#i swear if somebody just gives me a deadline. please

[sketchy-aura]

Finished CTS!Thatcher's design!! I'm really happy with how it came out!! As labeled, the left is pre-Gabriel's influence and right is post-Gabriel's influence. Feel free to ask questions about him or any of the other characters!!! Its always appreciated i like ranting about them <333

[bomberqueen17]

momentum

last year i kept missing updates and people were so sweet like “you don’t have to post X often! you don’t have to hit a deadline! do what suits your schedule!” and that was lovely and I did appreciate it, but the point of the deadlines was momentum. Now I have fallen down so thoroughly on posting ever at all, zero routine left, no concept of it even, that I have no momentum and my brain is like clearly no one cares about this so give up, and that sucks, and i’m exhausted and cranky and useless and shitty but by god i am not abandoning my like fifty WIPs that i care deeply about i swear and so anyway i am trying to force the engine to turn over, as hard as I can, i swear other people were excited about this and i can use that to get myself excited about it again, i can do this

so please help me get excited about literally anything, i am in despair.

SNIPPETS of THINGS i am TRYING TO MAKE HAPPEN:

direct prequel to Fit For Pearls:

“Did he ask you to tell me about the meeting?” Ciri asked, eyeing him.

“He did not directly ask,” Voorhis said stiffly, “but he knows I intended to ensure you had the opportunity to attend such meetings. Had he not wanted me to tell you, he would have needed to order me not to.”

“Is that how it works?” Ciri asked.

“It’s how that works,” Voorhis said, very stiff and formal and not much like his normal self. She wondered what he was trying to convey. Was it displeasure, that this was his task? Was it nervousness, that it was in fact not his actual task and he was perhaps taking advantage of some confusion to play politics?

She hated politics.

She’d chosen politics.

“I thank you,” she said wearily.

next bit of the Peace-Tied series, a tender little Iorveth & Yennefer moment with hair-braiding, very self-indulgent:

By the time they finished writing and elaborately illuminating the placard, Yennefer’s hair was caught back in a series of delicate little braids that then twined around one another, and caught her hair up off her neck. She was also inexplicably near tears at the tenderness of all of it. 

Iorveth knelt up to finish fastening the ends of her hair behind her ear, after having twined the braids up over her head. His body was a long, warm press along her back, his hands warm and big cradling her head. 

She tipped her head back and he held her like that, gentle and reassuring. “How’s that?” he murmured. 

She took a shaky breath, and he smoothed a hand down the side of her face, settling down on his knees to put his arms around her from behind, cradling her back against his shoulder. “There,” he said. “Now your hair looks like someone cares for you.”

“Is that what it means,” she murmured.

“It does,” he said, and pressed a kiss against the side of her head, above the hairline. “Thank you for fixing my face. I wasn’t ready to die, not like that.”

“I am glad that I could,” she said.

and finally this weird modern a/u (tw for self-directed ableist language in dialogue) i’ve been working on slowly forever that is so close to cohering and yet doesn’t quite, in which I think you can guess what Joe’s thusfar unknown real name is:

A hand caught him by the arm, two hands, steadying him, and helped him sit up. Joe was even more frightening up close; Roche had noticed the eyepatch from a distance but his face was heavily-scarred on that side, like somebody had gone at the eye with a knife and missed. Or, like something had hit him very hard in the face, taken the eye, then bounced off his cheekbone and twisted down his face. 

But his hands were strong and he steadied Roche for a long moment, and despite the frightfully leering aspect his damaged face gave him, his expression was actually neutral. “Is anything broken?”

“I got shot,” Roche gritted out, “twice, a year ago, this is as good as it fucking gets. I just landed badly, just now, and it takes me a minute.”

He saw Joe notice the cane. “Ah,” the man said. “I hadn’t realized.” He looked around. “Dogs knocked you over?”

“The saluki is a fucking menace,” Roche said. He couldn’t sit like this, it was agony on his hip. “They’re all fucking menaces.” He couldn’t get up, he couldn’t stay down, he was shivering with the pain.

“Let’s get you to a chair,” Joe said, calm and businesslike. “Where’s the damage? Hip and shoulder?” Roche managed to gesture, and Joe proceeded to mostly lift him unaided, which hurt like a motherfucker, but once he’d dumped Roche, surprisingly gently-- he was very strong-- into the armchair in the corner it was easier to get his various joints at angles that didn’t hurt. “Do you need anything else,” he said, far too neutral and calm. 

“Yeah,” Roche said, savage with agonized frustration, “I need to not be a fucking cripple.”

Joe didn’t answer for a long moment. “While I can relate to that,” he said, “I meant, do you have any medication or anything that would help?”

Gritting his teeth, Roche pointed to the paper bag he’d left on the sideboard, that still had the pill bottle in it. There were still a couple of pills in the old bottle but he wasn’t going to have Joe wander through his house looking for them. 

Joe took the bottle out of the bag. “One or two,” he said. 

“I can-- one,” Roche said, giving up; Joe was already opening the bottle. 

“Can you dry-swallow or do you need water,” Joe said, but he was already moving over to the dish drainer to retrieve a glass. 

“Water,” Roche said, resenting it. Joe put the bottle down and filled the glass, bringing over a pill between his thumb and forefinger, and the filled glass in his other hand. 

Roche took the pill and the glass, inwardly fuming. He could get the lid off a fucking pill bottle, and he hadn’t asked for this. 

“Would an ice pack help or is it past that?” Joe asked, and while his tone was neutral, it grated over Roche’s last nerve. 

“You know,” he said, “I didn’t ask for your fucking pity.”

Joe said nothing, just stood regarding him. After a moment, he bent down, looming uncomfortably close. “I know we don’t know one another, Vernon,” he said quietly, “but I want you to look me in the eye for a moment, and then tell me that you think I don’t know what it’s like to have to adjust to a new way of living after a bad injury.” *

Roche’s anger flattened out abruptly, staring into his neighbor’s mangled face. The remaining eye was green, astonishingly green against the medium-brown of the man’s complexion. “Uh,” was all he managed; he didn’t have an answer for that.

“I understand that you’re in pain,” Joe went on quietly, straightening up and smoothing his hand down the front of his battered jacket, “and I can extend you a little grace based on that, but I want you to realize what you’re doing.” He glared down at Roche. “One last time, is there anything else you need, or are you all right on your own from here?”

Face burning, Roche managed to grit out, “I’m all right on my own from here.”

Joe stared at him for a long moment, and then turned and left, closing the door carefully and quietly behind himself. 

The canine energy surged through the kitchen again in the wake of his departure, but then Strega came over and put her head in Roche’s lap, and he fondled the silky curls of her ears and said, “Awesome work, guys, we’re doing great!”

*yes this is the Look Deep Into My Eyes Ernie meme, i could not resist

[beanghostprincess]

Any tips for beginners fanfic writhers? I am working on a fic about Asl+Uta on Ao3, I currently just put up the first chapter.

Aw, I'm so glad you asked me this. I don't know exactly what to tell you, honestly, so I'll do my best to give you some pieces of advice!

First of all, some basic/technical AO3 stuff:

Don't tag side pairings if they don't have a big role in the story or show up only like, once. Because that only fills their tag with unwanted fics their readers aren't interested in, and it will just be bothersome and sort of like spamming.

It really does work better if you write your fic on a Google Doc and then paste it to AO3 because that way you make sure you have it safe and sound in your lil folder. Drafts disappear from your account if you don't update them!

You can be silly in the tags but don't overdo it because people are there reading those to know what the fic is about. I always end up making jokes there but if it's a wall full of tags, people won't read it.

I personally don't like long summaries. It's better to just write a few lines that describe the fic vaguely and let the tags talk for the genre. You can even just paste some sentences from the fic and it'll look great!

I've written long fics with various chapters but I personally post it all together instead of weekly, but that's just me. Most people believe it's better to do it every week. In my case, I just do this because I often never finish shit and I prefer to just, you know, be sure I have all the fic done before posting.

Now for a more personal advice:

Don't worry about the amount of comments you get. That doesn't rate your fic. Most people don't even comment because they read at night and they're tired! Perhaps they just don't like commenting! But that doesn't mean your fic isn't good or hasn't changed their lives. I can promise you the only reason people don't leave comments is because they're lazy, but they probably liked your fic.

Don't expect results right away. I've had fics on AO3 that didn't get attention after weeks since I published them. Have in mind that the people who read are real people, and it's- It's like working on a store, you know? Some people might not come in a Monday morning, because they might be working/studying, but you might get more attention a Friday night.

Reread your fanfic all the times you want until you feel satisfied to post it. Never post something you aren't satisfied with because then, what's the point? Meeting the deadline? What deadline? It's YOUR fanfic. YOUR baby. You can do whatever you want.

Following that same rule: You can do whatever you want. Write whatever you want. Seriously, if people like it they will read it, and if they don't? Fuck them. You're doing this for you and because you like writing.

Get yourself a Beta reader. It doesn't matter if it's your friend or a mutual. It's always great to have somebody checking the fanfic for you! For me it's my girlfriend and I swear it's great to hear other people's opinions before posting.

If I'm being honest, I don't know what else to tell you. I've been writing fanfics for ages and I think I've just been vibing all this time. I don't consider myself a professional or anything but!! I hope I helped you somehow <3 If you have any other questions please, don't be shy and ask me!!

[rumblelibrary]

I'm not sure if you have already done something like this before, and if you did, please let me know, I'd love to read it, BUT I was wondering if you could do a little thing, maybe with Sebastian Zöllner, where he is like totally behind on every fucking deadline, work is just piling up, he got into stress with his ex, the dishes are not done, he should go take out the trash, you know, everything is just piling up and he just cracks under the pressure, severely doubting his worth as a person. And his friend, the reader, gotta try their best to build him up again, telling him all the things they love about him, and it slowly turns into a love confession without them noticing.

Is this too elaborate, does that make sense for Seb? Idk. To me it does? Like he's always very...Seb around other people, but deep down I feel like he's always under this pressure to live up to his own and others expectations, wanting to be big and famous and perfect in a way.

I'm so sorry, brain go brrr.

Never Enough [Sebastian Zöllner x Reader]

Word Count: 4k Warnings: bad habits (heavy smoking and drinking), self deprecation, depression and some fluff in the end. A/N: I loved this prompt, I love to write Sebastian so thanks to you once more for giving me this opportunity

He should have probably realised something was wrong when the ashtray was vomiting cigarettes out from its dooming position beside the laptop.

He nervously used the left part of the one he just ended to scavenge some space and just pressed it along the others.

Or maybe when after another sip of the same cold coffee mixed with cheap gin he felt the walls of his stomach revolting and stirring against him, threatening a much bigger damage.

Or, again, when he felt like calling back Elke because he was so alone and he was hungry and tired, and she might hate him but he could pull some puppy eyes and maybe it would work. It usually did.

The truth was that he shouldn’t have taken up so many jobs, but the bank account was crying and he needed them, he needed the money.

But again: writing about the umpteenth girl- artist performing naked on a famous historic location?

Or do we have to talk about the way somebody splashed some colour here and there  on a canvas saying it is the catharsis of his young mind against the social construct?

Please, may God spare him from the man calling himself landscape artist because he takes pictures of naked girls on a field.

Charged up with this amount of nothingness, he could just write and delete, write and delete, words count going quickly up to 400 only to go back at 0 in a snap of his fingers over the buttons, because he couldn’t just tear them down. He had to give them some hope, a glimpse of potential he couldn’t see and he wasn’t even aware it existed. Each of them disgusted him, but he was specifically asked to be entertaining and not a killer with his words.

So he kept swiping up videos and photos of these artists, trying to find one thing, one holy grail to get attached to and finally write one good optimistic line in the middle of the words he had to pull up to keep a moderate tone.

He rubbed his temple running over his hairline, which by the way was perfectly fine, before his hand reached down and he touched his t-shirt pulling on the neckline to gather some air, he was wearing his pyjama still, white stained shirt on blue tartan pants. He raised up the shirt and bowed his head down giving in a long inhale from the inside and just cringed to himself.

He looked around as he couldn’t stand up, if he did then he will get only more distracted and these articles needed to be ready for tomorrow.

He noticed the spray against the mosquitos on the floor, those little bastards always hiding under his desk to bite his ankles, he picked it up and sprayed it over himself like it was perfume hoping to ignore the need of a shower for few more hours.

His eyes scanned the small studio flat he was living now: the dishes sticking out of the sink, the noisy fridge buzzing. The one table that was also his work desk filled with used mugs, stained plates covered in cigarettes and leftovers, empty packages of his favourite brand discarded everywhere: from the bathroom up to the couch and to the small bed he owned. Damn, if he run out of cigarette it will be hard to ignore how he also run out of food.

The space was dark and gloomy, some of his stuff still packed up, the fake pop art panting of him and Elke staring at him reminding him of his other loss.

He didn’t touch the bed in days, he just slept on the seat or on the couch.

His attention was attracted by his phone buzzing.

He sat up straight as it was her, it was Elke.

Did she sense his discomfort? 

“Elke” he picked up the call in a second.

“Wow, a quick answer, did you have your phone already in your hand or it happens just so late at night?”

Her sarcasm did’t go past him, but he just thought how long it was since he heard a human voice and not the recording of some idiot calling himself artist.

“No, I was thinking of you”

“Yes, sure, look I have sent you an email with the bills of the time you were here, the ones you have left to pay and it is only fair that you pay at least half of them”

“Sure” he just said it because he wanted to go past the point of money, he wanted her back. Maybe he could crush at her place, feel her hands through his hair, shower, sleep some good sleep and the articles will come around in few types “Elke, I was thinking we might…”

“I just called you for the bills”

“I know, but maybe we could have” his eyes darted at the top right of his laptop screen to see the time “a drink together?”

She huffed a laughter as he frowned lightly “I know you Seb, if it is money or sex what you’re looking for that door is closed and it has been for a long time”

“I know” he murmured as he let out a breathy sigh, a dooming sense of loneliness creeping over him like a giant spider ready to wrap him up and eat him “I just hoped…”

“Don’t hope Sebastian, you’re already an hopeless cause”

She hung up on him and he was left there, he kept that same pose with his phone against his ear. His eyes trailing once again over the empty page of his document on the screen, on the chaos surrounding him.

He nibbled on his bottom lip before running his tongue over the pained area.

He pushed the phone back down on the table with a tremble of his jaw and a shaky hand.

She was right.

What he did of his life anyway? He lost most of his occasions in life, he was now in his thirties and he concluded nothing of what he hoped to be, he failed in all the departments both as an artist and as a critic.

A jack of all trades is a master of none, and maybe only the first type of the famous quote could be applied to him.

He couldn’t even take the trash out or he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something that was vaguely resembling of fruits or vegetables. It is all good when you imagine yourself as a bohemian rooting against the world, when you convince yourself that’s only the proof you needed to know you are fighting well against a system of art that privileges banality and marketing over real artistic value and that, one day, all your struggles will be worth it.

Even Picasso was poor for a long time in Paris.

Damn, maybe to be in a situation like this in Paris would sound more romantic.

But the truth was: he never imagined to have to do it alone, that life would feel so overwhelming, that there wouldn’t be anything but extreme struggle, anger, loneliness and a terrible diet.

For a moment he wished to be a baby again, to be the bright boy he was and let mommy take care of his needs and his dirty shirt and empty stomach. He wished that maybe somebody noticed him before, that somebody saw his talent and helped him to pull it out instead of leaving him to do it on his own only to come late to every step.

And now it is too late, he is lost in the sea of terrible paid jobs and anguishing relationships, let’s not forget maybe he indeed had a receding hairline and he was doomed to get bold .

He squeezed his eyes as a soft sob took over his lip, hand running over his forehead as he pulled on his hair justifying his tears with some physical pain. He shook his head as he tried to gain back some composure, hand flung over to pick up his coffee mug and giving in a long gulp of the coffee, the same one he swore before to not touch again, only to almost choke on it, couching it out only to pick up the bottom hem of his shirt to clean his laptop screen.

He fucking hated to write on a computer, the old typewriters inspired him but that damn ink was too expensive now for his sore pockets.

He smirked to himself as he kept doing it, finding good excuses to call himself off any responsibility. But maybe Elke was right, well she surely was, she had two degrees, maybe he was really a lot cause. He frowned as he wiped slowly the screen with his already stained shirt, the wetness sticking then against his skin as soon as he let it go giving him another shiver.

He didn’t have even the strength to cry, he could only accept it was over.

The curse that he shouted out loud when he heard knocking at the door, smashing him out of his thought spiral, generated an immediate anger reaction from him.

“Fuck, shit, if it is the fucking neighbour, I swear I will kill her cat or that rat she has as cat, fucking hell”

He grumbled as he stood up moving across the table not caring about his state, he only wanted to crawl back into a ball and maybe nuzzle a bit somewhere.

When his death glare appeared after the door opened in a powerful swing his eyebrows lifted immediately finding you on the other side.

He blinked, one of those sleepy blinks where somebody closes his eyes and then opens them really wide to make sure it is not made up in their brain, that one.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You should wash your mouth with holy water Sebastian” you said shaking your head raising your arms to show him some paper bags “I am bringing food and body shower”

He shook his head “Are you calling me stinky?”

“I am” You quickly replied moving past him into his place ignoring his groan.

He stood by the door slowly closing it, he was sure that old bitch was looking through her peephole, only then he stared at you try to make your way into the filthy kitchen. He was really embarrassed about his antics, but surely this time he exceeded some record.

“I am speechless Seb, I helped you with the moving and this place seems to have taken over you” you said as you knew he was in some rut when he kept such a long phone silence.

He was usually always texting, sending memes or one sentence texts.

You cared about him, deeply, you knew he was full of flaws and little quirks, but that’s what made him special. Nevertheless, you were worried about the state of the place, how it showed the way he let himself get dragged through the days. So he observed you, better to say, your back, the way you moved around opening the window to let fresh air inside, turning on a lamp to make some light that wasn’t just the blue one of the screen. Pulling out commodities and food from your magic bags like some sort of Mary Poppins of struggling writers. How you poured soap in the dirty load of dishes and pans, the way you marched securely to his desk to pick up that filthy mug and you frowned just sniffing at it.

“Is that poison?”

“Rat poison” he corrected you.

You shook your head as you cleaned a glass and filled it with water and among the groceries you pulled out a banana.

“Have this now, it will help” you said and he took the glass with one hand and the banana with the other like his brain was shut down.

He stared at you as you leaned your head slightly on side, he went through bad times after the break up but you had never seen him in such a helpless state.

He was chaotic but he always loved to keep up his appearance, to give that handsome and damned kind of vibe.

“Sebastian” you called him as his eyes spaced out and now where back on you “Are you alright?”

He observed you, he stared at your face like he was trying to recognise you, truth it was he kept pushing himself to say yes, say yes, say it is all good, make a joke, a remark, keep it up. You don��t need his burden, you don’t need to hate him like Elke and others do.

Just say yes.

“No” he said as his lips trembled and you watched his ironic mask fall right in front of you as he looked away hiding his tears, real tears, not the ones he can play out whenever he needs.

Just as quickly as you gave him the banana and the water you took them off his hands afraid he might hurt himself by dropping the glass in particular.

"Seb" you called his attention as he sobbed moving like a bird trying to hide his face against his own shoulder.

You took his now empty hands dragging him toward the couch and kicking off the pile of dirty clothes and discarded books on top of it to make him sit down with you.

"Talk to me"

He didn't, the man that was never out of words, even in the times he should have been, was now silent as a tombstone staring away from you as you gave a gentle squeeze to his hands. It pained you to see him in such a state.

So weak, so helpless like a lost child.

"I can't help you if you don't talk"

Sebastian shook his head still staring at the wall.

"You can't help me"

"Is it about writing? I can proof read you, it will be a moment"

He shook his head again making, hair bouncing from side to side.

"No, it is not important if I write or not"

You frowned at that comment.

"What the hell?" you just blurted out "Seb you're a talented writer, you're passionate, funny, witty, why shouldn't it be important?"

He looked up at you shaking his head "I can't write, I can't put together two sentences"

Your eyes travelled onto his side profile, truth to be told he looked worn out but he was still handsome like only Sebastian Zöllner could be. He had that chaotic charm, even with a wrinkled suit he was fearless, strong, poignant. You couldn't avoid him, he owned every place he stepped in and you could feel his gaze run through your bloodstream.

When he asks a question, he meant it, it was a test run into your bones and you loved every second of it.

His lips tightened as he diverted his gaze finally to you. You knew his relationship with Elke was important, he cared about others even if he didn't show it daily like most people do.

"Is it Elke?"

"No, she was just right"

"About what?"

He gulped, his throat dry as he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth grinding his teeth over it like playing something through that gesture.

"About me"

"Breakups are always shit, don't you even.."

"No Y/N" he interrupted you, he was serious, maybe his voice trembled but he wasn't lying or playing some role "I am really a lost cause, I mean look at his place"

His hand waved around the small flat like a drunk orchestra director.

"It is pure trash, I haven't finished unpacking, I didn't have food until you came, I am unable to look after myself, to look after the people that I care about. I worked so hard to be an artist and then I became a critic and now I am so knee deep into my own shit that I have more debts than entries, more failures than successes, more haters than friends"

He gulped down, the waterline of his eyes dangerously red and he sniffled up as he let out a little weak whisper "I just wish I could disappear"

"No"

It came out of you like a lighting bolt, it surged out of you before you could even elaborate. Like an order. A command.

"Seb, you're now in a rough patch of life, but you have always worked hard and well as a writer"

"I am a writer because I failed as an artist"

"You're a writer because you know of what you're talking about, because you're able to see the difference between marketing and passion, between hard work and laziness, because you respect that profession and it makes you the best critic"

"I just want to destroy them all because I am envious, Elke always said I am fuelled by my own envy”

"I have read pieces of yours only encouraging the rightful and bringing down the real frauds"

He shook his head as he was just fixating on the wrong, on the flaws, on the problems.

You huffed cupping his cheeks to force him to look at your eyes.

"Look at me" you said not admitting replies "you are talented in what you do, you are one of the best in your field and you're not on some big magazine only because they know they will have to put up with your shit: with the fact you always meet the people, you look at art pieces in presence, you touch them, you research the colours, you scrutinise everything to the bone"

He took your hands hating to be held like that but he squeezed them in his owns.

"And yes, you're allergic to ironing clothes and washing dishes is your personal nightmare, and yes, you give out many temper tantrums and have a terribly dark sense of humour, you are a failure at time and money management, you love filthy rich stuff and smoke like your life depends on it"

He stared at you, he listened quietly as you knew him from so long and many people, Elke included, wondered what you gained from helping him or just being around him that much. He often teased his ex about being jealous of you and she always said that it was like being jealous of a mortgage.

"So you agree?"

 "I agree to say you are flawed like all of us, that you are just the perfect balance to your writing, you're what you write. You're passionate, you give out the two hundred percent of what you can give, you are like this, you go all-in in everything you do, there's no compromise, no mid way, no foreseeable change of direction, you speed up into the darkness and don't look back. You are bold, you take risks, you let people hate you because you do not compromise with who is son of who or who is the director of what gallery, you judge people over their real qualities. Because you talk to them in their face, because you don't hide that yes, you want to be great, because you're handsome and charming and smart, nobody can outsmart you in your field, not even that idiot you hate that much"

"Golo Fucking Moser" he murmured

"Golo Fucking Moser" you repeated with a chuckle "you don't have anything to envy to him beside the bruises he probably has on his knees for bending down to anyone"

He chuckled at that comment.

"And also, you're more attractive, that pisses off Seb, it is unfair to the poor man”

He leaned his head on side as you wouldn't normally shower him in compliments, he had enough ego for that, but you had never seen him like this and you wished to never see him again in such a state.

"You find me attractive?"

"Well for sure you're an eye candy" you joked

"I mean it"

You rolled your eyes blushing a bit and huffing a chuckle "I do, alight? It is universal knowledge"

He looked at you as he still held your hands in his, his thumbs making soft shapes over the back of your hand.

"That I am attractive or that you find me attractive?"

You groaned looking away with an embarrassed giggle “okay, okay, I see you're back in yourself, let's eat now"

You moved to stand up but he didn't do the same remaining sat in his spot.

"Tell me"

"I pumped your self esteem enough, now let me go"

He chuckled softly, he never really thought you'd be interested. He usually shows off so many bad traits that he has to tone himself down and really try hard to attract someone. It is all an effort on his part to appear better or at least less quirky.

And then now look at you, appreciating even his shit show.

"Y/N" he murmured giving you a soft squeeze. You kept silent not daring now to meet his gaze. He bowed his head trying to reach for your eyes with his gaze and he looked up at you, a smile that wasn't provocative over his lips.

You pulled back yanking your wrists off his grip to move straight into the kitchen corner.

You begun pulling ut some fresh vegetables and bread, you also got some cheese knowing he loves it, wanting him to have a good dinner.

He followed you almost immediately and soon you found his arms grasping you once more in a hug, his chest pressed against your back, his forehead on your shoulder.

"Seb, you..."

"I know, I stink, just give me a moment" he said and you obliged him gently caressing his arms around you.

You hated to be in the friend zone, but you wouldn't be able to survive to lose him forever or to have him joke about it.

Now he was quiet, tender like a hurt pup.

"Thank you, you know you can count on me too, right? For anything” he said and you chuckled softly “I know, you’re my favourite avenger”

He nodded brushing his crisp beard against your cheek and after few minutes stuck in that hug he dropped a kiss on your neck "love you”

He pulled back giving you a smile as he picked the shower gel you left on the counter bringing it with himself to the bathroom with a soft hum.

You smiled a bit bitterly to yourself as you guessed it was meant in a friendly way, but today it was alright. You could endure it. Also that kiss, he always did it when he was drunk, at parties or in the taxi back home after a viewing. It was his cuddly way to say things without saying them, without rambling, and you appreciated that silent language. 

Maybe now he was drunk over his own feelings.

Just like you.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @archangelproperty

[miss-smutty]

The Destructive Secret - Chapter 1

A/N- So first of all, extremely mature themes, strictly 18+ only This is my baby, I love it and I'm so excited for it but oh my lord! My poor heart writing this. This is going to be a super angsty series. Since I got the idea I've been desperate to get it written, even though it's going to break my heart. The dynamics of it have been driving me insane because I want the first chapter to have a air of mystery to it but then how do I tag it without giving it away? 😩 So I've purposefully left out names in this chapter so you don't know who's who and all will be revealed in good time. Can you work out what's happening? I'd love to hear your thoughts ❤️

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Summary- You've got a secret to hide and it's going to cause complete and utter destruction.

Word count- 2,197

Warnings- Mature themes, swearing, smut, angst, deceit, lies

18+ only!

Taglist-: @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke

Posted: 25th Feb 2021

"Babe, don't hate me... I have to go out of town for another conference this weekend" The deep confliction you feel everytime you do this to your boyfriend, never gets any easier.

"I don't hate you, we'll make up for it next week. How about a little romantic trip, just the two of us" he says sweetly, making your heart tug, you wish he was a bad guy it would make this a lot easier.

"That sounds like a great plan, I'll make it up to you tonight" you say, distracted by your thoughts.

"Well that sounds... Intriguing. I'll see you tonight babe" he hung up the phone but you kept it to your ear, still deep in thought before finally realising and putting the phone on the desk next to your computer.

You finished typing up the letter you were working on before the phone call, looking back and forth from your phone to the screen of your computer, still distracted by your thoughts. The butterflies in your stomach making you feel sick. You gave in and grabbed your phone, typing out a text quickly.

-I've told him. Pick me up from work at 5.30 Friday - you stop typing to think for a minute, before finishing the text with two kisses - xx

You try to get your head back into work, the neverending pile of deadlines building up on your desk next to you. When your phone vibrates the desk loudly, you look around to make sure no one's watching you before giving in to your curiosity and picking up your phone.

-Great, see you Friday. I can't wait to see you xxx

You try to feel excited but the overwhelming amount of guilt you feel always overrides that. You wish it could be different, that you could've met in a different way. That you could actually thoroughly enjoy the time you have together rather than feeling a deep shamefulness everytime you meet.

You've got yourself into something so deep that you can't think of a way out of it, either way it ends somebody is going to be hurt. In fact, one way or the other, you're all going to be hurt.

                             *******************

"Hey babe, did you have a good day?" Your boyfriend greets you as you walk into the kitchen, filled with the aromas of the food he was cooking for you.

"It was ok, busy. This smells amazing. What you making?" You ask, kissing him on the cheek as he stands over the stove, stirring a pot of delicious smelling liquid.

"I'm just making a sauce for the pasta" he says letting go of his wooden spoon and grabbing you by the hand to spin you around and face him. 

"Did you bring dessert?" He says into your ear, moving your hair to the side and planting kisses down your neck.

"What no, was I supposed to?" You couldn't remember him saying anything about dessert, yet you'd been pretty distracted most of the day.

"I'm sure you said something about making it up to me tonight?" He smirks, pulling you in for a lingering open mouthed kiss.

"Oh, yeah. That kind of dessert" you say, pulling away slightly.

"Are you ok? You seem kinda ... Distracted" he asks, a look of concern on his face as you shuffle though the papers in your bag.

"No, sorry babe. It's just work, I've had a lot on my mind today" you lie, sort of. You had a lot on your mind it just wasn't work related, even though you wish it was.

As you put the papers back into your bag you can feel your phone vibrating. Fuck sake, not now. Becoming flustered you accidentally drop the bag onto the glass table, nearly jumping out of your skin from the loud noise your phone made as it hit the glass. 

You notice your hands shaking as you hold your phone in front of you, cursing yourself under your breath for being so pathetic. Reading the text has your heart beating at an unbelievable pace, making you light headed and dizzy. 

-Can you meet me tonight? I hate this, I hate not being able to see you whenever I like. Please Y/N xxx

You pull out a chair and sit down before you fall down, why do you have to be pulled about in so many different directions? It was so hard leading a double life and keeping your dirty little secret, it literally ate away at your soul. You were a shell of the person you used to be, completely consumed with lies and deceit.

Sleepless nights, tossing and turning caused by guilt and work schedules and then still having to sneak away whenever you could. You lost yourself, trying to keep two people happy while completely forgetting about yourself.

"Babe?" 

"Huh?" You say looking up from your phone, you hadn't realised he'd been speaking to you.

"I said, red or white? He asks, furrowing his brow at you.

"Sorry, what?" You look confused, shaking your head as if to shake the thoughts right out of there. You have no idea what he's talking about.

"Wine? Foods ready. Do you want red or white... wine?" Looking more concerned.

"Oh, white please. Thank you, this looks amazing" you say, putting your phone into your shirt pocket and tucking your chair under the table, ready to get started. It really did look amazing, you don't deserve him. 

You watched him sit down opposite you, his ridiculously blue eyes catching yours as his fork passes to his lips. He smiles that sweet smile at you, the one that made you fall in love with him all those years ago. The memories of the years flash in front of your eyes in an instant, the first time he told you he loved you, the first kiss, the first time you made love, beautiful, beautiful memories. You can feel a tear prickling at the corner of your eye, lowering your head, hoping he didn't see. 

"Are you sure you're ok?" He asks, reaching across the table to hold your hand in his. The feel of his touch on your hand sends shivers down your spine and the tears spill from your eyes without warning. You hear his chair screech as he pushes it backwards and rushes to your side.

"Babe, please tell me what's wrong?" He kneels In front of you while you rest your head in your hands, completely overwhelmed with guilt. This poor man, my man, how could I do this to him?

"Don't be nice to me, I don't deserve it" you say, self-loathing.

"What are you talking about? Come here" he pulls you up and sits down with you on his lap, lifting your face to look at him which makes you cry even more. 

"I've been so distant with you, so consumed in my damn work that I've been totally neglecting you - " you cry, looking up at him sincerely, tears streaming down your face messily " - I'm so sorry" if only he knew how sorry you actually were. You loved him, he was your first everything, which makes it even harder for you.

"Hey don't be so silly. I'm a big boy, I think I can handle you being a little distracted, it just means when we do get time together it's more special. You've put up with so much from me, with the tabloids and papparzzi. You took it all on when we were still so young and never complained once, this is nothing compared to that" he wipes the tears away from your cheeks. Oh baby, please don't blame yourself.

"I would do it all over again, you know? It was worth it, I'd never change it. You're my childhood sweetheart, we've grown up together and I... I" you're balling like a baby now.

"Shh, baby. Please don't worry about it. You need a break, you've been working way too hard" if only he knew.

He nudges the side of your face with his soft bearded cheek until you give in and look up at him. The tears are also starting to well in his eyes and he smiles at you, at how silly and emotional you're both being. You suck it up and wipe the tears away with your arm.

"Come on, I've got some making up to do" you say, leading him to the bedroom. Your phone begins to vibrate in your pocket - an incoming call. You reach in and hold down the off button, you'll deal with that later.

He stops you before you make it to the bedroom and pushes you hastily against the wall, unable to wait much longer. His hands feel their way down your body until he reaches the hem of your skirt and pushes it up to your stomach, revealing your lacey panties. Your breath hitches as he pushes himself against you, the feel of his hard cock against your exposed panties makes you forget everything else for a moment. 

"I love you so fucking much" he says against your lips, biting gently on your bottom one while his hands run up and down your body. You reach down to unbutton his jeans, it's all very rushed and desperate, you need to feel each other, feel the love you have for each other. You need to show him, a painful desire that burns in your chest to show him that you love him.

So you push him backwards towards the bedroom door, your hands still working his jeans as your lips lock, never pulling apart.

Shoving him slightly too hard back onto your super-king bed in the middle of the room, you waste no time straddling him. He reaches up to unbutton your shirt, thrusting into you as he does so, the need so bad it hurt. You stopped his fingers fiddling with your button midway down your torso so you could pull off his jeans and boxers, while he props himself up on the bed with his elbows. Watching intently as you take control.

You kneel between his thighs, smoothing your hands down those thick muscles. Waiting for him to position himself at the end of the bed, making sure he has a good view before you run your pierced tongue up the shaft, all the way to the tip. Teasing him, knowing full well how it makes him feel. The ways his head falls back, his mouth hung open and the sounds falling from his lips, stir something deep inside you. It makes you feel hot to know you're turning him on this much.

Circling your pointy tongue around the tip, a sultry stare straight into his eyes makes him groan. You take his tip into your mouth, swallowing the drop of precum, licking your lips for him. Sucking on his cock, feeling it throbbing in your mouth, growing impossibly harder.

You can tell he can't handle it anymore when he pulls you onto him so you're sitting on his cock, your walls stretching around him making you both suck in air at the sensitivity. He leans back up to finish unbuttoning your shirt while thrusting his big cock, deep within you. Finally getting your shirt off, he grips his fingers into your ass cheeks, squeezing them as he sits up. Bouncing up and down on his dick, while you stare into each others eyes, the intimacy overwhelming you. Lost in the moment for a precious amount of time, feeling the sensation of your loves cock filling you up beyond limits.

You pull his shirt over his head, revealing his beautifully, tanned body. Holding on tightly to you while he pushes himself up the bed so he can lean his back against the headboard. Watching your tits move as you bounce on his cock, thrusting into you with his jaw clenched. You know that look, the way he's desperately trying not to come too quickly.

Both of your breathes are getting faster as you bounce harder, the gripping sensation rises through you.

"I love you" you say between breaths, leaning down to say it into his ear. 

"Fuck - " he groans, pulling out of you quickly before he come, your rising orgasm fading away. 

" - fuck Sorry, babe. That was too fucking much" He rolls you over underneath him and quickly positions himself back at your entrance, easing in painfully slowly.

Now thrusting into you at an unforgivable pace, making you gasp everytime he slammed into you. Pushing your knees back towards your face and settling himself between them, holding your head with both hands and gazing into your eyes. He's ready, you're ready, you can feel it rising as he rolls his hips into you. The look of love in his eyes making you feel emotional, he's panting and you're moaning as he lets go and pumps into you making you lose it and scream out as you gush everywhere. Holding onto the sheets, tightly, as you wait for your toes to uncurl, still inside of you he lays on your stomach trying to catch his breath. Your muscles cramp up and shake making you wince as you try to move out from underneath him

"Are you ok?" His head snaps up, concerned.

"Yeah, just cramp" you whine, stretching out your legs when he rolls to your side.

"I really do love you" you say moving into his arms.

"I know you do. I love you too" he says kissing the top of your head. You're brought back to reality when you hear your phone vibrating again on the floor, in the pocket of your shirt. 

"You're popular tonight" he says noticing the sound of your phone as it vibrates the floorboards.

"It's just work, it can wait until tomorrow" you say, content being in his arms for a little longer and forgetting that anything or anyone else exists. Even if it is only for a moment.

[bookstantrash]

A/N: I preordered ACOSF yesterday and I’ve been living in a happy Nessian bubble and decided to take all that energy and write something.

Today is Freddie Mercury’s death anniversary so I thought about taking my favorite headcanon of Nesta being a great singer and have her sing one of Queen’s masterpieces. This is a humble tribute of mine to the great musician and amazing person that Mercury was. May he rest in peace and his legacy live on forever.

Somebody to Love

There are said to be five steps for overcoming grief.

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.

Depression.

And acceptance.

Nesta had gone through all of them after her father’s death. She had spent a lot time feeling angry, and her depression was finally getting better after she started seeing a psychologist. Her sisters support had also been vital.

Those same steps could also be applied after a breakup. And that was exactly what Nesta was going through.

However, she was proud to say that after three days of being single, she had only gone through two steps: anger and acceptance.

At least that was what she was trying to convince her sisters and Emerie of.

“I’m fine, El” Nesta repeated for what was the umpteenth time in the past five minutes “It was his loss. I’m much better off alone.”

“Nesta, if you’d only talk to us so we could understand” Elain replied, frustrated by her older sister’s headstrong behaviour.

Because Nesta Archeron had only sent a text that afternoon informing her two sisters that she had called quits at her almost three year relationship with Cassian and dragged them to the karaoke bar. No explanations offered.

“There’s nothing to talk about” Nesta said, taking a sip of her margarita “Oh look! Emerie is coming back, that means it’s my turn”

Feyre and Elain exchanged a worried look, something Nesta didn’t fail to notice before she pumped Emerie’s shoulder playfully while she made her way to the small stage. Emerie only gave her a weak smile, worry also shinning in her eyes.

Nesta Archeron was far from fine. But she didn’t want to worry her sisters. Or admit that to herself.

She was over Cassian. And being here, on the place where they had shared their most precious memories, was the sign that she was taking this place back.

It would be her place. This was an act of burying for good the memories of Cassian.

She would allow herself to think about him this one last time. One last song.

About them. About her feelings.

Stopping in front of the microphone, Nesta sang.

Love of my life, you've hurt me

You've broken my heart and now you leave me

Nesta was nearing her new book’s deadline, so she had locked herself in her apartment and forbidden Cassian from visiting.

“You distract me too much” she had said while she tried to finished the paragraph she was writing, Cassian coming behind her to nuzzle his nose in her neck, promptly making her forget about everything but his touch on her skin.

“You like when I distract you” he had murmured, slowly kissing her neck.

She didn’t do much work on that day. But after that Cassian made a promise to stay away for the week.

Love of my life, can't you see?

Bring it back, bring it back

Nesta finished three days before her deadline. She had had a sudden burst of inspiration and wrote all through the night. So she had thought of surprising Cassian with some homemade food.

Nesta was on her way to his house after her shopping when she saw a familiar man bun in the sidewalk.

She was thinking about honking to gather his attention — they could go back to his place together and cut the surprise short — when she noticed that he was not alone.

Don't take it away from me, because you don't know

What it means to me

There was a blonde woman with him. A very very pretty woman. The kind that you saw on magazines covers. And the way Cassian was looking at her.... it made Nesta’s heart clench.

Cassian hadn’t smiled at her like that for some time. He always looked nervous and about to say something whenever they met, but she had brushed it off.

But maybe... maybe he was trying to say something. Maybe he was trying to say that he had found someone else.

Maybe the blonde woman that hanged on his arm.

Love of my life, don't leave me

You've stolen my love, you now desert me

Nesta had driven back to her apartment in autopilot. She had a loud ringing in her ears and her body was all cold.

Deep down she knew that Cassian would break up with her. She was not the easiest person out there, while Cassian.... he was loved by everyone. He deserved better.

So she broke up with him before he did the same with her.

Through a message. A simple message.

‘I can’t do this anymore. We’re over. Don’t come to my apartment or my life ever again’

Love of my life, can't you see?

Bring it back, bring it back

Nesta had blocked his contact from her phone. Left her apartment and went to the first place she could think of: Emerie’s.

Her best friend was surprised to see her, and Nesta spilled everything to her amidst tears.

She spent the rest of the day crying over wine and ice cream.

The next day , Nesta woke up with an horrible headache. And anger that burned so hot it threatened to destroy her.

Don't take it away from me

Because you don't know

What it means to me

She had cursed Cassian till the end of his bloodline, and decided that never again would give anyone the key to her heart.

Emerie tried to convince her to allow Cassian to explain himself.

“He left me over twenty messages Nesta!” Emerie had argued “He has been calling nonstop!”

“I have no time to hear his excuses” she spat back, clenching her fists “I saw him with my own eyes”

You will remember

When this is blown over

Everything's all by the way

Emerie had just sighed in defeat.

And by the third day Nesta had made up her mind to forget she even knew Cassian.

She messaged her sisters — which had been worried sick about her, given that he had also contacted them — and they met at the karaoke.

Their karaoke.

When I grow older

I will be there at your side to remind you

How I still love you (I still love you)

Their first date spot.

Their first kiss.

Where he had asked her to be his girlfriend.

I still love you

Nesta felt silent tears running down her cheeks. She hoped the poor illumination helped conceal them.

She was nearing the end of the song when she felt a gaze on her, what shouldn’t be a surprise given that she was singing in front of the whole bar.

Yet she knew that gaze.

A gaze that made her stomach flutter.

A gaze that made her knees weak.

Oh, hurry back, hurry back

Don't take it away from me

You don't know what it means to me

Cassian.

She was going to bloody murder Feyre. She had asked them not to tell where she was. But Feyre was never known for keeping a secret. And she did go out with Cassian’s best friend and surrogate brother, Rhysand.

Love of my life

Love of my life

Nesta had barely sung the last note when she stormed off the stage and started to fight with Feyre.

“How could you! I asked you not to say a word about where I was!” she didn’t know how, but she managed not to scream, only whisper yell at her surprised sister.

“I— Nesta I didn’t say a word! I swear I don’t know how he got here!” Feyre said, hurt in her eyes.

Nesta dared to glance at him. What only made her anger soar even higher.

For he had not come alone.

No, he had come with companions of his own.

Rhysand, Azriel, Amren, the blonde woman from before and a redhead she had never seen.

“How could he! How could he bring her here!” Nesta felt tears come to her eyes again.

She needed to leave before she had a mental breakdown in front of the whole bar.

‘So much for being over Cassian’ she bitterly thought.

“Nesta, what are you talking about?” Feyre asked, grabbing her shoulders.

“S-she! The blonde beside him!”

“But Nesta—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” she cried, brushing Feyre’s hands off of her

“Nesta—” Emerie began.

“I’m leaving. You girls have fun” Nesta made to grab her purse while Feyre and Emerie in vain tried to talk with her.

But it was Elain — who had been awfully quiet — that caught her attention.

“You should really see this Nesta” Elain said, her voice laced with curiosity.

“What? I already said that—” she stopped herself mid sentence, her heart skipping a beat.

Because Cassian was on the stage.

And he was looking at her.

“Nesta Archeron?” he called, his deep voice resonating all through the bar.

Nesta could only nod in response, momentarily frozen in place.

“This song is for you”

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030-blog @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja

{Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list}

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

** Writing Challenge **

I know, I know, my next one isn’t quite wrapped up yet, buttttt this idea came to me when my cousin and I were taking a walk down a ridiculous part of Memory Lane and I got excited. I’m guessing this has been done before at some point -- that’s not stopping me from presenting to you: 

I love fluff. And I wanna see more of it! 

Below the cut you will find some prompts that, in the context of Twilight, are absolutely cringe-worthy. My challenge to you is to take that prompt and make it something we can love. 

Disclaimer: I’m not Twilight-shaming ANYONE. I literally sat and watched all of Eclipse and now want to watch both Breaking Dawns. It’s more about sentiment, and the occasional girly giggle for me, but ... yeah. No judgement here, friends. 

Guidelines, prompts, and tags are below the cut! (Yes, I copied and tweaked from my last writing challenge. I’m being efficient, thank you! :P )

Please read all of the information carefully!

Rules, Guidelines, Important Dates:

Sign-Ups start when this post is live and will go through to December 30, 2020. I will accept two people for each prompt, one prompt per author.

Please send your sign-ups to my ask box so they’re easier to keep track of. I will answer them privately so I’m not flooding anyone’s dash!

In your ask, please include your preferred prompt and a backup option, as well as your pairing (so I don’t take the same pairing for the same prompt). Also, please let me know if you’ll be posting from a URL other than one you’re asking from.

To be included in the challenge masterlist, please post your fic (or the first part, if it’s a series) by Decemeber 31, 2020.

Please include an author’s note tagging me and mentioning the challenge in your fic post; include #BetterThanTwilightWC in the first five tags. If the tag doesn’t work, you may DM the link to me, also. If you decide to write a series, please tag me in the masterlist.

Please give me up to 48 hours to read your fic before checking if I have seen it. If I have not liked it after 48 hours, please DO check. (You know, since we’re all aware of how unreliable tumblr is. And how unreliable my mind can be. Yikes.)

The challenge masterlist will be posted between January 1 and January 4, 2020.

There are no word count limits, but please use the Keep Reading feature if your story goes beyond 500 words. Additionally, if your fic goes beyond 5000 words, please consider splitting it into multiple parts. This is not a requirement, only something to think about.

Yes, this is a FLUFF challenge, so you MUST have fluff as your main genre. You’re more than welcome to include other genres, but you MUST have a happy and/or hopeful ending.

You’re welcome to think outside of the box! Just because I’m talking Twilight and love stories, doesn’t mean there has to be romance! Give me  amazing friendships or strong family bonds or self-love. Or romance! Whatever you’d like. 

You're welcome to change pronouns in the prompt as necessary! Heck, I tweaked a few of ‘em so they’re not Twilight-specific.

For personal reasons, I do not read and will not accept into the challenge (which means I will not reblog or add to the masterlist) stories that include: non-con/dub-con, underage sex, adult-child romantic/sexual relationships, spouse-bashing, child abuse – I could go on, but I think you get the idea. If you’re not sure about something, I’m always happy to answer questions!

Bring on the ships, OC’s, reader pairings – I’m trying to be more open-minded as of late, but I can’t promise that I will read everything. Again, for personal reasons. But I will reblog everything! 

Characters and RPFs from Marvel/MCU are both welcome. 

If you need an extension or need to drop out, please know that I am extremely flexible when it comes to that deadline/due date. In the words of Captain Barbosa, “It’s really more of a guideline.” Just shoot me an ask or a message and we’ll work something out, no worries! 

Prompts: 

1. “I have always loved you, and I will always love you.”  2. “The clouds I can handle. But I can’t fight with an eclipse.”  3. “I know what you are.”  4. “You held out your hand and I took it without stopping to make sense of what I was doing.” 5. “You have a connection with her that I’ll never understand.” 6. “I’m glad she has you.” 7. “It will be like I never existed. I promise.” 8. “I knew who I wanted to be. I wanted to help people. Brings me happiness.” 9. “That will take a while to get used to.” “We have a while.” 10. “What if I’m not the hero? What if I’m the bad guy?” 11. “I’d rather hear your theories.” 12. (sarcastically) “Super. That makes me really happy.” 13. “You’re like my own personal brand of heroin.” 14. “Maybe I shouldn’t be dating such an old man. It’s gross. I should be thoroughly repulsed.” 15. “It’s an extraordinary thing to meet someone who you can bare your soul to and they’ll accept you for what you are.” 16. “I’ve been waiting for what seems like a very long time to get beyond what I am.” 17. “I feel like I can finally begin.” 18. “He’s totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently nobody here is good enough for him.” 19. “He did say I couldn’t step inside the door. I came in through the window.” 20. “I know things. Like how to hunt somebody to the ends of the earth. And I know how to use a gun.” 21. “Now I’m afraid.” “Good.” 22. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m only afraid of losing you.” 23.  “About three things I was absolutely positive ...” 24. “You’re so stubborn.” 25. “Do you know how worried I’ve been?” 26. “I can’t even think about someone hurting you.” 27. “The only thing that can hurt me is you, and I don’t have anything else to be afraid of.” 28. “Don’t antagonize her. She’s the strongest one in the house.” 29. “All right. That’s enough experimenting for one day.” 30. “It never made sense for you to love me.” 31. “I wish there had been someone to vote no for me.” 32. “It’s just a little baby.” 33. “How strongly are you opposed to grand theft auto?” 34. “I’m not missing another fight!” 35. “No one can hide like me.” 36. “If I asked you to stay in the car, would you?” 37. “I have one condition, if you want me to do it myself.” 38. “I had an adrenaline rush. It’s very common. You can Google it.” 39. “How did you get in here?” “The window.” 40. “I love a happy ending. They are so rare.” 41. “You should put your seatbelt on.” 42. “Can you talk about something else? Distract me so I won’t turn around.” 43. “I can’t live in a world where you don’t exist.” 44. “After all the thousand times I’ve told you I love you, how could you let one word break your faith in me?” 45. “Maybe that’s why they kicked me out.” 46. “All of my best nights have happened since I met you.” 47. “You know everybody’s staring?” “Not that guy ... no, he just looked.” 48. “She wishes she was that awesome.” 49. “Does he visit often?” “Yeah, all the time.” 50. “Lie ... Lie better.” 51. “I’m Switzerland.” 52. “That should have been our first kiss.” 53. “Would you like to hear my story? It doesn’t have a happy ending -- but which of ours does?” 54. “Another party?” “It’ll be fun.” “Yeah. That’s what you said last time.” 55. “You are the only one who has ever touched my heart. I will always be yours.” 56. “The way he watches you. It’s like he’s willing to leap in front of you and take a bullet or something.” 57. “Kill me! Not him!” 58. “Stay.” “Give me one good reason.” 59. “Yeah, it’s and off day when I don’t get somebody telling me how edible I smell.” 60. “Damn it! You’ll be the death of me, I swear you will.” 61. “If I could dream at all, it would be about you. And I’m not afraid of it.” 62. “Do I dazzle you?” 63. “I’m tired of trying to stay away from you.” 64. “Bring on the shackles, I’m your prisoner.” 65. “You are my life now.” 66. “And then we continued blissfully into this small, perfect piece of our forever.” 67. “Nobody’s ever loved someone as much as I love you.” 68. “I don’t know what happened.” “You love him.” 69. “All of sudden it’s not gravity holding you to the planet, it’s her. Nothing else matters. You would do anything, be anything for her.” 70. “You really love her?” 71. “I don’t see the whole point of the rest of the world without her.” 72. “Then I found a promising site ... I waited impatiently for it to load, quickly clicked closed each ad that flashed across the screen. Finally, the screen finished -- simple, white background with black text; academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the homepage:” 73. “I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.” 74. “I’ll be fighting for her, too, and I’ll be fighting twice as hard as you will.” 75. “It’s always been him.” 76. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you.” 77. “They’re coming for her.” “They’re not gonna touch her.” 78. “Doesn’t he own a shirt?” 79. “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that we’re enemies and that you’re also trying to steal away the reason for my existence, I might actually like you.” 80. “You have disappeared. Like everything else.” 81. “The absence of him is everywhere I look.” 82. “I don’t have the strength to stay away from you anymore.” 83. “Your number was up the first time I met you.” 84. “We all like to drive fast.” 85. “It’s too easy to be myself with you.” 86. “I’ve never given much thought to how I’d die, but dying in the place of someone I love seems like a good way to go.” 87. “Don’t tempt me too far. My patience isn’t that perfect.” 88. “His tone questions my sanity, but it only made me more suspicious. It was like a perfect delivered line by a skilled actor.” 89. “What’s he mad about?” 90. “No measure of time with you will ever be enough.” 91. “I promise to love you forever, every single day of forever.” 92. “We’re gonna be great friends!” 93. “If I had my way, I would spend the majority of my time kissing him.” 94. “Until your heart stops beating.” 95. “I touched the cool miracle of his ski, and I was home.” 96. “Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.” 97. “This isn’t the time to make hard and fast decisions. This is the time to make mistakes.” 98. “Leave it to you ... you have to start hanging out with the first weirdos you can find.” 99. “I love him much more than I should, and yet still nowhere near enough.” 100. “I refuse to be affected by territorial disputes.”

Tags for possible interest/signal boosting (if you’re so inclined): 

 @captain-s-rogers​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​​​​​​​​ @hurricanerin​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @horsesandbandsforlife​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @shynara51​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @sea040561​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xtina2191​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jackryanplz​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @beakami​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @heartsaved​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @shield-agent78​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @jennmurawski13​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @okay-maybe-i-like-marvel-too​​​​​​​​​​​​​

[artificial-daydream]

Audacious

Rating: T Fandom: Bleach (Ichigo x Rukia) Summary: The way this orange-haired random guy smirked at each of her peculiar habits that definitely defeats the norms of college life shows it might be not so bad to actually agree with the date. Maybe.

Notes: Based on this otp prompt I saw but couldn’t find the post anywhere?? Please do tell me if you were the one who created this prompt or if anyone does know which blog was it so I can credit the person properly. Also posted this on my ao3.

When Byakuya insisted on buying her a unit on Seireitei Apartment rather than renting on the dormitory, Rukia had confidently claimed she preferred the latter. What was the point on trying to live normally if she was buying the most expensive residence in the whole district?

The first thing she thought on her eighteenth birthday was fucking finally. She had the opportunity to leave Kuchiki mansion and decide her own life for the very first time. Moreover, she had prepped herself so much about this. Rukia was very sure she had the common ethics of non-nobles memorized.

However, she soon realized the books covered barely nothing about college.

Her hair was tied into a messy bun; tangled strands were kept in bay with the ugliest scrunchie she kept for the last five years. Her eyebags were so palpable she could feel it weighing down below her eyes. The first week living on her own and she already had her seventh cups of coffee. It was barely Wednesday.

There were downsides on living as a normal college student, Rukia concludes. The most common things she could list were the rushed deadlines, the mountain-sized projects, and old professors rambling how youngsters have it easy these days while yet again, giving them more preps.

It didn’t bother her as much, surprisingly. She liked how she could stay all night working on her papers, it was better than learning etiquette on how to be a proper lady. Her professors were also far better off on their lectures compared to the elders back home. She definitely could get used to all of this. Slowly, but surely.

The first thing she most likely had to get used to was the room upstairs having very loud sex which leaves her hanging out for coffee in the kitchen every 2 AM.

Recalling the noise she heard barely twenty minutes ago, Rukia scrunches her face in disgust. She wouldn’t mind as much if they weren’t reciting every detail of their activities. By now, she had their routine memorized- no, stop. Bad brain.

Rukia groaned, she had another one hour and forty-five minutes to spend in the kitchen until the tenant upstairs finally remembered they were not wild animals supported with infinite stamina. Apparently, she has to follow their sleeping schedule if she wants to get any rest at all.

These past days, she would just bring all her papers and study to spend her time alone. However today, right the second she had finished all of them, her phone decided it was the best time to signal its low battery and die. With nothing left to do, she just entertains herself with caffeine and staring in a daze. She swears the floor starts to look like it’s inviting her to take a nap on it.

Her decision was put into an immediate halt, however, once she heard other footsteps coming along towards the kitchen. Huh, how strange. These past two days, she never encountered any other person. Everyone seemed able to stay calmly in their own rooms. She thought the weird one was her; that maybe she was just too used with the silence in Kuchiki mansion so she couldn’t stand the disturbing sound upstairs. Perhaps the person brings a phone charger that I can borrow.

Once the sounds of footsteps got even clearer, the first thing Rukia recognized was orange spikes. Then she darted her attention downwards and were met with furrowed eyebrows and half opened lidded eyes. The person was wearing the deepest scowl she had ever seen with his hand ruffling his hair in a look of annoyance. Looking at first glance, Rukia could only come up with one conclusion.

“They woke you up too, didn’t they?” Now don’t misunderstand her. Rukia is not the type to strike out conversations, especially with a total stranger. However, she was driving insane keeping herself awake and god forbids the floor looks so comfortable- she just had to distract her attention somewhere.

It took two good seconds before the uninvited guest blinked his eyes, as if still registering her words with his half-awake brain. “How long have you hung here?”

Rukia shrugs, “about twenty minutes.”

“Wow.”

The short talk ended uneventfully. The next thing Rukia knew, the random person just walked towards the fridge, opening it and scanning it as if looking for something, then frowning before closing it again without taking anything out. Rukia raised an eyebrow at his action, decided not to question it before sipping on her coffee and minding her own business. The peace ended shortly though, with the man suddenly sat across her and folded his arms, decided to create another conversation.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?”

Rukia blinks, unsure of how to respond with his sudden conclusion. “How did you come up with that?”

He smirks, “Either that, or you just don’t give a fuck. Nobody hangs out here anymore after Senna raided the place to make out with different partners every week.”

Rukia scrunched her face in pure disgusts. “What is up with college students deciding to make out in every corner of the dorm?”

“So, you’re new then.” He affirmed. “Name’s Ichigo, by the way,” He offered his hand as he introduced himself, which Rukia gratefully accepted.

“Rukia,” she responded, “and why are you here if you knew about it?”

The man called Ichigo shrugs, “I left my coffee sachets here last Friday, but apparently it’s all gone,” he explained, palpably confused, “which is strange because I had seven packs of them; maybe somebody mistook it as theirs?”

Rukia blinks. The coffees were not from the dorms? Her heads turned to look at her cup of coffee before looking back at the orange haired man with a sheepish smile, “Is that coffee brand, by chance, Soul Society?”

Ichigo furrows his eyebrows, “How did you- hold up,” he paused as he looked at her cup, eyeing it suspiciously before staring back at her, “don’t tell me you were-?”

“Unintentionally,” she quickly defended, “I had no idea it was yours. I thought the dorm provided it for students’ late night's study sessions.”

“What kind of dorm supplies something like that?” Ichigo scoffed, eyes staring at her amusedly.

Rukia bit the inside of her mouth, attempting not to counter back as she embarrassedly cleared her throat. How the hell was she supposed to know? Hotels usually provide stuffs like that, right? So she just assumed it was public common sense. Albeit, this was her mistake to begin with. She shouldn’t have jumped into conclusions.

She took a deep breath. “I apologize, I will repay you immediately. Tomorrow, I promise.” She emphasized, not wanting to be labeled as a coffee thief the first week of her stay.

“Sure,” he coolly agreed, “pay me back tomorrow by Urahara’s at nine?”

Rukia stills, “Excuse me?”

“You’re buying coffee, right?”

“Well, yeah,” she deadpanned, “I was thinking somewhere along coffee packets. You know, one with similar brand and flavor preference.”

Ichigo snorts, “You’re repaying seven packs with one strike. Don’t I get to name the repayment?”

“Fair enough.” Rukia calculatedly stated, eyes still looking at him purposefully. She raises an eyebrow, “Just to make this clear; are you asking me out?”

“If you put it that way,” he answered with no hesitation, one hand hidden inside his pocket and for Chappy’s sake what is it with boys and their tendencies to hide their hands in their pockets? He shrugs, “Unless you don’t want it to be.”

“I don’t mind in particular,” Rukia wouldn’t lie, he is attractive. It was one date, which definitely won’t hurt anybody. And the way this orange haired random guy smirked at each of her peculiar habits that definitely defeats the norms of college life shows it maybe not so bad to actually agree with the casual agreement. “Can you make it to ten, though? I still have class by nine.”

“Deal.”

Maybe.

[pynkhues]

please say there will be an up[date on cross your fingers today pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee

Ah, sorry, anon! It’s close, but I’ve got a work-writing deadline that has to take precedence today unfortunately so that I can like, pay my rent, haha. I’ve got the weekend free except for a couple of errands though, so I should get Chapter 6 of CYF done sometime then. :-) 

You can have the opening scene of the chapter though! Hope it tides you over!

“You gonna hold it like that? Like you from the hood?” he’s almost laughing as he says it, voice ringing out behind her, amused, and Beth can feel the heat build in her cheeks despite the nip in the air, feel herself uncertainly changing the angle of the gun, trying to hold it the way she’s seen him do it too many times before.

She tries it again, the gun heavy, leaving her hand clammy from where she holds it, from where she keeps adjusting her grip, and she looks over at him, as if to ask like this? but the words die on her tongue. He’s grinning at her, a smile that could cut glass, like this is entertaining for him, and something inside of her just snaps.

With a huff, she throws the unloaded gun to the grass at his feet.

“If watching me try to - - to - -” and she lowers her voice, despite herself. “Shoot somebody is so funny to you, maybe you should just do it yourself.”

He’s a few feet away from her, but it feels so much closer in the darker reaches of her yard, the yawning stretch of night holding them both in it’s maw, and if it weren’t for the dulcet thrum of his voice or the cedar smell of his cologne, she thinks his black shirt, black jeans, black hair, would make him near invisible. As it is, Beth is sure she’s the opposite – pale enough to be almost luminous, like the glean of Emma’s nightlight back in the house.

“Told you, darlin’, it’s your mess, you gotta clean it up.”

“You did,” she agrees, voice higher pitched than she intends, something close to a whine. “You also told me you were going to teach me, and I don’t think that just giving me this thing and then making fun of me is exactly a - - a conducive educational method.”

She can’t help the way her chest is heaving, breathless with frustration and embarrassment and the ongoing, ebbing horror of what it is he’s asking of her, and god, she doesn’t even like Boomer, doesn’t think the world would miss him, but still, this is. She blinks, feels tears wetting her lashes, and tries to will them away as Rio gives her that same amused look right back (although if she didn’t know any better, she’d swear its edge was gone).

Striding across the grass, Rio’s gaze stays with her as he moves to pick the gun up, wiping down the handle of the evening’s dew, checking it for any damage. When he finds none, he steps closer again, grabbing her wrist, pulling her a little towards him.

“C’mon,” he says. “You got this.”

He moves his hand down her wrist, cupping the back of her hand instead, his fingers warm, calloused as they smooth across her knuckles, his thumb moving down between her own and her forefinger, finding her palm. Beth���s breath hitches, watching his large hand swallow her own, his touch making her tremble despite herself, and she looks at him and his face is open, and then he’s pushing the hilt of that pearl handled gun into her hand, and she looks down again only - -

Only now it’s golden.

Now it’s his.

Now the grass beneath her feet is hardwood floors, her garden changed for his empty loft, and he’s leaning in darkly, his gaze dragging over hers, and her cheeks are wet and her breath is coming in sharp and Turner’s on the floor behind her, his face bruised, his eyes wild and Beth’s cheeks are wet with tears and she’s stumbling back and Rio’s there still, but he’s different, and he says:

“Just like we practiced.”

And - - and Beth wakes up gasping, her hands shaking, her cheeks wet in this reality too, and she’s somehow managed to throw her bedsheets off, has writhed to the very edge of the mattress, and she’s still trying to catch her breath when the door knocks.

“Beth. You okay in there?” a voice asks through the closed door, and Beth scrubs furiously at her face.

“I’m fine, Dean, just a bit of a weird dream.”

Or not a dream, she thinks, still catching herself. Two memories, knitted together like Frankenstein’s monster, and the thought alone makes her shiver. Before she even realises she’s doing it, one of her hands is coming up to cup the back of the other, her fingers stroking the back of her own knuckles, but her hand is too small, her touch too soft and just - -

God.

What is she doing?

She quickly moves her hands, bringing one up to slip into the neck of her pyjama shirt, rubbing at her freckled chest, willing her heart to slow.

“Can I - - I mean. Can I come in?”

Beth blinks over at her still closed bedroom door, and leans down to grab the blankets, pulling them back up as if might hide her scattered self.

“Sure,” she calls, and the door cracks open, Dean stepping in, already dressed in a suit for the day.

“You slept in,” he says, squinting a little, and Beth clears her throat, nodding. After Rio had left the restaurant last night, Beth had gone home, only stopping long enough to get a bottle of bourbon on her way. She’d spent the night furiously crocheting scarves and hats for the weekend’s markets, turning over every single word that he’d said, and it had only been as she had knocked on the door of sleep that she’d thought of Tom, and been startled back awake by her own blistering shame.

With a groan, Beth rubs her face, trying to collect herself as Dean rocks his weight forwards, a little closer towards the bed.  

“You sure you’re okay?”

And she looks at him, her mouth open, and she realises that her lips are sore, knows that if she touches them they’ll be swollen from where she’s bitten them in her sleep. She nods again, tries to smile, and Dean looks like he doesn’t quite believe it, but he continues all the same.

“Well, I’m ready whenever you are. Alan wants me at the realty office by 8.30 though, so if we’re going to do it this morning, we need to do it soon.”

And right, Beth thinks, organising her thoughts. They were - are - going to tell the kids about Dean moving this morning. So that Dean can start moving his things out. Beth nods again, sliding to the edge of the bed to get up.

“Just let me shower, and I’ll be ready.”

Then it’s Dean nodding, staring at her, like he wants to say something else, but in the end he just leaves, and Beth sucks in a breath, slipping her hand into the top of her pyjama shirt again, feeling her thrumming heart. She gets to her feet, moving over to her jewellery box before she can help herself, and flinging it open.

They’re still there of course, those two bullets she’d shot into his chest, nestled amongst her rings where he’d put the first one, where she’d added the second.

She scowls to herself, and slams the lid shut.

[dragonsplz]

tw/cw again i think?

maybe this thing will hide it a little bit? i dunno, if someone actually does stumble upon this shit let me know if i can make it so you have to actively click something to be able to see the content like idk discord spoilers? anyways a couple days i took a bar and a half of xanax plus 2x my regular dose (i have only abused my xanax once in the past because generally i was just pretty worried about running out and not having any any when i needed them but the xans pretty much stopped working so my psychiatrist put me on klonopin but ironically i’ve been too anxious to go to the walgreens to get them) anyways yeah massive amount of xanax for little me and according to my housemates i lost like three days of time and did some wack ass shit and i remember none of it but anyways i have finally returned to a state of consciousness slightly above the level of my snails’ and I Feel Good But In A Bad Way. i feel very,,,,, out of control and part of me is like you have So Much Access you really could just drop a bar every now and again and it’s like I'm craving it like i Understand vaguely what it’s probably like to have an addiction and i know if i am not careful i will have one but i don’t really care about the state of my body anymore i don’t think. at least not for now. i stopped cutting awhile ago because i moved and now there’s not really anywhere i’d be able to without somebody noticing but i also gave myself a concussion and i don’t even think i thought about doing it before i did it but anyways i don’t know if what i’m craving is some high i can’t remember or if it’s the not remembering things. i don’t like really have any concept of time so i can’t tell how long it’s been but i think i’ve generally been stoned at least once a day. sometimes i feel bad and swear it off but then like two hours later I'm on the back porch with a preroll. i think maybe thats addiction, too, but weed won’t kill me so i don’t really think about that much. anyways today after i regained consciousness (i was on the kitchen floor and was like in and out of it for two or three hours) i spent several hours just wandering back and forth from the big recliner in the living room and the kitchen because my housemates said they hadn’t been able  to get me to eat for the past couple days but everything just kinda sounded disgusting. i think i managed to get down a slice and a half of three-day-old pizza. honestly i feel really bad because my grandmother sent me home after thanksgiving (dw, cover tests before and quarantine after) with the homemade rolls i really love and i think i’ve eaten maybe one and I'm honestly scared to look at them because they’ve probably gone bad by now and i just wasted food my siblings could have been eating. i didn’t even realize how much i still thought like that until i moved out. like obviously even being away i feel like that. and i think i’ve been hallucinating/having delusions but I'm scared if i tell my psychiatrist she’ll call my grandmother and tell her (and i think she already called her when i told her i was having suicidal ideations again) and/or call the authorities and have me hospitalized. so like thats scary and all and i can’t tell if maybe i’ve developed Something New or if it’s just some new fresh hell of a mixture of my depression/anxiety/ptsd and of course i want it to stop but man i am so afraid of going back into the hospital I'm already kind of a disordered eater and last time i was in the hospital i lost 10 lbs in 9 days and I Took Note Of That. also they wouldn’t let me have my binder but the girls are allowed to have bras and they misgendered me and deadnamed me but they let me have a room alone but i can’t remember if the rumor about depression during the holidays is true and i really don’t think i can afford to be roomed in a girls’ room with another actual girl-identifying person like i really think that dysphoria would kill me like i really think i would pull a kyler and man i miss kyler so bad man i was never allowed to grieve his death like my grandmother really forced me to go back to school the weekend after i found out he killed him. idk sometimes i think his suicide affected me worse than royce’s and royce lived in my dorm. i had classes with royce. but maybe it’s because i can’t really remember much from freshman year anyways. also damn this is long and i think i maybe had a point when i started writing this but it is long gone by now. i keep getting distracted by everything but when i started writing that chapbook like nothing disturbed me i got up once to make Another cup of coffee but otherwise i just sat in that recliner typing. i wrote 25 entire pages between the time that i ate the pizza and idk sometime before now but there were really no milestones between eating the pizza and now and i actually really have no concept of time so i don’t actually know how long that was but it felt like no time and forever all at once and i feel like that a lot but it might just be the weed. i think i used to use weed as a coping mechanism but now i feel that there’s no point. i said to my housemates today that i feel like if albert camus had a character that was an existential father of three with a really dark sense of humor and i feel like a good dad as this character but also i really can’t stand children like a friend of a friend asked me to babysit for her and it’s not like i didn’t have empathy like i did an interview with her at the beginning of covid when she was pregnant and i thought my senior thesis was going to be on covid and i was so excited doing the interviews like man do i have anthropology brain but never transcribed them so it’s a good thing i withdrew from the semester because my peers have all recently had their thesis deadlines and i definitely would not have met them. oh but anyways I'm sorry everything is distracting me but also what am i say I'm really just throwing this into the void of the universe via the internet so nobody is actually trying to follow this anyways it wasn’t like i didn’t have empathy for her but i knew she had other options and her child upset and disgusted and drained me of all of my energy so i said no but i don't think that makes me a horrible person. oh but anyways a tangent on a tangent i guess because i think i started this tangent intending to end the other tangent where i say i think it’s just muscle memory now and not a coping mechanism but my housemates still thinks it helps so sometimes they’ll bring me one of my prerolls which is nice and all but i can't help but think how lost they would be if i was having a really hard time and they tried to give me my vape or something but i told them i was quitting? like dw it’s not like toxic the way this is happening i promise but i don’t actually know how to phrase it in a way that doesn’t sound Like That. anyways i hope nobody finds this but if somebody does please know that while i am vaguely concerned, i am safe. at least for now.

[1000-directions]

Annual Writing Self-Evaluation

*All answers should be about works published in 2017.

tagged by @imlouisaf <3

1. List of works published this year (in the order that they were posted):

o jeez, they were all really short but i published 14 stories on ao3 altogether

even if it’s a lie, say it will be all right

spinning on that dizzy edge

a praise chorus

lay your hands over me (written before everything else on this list but posted to ao3 months later as a backdated work)

baby, here we go again

i don’t care, i’m not scared

amsterdam without you

show me you can handle this

girl crush

she’s a good girl

see where this thing goes

boy, make me believe

are you that somebody?

part of your world

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

this is hard because i’m proud of different stories for different reasons. some of these i just never would have thought i was capable of writing, and that feels awesome. but i’m going to go with even if it’s a lie, say it will be all right. writing this felt like torture sometimes, and by the time i published it, i’d spent so much time up close inside it that i couldn’t tell if there was anything good or redeemable about it at all, and i was embarrassed to even show it to anyone else. but when i read it now, i’m really pleased with it. i like the different relationships in the story, i like my use of flashbacks to sketch in backstory, i like the way louis and eleanor use sex in different ways to illustrate the complexity of their relationship. i love the interplay between past and present, and i think overall it has more emotional complexity than anything else i’ve written. i poured a lot of myself into it, and it sucked, and it was hard, but i’m so happy with how it turned out. also, i got some really amazing feedback about it, especially from people who were not sold on the idea of real-life elounor but found this portrayal sympathetic. i really loved being able to change some people’s minds and get them excited about louis’ real relationship.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

lol fuckin spinning on that dizzy edge 😩😩 my most kudos-ed work currently and probably forever, rip me. it’s not even a story, it’s literally just me describing louis in two different outfits, i think it took like an hour to write, it’s just...not...anything? i know that i’m too hard on this story, but actually, i’m nOT!!!

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

i do like this little paragraph from boy, make me believe, part of the louis/bebe truckstop au.

She didn’t know it could be like this. When she’d imagined her sexual future, she always thought it would be the same sort of adequate sex she’d been having before, just with progressively older guys, until she married one of them, and then they’d get older together. She’s only ever been with boys, is the thing, and Louis is such a man that’s she giddy with it. He has a job and a family and a kid. He knows a trade, and he lives alone in his own house, and he can fix mostly anything. He’s muscular and strong, and he smells like beer and cigarettes most nights. He’s all grown up and self-sufficient, and he knows who he is and what he wants. And he wants to worship her, and he knows how to do that, too. She didn’t know there would be gentleness. She didn’t know there would be selflessness. She didn’t know that being manly could still leave so much room for being soft.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

you know, it’s so funny to look at the kudos counts for the truckstop au, because they’re so much lower than i realized. and that’s because every comment i’ve gotten on that series has been so thoughtful and excited and loving and kind that it makes me forget that that series is SUPER NICHE and almost no one read it. but the people who did read it were just amazing and supportive, and even just a handful of people buying into that world and getting excited about it and talking shit out with me in the comments and helping me develop that world more and consider things differently than i had before, it was really just the best most rewarding thing.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

every second of writing that pig dog story was torture, especially as the deadline loomed closer and i still had almost none of it written. and also especially because i was really inspired at that time to work on my louis/briana story, but i didn’t have time, and i resented having to work on this one instead. i reread it today, and i swear it’s the first time i’ve actually even liked it. writing that story was brutal.

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

writing two stories with harry as a narrator was a weird surprise. i really love writing through or about louis. i’ll read lots of different pairings, but it’s hard for me to get excited about writing a story that doesn’t involve louis. so i really didn’t expect to enjoy writing my hamille stories so much, but that’s been such a fun relationship to explore, and i expect i will write more of them next year.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

my philosophy this year has mostly been to only write what i want to write, and i mean both in terms of pairings and in terms of actual content. i don’t like writing plot and backstory and worldbuilding and all that shit, so i just...stopped. and i really focused in on the bits that i do like, the internal monologues and little scraps of dialogue and emotions and sensations, and i think it made my writing sharper and more concentrated. i think i reduced a lot of filler this year and really focused on writing undiluted, strong emotions and metaphors. if something was boring or dragging, i skipped it. i know that’s not for everyone, but it many writing much more enjoyable for me personally.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

i would like to try some new pairings. this is weird, but i’ve never really written a true nouis story? it feels like i should have, but i haven’t, and that’s something i wouldn’t mind tackling next year. also, when i first started out, i didn’t feel comfortable leaving canon behind because i worried that i didn’t have a strong enough grip on my characters yet, and i feared that if i started writing AUs or whatever, my characters would become unrecognizable. but i’d like to keep venturing out and trying new worlds and tropes. i want to write more trans characters. i’d like to write an ace fic. i’d like to bring my eye to things i haven’t written before and see what happens.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

jeez, everyone? you know what, i’m gonna go ahead and single out @alligatornyc as someone who doesn’t write but is such a positive and uplifting reader. if you get on her good side, she will make you feel like the greatest person who ever wrote a single word, and that is such a rare and wonderful gift. @mildlymaddy is also really phenomenal about showering her friends with amazing comments and feedback. @queerlyalex more than anyone else i’ve ever known is just...super positive about encouraging people to be creative and do whatever makes them happy, and they are so celebratory about whatever you end up producing.

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

louis’ depression in even if it’s a lie, say it will be all right is my depression. also, this from see where this thing goes is 100% me dropping out of school and being ashamed to tell most of the people in my life:

“Do you figure you’re going to head back home?” Jay asked when they were both finished eating, and Bebe imagined what that would be like, to give up after so much planning. She remembered the going away party they had thrown for her at the old diner, the balloons and the cake and the card they’d all signed for her and the gas station gift card they’d all chipped in for, only forty bucks but it melted her heart that they’d all believed in her and wanted her to go off and be a big star. She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t face those people again until she became someone, and her eyes welled up with tears just thinking about it.

“I can’t go back there,” Bebe had said.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

there is room for you to write the kind of stories you want to write. you don’t have to follow those “avoid these writing mistakes” posts that drive me fucking crazy. show don’t tell? who cares. if you wanna tell, then tell, it’s your story. people get very focused on word count and writing every day and forming proper habits, and if that works for you, good, and if that doesn’t work for you, that’s good, too. if forcing yourself to write every day makes you feel shitty and inadequate, then don’t do it. if writing when you’re uninspired feels bad, don’t do it. you don’t have to do this the way everyone else does. you’re doing this FOR FREE. it should feel good. if you’re not enjoying it, figure out a way to do it differently.

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

louis/bucky barnes is a thing, and it is happening, and i am getting really excited about it. louis/briana is happening. cis girls hamille is probably happening. more truckstop au will hopefully be happening. trans louis is theoretically happening, but that one is only just starting to coalesce in my mind. and once louis’ album drops, i’m sure way more elounor will be happening.

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

i hATE TAGGING 😩 if we are mutuals and you wanna do this, tag you’re it! please tag me in your response. if we aren’t mutuals are you wanna do this, tag you’re it! please tag me in your response. fair warning tho this thing takes F O R E V E R to do

[mitakamirai]

sike.

aside for the fact that one of God's favorites smiled at me, i was pretty much drowning in so many "what ifs," the first and foremost being, what if i wasn't what he was expecting? of course you weren't what he was expecting, you doofus. you only said you looked like a bookworm. okay, but what if because of that he doesn't wanna talk to me? like you know, maybe he has standards and all. you seriously worry too much with random things. if you keep thinking about that, you're gonna flunk today's p.e. class. okay, but what if.. oh for the love of folk dance, please shut up.

i really couldn't stop thinking about that moment though. it kept looming over my head that i was a little distracted from practice. hopefully i only missed a step or two, or else i'm doomed. although he did message me that he was a little cautious because his friends might see him. and i was like oh, that made sense. i was doing that too. but i was still somehow (but uselessly) worried that i was not as attractive has he had hoped. my thoughts made the day go like a breeze.

i watched kimetsu no yaiba as he had recommended even though i was waiting for it to finish so i could watch it continuously. did i purposely watch it so i could have more reasons to talk to him? maybe.

thought it just hit me, i never actually got to introduce myself to him. i left him a note on the hallway as he didn't want his friends to see. also because, i didn't know how to introduce myself through text messages. so i sent him a song with a side note: hi, i'm kylle. then added him on facebook, apologizing in advance that i can be a little loud on social media.

it had appeared that he was liking my song suggestions, i hope. sometimes he'd sing them with me through our messages. i even recommended him my favorite anime. to which, i hope he'd watch.

i was set to present something during contemporary arts and i swear my stomach kept on turning and churning my insides. i was practicing outside and he and his classmates were off to do some sort of task. he saw me. i looked at him. and he mouthed "good luck" to me and my cheeks were probably like explosion! as i could feel them warm up and i mouthed back a thank you trying my best not to look all too happy, it might scare him away. alright, i'm acing this performance.

we usually exchange small glances and smile at each other when we'd pass by each other in the hallway, being all too careful not to let our friends spot us, and spend most of our talking in text messages.

we talk about anime, school work, anime, mood, school work, useless updates, school work.. what else? oh, and anime.

we didn't have much to talk about, but i was glad that i could talk to him. even just as a friend. though i never disclosed verbatim that i had a crush on him, i knew that he knew. and it messed with my mind that what if he is just entertaining me because he is bored? what if he just wants to be nice and actually doesn't want to talk to me? i'm pretty sure he has a crush of his own, and that there were other people that liked him. i mean, anyone with taste would like him. he's so gorgeous. a little weird though, but i liked that in a guy. he's tall, lanky, but definitely gorgeous. he's.. unique. oh god so help me that i don't end up being too obsessive over him. oh right, i was older than him too. which was nuts!

we met personally for the second time because i offered to give him some anime. kyoukai no kanata and violet evergarden were the top priorities, of course. i was surprised that he hasn't watched them yet. my heart was thumping loudly against my ribcage and my hands were shaking. his friends came and teased him a bit, i just shrugged them away. good thing my hair was a little poofy, it could easily hide my face along with my glasses. i couldn't bear to look at him for longer than five seconds because he would now look back, unlike before. and i'm afraid that if i stared at him like i did when he didn't know about my existence, my cheeks will explode. and i could get a small sniff of his cologne, we weren't that close, but definitely close enough that i could somehow feel the warmth of his aura on my skin. i wondered what it would be like to hug him. he smiled again, thanked me and returned to his classroom.

god, i swear i would always repeat the moments where we'd meet in my head like a broken cassette. even in the tiny moments that we'd pass by each other and give the tiniest of smiles. it warmed my heart and made my days better.

he went on a trip that weekend and i somehow appreciated the fact that he was still willing to talk to me. although i still wondered if he was just continuing to talk to me because he was bored, and i couldn't bring myself to ask. instead, i just allowed myself to be happy in it. if it turns out good, then nice. if not, ouch.

he did warn me many times about how he did not want to be in a relationship because he might be moving away, ldr might not work, and that he was terrible at handling relationships or that he was not ready. and i, although hurt, said it was okay, that it was the same for me. that i don't mind what may happen.

he, too, noticed that i was similar to his ex. great. i tried to debunk it as much as i could, because i didn't know her personally. and it hurt my pride, my ego, and brought down my confidence to be compared to someone that was awfully similar, and once dated the person i liked. but i couldn't tell him that. i didn't have the right to. who was i? i was just someone who admired him and was now his friend. just a friend. nothing more, nothing less. but it did hurt. a shit ton. i wish it didn't hurt. but it did. and i don't know if i'll be okay with it. because it broke my heart in a way that i never thought it could. supressing my feelings, i cried.

i tried to ignore my negative feelings. his little updates on his trip made me smile. that he was enjoying riding his bike across tall grasses, that the sunset was beautiful that painted the sky an exquisite coat of purple. i tried to picture his image in my mind, riding his bike, hair pushed back from the breeze, under the purple sky as the sun sank down. even though it was only my imagination, it was a beautiful scene.

he finished violet evergarden while on his trip. i woke up at 2am randomly and to his message. my heart warmed up at his sentiments of relating to violet, and that he told me he was playing with his nieces and nephews and hoped he had a good time. he also thanked me for my notes and efforts. he mentioned in his message that he still kept them in his wallet. needless to say, i cried again. because for the first time in my life, somebody actually appreciated my notes. and i wanted to gush out everything and say thank you at least a hundred times. but i just summarized it to one, definitely heartfelt "thank you," before going back to sleep.

i definitely wasn't expecting any of this. but the waves of goodness somewhat kept coming.

days pass by and we have gotten more comfortable with talking in personal. even if it was only about anime. and it usually only was just anime. we'd be facing each other — my back against our classroom and him against his classroom. i was getting more and more comfortable with talking to him face to face, and could now maintain eye contact for at least five seconds. oddly enough, we have so much in common. my friends often call him my female version.

i know i'm an annoying person to be around with. i wonder if i let it out too much that i really like him, i was so worried that he'd be turned off even if he didn't have any reason to fall for a person like me. i did say to him that i wasn't jowable. but... he was still willing to talk to me. and everytime i'd get a little too overjoyed, my mind instantly reminds me of the reasons why he didn't want to be in a relationship. and i wanted so badly to say to him, you know what? screw you. i hate that you're so gorgeous, i hate that we have so much in common. god i hate it so much and you don't even want to be with me, not that you are obliged to though, your heart your choices, but still. grrr. i don't want to hope for a chance. but i chose to ride this wave. and i'm going to fucking crash if i have to. you don't know this but, you're worth every single risk i am taking. and i'm ready to get hurt even more.

i was hoping for a better day even though it was no more than a regular thursday. we were both upset the night before that there was a possibility of anime films being banned in the country, that he even said he'd date me if they took the announcement back, to which i shrugged off, that maybe he just said that out of the heat of the moment.

i was rushing to finish.. or rather start my story for my creative writing assignment and he had asked to read it. i never really show my work to anyone, but something tells me that it was okay to let him read it. that it was safe with him. so i did, he even praised me for it. to which, i refused.

and because of the pressure of the deadline, i put in quite an ironic death in my story, which made him laugh. i was supposed to be upset about it, but he was laughing. after being so upset yesterday, he smiled. so i let the death slide. i’m glad i made him smile somehow. my heart warmed at the sight of him smiling.

i could care less about the event that we were sitting in because 1) i had to finish my story, 2) i was sleepy as heck, and 3) we were texting each other still. he even called me cute, to which i shrugged it off, taking it no more than a friendly compliment. and because we were now somehow very casual with each other, i even complained to him that i was sleepy and hungry, and when the event was over said i was happy to have convinced my friends to go grab milktea. he said he wanted to treat me but he was in a hurry, i assured him it was okay, and that he can treat me some other time.

on my way home from the day, i reflected on something. he was.. really smiley today. like he was genuinely happy. it made me smile, happy even. to know that he was in a good mood. and i don’t know what possessed me to do this, but i messaged him about my feelings to him about this day. about how i was happy when he was, that his smile made me smile as well. it was corny, but it was sincere.

he replied shortly afterwards about his reason—he even included me. to which i only took lightly and with no malice. he even said he might fall for me, but i thought that was a joke. little did i know he was actually being serious. i told him, in the same manner, i’d be more than honored to catch him. as if he was actually gonna fall though. but even so, i was ready for him.

later that night, i was finishing my story with his encouragement. he even passed on a scene that was the perfect cherry on top. i couldn’t wait to pass it. of course, i let him read it. he was in fact part of the success, too. and i’m glad he liked it as much as i did.

[insert story sa date here.]

it had been two days since the “first date” happened and it still felt fresh to me. i could still somehow feel his hand in mine. i could vividly feel the texture and size of his hand that was in contrast to mine. we were even somewhat acting like a couple now, saying i miss you’s and labyu’s to which i thought was nothing but some sort of trip i just hopped onto. but, while in the middle of writing a story, he told me he’d accept me on the first day of october. i thought, again, it was a joke. and i just said, “this is weird.” because it was. we watched the last episode of kimetsu no yaiba the next day, sitting side by side like we did last friday, hands between our thighs, just barely ghosting over each other because we were afraid someone could see.

i just prayed to the heavens that i wasn’t scaring him in any way. i mean, again, who would date a person like me, anyway? i was nothing but an uninteresting speck in the universe. and hoped that instead of drifting him away, i was drawing him in. because from the start, i had only three hopes or expectations: either he would drift away, stay where we were, or get closer. and i don’t know if the angels were playing with me by doing the third one and think it was a good idea.

october first finally rolls around and i was hoping for a sike! moment, but that wasn’t the case. there was no sike! moment. it was real. really real. because that day, we shared our first kiss. holy fuckamole, we kissed. i haven’t been kissed in years, but i was sure as hell it didn’t felt as good as this. i could feel him tremble against my lips and his heart banging. it calmed me down a bit. i only chuckled, it was very cute. we hugged, and kissed some more, and i comforted him for not passing an exam and said there were better things to come for him. god, his embrace felt so safe, and his lips. they were so soft.

just not long after we had shared our tentative last kiss, he messaged me, asking if he could have some more. that he liked the feeling. and i could only laugh. he is so adorable. but i couldn’t refuse. because even i, myself, liked the feeling as well.

this was only day 1, but i know that this is the first day of a journey i’d want to go to my whole life with him by my side, and i hope it wasn’t just a pit stop. that he was my ride or die from this moment on.

i know this was only the beginning but it felt like coming home. it felt like slipping my shoes off after a long day and being greeted by the warmest hug a person could experience. it felt like being snuggled up under the duvet during a stormy day with cups of hot chocolate by the nightstand. it felt like waltzing under the starlit sky barefoot and feeling the grass tickle my feet. it felt so good. it felt so comfortable. it felt safe. it felt.. just right.

i knew deep inside that this, this is what is gonna lead me to feel what is the true meaning of a genuine, selfless love. and i’m glad i took the risk. i’m glad i rode the wave. i’m glad that i didn’t let the consequences stop me. i’m glad i let my gut punch my fear in the ass. i’m glad i did..

because now, i have a hand to hold while i set off to conquer the universe with our lightsabers.

my love, my grandest adventure yet,

let’s ride, shall we?

[nottellingu]

Screw the Bro Code

This oneshot is dedicated to my bestie @the-fashion-paintbrush on the auspicious occasion of her birthday. I know it’s not what you wanted but consider this an ‘I’m-sorry-i-love-you-please-don’t-chuck me-bribe’.I swear I’m working on your actual birthday present too.

There’s a rule in the bro code that you don’t score a date with the woman your best friend just slept with. You just don’t. Especially if that woman happened to be sneaking out of said best mate’s room.

Apparently women weren’t aware of that rule. Because Marlene McKinnon just asked out James Potter. After she slept with Sirius Black.

What the fuck?

.

James Potter was an early riser. He always had been, always will be. It annoyed the shit out of his mates.

That fateful day, James was up at the crack of dawn, read as eight a.m. (Laugh all you want but eight a.m. to twenty three year olds was like garlic to vampires.) He was making a breakfast of eggs and toast.

Then the door to Sirius’ door softly opened and an attractive, distinctly disheveled blonde woman slipped out.

“Good Morning,” he greeted her.

A year ago, James would have screamed on finding a strange woman sneaking out of Sirius’ bedroom and called Interpol. Now he didn’t blink an eye. He had come to terms with Sirius and his sleazy ways.

“Hi,” she replied, embarrassed to be caught doing the Walk of Shame.

“Would you like some eggs?” James indicated the pan in which he was cooking breakfast.

The woman hesitated and then she shrugged. “Sure, I guess I could eat.”

“Great. Have a seat.” James gestured to the small round table with his spatula. The woman took a seat and slipped her heels off her feet.

“I’m James Potter, Sirius’ best friend and roommate.”

“I’m Marlene McKinnon, Sirius’ one night stand and primary schoolmate.”

James set out a plate of eggs and French toast in front of her and set up a place for himself. Marlene mumbled a ‘Thank You’ as she tucked into her food.

James and Marlene began to talk and they hit it off.

They talked about their jobs and ranted about horrible bosses who needed to get a life.

“My boss interrupts my work by making me getting coffee and running errands. Then he shouts at me for not making my deadline.” Marlene worked as a lifestyle columnist for the local newspaper.

“I don’t have a boss per se but the principal of the school I work at refuses to give the sports department a bigger budget.” James was the assistant football coach at the local school.

They argued about which football team would trounce whom.

“You’re absolutely bonkers if you think Chelsea could beat Arsenal.”

“You just wait; Arsenal will be back with a vengeance.”

They talked about what kind of superpower they would have and what their alter egos would be.

“My superpower would be just being awesome, defeating everyone with my awesomeness. They would call me Captain Awesome” James said dreamily.

“Seeing as I’m already a journalist, I would be Superman’s female counterpart. We would save the day then we would hover over the city with our special flying skills and kiss.” Marlene sighed. “It would be so romantic.”

Marlene even told him about the time Sirius had cried because his sandwich was cut in rectangles and not triangles.

“So what was Sirius like in primary school?”

“A diva princess.” James laughed at that. “He threw a hissy fit once when his sandwich was cut in quarters and not triangles.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him.”

As James was setting the dishes in the sink, Marlene asked, “Is this a regular thing? Sirius sleeps with the ladies and you cook them breakfast?”

“Yeah, it started about two months. I figured someone would have to be the gentleman. Though most usually don’t even look at me.”

“So what about when you have someone over?”

James coloured. “Oh. I’m not that type of guy. I’m more into –er, romance.”

Marlene’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Really?”

“Yeah,” James cleared his throat uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck.

“So listen, James, I really appreciate you making me breakfast. I’d cook a meal for you in return but I’d just put you in a coma. How about dinner tonight at ‘Scully’s Pizzeria’ just around the corner?”

“Erm, I-”

“Great, I’ll see you there at seven.” And she rushed out the door, before even giving him a chance to say another word.

.

That’s how Marlene McKinnon broke the bro code. James couldn’t even blame her. When the ladies meet someone as charming and as good looking as him, they can’t be expected to restrain themselves. It wasn’t their fault.

But how was he supposed to break the news to Sirius? There were two scenarios – Sirius might pummel him into the ground and James would let him because he had just broken the bro code. Or Sirius might congratulate him on getting some. There was no in between.

What to do? What to do, indeed?

.

It was eleven when James came up with a plan. Sirius would be up by twelve and he would make him a sandwich. That was James’ brilliant plan. Woo him over with food.

(He was doomed.)

.

Sirius was reading the sports section of the newspaper when James approached him with a Ham and Swiss sandwich.

“Here’s your sandwich, Princess. I took the liberty of cutting it into quarters.” James couldn’t help himself. James grinned at Sirius’ less-than-pleased face.

“Shit. Marlene told you that?”

“Mhm. I even put it in the group chat.” James was referring to the group chat which included himself, Sirius and their two mates, Peter and Remus.

Sirius set down his paper and whipped out his phone. “You wanker,” Sirius accused.

“So this may sound weird but I think I might have a date with Marlene tonight.”

Sirius arched an eyebrow at James. “You’re right; it does sound weird.”

“She kind of just sprung it on me.”

“She does tend to do that,” Sirius said fondly.

“So you don’t have a problem with this?”

“I’ll admit it is a little weird but I’m also glad you’re going on a date. I was beginning to think you were gay. Not that it would be a problem.”

Well, would you look at that? There was middle ground. But there was also something suspicious about Sirius’ behavior. He was far too at ease.

“Okay, first of all I’m not gay, just selective. And secondly, it’s not a date. I just don’t want to leave her hanging.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Sirius was smiling at him weirdly. Something definitely smelled fishy.

.

James walked into ‘Scully’s Pizzeria’. Just as he was scanning the restaurant for a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, he heard Marlene calling his name.

“James, hey,” she waved her arm to get his attention and waved him over to the booth she was standing by. Right, time to face certain death.

“Hullo, Marlene.”

“So glad you could make it.”

“It’s not like you gave me much choice.” James said somewhat resentfully.

Marlene cringed, “Sorry, but I have good reason.”                        

Just as James slid into the booth, another woman came up to Marlene and said, “Sorry I’m late, traffic was a bitch” as she hugged her.

The woman had auburn hair that fell just past her shoulder in pretty waves. She had stunning emerald green eyes that captivated James. She had the cutest little nose James had ever seen.

They turned to face James and the beautiful woman asked, “Um, who’s this?”

Marlene smirked at James’ gob smacked expression.

“Lily, this is James Potter, Sirius’ best mate. And James, this is my best mate, Lily Evans.”

“Hi,” Lily said to him.

James tried to say ‘Hey’ but it came out like a garbled ‘Hnmgh’. Behind Lily, Marlene’s smirk became more pronounced.

“Charming,” Lily said hesitantly and then she turned to Marlene, “Sirius, as in the bloke you slept with?”

“Yes. James made me breakfast this morning, so I invited him to dinner.”

“Swell,” Lily said but she looked anything but.

James was becoming exceedingly uncomfortable by the second. Marlene and Lily seemed to be having a silent conversation and James squirmed in his seat.

“Lily, why don’t you sit down?” Marlene may have posed it like a question but she said it like an order. Under her breath, she said something to Lily which James did not fully catch except ‘owe me’, ‘balcony’ and ‘good lipstick’.

Lily slid in opposite James and Marlene sat next to her.

“So James, you like The Avengers, don’t you? Lily dressed up as Black Widow for a costume party once.”

“Groovy,” James said, fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers. Lily was shooting daggers at Marlene; Marlene was pointedly not looking in her direction.

At that moment, Marlene’s phone pinged. “Oh shoot, I totally forgot. I had planned to meet with Sirius to catch up.” For some crazy reason, James didn’t believe her

“Didn’t you already do that yesterday?” asked James.

“That was drinks. Today it’s dinner.” Marlene made to get up but Lily caught hold off her wrist.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” she said menacingly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I genuinely forgot I was otherwise busy.” She shook Lily off. “You two enjoy yourselves.” She waggled her fingers in goodbye and sped out of the door.

“Did she just-” James began disbelievingly.

“Yep.” Lily was glaring in the direction Marlene had disappeared.

Great. Simply splendid. So that had been their agenda. Make James make a fool of himself in front of the pretty lady.

Lily and James exchanged nervous smiles.

“Does this happen often?”

“You’d be surprised.” Lily looked exasperated.

A waiter approached their table. “What can I get you?” he asked with a bright, familiar smile.

Lily looked at James, “Does Hawaiian pizza work for you?”

“Uh yeah.”

“A large Hawaiian pizza please, Derrick.”

“You got it, Lily.” The waiter nodded and left.

“So. . . come here often?” James asked, a cheesy grin plastered on his face, waggling his eyebrows.

Oh God.

Somebody shoot him already.

To his surprise Lily laughed. It was a tinkling sound that tickled James’ insides.

That was how it all began. The perfect date with the perfect woman.

Screw the bro code.

[dreamsinkandcoffee]

Tagged by @zapphi​ through the blog @ask-the-anglosphere​! Thank you, I didn’t expect it at all and I am very flattered. :D

Rules: Answer 30 some questions and 20 something blogs you would like to get to know better. Which I won’t do because all the blogs I wanted to tag already did this. Feel free to do this if you read it?

1. Nicknames:  Francis, Blue, Mephistopheles or Mephisto, sometimes Gil or Gilbert, Pierrot.

2. Gender: Female.

3. ⭐ sign: Sagittarius. As a kid it was a huge disappointment, because I was a huge fan of Saint Seiya and my Gold Saint was the only one already dead before the series even started... 

4. Height: I’ll keep it a secret because I am an asshole, but I’ll give another information about my body: I am a ginger.

5. Time: Deadline is in less than two hours and I am doing this tag even though I am not even halfway done. What time is that in English?

6. 🎂: 20th December. Throwing it here in case somebody wants to give me a gift.

7. Favourite band: Panic! At the disco, Set it Off, Imagine Dragons.

8. Favorite solo artist: Caparezza. Italian singer.

9. Song stuck in my head: ”You’re ready? You’re ready! Oh, sit down please, yeah! Feeding back, let your body know and go with it! Just spin it, and win it, turn it around, yeah! And now you’re rocking it just like a mo-tor!” (Remote Control, ENG DUB by JubyPhonic)

10. Last movie I 👀: ”Thor: Ragnarok”, huge disappointment.

11. Last show I 👀: I don’t watch TV series usually, so... probably the Servamp anime months ago.

12. When did I create my blog: ... Uh.

13. What do I post (or reblog): Mainly Hetalia and Servamp, and then a bunch of other anime and manga from time to time.

14. Last thing I googled: Net Neutrality.

15. Do I have any other blogs: Not yet. Maybe in the future?

16. Do I get asks: I am an unpopular and unknown lil fuck so no.

17. Why I chose my url: It sums up my life very well.

18. Following: Mostly dead blogs, hoping one day they’ll come back with their awesome content. I should do some cleaning up but I am a nostalgic.

19: Followers: More than I deserve wtf are you all doing here?

21.  Average hours of 💤: Rn? With deadlines and exams breathing on my neck? You don’t really wanna know.

22. Lucky number: I do have a lucky charm, but it’s not a number!

23. Instruments: Piano. I suck, but piano. Wanted to learn flute, but asthma doesn’t really get along with that.

24. What am I wearing: Embarassing pajama, but when I go out I swear I dress up cool.

25. Dream job: If I tell, it won’t happen.

26. Dream trip: See above.

27. Favorite food: Pasta. All the pasta, especially lasagne. Ahhh, I miss Italy so much. T^T

28. Nationality: Italian. Though too many people assume I am a foreigner back home...

30. Favorite song right now: Uhhh... I’ll tell you my motivational song instead: “Let’s kill tonight” by Panic! At the Disco.

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Here it’s folks! Final part of my Queen inspired AU. I wanted to post it yesterday but got busy with school, sorry for the small delay. I hope you enjoy it! ☺️

Somebody to love — Part Two

Cassian knew something was wrong. He just didn’t know what.

He had received Nesta’s break up text three days ago out of the blue, and had been trying to reach her ever since.

She had blocked his contact. Had left her apartment.

So he contacted Emerie, which also didn’t answer any of his questions.

He didn’t have much luck with her sisters either.

His friends knew something had happened between him and Nesta, but hadn’t pried after seeing Cassian’s distressed face.

He hadn’t wanted to go out today. Specially after Azriel — Azriel of all people — suggested they go to the karaoke bar.

But he didn’t want to worry his friends any longer. And it had been an awful long time since they had gone out with Mor.

However, when they walked in and he heard a familiar voice — her voice — he wanted to grab Azriel and kiss him in gratitude.

Cassian couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Couldn’t stop listening to her sing.

He had always loved her voice. And when they had come here for their first date and he heard her sing... that was it for him.

When Nesta sang it was as if the whole world stopped to listen. She connected with the song, the way she felt everything so intensely giving a deeper meaning to the lyrics.

‘That’s my chance’ he thought while Nesta finished the song ‘I’m going to talk to her right now’

But when their eyes met and he saw how pissed she became, and how she started to argue with Feyre — no doubt thinking her younger sister had spilled the beans to Rhys, who in turn told him — he knew he had to act fast. So he did the first thing he thought of.

He got on the stage.

And decided he was going to win her back by redoing their first date, although with some slight changes.

“Nesta Archeron?” Cassian said on the microphone, hoping his voice didn’t give away how nervous he was.

He saw her nod in the crowd, and almost released a sight of relief. He had caught her off guard, good.

“This song is for you”

He just hoped she stayed long enough to hear what he had to say.

This thing called love, I just can't handle it

This thing called love, I must get round to it

Cassian had been head over heels for Nesta Archeron since five years ago when he met her at Feyre’s birthday party.

He became friends with her.

He had teased her.

He had shamelessly flirted with her.

Until, after much pestering from his part, she finally agreed to go on a date with him.

I ain't ready

Crazy little thing called love

In their first date, he had sang “Treasure”, by Bruno Mars.

He had been nervous as hell. He had this super elaborate plan on his head that went flying out of the window when he heard her sing.

He knew she must feel at least something towards him, if the way she reacted to his flirting was any indication.

Or the way he had caught her glancing at him when she thought nobody was looking.

This thing (this thing)

Called love (called love)

It cries (like a baby)

In a cradle all night

Still, Cassian couldn’t help but think that he had misinterpreted her.

Maybe all of that was just his mind playing tricks on him. Just wishful thinking of his.

But Cassian sang the damn song, and when he got off stage and came face to face with an expressionless Nesta, he felt his heart stop beating.

It swings (woo woo)

It jives (woo woo)

It shakes all over like a jelly fish

I kinda like it

Crazy little thing called love

Yet it went back to normal just fine after Nesta gave him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

And she kissed him.

Grabbed his T-shirt and pulled him towards her, smashing her lips against his.

Cassian thought if he died right then and there he would have been the happiest man to have ever lived.

There goes my baby

She knows how to rock 'n' roll

Deciding to spice things up a bit, Cassian jumped from the stage. And started to dance towards a very much shocked Nesta.

She drives me crazy

She gives me hot and cold fever

Then she leaves me in a cool cool sweat

He was singing for her. Only her. Screw the rest of the bar. Screw his friends who were probably filming it all.

Nesta Archeron was the only one right now who deserved his attention and thoughts.

I gotta be cool, relax, get hip

And get on my track's

Cassian grabbed her hand with his free one, pulling her closer to him.

And then he was dancing with her.

Take a back seat, hitch-hike

And take a long ride on my motorbike

Cassian could swear he saw the corner of Nesta’s mouth turn up in a tentative smile.

He cheered internally.

She hadn’t punched him yet. That was a victory.

Until I'm ready

Crazy little thing called love

He stopped dancing. Stopped singing.

Never mind that there was still two verses left. He had to take his shoot now.

Cassian blindly gave the microphone to a guy standing near them.

“You” he said, not taking his eyes or hands away from Nesta “It’s your turn. Go on now”

Taking the hint, the guy grabbed the microphone and went to the stage, Feyre, Elain and Emerie also taking the opportunity to leave them alone, going to greet their friends.

But that small moment was enough to make Nesta snap back to reality.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she said, snatching her hand and taking a step back from him.

“Nesta” he breathed “Talk to me sweetheart. What happened?”

“Her” she answered, pointing at where their friends where standing “Her is what happened. How could you? How could you bring her here!”

“Wait, you’re talking about Mor?” to say Cassian was confused was an understatement. He was completely lost.

“Oh, so she has a name.” Nesta snorted, but Cassian knew her. He knew she was hurt. But he didn’t see why.

“Nesta, explain what this is all about. Because I’ve no damn idea what’s going on.”

“I saw you. With her. I finished my book before the deadline and wanted to make a surprise for you” she stopped to take a deep breath, and Cassian could see she was trying not to cry “I saw both of you on the sidewalk when I stopped at a traffic light. And you looked so happy, so carefree.”

“Nesta—“

“You have been so nervous around me these past weeks. I thought—I thought you were cheating on me. That you were trying to break things up but couldn’t bring yourself to do it. So I did it first” she bit her lip, and Cassian didn’t know if he should hug her for all the pain she must be feeling or shake her for thinking he could cheat on her.

“Mor is Rhysand’s cousin” he began, trying to appeal to her “She has been living abroad these past years as a diplomat, that’s why you never met her”

Nesta opened her mouth to say something, but Cassian beat her to it.

“She’s a childhood friend. I was happy because we haven’t seen each other in ages” he pointed at the redhead that was chatting animatedly with Rhysand “And because we both had rather good news. Mor is engaged to Vassa. She came back to visit and invite us all to the wedding.”

“Oh” Nesta opened her mouth in surprise, her cheeks pinking in shame.

“Oh indeed” Cassian laughed, shaking his head.

“But you just said that you ‘both had great news’. What do you mean?” it was Nesta’s turn to be confused.

“This is the good news” Cassian said, getting down on one knee “I have been nervous and quiet these past weeks because all I could think of was how to come up with a perfect plan. I thought of asking you after you finished your book, so you’d be less worried and we could celebrate both things in style”

He took a small velvet box from his jacket and Nesta’s eyes widened in shock.

“Cassian—”

“I have been carrying this with me for a long time now” he prayed she didn’t notice how his hands were shaking as he opened the small box “I love you Nesta Archeron and I want you to get through your tick-head that you are the only woman out there for me. You have ruined me for everyone else”

“I— Cassian, you don’t have to do this because of my insecurities”

“Did you not hear me woman? I absolutely adore you. I worship the ground you walk. I’m doing this because I want to. Because I want to do like Beyoncé said and put a ring on what I like. So please say yes, because I won’t be able to suffer anymore heartbreak than what I’ve felt these past three days” he took a deep breath “Be my wife Nesta Archeron. Be my wife and fight me, flirt with me and love me”

“Yes. A thousand times yes” happy tears were running down Nesta’s face as Cassian placed the wedding band on her finger — a single gold ring adorned by a single round-cut blue stone, the exact colour of her eyes.

“It was about bloody time” he growled, getting up to kiss Nesta, pouring all of his love and adoration for her in that kiss.

They were so focused on each other that they did not notice the bar applauding them, Feyre and Emerie crying, Rhysand filming it all while Mor and Vassa watched everything with curiosity, or Amren raising her drink in a silent toast.

And they didn’t see Azriel and Elain high-fiving each other, both of them smiling with self satisfaction.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030-blog @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555

{Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list}

[x-men-x-imagines]

Imagine #17 Peter Maximoff (Request)

Requested by @fragcc: Could you do a Peter x human reader? Like, they'd meet at library and become good friends bc they like the same stuff and then after some time they'd start dating and he'd confess to her that he's a mutant but she doesn't care bc it's her love... =]

Not my gif

Words: 2263

Warnings: typos, fem!reader (though not necessarily, I think, I’m just not sure), SWEARS

A/N: So, I was in a really no-cheesy mood when I wrote this, I hope, y’all like it anyway! xoxo

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”, you muttered under your breath as your eyes fell on the empty space in the shelf, where your favourite book was supposed to be. Some idiot had been hogging it for the past two months and you had been counting the days until you would finally be able to read it again – for about the 56th time. And now here you were, on the day it was supposed to be back, in front of the shelf where it was supposed to be, and yet… Right at that moment, your glare could have killed a man.

And yes, you could have just bought a copy of your own, but that wasn’t, what this was about, you insisted. This was about order, structure. You wanted this copy and you wanted it now.

“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think these books are able to appreciate the death stare you are giving them.”, you heard a voice right behind your back and almost jumped in surprise. “Jesus Christ!”, you said breathlessly. “Couldn’t you have made a sound first?” You had never seen the boy in front of you before, that you would have remembered. Shaggy silver hair fell across his face and almost covered his dark eyes that were looking you up and down with an endearing sense of curiosity and intelligence. “Are you new in town? I haven’t seen you around.”, you asked almost automatically.

“Subtle.”, he replied and a wide grin appeared on his lips as he saw you blush. “No, I’ve lived here pretty much all my life, people usually just don’t notice me.”

You threw a glance at his silver leather jacket, his skinny jeans and the weird goggles in his hair, before saying: “Sure.” “And also I don’t come here very often.” “Oh well, that explains it. I’m here pretty much all the time, so…”

“Staring at the books like they just killed your firstborn?” You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was nice, you decided, just as your gaze fell on the book in his left hand. “Hey!”, you exclaimed and immediately got shushed from three different directions. “So you had it?” You couldn’t help but sound more than a little huffy, as you reached out to steal your favourite book from him. He was faster and got it out of your reach. “Yeah, I lent it like… a few weeks ago.”, you sounded confused and also somewhat amused, which annoyed you even more. “Hah, more like months. How the hell did it take you months to read a 300 page book?”

“Hey, calm down, okay? It’s just a book. I brought it back on time; my deadline was today. Besides, it didn’t take me months to read it, I just forgot to bring it back earlier.”

“Whatever.”, you huffed, turning away from him. Maybe he wasn’t so nice after all. “So, I’m guessing, you don’t want it anymore?”, he called after you, being rewarded with multiple annoyed shushs. And before you could even reply – not that you had planned to – you found the book in your hand and the boy back in front of you. “I’m Peter, by the way. And you are…? I mean, besides obsessed with science fiction novels.” He grinned at you once again.

“Y/n. And I’m not obsessed with it.” Your eyes fell on the cover of the book in your hand and you smiled. “Not that obsessed, at least.”

 “You know, you should probably just punch him in the face and call it a Wednesday.”, you mumbled through a mouth of fries. “It’s Sunday.”, Peter replied lazily, pulling a face at you, as you slapped his fingers, which had went fishing for your food again. “And there are people you just don’t punch. He wouldn’t stand a chance and I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“Sure he wouldn’t. What does a football and wrestling champion have against you? A guy in silver leather and with the annoying”, you smacked his hand away from your plate, “habit of not asking before taking other people’s food.”

He rose and eyebrow. “Can I please have some of your fries?” “You could have ordered some for yourself, y’know?” “See, that’s why I don’t ask.”, he said, pulling your plate towards himself.

“You could just date someone else, then he wouldn’t always go after you for ‘hitting on his girl’.”, you suggested, grinning because of your own brilliant idea. Of course there was that tiny detail that you didn’t actually want Peter to date anyone, but you felt like a total dick even thinking it, so you usually ignored that part of yourself. “I mean, even if you have a crush on Sara, finding someone else is just the easier solution. People like her and Phil are made for each other, they will probably marry and have three blond, flawless, athletic kids before he gets bored with her and stops caring and she has an affair with her yoga instructor, just to get back at him. Damn, I should write novels, don’t you think? I have the perfect form of clichéd thinking to…”

“I don’t have a crush on Sara.”, Peter interrupted. “See? It’s not that hard after all! Now all you need is…” “I don’t have a crush on Sara. I couldn’t care less about Sara.”

“Oh.”, you hesitated, not knowing what to say. You had been so sure! “So, what is the fuss with Phil about, then?” “It’s more of a fundamental thing, you know? He’s a prick and somebody should stand up to him.”

“And that selfless hero is going to be you?”, you asked sarcastically. Yes, Phil was a prick, but now it looked like Peter had gotten himself into way too much trouble for nothing.

“But you’re probably right, I should date someone.”, he grinned at you, changing the subject and suddenly making you regret that you had even brought it up. “But who’s going to play the hero in your place?” “We could make it a crime fighting duo.”

“Uhm… okay, so, who is it?” You didn’t even wanna know, but you also kinda did. You started nervously fiddling with a loose string on your shirt. “If it’s not Sara, who…”

“You know.”, he said, suddenly not sounding all that confident anymore. “I kinda see us as a crime fighting duo already. I mean, your area of responsibility is pretty much the library and I have to do everything else, but I’m fine with that.” He looked at you from under his lashes and it took you a few seconds to get what he was saying.

“Wait, what? Seriously? Us, like, you and me?”, your voice sounded about an octave too high, but there was nothing you could do about that at the moment. Your heart skipped multiple beats and your brain didn’t do its job either. Any second now, Peter would probably start laughing, saying that he totally got you, and then eat the rest of your fries, again, without asking. But nothing happened. A loaded silence fell upon the table as you stared at your best friend and he stared back at you, looking uncharacteristically serious.

“Yeah, why not? I mean, if you want to, of course.”, he started blabbering, lowering his gaze to his hands, that were shaking at a pace that you wouldn’t have thought humanly possible. “If not, then let’s just go back to assuming that I want to fuck Phil’s…”

“O-okay.”, was all you could say, shaking your head lightly.

“Okay? Okay what? Okay, let’s do this, okay, let’s pretend this never happened, okay, let’s stay friends? I mean, not that I don’t…”

“I mean, we could at least give it a shot, right?”, you replied, Peter’s shaky hands somehow making you more nervous and calming you down at the same time. Also, you were still giving yourself way cooler than you actually were. You had known about your crush on Peter, you weren’t that delusional as to believe that you were just friends. At least not from your side of the story. What you would have never guessed is that Peter could actually have some kind of interest in you! “Peter, are you okay? Your hands… they are shaking.”, you finished lamely.

“Yeah, they are, Sherlock.”, he replied, grinning at you widely, before turning serious once again. Gosh, what was going on with him today. “Though we should probably talk about that before we get to anything else.”, he mumbled.

“Talk about your… hands?” “Well, yeah, kinda, I mean, not really, but…”

 “Right, I would greatly appreciate, if you could not lose your shit.” Was the first thing he said after having grabbed your hand and run out of the diner without explanation, just to stop in the back yard, next to the thrash cans – again, without explanation.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m not sure, if I wanna know, if you can only tell me in some shady backyard, Peter.”, you replied.

“Well, you always want me to be responsible, so I’m choosing the responsible option out of two.” Did you? You couldn’t think of one moment, when you had told him to be responsible. But he was clearly going somewhere, so you didn’t mention it. “I’ll just trust that your responsible choice doesn’t include murdering a hobo and hiding his remains in the garbage can.”, you joked and it worked. Peter smiled. “You know, I don’t even mind telling you all that much. I just usually don’t, because then people start asking questions and that’s the boring and annoying part. And also kinda, because my mom doesn’t want me to talk about it. Yeah.”

“Well, I would love to promise you that I won’t ask questions…” “But you would probably still do.” “Yeah.” “Yeah.” A hesitant silence fell upon the two of you as you looked at a nervously grinning Peter. “So, are you sure you wanna tell me?”, you asked, because it sure didn’t feel like it. “Yeah, yeah, I do. I think.”, he blabbered, rubbing his neck with one hand and you tried not to lose yourself in the fact that he looked really damn good doing that. “I’m just gonna…”

And with that, he disappeared. And for the second time that night, your heart decided to stop doing its job. “What the fuck?”, you whispered, just before you felt a tap on your shoulder. You didn’t even jump, because Peter always did that. He always showed up out of nowhere and you had gotten used to it. You just had never seen him actually disappear before. “What the fuck?”, you repeated, louder this time.

“Yeah.”, Peter replied. “Kinda cool, huh?” He didn’t even wait for your reply; instead he disappeared again, just to show up a second later with the most stereotypically cheesy bouquet of roses in hands. “Wow!” was all you could say. You felt like your eyes would fall out of your head, just like your heart would jump out of your chest at any second. Peter handed you the flowers. “They didn’t have any daffodils yet, because, y’know, it’s February.”, he explained, grinning widely.

You shook your head in disbelief and speechlessness. He had just shown you… whatever the fuck he had shown you and then thought that this was the appropriate time to prove that he remembered, which your favourite flowers were. You couldn’t contain your laughter. “So, are you gonna explain any of this, or am I supposed to guess, what the fuck is going on?”

“Do you wanna?” “Do you think so?” He grinned nervously. “I don’t really know, where it came from myself. I know that my father had some kind of weird ability as well, but my mom is normal. My sister can move things with her mind, which is awesome, but not as awesome as mine.” And just as you opened your mouth, he added: “If you don’t agree, you’re not thinking hard enough.”

“So, what is it?”, you asked, burying your face in the bouquet. “Can you… like, teleport? God, I feel crazy!” “You saw it, that makes it empirically proven. Or you’re crazy, I don’t know. Maybe I don’t even exist, maybe you made me up!”

“Shut up, I’m trying to think.”, you said. You didn’t feel crazy, but then again, did one feel crazy, ever? “So, is it, like, teleportation?”

“No, I’m just really fast.”, he corrected with an almost triumphant grin, before turning serious again. “But does it change anything? Y’know, I wanted to tell you before we started dating, because otherwise it would have been lying, right? So I just thought…” “I mean, you still kind of lied to me for the past year, so…” “But you get my point, right?” “I understand, why you did it. I’m probably gonna be pissed tomorrow, but right now, this is just really weird.”, you said, letting out a bright laugh. To be honest, that did explain a lot, you had always thought that Peter was different, you just hadn’t anticipated this kind of different. Almost subconsciously, you stepped towards him, throwing your arm around his neck and pulling yourself up to press your lips against his. It felt like an eternity of little lightning storms inside your chest, Peters arms around your waist, your second hand holding the flowers, pressing them against his chest, where you could feel his heartbeat race with yours.

“But don’t think for a second,”, you whispered breathlessly, as you pulled away reluctantly, “that just because you’re the one with the superpower, I’m gonna be your sidekick.”