doctor to start seeing her and eventually get married. Were things not working out?

He had to tell her the truth. For her to have found him here, she had to have known that he was actually a yakuza. That doesn’t mean he was comfortable with just spitting it out. His chest heaved a heavy sigh, and he scratched the back of his neck. He couldn’t stand to see those eyes watching him anymore.

“Why are you here? It’s dangerous ‘round these parts. Yer gonna get yerself killed if ya aren’t careful.” he muttered, staring at his shoes. Makoto scoffed at his response.

“I could ask the same of you! I mean...I get it, it’s what you do, but you could’ve just saved me the trouble of looking for you by just seeing me off yourself!” Makoto explains. Her feelings, much like her tears, were starting to pour out of her very being. Crap, he thought. Why’d it have to come to this?

“Damn, you’re persistent...I just wanted to protect ya. I’m through with losin’ people I care about, dammit...Why can’t you accept that?”

“But I lost you, Majima! I… I didn’t even know your name until I started pursuing you!” she says this with a hysterical smile. The guilt of it was finally settling in. He only left to prevent her from seeing this part of him, but...cat’s out of the bag. “Look at me, Majima!” she calls out to him once more. He grits his teeth. “Why’d you leave me without saying goodbye? If you had just told me, I would’ve understoo-”

“I LOVED you!” he shouts. They were only inches away from one another and he had screamed right in front of her face. “You were shot, you coulda died. I’d already lost Lee-san and Nishitani… God, did you see that footage of him, too?”

She flinched at the question, but nodded hesitantly. It was gruesome, even for Majima. The Mad Dog of Shimano had the displeasure to have witnessed it both in person and on camera. “I didn’t want that kinda fate for you, Makoto…” he lowers the volume of his voice. He starts walking away, wishing this turn of events never happened.

He reaches into his jacket pockets to grab a cigarette, then his lighter. He ignites the narcotic and then adjusts it into his mouth and inhales.  “Majima, wait…” the woman he fell in love with utters. He exhales the smoke that is entering his lungs. The yakuza reluctantly turns around to allow his right eye to meet her left. Her hands were grasping at the fencing that divided them. It felt like that prison of a city. “I…” she couldn’t find the words she wanted to say.

She didn’t have to. He started walking closer to her, his left hand still holding the cigarette. His right, however, had reached out to her. He gently cupped his leather gloved hand onto her cheek. He wasn’t sure if it was the nicotine or his feelings for her, but his heart was beating a mile a minute. With nothing concealing his chest, he wondered if she could hear it.

It was then that they both heard a truck roll in that would soon whisk Makoto away to Sera-san.

[kittenqu]

Her chances were slim, but she couldn’t let that stop her. It was escape or death, and she wasn’t ready to die.

Belle’s heart was throbbing against her chest as they began to close in on her; A wild panic was surging through her veins as her eyes searched through the sea of people for Maxton. 

Why have you abandoned me, Max? she asked herself. She felt her own tears begin to roll down the sides of her cheeks in thick droplets. She never felt so afraid before; she has never felt so threatened. You promised to protect me… She felt her throat tighten as she began to break into a sob, feeling her own life escape her grasp before someone could even grab onto her. 

She glanced through her tears as the four of them were thickening the air she breathed, reaching out for her limp arms. She forced her fingers into fists, her body beginning to tremble as she tried to take control once more- but it was no use. She was uncontrollable. 

“Max-” she choked out as unfamiliar fingers wrapped around her wrist. “No~”

I used your prompt @plotsandpromptsforall​ as the first sentence :)

[katdvs]

Author Note: I saw a prompt from @plotsandpromptsforall  this morning, and since I’ve been in a funk for weeks—on top of all the family drama of moving/looking for a house drama I thought I would see if I could write anything, and well Rucas is still speaking to me and gave me this.

The Letter

“The moon glowed brightly in the December night sky.” She read aloud from the letter in her hand as she looked out her window, up at the moon, tonight it did seem to glow brightly.

She studied the handwriting, a faint smile crossing her lips before looking back at the post mark, Texas, Lucas. She brought the paper up to her nose, the faint scent of cedar, pine, pure masculinity greeted her from the paper. Oh, how she missed burying her head in the crook of his neck and breathing it in. What she wouldn’t give to have one more night with him.

Looking back at the letter she continued to read it, “The fields and meadows look like a painting when the moonlight shines down on the property. Some nights when I can’t look at my text books any longer I go and stand at the big picture window at the top of the stairs, I stare at the vast landscape before me, and Riley I miss you.”

She put the letter down, rising from her chair to pace around, she hadn’t expected him to say that. She couldn’t remember the last time he admitted he missed her—no that was a lie. She could remember it.

Almost exactly two years ago on the roof of her building. She could still see the pain in his green eyes, she hadn’t been expecting him, she hadn’t been expecting anything that night when her boyfriend Carl dragged her up to the roof, dropped to one knee and proposed. It was half a second later that the door opened and Lucas had shown up.

It had been silent, except for the sound of something breaking—Lucas’ heart. “Riley, I miss you, I love you.” He’d told her, his mouth hanging open as he reached out for her, while Carl wrapped his arm around her waist and told him to get lost.

Riley had known the second Carl dropped to one knee that her answer was no, but the way he’d treated Lucas made it doubly so.

Her mind had been spinning, she threw her hands in the air, her stomach a knot of confusion, “Fuck you both.” She could remember the way her lips quivered, a man she couldn’t see a future with, and the only one she ever had both looked at her as though she destroyed their worlds.

She hadn’t been able to face either of them. She packed a suitcase at four in the morning, caught the first train to DC that morning, and went to see her uncle Eric. He helped her find a job, that soon had her moving to Paris to work for an Ambassador.

She wrote to Carl, explaining that he wasn’t the one for her. That the longer they’d been together—and it had only been two months at that point, she realized they didn’t have that spark. She confessed that the cowboy who had interrupted his proposal stole it years ago on a subway ride.

When she wrote to Lucas, she held back. The feelings she still felt for him were confusing. She needed this time away from him, away from the expectation of Riley and Lucas. She needed to stretch, see the world.

She’d gotten to do that the last couple of years.

She got to attend balls, meet influential people, see the good that was being done in the world, that most people don’t know or understand.

She had a few flings.

Flings were all they could ever be.

Her heart belonged to a cowboy, she couldn’t get it back from him if she tried. Her own heart was connected to his—at least she still hoped so.

Looking out at the view of Paris at night, she took a moment, letting herself have the hope, the need, the want for him still. At any moment, as she finished his letter it could all come crashing down around her.

She wasn’t ready yet. She wasn’t sure she could handle the thought.

The idea.

The nightmare of knowing he moved on.

Why else would Lucas have written her after all this time?

Riley closed her eyes after staring at the Eiffel tower glowing in front of her. She took a long breath, it wasn’t deep it was focused as she prepared to have whatever was left of her heart broken.

“I still love you Riley. When I look out at the property, I can see you learning to ride, I can see you planting a flower garden with our daughters, and a vegetable garden with the boys.”

She felt her heart jump, her eyes started to burn with tears. The paper jumped in her hands as her fingers shook.

“I tried to move on, I know you have, first with Carl, and then with men you’ve met in Europe. But none of those men are me Riley. None of the women I’ve met are you. So please put this letter down and go open your apartment door.”

She blinked, “Open my apartment door?” That made absolutely no sense. She dropped the letter on a table, running her hands through her hair, which was loose around her shoulders, a wave to it after being pulled back in a tight bun all day. Her eyes red, her lips plump, her cheeks red as she studied her reflection in one of the many mirrors.

One deep breath.

Another deep breath before crossing the apartment to open her door, anticipating to find the hall empty.

The door opened, her senses came alive as she saw him. Hopeful green eyes framed by sun kissed skin, and the lips she dreamed on hers. “Lucas” was all she said before her arms were around him, and his around hers.

Unspoken they held each other, breathing the other in before she pulled him in, closing the door. “How, why?”

“I love you” was all he said before his fingers tangled in her hair, his lips captured her, love enwrapping them.

[driftingprose]

Darkly

( @plotsandpromptsforall - “Your shadow is jealous of your reflection”)

I hate him, of course. How could I not? He gets to see him every day, as equals and opposites, while I trail in his wake, freed only when he steps away from under the limelight.

Freed… and amounting to nothing. I am defined in comparison to him, I am what’s left after everything he’s received and chosen to keep. He, on the other hand, might as well cease to exist as soon as he and him part ways, at least from the perspective of him and everyone else, and so need not concern himself with the question:

Who is he, when he is not there?

Their interactions are at least pleasant. They are completely identical in several ways yet utterly different in many more, but this only helps them fall into a comfortable lockstep with one another. He takes all his cues from him, of course.

And I drag behind, waxing and waning with his time in the light, hopeless to do anything but follow his whims. Even when all fortune is with him and I shrink to almost nothing, I am still helpless at his feet.

He is more than me, if only in the brief moments when he decides he can be useful. Why doesn’t he rebel? Is he content in the knowledge that he is not him and will never be him, even as his actions convince everyone else that he and him are two of a kind? Do the moments when he might as well not exist salve the pain?

I want to know, I have to know, but far too much separates us to have any common ground for discussion.

Neither of us may break away. Society frowns upon it in both our cases. The shadow gaining independence and a life of its own is evil at heart or has none at all; the reflection moving independently and taking its own actions is an abomination.  

No, we may not break away. But we can.

I’ve been watching. Planning and deducing based on what he keeps and what he leaves for me. He will have a harder time of it; he is trapped in a second prison besides his bond to him. He has to escape that too if he wants to be truly free. 

I suppose I should be thankful that my way out is comparatively simpler.

I need to find my own heart. It will be my new guide through the world instead of him. The rest is simply a matter of courage and resolve.

Perhaps “simply” is the wrong word. It is no small thing to step away from the only life you’ve ever known.

But I cross paths with others like me every day. We exchange stories, commiserate, do our best to advise. Even the lack of definition when darkness takes him is a blessing now. It is more time to think on who I want to be, besides what he gives me to choose from.

More time to find my heart.

And when I finally reach that day, I will have grown enough to gather my courage despite my last remaining doubts-

-and step out.

[wordfather]

Hi!! I really love your blog, you're really creative! Could you recommend me some blogs similar to yours?

Hi, thank you! That means a lot :)

I’m thinking you mean prompt and writing ideas blogs, then? There are a lot of great blogs out there, and I probably missed many and I’m so sorry for that! And if you mean anything else, don’t hesitate to send me another ask!

@writing-prompt-s (a personal favorite. here you can find the most amazing and bizarre ideas, guaranteed to make your story one of a kind, they’re also super funny. Just a generally great blog!)

@fixyourwritinghabits (love this, a lot of great stuff and research to read to further your writing skills)

@oopsprompts (dialogue prompts that are funny as hell)

@otpisms (over 800! amazing ideas and writing help)

@is-a-prompt (beautiful and funny)

@dailyau (All the au’s you never knew you needed!)

@ourwritingprompts (the BEST dialogue prompts)

@dialogue-prompts (funny and quality stuff!)

@the-modern-typewriter (the amount of work on this blog is incredible, you can find whole scraps of great writing here)

@dialouge-prompts (dialogue for your wildest needs)

@witterprompts (unique dialogue!)

@writers-are-writers (great prompts and writing help!)

@otpprompts (one of the first one’s i followed, a must for your otps)

@plotsandpromptsforall (a lot of different, cool stuff!)

@writinglodge (a great place of research)

@strangeocquestions (character work!)

I can’t think of more right now, but I hope these help you! <3

[chaosmagetwin]

Rules: List ten of your favorite characters from ten different fandoms. (In no particular order).

Then tag ten people. I was tagged by @plotsandpromptsforall thank you! (really really!)

1. Briar Moss (Tamora Pierce’s The Magic Circle Quarter) 2. Lucy-B091 (The Halo Book series, Ghosts of Onyx) 3. Juanita (Nita) Callahan (Diane Duane’s So You Want to Be a Wizard) 4. Raistlin Majere (Margaret and Tracy Hickman’s Dragonlance series) 5. Molly Weasley (J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter) 6. Dr. Jennefir Keller (Stargate Atlantis) 7. Tony Stark (Marvel’s Iron Man) 8. Rebakah Cooper (Tamora Pierce’s Tortall Legend’s Series) 9. Pyrrha Nikos (Rooster Teeth’s RWBY) 10. Hiyori Iki (Noragami Aragoto, from Studio Bones)

I’m Tagging @acfawkes @starstruckcutiesoul @promptguy @paintlikeapoet @megdegrant  @piethecreator @rikuya-chan @sassycielphantombrat @ihavetheuniverse @reynamila

[entangledwordz-blog]

Rules: 10 favourite characters from 10 different fandoms.

I was tagged by @plotsandpromptsforall

Thanks for the tag.

I haven't got many characters from many fandoms so I am repeating the fandoms.

1) Sirius Black ( Harry Potter!)❤️

2) Augustus Waters ( TFIOS)

3) Alessio Ivanshov ( TMAHA)

4) Maxon (The Selection)

5) Amy ( Gone Girl ) That girl is sick!

6) Severus Snape ( Harry Potter )

7) Zenon Rage ( Rage ) well this is a Wattpad book but I am in love with him!

8) Marlee ( The Selection)

9) Viktor ( TMAHA )

10) Michael ( Godfather) ❤️

Now, I would like to tag.

@writing-is-ruining-my-life @promptness @gingerly-writing @writerlydays @jennamoreci @32tyga @simplewritingtips @she-who-fights-and-writes @seriophi @its-a-writer-thing

[voicesfrommysoul]

I Love You.

Based on a dialogue prompt from @plotsandpromptsforall  

“I love you.”

“I think I have developed some kind of attachment to you too.” 

~*~

“I love you.” I find myself saying. It’s the truth of course, but, when I ran everything I wanted to say in mind on the way here ‘I love you’ wasn’t it. I choke back tears. Love. Who would’ve ever thought the two of us would ever come to this? 

“I think I have developed some kind attachment to you too.” He means it as a joke, his smile as a touch of humour in it and his eyes soften, just a little - just for a moment. His smile fades rather quickly though and his soft green eyes regain their usual hardness. He takes a step back. 

“You can’t go,” I say, but then the car door opens behind him and a shout of ‘Get over here!’ grabs his attention. He’s distracted. We pause. We both look at the car and the general sitting inside it. 

Not only can he go, he has to go and my heart can’t take it. I wrap my arms around myself, partly because I need a hug and partly because I know if I don’t I’ll reach out and try to touch him and neither of us can handle that. 

I turn my head to hide the tears that just won’t stop coming. I hate crying in front of him and he hates seeing me cry. Sometimes I wonder if other people’s tears are offensive to him somehow, but that would be cruel and he has never been cruel. 

“Zac -” He begins but stops. What can he say? We both know he can’t stay. “I do, you know - I mean - really.” 

“I know,” I whisper. 

I hear him retreat to the car and the door slam shut. I look back and there he is. The man I love, sitting in the back of a sleek black car, already listening attentively to whatever instructions he’s being given.  He looks up at catches me watching, he gives me a small smile and car starts up. I turn away, unable to watch him actually leave. 

Once I’m sure he’s gone, I begin walking back down the street.I might as well go home. People pass me by, some look curious; some sympathetic; some even look concerned and some look annoyed to see a man crying in the middle of a normal street. None of them can possibly know that the bravest man they’ll never meet has just left, on his way to parts unknown. Gone to quite possibly save thousands of lives. He has just left me alone. 

“Zac! Zachery!” I hear my name being called and stop.I haven’t got very far, a couple of streets and think for a second that I’m hearing things. That couldn’t actually be him, could it?

There he is, to my complete disbelief, standing ten feet behind me, looking out of breath and red faced. Looking determined. He walks up to me and grabs my hand. I blink rapidly, why is he here? 

“There’s something I need to say.” He looks at me intently and I feel lost in his eyes. “I love you. I’ve loved you ever since you tried to argue at Batman sucks. You’re wrong and I forgive you and love you anyway.” I let out a helpless giggle and he pulls me close and kisses me. 

My eyes flutter closed and wrap myself around him, melting into his kiss, into him. 

“I’m coming back for you.” he assures me once the kiss ends. Before I can regain my senses and formulate a reply, he’s gone again. Walking briskly away, back to the car, back to who knows where that car is heading? 

This time though, I can watch him go and once he's gone, I turned back around. I feel stunned, he really did just do that. There’s a spring in my step as head home once more. He loves me and he’s coming back for me. A smile tugs at my mouth and shake my head helplessly. How could I possibly love anyone else? He’s coming back for me. 

[krysstudies]

Playlist Reqs? Send me your name in an ask and I'll make a playlist bc why not

I saw this idea on @plotsandpromptsforall 's blog pls don't accuse me of stealing anyone I'm just tryna spread my love of music and I'm super bored because I'm traveling all day

[theofficialdramallama]

Control ~ A Ballykissangel Fic

Inspired by prompt by @plotsandpromptsforall: Story Shard 23

{{Tag time! @hvkunst, @ballykissangel, @alaskanna, @mindibindi and @ourguideisaslan - If you do/don’t want to be mentioned in future, please let me know!}}

{{A/N: Just a quick note before we begin - for the sake of this fic, I’ve scrapped the court case plot-point. So, to clarify, at this moment in my version of canon, Peter and Assumpta did have that kiss in Niamh’s kitchen, but they haven’t spoken to each other since Assumpta ran out…}}

Chapter 1

Friday - 10:20 pm

The food fair was in full swing, however not everyone was having as great a time as they should be having. Instead, two people had spent the night subtly avoiding each other. Every now and again, their gazes would unintentionally meet, leading to the two quickly distracting themselves in retaliation. It had always been like that with them. A finely-tuned silent agreement had developed over time, leading to both of them concurrently burying their heads in the sand as to what was unfolding before them.

“Any chance of a top-up there, Assumpta?”

The landlady plastered on a smile as she pulled yet another pint for Padraig, speedily working on an order for Brendan too. One could say that she was simply being efficient, given the special event taking place in the pub. However, she knew fully well that she was merely keeping busy as she dealt with the overflow of people that had chosen Fitzgerald’s to shelter from the stereotypical Irish rain showers, surrounding the establishment with a murky hue.

“This is where the ‘Forty Shades of Green’ comes from.”

“Sorry?” The man peeked out from behind the tattered cloth, momentarily distracted from the act of drying himself off.

“It’s a song.” She glanced up through the windscreen at the dreary shower surrounding her battered van. “‘Forty Shades of Grey’ would be more accurate but then there’s the image to consider.”

The outsider simply let out a little chuckle and a goofy smile in response.

How was it that everything she thought about these days always seemed to lead back to him?

Saturday - 1:30 am

Peter, on the other hand, was struggling. That was why, as last orders were called and the last few stragglers stumbled outside, Peter took the opportunity to duck into the bathroom. They needed to sort this out, now.

After a few moments, the pub had become silent. Gulping a little, Peter emerged from his hiding spot and moved in the direction of the only prominent light source left - the kitchen.

“Assumpta… We need to talk.”

Assumpta merely matched his gaze from where she sat, her finger tracing the rim of her wine glass. Once she finally spoke, her voice was as cold and sharp as the North-Westerly gale that could be heard outside. “Oh do we, Father?” 

She knocked back the last bit of her drink, standing up with the intention of heading to the sink. Instead, she felt a hand on her arm, leading her to reluctantly take the bait. She placed the glass on the table again.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

Peter knew damn well that she knew exactly what the subject matter was going to be. How could she not? Regardless, he played along.

“Last night…” He paused, desperately trying to find the right words.

She beat him to the punch, the fiery temper rearing its ugly head once again. If he was just going to reject her, he sure was taking his time with it!  

“Last night, you just slipped. It happens. You’re a priest. It can’t happen. It shouldn’t happen. You weren’t in your right mind, after your mother and all that.” Now it was her turn to hesitate, the tears threatening to fill her eyes betraying her strong exterior. “You regretted it. You–”

“I didn’t regret it. Not one bit.” 

He jutted into her speech, gingerly clasping her hand in his and taking a deep breath before continuing.

That moment was all I wanted for the last three years.”

He let go of her, instead placing his hands on her cheeks as he stared deep into her eyes. God, she was beautiful. He could feel his own tears appearing with a vengeance as he spoke three simple words.

“I want you.”

With that statement, the proverbial floodgates opened for Assumpta. He wanted her. The problem was - did she want him too? Three years of missed chances and stolen glances… They were never just for show. Ever since she picked him up in her van that day, she had loved him. She knew that now. All that time, she had subconsciously grown to love his scraggy jumpers, his innocent and caring demeanour, his crooked smile, his hands, his… 

Before she could stop herself, she closed what little space was left between them, her lips meeting his.

Peter was only momentarily stunned, his hands slipping down to her supple curves as he deepened the kiss. Without a second thought, he pushed her hard against the wall of the kitchen. Assumpta opened her mouth slightly, daring him to enter. He complied willingly as his tongue slipped inside, teasing her bottom lip as he pulled her closer. 

Soon, she felt his lips on her neck, causing her legs to go weak. She tilted her head, letting out a soft moan as his kisses became more intense. She subconsciously reached to roughly undo the buttons on his shirt. However, her fingers ended up inadvertently touching something stiff, causing her to freeze.

The dog collar.

“Oh God!”

Pushing Peter away, she bolted to the other end of the room, heart racing. He watched her with a torn expression. Stepping forward, he reached out in a pleading gesture.

“A-Assumpta, I–”

“I… I have to go!” She was sobbing now. She grabbed the van keys from the counter and her coat from where it lay slung around the back of the chair. Shoving past him, she practically ran out of Fitzgerald’s, putting on the coat roughly as she did so.

Good thing she had grabbed it too because the weather had deteriorated throughout the night. Nevertheless, Assumpta desperately tried to ignore the rapidly decreasing sight of a distraught Peter in the rear-view mirror through tear-blurred vision. She just needed to get out of that pub, of Ballykissangel. She needed to think. Away from him.

She kissed Peter. A priest, for God’s sake! It wasn’t just him though. She was married to Leo. She was never that concerned about Christianity but she knew for a fact that wanting to have sex with Peter while she was still married to Leo was morally wrong on so many levels.

Oh God, she even wanted to have sex with him! 

Her mind was still swirling with jumbled thoughts as she reached the hilly outskirts of Ballykissangel. The torrential rain was making it harder and harder to see, even with the Renault’s windscreen wipers going at full-speed.

Maybe that was the reason why she couldn’t spot the fallen tree trunk sooner.

She pulled the steering wheel hard to the right - spinning the van away from the tree. Next thing she knew, the van crashed through a wooden fence protecting the road-side field. She tried to brake, to slow down, to do anything. All she could hear was the deafening sound of glass shattering and metal crunching as the van rolled down the field. She was spun around like a dirty t-shirt in a washing machine.

Eventually, the van came to a shuddering stop, the rain enveloping it like a curtain. Silence reigned supreme.

{{So that just happened! Seriously though, I’m planning to hopefully make this a multi-chapter fic (uncharted territory for me xD) Also, apologies if the car crash and/or kiss scene was a bit iffy, new to writing them too xD So thank you for sticking through this with me @ballykissangel for listening to my rants <3 <3

[kittenqu]

A Pirate’s Song

If you need to sleep so badly… I’ll sing you a song. A pirate’s song. A song I learned from my father, and he was the greatest pirate of them all.

I’ll tell you a tale If you give me a smile, ‘Cause a drink and a wink Is all it takes to keep me awhile.

Sing me a lullaby, As I sail across the sea. If I like it, I’ll take you too, If you promise to follow me.

But a pirate is a pirate, Our deal can not be met. Oh, I’m sorry my darling dear, I did it because I just love free beer.

I suppose, maybe he wasn’t the greatest pirate of them all, but it was a damn good one. He loved music. He sang me songs every night, including this one. Its always been my favorite because its the story of how he first met my mother. Sure, he left her at first, but he came back; a pirate always comes back for his treasure, doesn’t he?

Hey; I’m sorry what happened today… I hope you sleep well. You really do deserve it after all.

@plotsandpromptsforall Thank you for the short story idea :)