#laid* oops typo

[cyberseong]

day off.

pairing: wooyoung x f!reader

genre: smut, established relationship

warnings/topics: there is like no plot, dom!wooyoung, slight degradation, oral sex/blowjob, handjob, accidental exhibitionism, y/n is kind of a brat, mentioned yunho and san, unprotected sex, wooyoung is a gamer bf basically

a/n: i have not been writing at all because i’ve been so busy oops. this was something i wrote quickly so there may be errors or typos, but enjoy! notes/reblogs are appreciated!

wc: 1k

“i’ll be off soon love... just a few more rounds, and we’ll call it a night,” he reasoned repeatedly— you felt bad asking him for his attention so many times, especially when you knew his friends had been eager to speak to him just as much as you did. you were all busy people, but you couldn’t help but feel like they were cutting into the time you two usually spent alone.

the time read 10:00 PM when you decided you had enough of waiting on wooyoung. if you had to take his attention from his screen physically, you weren’t going to hesitate to do so; even if san and yunho also had to experience the consequence. you quietly slid under wooyoung’s desk, pausing to see if that would warrant a reaction. to your luck, you went unnoticed; wooyoung was too busy yelling at yunho for something he had done in-game to even realize where you were.

it wasn’t until he felt his sweatpants being tugged on that he snapped his neck downwards, looking in between his legs in surprise; you gave him nothing but a small smile and a head tilt as if you had not the slightest idea of what he might’ve been staring at you so hard for. His attention didn’t stay on you long, so as soon as his eyes locked back onto his screen, you put in the rest of the effort to drop his pants to the floor and push his legs apart just slightly so you would have easier access to what was in between them. you snickered upon seeing he wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath his pants. nevertheless, you caressed his tip lightly just to tease him. you could see a glimpse of wooyoung’s face from where you were under the desk; he bit his lip whenever he wasn’t talking through his mic in an attempt to keep san and yunho unsuspecting of anything. he hissed as your hand eventually began to stroke his now-erect length, using his precum as a lubricant. you made sure to maintain an agonizingly slow pace and then speed up as soon as he was required to speak into his mic.

“san, to your– fuck– your left, hold on–” wooyoung quickly muted his microphone, even as he heard san and yunho asking if he was alright through his headset. he had to stifle a groan as he felt a wetness around his cock; he changed his gaze to meet yours, and then he realized it was your mouth that had suddenly taken him in whole.

“fuck, y/n, what’s up with you today? so needy that you couldn’t have waited a few more minutes?” he furrowed his eyebrows as he took the headset off his head and roughly sat it on the desktop, his veiny hand then gripping your hair and pulling your head back to ensure you were listening to his words and taking in the expression laid upon his face. he stood up from his chair, signaling for you to get out from under the desk. once you were within reach, wooyoung lifted you by your waist and legs, throwing you over his shoulders before nearly throwing you onto the mattress that was adjacent to his computer. the game was still running, and yunho and san were still playing, but all 4 of you knew wooyoung wasn’t getting back on that game tonight.

wooyoung quickly stripped you out of your clothing, creating a pile of them on the floor in a matter of seconds. He wasn’t angry, but the slight annoyance that coated his actions and expressions just made you shudder; you loved seeing him like that. his hands worked quickly as he flipped you onto your stomach, positioning your body so your ass was in the air and your head was being pushed into the sheets by his one hand. he didn’t even make an effort to locate his lube as you were already dripping over his bed. his other hand rested on your lower back as he bottomed out into you immediately, not even giving you a chance to adjust; not that you needed one, anyway.

“fuck, w-woo, faster please,” you moaned, which was muffled by the soft fabric that was repeatedly pushing against your lips.

“why so demanding? i don’t think you're in a place to boss me around y/n, hm?” wooyoung teased, keeping his thrusts short and fast, his hand now holding a tight grip on your hip. you were sure it would leave a mark later, and the thought of that alone was pushing you closer to your release.

wooyoung’s thighs began to tremble as he could feel the familiar pressure build up in the pit of his abdomen; his thrusts eventually becoming sloppier and less precise than before. his small high-pitched moans gave it away that he was nearing his climax.

“wooyoung, fuck, i’m so close–” you moaned loudly before reaching your high, clenching around wooyoung’s dick; which resulted in him cumming as well.

he gently pulled out of you, falling back onto the mattress and taking a moment to catch his breath. he was about to praise you for doing so well for him until he heard a faint voice from his headset speaker.

“i think he just might’ve intended to mute…” yunho giggled, even though his ears were beet red from hearing everything from the last half an hour.

“i mean, it was hot… but fuck, he made us lose this round. my rank went down again…” san sighed, leaning back into his chair after leaving the lobby.

“no, i think you just suck at the game, san.”

[sqpphos]

could you do an au of where Sejanus lives instead of dies but finds out coryo betrayed him (his only true friend betrayed him and left him heartbroken/extremely hurt) so he goes home and seeks comfort from burning that photo of him and snow (kind of inspired by the song burn from Hamilton) but he burns the photo and then sobs his poor heart out?

for my pretty boy sej <3 changed it up a bit to an x reader but they don’t have an important role, just some comfort for my boy bc he really needs it :(

this is very VERY messy and probably has a lot of typos because i literally wrote this at 5 am oops

the woods are hauntingly quiet, nothing but the sounds of fallen tree branches cracking under your feet and sejanus’ shallow breaths fill your ears.

“it’s just up here, lucy-gray said it would be.” he nods at you, holding your hand tight as you lead him on.

your heart breaks as you take a quick glance at him; sejanus’ eyes are puffy and red, his lips are swollen, and his cheeks are wet. he had been crying the whole trek over to the small cabin lucy had told you about. her voice rang in your head, “somewhere safe to hide.”

you never thought you would actually take up the offer. you never thought you’d have to flee from your home, leaving all you’ve ever known from district 12 behind. you never believed you would have been in this position.

not until coriolanus snow came into your life.

there wasn’t even a second to process what he had done or say your goodbyes before you were scrambling to pack your things, running away with sejanus before you’d be caught and never looking back.

coriolanus had the strength to betray his friend. he did not care for the danger he was puttinh sejanus in, or the fact that his best friend’s life would be on the line. for that you’d loathe him for eternity.

“there it is!” you softly call out as the wooden structure of the cabin comes into sight.

sejanus is silent the entire time, and it’s beginning to scare you. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so broken, and you wish to never see it again.

he sits on the bed in the cabin, fidgeting with something in his hands. for the first time that night, he speaks up: “i need some air.”

it almost startles you. his voice is hoarse, nothing like the gentle, soft-spoken one you know and have etched into your brain. you don’t like it. sejanus walks out of the cabin before you could even respond.

he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he doesn’t know what he’s thinking. sejanus glances at the picture in his hand, and it rips up a new tear in his heart. he feels sick looking at the blonde boy in photo. there’s no hesitation in his movements as he lights it on fire, allowing the flame to crackle and eat away at the film.

sejanus’ shoulders shake as he cries, each sob tearing his chest apart. his throat burns as if he had just taken a drink at the hob, and his fingers are beginning to ache from the heat. sejanus watched as his only physical memory left of his one and only friend disappeared, letting the ashes fall and move with the wind.

coriolanus snow was dead to him.

your head perked up as sejanus walked back into the cabin, following his figure with your eyes as he took a seat next to you on the bed. he laid his head on your shoulder, dampening the sleeve of your shirt with the remaining tears that lingered on his face.

the two of you sit in silence. all you can think of is your future; a life away from district 12, away from panem, away from everything.

“you should rest, sej. we have to continue north when the sun comes up.”

it’s terrifying, but you have no choice.

[100prcntbitter]

[puffstickers-moved]

i just poked myself in the eye how’s your morning

[tobealostwanderer]

Storms and Salt Water

Oberyn x GN!Merling!Reader

Cw: Storms, wild sea, drowning, unbeta-ed

So this did not go the way I intended so I might make a part 2 of this 👀. I am on another Oberyn rampage so I wanted to write something. Still working on the Sun in the North but I need to rework a few things for that and I am lazy oops. And merling!reader has lived in my head rentfree for a week now so I had to get this out there. This was written at 12am so quality might be bad. There might be typos. Honestly im too tired to fix that all rn. Hope you enjoy it nontheless!

The ocean had always called to Oberyn. He had spend many years travelling to and from Essos by ship, enjoying the hot sun and smell of salt.

He always strolled along the beaches of Sunspear if he had time. Sometimes alone. Sometimes Ellaria or his daughters joined him. But whoever did or did not join him never took away the pure calmness that would wash over him as he watched the waves push and pull the water. No matter how hectic his princely duties became, the sea always gave him a clear head and brought peace to his worrying mind.

In his many years at Sunspear, he had helped establish animal safety for the sea creatures swimming about. It was his personal project, one he adored more and more as he grew older. If a turtle laid her eggs on the beach, that part would be protected. He had an understanding with the fishermen of Dorne that if they turned in old fishing gear, he would replace it with better quality stuff, so no creature could get entangled in stray fishnets. There was a part of the beach closed off to rehabilitate wounded sea creatures and Oberyn's plans were ever expanding.

Now, he was standing on that beach. His feet burried into the send as the water lapped around his ankles. He would have to travel again soon. The first time without Ellaria in a while, but he didn't trust the Holdens at all and he didn't want to worry about her if things went messy. Ofcourse she had begged him to come along, but after half a hour she too saw that the prince wouldn't change his mind.

A few dolphins found his gaze. He could barerly hear the happy chirping of the animals as he saw them jump up out of the water and dive right back in with twists and somersaults. He watched the group of animals for a while until they disappeared from view. He took that as his sign to return to the castle. He gathered his abandoned shoes and slowly strolled back.

The rock was warm under your palms as you gazed upon the shore. The man in gold stood there, regal as ever. His feet comfortably burried in the sand as water lapped around him. From this distance you couldn't see his expression, but his stance was calm and relaxed.

There had been a handful of instances where you had gotten too close to him and he had almost spotted you. He never did, but it never stopped your father from punishing you. The last time had been too close so if you messed up again, chances were that you wouldn't be allowed to the surface again. A sad sigh left you at the thought of not basking in the sun like this again, nor seeing the golden man or his family again.

It was stupid really, holding a crush on a man who obviously had everything already. You had seen his partner, a beautiful woman with long and shiny hair and a regal posture. You had seen his children, there were eight of them. The oldest well into her adulthood wheras the youngest was a mere child. Still, from afar the man was the most beautiful and attractive creature you had ever gazed upon. The crush went so deep that you had started to turn down other mermen, mermaids and merlings proposals. Your father was annoyed by your antics, but you didn't really care.

From a distance you saw a few of your friends swim up to you. The group dolphins jumped up into the air with graceful leaps. You were itching to join them, but with the man on the beach you didn't want to risk it and get punished. So you just watched as your friends came closer and closer.

When they found your hiding spot, you saw the man turn and walk towards the city. You watched him leave with sadness written on your face. You just wished to gaze more upon him. Before you could move further into your thoughts, your friends started to twitter at you.

"According to Moki, he is leaving for Essos tomorrow" Branlin said, her tail pointing towards the beach where the man disappeared. Your eyes widened at her words.

"But the casters have predicted a heavy storm incoming. Even Saint's Palace will be locked down! They cannot possibly send ships through the Narrow Sea, right?" You asked worryingly, gazing back to the now empty beach. Poroi curled his tail around yours in comfort. His snout nudged your arm.

"We were going to swim over tomorrow. To make sure that everything will be alright. You can join us" he said happily. The young dolphin unwrapped himself from around you and made some somersaults before calming down. "Yes ofcourse I will join you, my friends. After all, if it is not for the humans, I would need to watch over you lot." You said, a knowing twinkle in your eye. Your friends were great but they had a habit of getting themselves into trouble. The group just laughed as you giggled along.

A storm was brewing. The sky had closed in overnight. The waters were hectic but the captain had assured that nothing would be wrong. It was just going to be a very bumpy ride to the other side. Still, Ellaria had felt uneasy letting Oberyn go. She voiced her concerns with great worry.

"My love, I am absolutely going to be fine. You needn't worry. The captain knows what he is doing. If he deemed it unsafe, he would have told me so and I would postpone my trip" Oberyn said. His large hands were tangled in his lover's luscious hair. Her signsture smell wafted around him, calming his mind like no one else could.

"I know, my love. But I still feel nervous. The waters look rougher than I have ever seen before" Ellaria said. Her hands were trailing his cheeks. He leaned into them, resting himself against her.

Oberyn agreed, the seas did look rougher than he had ever seen them before. The dark clouds didn't help as they covered the sun, making the waves look even more intimidating. Before he could answer, a runner boy interupted to tell the prince that the ship was ready to leave. A sigh left the two lovers.

"I will come back to you, my Ellaria. You needn't worry." Oberyn said again, placing a sweet kiss on her forehead. Ellaria nodded and kissed the hollow of his neck. "You will, or I will wreak havoc." Ellaria simply said to which Oberyn chuckled. One last tingling kiss and he let go of her, slowly turning to walk aboard. Not much later the ship disembarked.

From a distance you watched as the ship left the harbour and made it's way upon open sea. The water was merciless. It was the worst storm you had ever witnessed but even so, you had made your way out here instead of hunkering down into the palace or other places like others. You were bound to be missed by your father, and would likely get scolded again, but you needed to know that the ship would pass safely.

Branlin and Poroi were with you, the other dolphins decided to hunker down as well. You didn't blame them. It was going to be a rough day and not many creatures could swim through a storm like this. Branlin and Poroi were young and strong, wheras you just swam an aweful lot and used to race a couple of years back. You had a powerful tail and you were proud of it. Most merlings had a strong tail, but in a tail fight you would definitely beat the majority.

The ship disembarked and up on the surface it still looked calm but you could feel the currents changing. With your friends you swam underwater and got closer to the ship as it hit open sea. No five minutes passed, and the weather completely erupted.

The waters were pushing and pulling harshly on you and your friends. A quick scouting of the surface from Poroi proved that it was raining and thundering above the surface. You just kept close to the ship, still worrying. You swam around the bottom of it, trying not to get spotted but also searching for eventual holes that could make the boat sink.

A loud booming noise traveled from above you to down in the water. The ship heaved to the side, slowly, then quicker. You panicked, trying on it to balance it out again but you weren't that strong. People were jumping into the sea. You worried that they would see you, but even if they tried to open their eyes in the water the salt would sting them.

The golden man wasn't among them yet so you gathered Poroi and Branlin and they let the crew ride them to the shore. Some were confused, others too panicked and just held on. When they made their trips, you made sure that other crew had wood or other items to keep them afloat.

The ship was sinking and still no sign of the golden man. By now, the dolphins were almost done with bringing over everyone. You scouted the area for the golden man but he was not in the water. You realised that he must still be inside the ship, which was by now fully emerged into the water.

If he found out about you, you would be in big trouble. Any other merling would've let them drown, or ask a Siren for their kiss so he would pass quickly and painlessly. You wanted to take the risk, though, so you found an opening, created by the thunder most likely, and dove into the ship.

You were franticly trying doors and listening for the man. The ship was not large, but it still held multiple levels so it would take a while. You just hoped that you were in time. Along the way you found two more people, unconcious, which you had send up to the surface through holes for your dolphin friends to find. But quicker as ever you raced through the ship.

A soft banging was heared further on the corridor and you figured that someone had to be in there. You hoped it was the man. The door was stuck, hence why he probably didn't make it out. So after a few rounds of bashing against it, you managed to break the wood completely and swim in.

There he was, barerly concious but still alive. He barerly seemed to notice you as you grabbed him around his middle. The silks he was draped in were softer than anything you had felt before. But you couldn't dwaddle on that thought. Instead, you barreled as hard as you could through the wall and swam up, to the surface.

He wasn't breathing yet. You knew he needed a flat surface and to cough out the water in his lungs. You held him tight, keeping his head as much above water as possible, and swam as quick as you could to some exposed rocks. The storm was still raging around you and you had to dodge stray wood multiple times before you got there.

You heaved the man upon the rocks and pushed yourself on it as well. You sat next to him, your body turned towards him as you pumped your hands upon his chest. You never had to do this before, again with merlings rather choosing to drown someone instead of saving them, but you had read about this and you just hoped that you did it right.

It took five minutes until the man started to splutter and cough out the salt water. You helped him turn his body on his side as he coughed it all out. He gasped, air finally making its way down his lungs. You silently cheered as you saw that he would live.

His eyes were more closed than open but still the warm browns of them gazed upon you. You took him in, for the first time up so close. He was so handsome. Your fingers trailed through his dark and wet hair. Your lips were parted in wonder as the details of his face burned into your brain.

"Who... You?" His voice croaked, snapping you out of your daze. It startled you, the deep, albeit hoarse, and rich voice. Without thinking, you let go of him and dived below the surface. You called for your friends who joined you quickly after your call.

"He saw me... He talked to me..." You said in a panic, swimming around a little before you calmed down. "You need to help me. He needs to go home, can you drag him? He is the last one"

With a confirmation from both animals, they went to the surface and soon you saw both their tails leave. As you climbed back up on the stones, you saw how they brought him to the beach. A big crowd was gathered there and from afar you saw the woman that belonged to the golden man step forward as your friends met the coast.

"It is real, Ellaria. I know I sound crazy, but I saw them. Someone saved me. How else would I have escaped my cabin?" Oberyn groaned. It had been weeks since the storm and he had since recovered, but both Ellaria and Doran found it unwise for him to travel to Essos now. Especially since he started spewing that someone had saved him.

"You just mistook the dolphins for a human, Oberyn. You were dying, ofcourse you would imagine a pretty or handsome person saving you." Ellaria said, her hands in his hair, like they had done, as she gazed upon him with worrying eyes. "Please, Oberyn. Let it go. You cannot find someone that does not exist. It has been days since you went searching. Maybe they do not wish to be found, my prince"

Oberyn sighed. His eyes gazing out of his window. The sea was closeby and he saw the golden sands and blue waters from here. Turning to his paramour, he held her face with one hand before nodding, a soft 'okay' passed his lips. A promise to not go looking.

Still, his heart ached. He wished that you were real and prayed to meet you again. Maybe one day he would find you, but for now he would abide to his lover's wishes.

Taglist: @pedropastelpascal; @evyiione; @chibi-liz05;

[haikyuuties-xo]

[Haikyuu Captains] A Story based off what I'm Currently Suffering through right here, right now, at 5am. sorry if there's typos oops // also underage drinking (in some countries)

it's a sleepover with the captains from kurasuno, nekoma, fukurodani, aoba johsai, and shiatorizawa!

and it's at oikawa's house :D

so let's relax~

so i made the awful decision that i wanted to get very drunk

even though we all have to get up at 6am for practice

everyone agrees with me that it is an excellent idea

oikawa is all like "i think we have taquilla i gotchu guys"

but oikawa's parents are also sleeping right next to the kitchen ◉‿◉

would they give a fuck ?? prolly not but for the sake of the hc we gon say yes

so you all take turns sneaking out to grab a huge bottle of alcohol

"never open something, never use something completely" - oikawa's motto for keeping out of trouble

there was no taquilla tho :(

but there was various kinds of vodka and bourbon!

n bokuto brought juice :) he is very proud of his famous fruit punch

perfect for daiquiris

so we manage somehow to not be completely fucking loud

together, we clink glasses and down some fireball, vodka shots and coffee bourbon (some of which tasted like actual asshole)

"you would know what that tastes like, oikawa"

"shut the fuck up kuroo"

daichi takes it like a champ but acts all like "i can't believe I'm doing this,,, breaking the rules" as if he isn't an actual fucking alcoholic dad

kuroo downs it with no hands, smirking as he set the shot glass down on the carpet below them to appear cool but as he's actually trying to down the drink he starts choking and sputtering

bokuto pours a shit ton of his juice in w the vodka and downs it fine but can't help screaming "HEY HEY HEY" as red immediately spreads across his cheeks

oikawa drinks that shit in .2 seconds and looks at everyone like "what"

ushijima takes his in little sips after smelling the acetone-like aroma of Smirnoff. it doesn't take like the aged wine of his cow farm (oikawa routinely reminds him he couldn't give a smaller amount of fucks if he tried)

i down it in a gulp like daichi and kuroo

and i feel so incredibly light

i feel very warm and my cheeks are so flushed

but i watch as oikawa begins spouting off nonsense

"thiS cRaYoN iS giRAfFe fLaVOreD!"

he calls Iwaizumi multiple times, declaring his love for him and apologizing to him when he'd accidentally compliment how beautiful one of the other captains was

"it's okay, shittykawa, stop crying."

so i had to take his phone away

i also had to take away daichi's phone bc he kept talking about his "soon to be" ex girlfriend and brought it up in every conversation

daichi would drunkenly beg me through out the night to "pretty please" let him text his girlfriend goodnight even tho she's pissed at him for getting drunk

bokuto soon followed as he kept drunk texting akashi saying he feels like he's being used for sex (when akashi is literally downstairs because he got worried when i texted an sos)

n bokuto's dramatic af

kuroo began to relentlessly flirt with anyone else in sight

unfortunately I'm still only a little tipsy despite pouring more vodka into my cup and sipping it gingerly

and I've apparently established I'm now the sober mom friend.

because 7 shots in and I'm unaffected (?)

but i am video taping all this

ushijima began to ramble on about volleyball, not making any real sense

"oik'kwa....... youuu should've come to shi'tor'zawa."

i said, "oikawa, stop, you can't do that"

he began to cry, "I'm sorry......are you mad at me?"

"I'm not mad, oikawa"

"i think you are"

"I'm not."

i quickly removed all the glasses from our spot on the ground and returned with a glass of water

"oikawa, taste this, it's really good vodka"

he looked up at me with a dopey grin and sipped it, "wow that's good vodka haha"

(it was water)

"'s not vodka, 's waterrr" slurred kuroo

"taste it if you don't believe me"

they were all falling into my trap :��

meanwhile bokuto and daichi are still rambling on about relationship problems

finally, i was able to encourage them that I'd be fun if they all had a sleepover and laid down

they all drunkenly obliged

i began removing more obvious signs of alcohol (despite kuroo, daichi and oikawa attempting to conceal more behind them) and held hands with bokuto, oikawa and kuroo to take them to go to the bathroom or get water

then up comes akashi

and bokuto is a mess

"aaaaaagaaaashhhhiiiiiiii"

"bokuto-san..."

i looked at him with sympathy, "he's... a little... drunk."

not as shit-faced as oikawa tho js

akashi looked surprised before quickly walking over to bokuto, who desparately wanted a hug.

i escorted them out of the room, moving to focus on getting oikawa, kuroo, ushijima, and daichi into bed with some water

when i heard a retching sound at the top of the stairs

and sure enough, bokuto threw up all down the stairs

akashi lovingly grabbed paper towels and began cleaning it up, wiping a stray puke mark off of bokuto's face (sorry, gross, ik)

"how much did he drink?"

"uhm.. fireball, vodka?"

"but how much!"

"dunno, 3 shots?"

"...3?!"

akashi was greatly relieved

"akashi, take bokuto and wash him up. make sure he lays on his side and drinks lots of water. I'll clean up the rest of this mess and bring you a cold compress in a bit"

akashi nodded and thanked me

i made quick work of trying to get the puke stains out of the carpet while also checking up on the 4 stooges left in the room

when i finally returned, daichi was passed out

kuroo was scrolling through his phone, sending videos to kenma

oikawa and ushijima, however, were whispering

i ignored them and kept collecting trash to subtly remove from the room

all of a sudden, ushijima says he has to go to the bathroom

oikawa says he does too

"I'll go with you, you guys need some water"

"you don't have to come with us"

"okay, just for water"

as they headed to the bathroom i made quick work of pouring some water into the cup for them.

but they were taking a longer time than normal

as i made my way to the bathroom, the door was locked, but i could hear loud smacking noises and heavy breathing

holy shit

oikawa and ushijima were totally making out.

at last i heard them at last say "we should probably go out now"

i made quick work of quietly speed walking to the faucet

they of course complete forgot about me getting them water in their drunk state

as i reminded them, they drank. i pulled oikawa aside as ushijima made his way up the stairs

"ya know, oikawa, you could've just told me if you were gonna make out with him"

oikawa's face got beet read as we walked over to ushijima "fuck, she knows"

"how!?"

"i don't know... i thought we were being discreet"

(yeah, so descrete that i totally didn't hear you slamming each other against the bathroom door. jesus.)

finally back in the solace of Oikawa's room

i felt kinda uncomfortable sleeping next to oikawa and ushijima

so i slept on the floor

my life sucks

being the mom friend

and having high alcohol tolerance

fml <3

based on true, traumatic events 💗 pls hmu if u have recommendations of alcohol that always gets u drunk :(

[writemekpop]

Oops! I Did It Again | Dong Sicheng (Winwin)

Pairing: Dong Sicheng (Winwin) x Reader

Summary: If Winwin ever found about your huge crush on him, you would die about embarrassment. One day, a tiny slip up turns your world upside down. All of a sudden, you’re forced to face up to your feelings for the school’s heartthrob. How will your story end? 

Genre: High school AU

Words: 1.2k

You turned your phone off and tilted the screen ever so slightly, trying to catch the reflection of the students in the lunch table behind you, moving it carefully till it frames his face.

Winwin’s perfect eyes are creased in a laugh, straight white teeth revealed in a precious moment of excitement. Soft brown curls brush his eyes and his striped tie hangs lazily around his neck. You know each and every soft contour of Winwin’s cheeks, that jawline so smooth it could have been hand-crafted by angels.

You could stare at Winwin every lunchtime – and you would, were it not for your best friend Mark keeping you in check. But he’s stuck in orchestra today, and you’re secretly thankful for the alone time you plan to spend staring at your crush.

Winwin’s face disappears as a text lights up your phone screen. It’s Mark.

‘orchestra is sooooo boring. wuu2?’

While you’re racking your brains for a believable lie, he texts you again.

‘you better not be sitting there staring at W’

Damn it! He knew you too well. You check your phone reflection again to watch as Winwin brushes away an effortlessly styled curl that’s fallen into his face, his perfect lips pouting for just a second.

You realise you’ve forgotten to answer Mark’s text. You hurry to think of something to say – nothing annoys Mark more than a slow reply. Your fingers fly over the screen, as you trust autocorrect to handle your hasty errors.

‘boi its been three yrs ok? u should be used to my staring at winwin by now :) cant a girl have a crush?????’

You could have denied your obsession, but Mark would have seen straight through you. It’s useless to deny that Winwin is all you think of.

For the millionth time, you replay the first time you laid your eyes on Winwin in your head. It was an achingly hot afternoon, and Winwin was in the finals of the school tennis tournament. You watched him play for hours, not a hint of tiredness in his handsome face, despite the sweat streaming down it. When he lost by an inch, he just flashed a charming smile and strutted away like the tennis court was a runway. He was like a dream to you.

You read back the message you sent to Mark, expecting to see a teasing remark about your secret crush. But to your surprise, the text hasn’t even been read yet. Something feels off – Mark always replies within seconds. Has his phone been confiscated or something?

You read back over your message. It has definitely gone through, but apparently the last text Mark sent to you was,

“Thanks for the book you lent me, it was really interesting”

Wait a second.

Your eyes scan over the previous texts, nervousness sending your heart racing. The messages are polite, impersonal, spread out over months rather than minutes. Instead of strings of emojis and typos, they’re filled with neat punctuation and try-hard jokes. You start to feel a little dizzy.

You don’t need to see the contact name to know it wasn’t Mark you sent that text to.

It was Winwin.

Those six letters burn into your eyes.

Thankfully Winwin hasn’t read the text yet. Why did you say you had a crush on him!? Soon enough, he’ll find out everything, and you’re powerless to stop it.

A chill spreads over your skin. You picture Winwin’s cold, confused reply – why did you have to mention staring at him all the time?

Your heart pounds painfully as you think about which school you’ll have to transfer to once your secret’s out. Could you play your crush off as a joke? A dare? You pray Winwin won’t turn around from his seat at the lunch table and realise how close you’re sitting to him.

Suddenly, you get an idea. You turn your phone screen off, tilting the blackened screen till Winwin enters the reflection again. You can just make out his own phone placed on the lunch table beside him. What if… you could delete the text off his phone before he got the chance to read it?

You know it’s risky, but you’re desperate. You can simply walk up to him whilst holding your lunch tray, slip his phone under your plate and delete the message. Winwin will never notice.

It’s now or never. You wipe your clammy hands on your skirt and stand up. Though you’d rather crawl under your duvet, you pick up your tray and start taking measured steps towards Winwin’s table.

Your knuckles go white with the effort of gripping your tray.

This is the moment.

Winwin’s phone gleams like onyx, just close enough to grab. You ease your hand off your tray, stretching it discreetly towards the phone…

Someone grabs your wrist in a vice-grip, sending your tray crashing to the ground.

The buzz of lunchroom voices fades to silence.

Winwin has your wrist in his hand and is glaring at you with brows furrowed. A hushed, judgmental ‘oooh’ spreads through the room, a unanimous recognition of your embarrassment.

Hot tears pinch at your eyes, moments from erupting in front of the whole school.

Upon recognising you, Winwin’s grip loosens, his expression switching to one of bewilderment. His hand doesn’t leave yours, though. Every eye in the cafeteria is trained on you. You have to say something, quick.

Then, something happens that takes you completely by surprise.

Winwin crouches down to the floor and starts picking up your untouched food and placing it back on your tray, eyes fixed sternly on the ground.

You crouch down too, grateful for the chance to hide from your classmates’ stares. “What were you doing with my phone?” he mutters in your direction.

Though he sounds far from friendly, your heart leaps at the sound of Winwin’s voice. How can you possibly explain? The idea of confessing your feelings is about as appetising as the school lasagne.

A mortifying silence stretches between the two of you.

You realise your hands are shaking so much that you can barely pick up your food. Winwin clears his throat, expecting an explanation, and the awkwardness is suffocating.

He’s not even angry anymore. His brows are furrowed, head tilted in…worry. You start to feel sick. You can’t take this one second longer.

Before you realise what you’re doing, you sprint out of the hall, stumbling, tripping on your laces. You hear a wave of whispers rolling through the cafeteria behind you. You don’t look back.

You dash through the hallway as you scan the doorways for somewhere to hide. Winwin’s glaring frown is plastered in your memory. Your deepest secret is out, and you were too much of a coward to even explain yourself. Any chance you had with him is gone.  

Suddenly, something stops you mid-sprint.

It’s a buzz in your pocket. Could it be a message from Winwin?

You pull your phone out, the glass slipping on your trembling hands. You cringe at your idiotic accidental message that started this mess. But to your surprise, a newer message burns into your eyes.

You grasp at the wall to support you, dizzy in disbelief at Winwin’s message. You bring your phone closer to your face, squinting at the inexplicable, beautiful words.

‘Why did you run off like that?

I didn’t get the chance to say…

I like you too’

[5-seconds-of-bucky]

Letters To A Boy Who’ll Never Read Them

A/N: Kinda inspired by To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. Anyone who knows me will see how much I projected on this but oh well. Also, this is the longest fic I’ve ever written! (Which is kinda sad I guess but oh well)

Summery: The letters to Peter were never supposed to leave that box 

Word count: 2.6k+

Warnings: I like half proof read this so probably some typos

Peter Parker was a boy you liked to admire from afar. You’ve gone to school with him for the past three years and were yet to feel the courage to talk to him. The first time you laid eyes on the curly haired boy, you were a goner. Everything about him was perfect to you, even if he was considered a nerd by most others. You liked to imagine that he felt the same towards you, but you were sure he never took a second to register your face among the hundreds at Midtown. 

And maybe you owed that to how perfectly average you were. Sure, you were fairly smart, but so was everyone else at the school. You were pretty enough, but it wasn’t something that set you apart from everyone else. You blended into a crowd like a chameleon on a green wall. 

Your one special talent, if it could even be called that, was your writing. Your teachers always commented on the eloquence of your essays and your friends liked to ask you to come up with witty captions from their Instagram posts. You were even on a competitive writing team.

 Writing was the one thing that set you apart, but it was something that went unnoticed by the majority. 

Unbeknownst to you, Peter Parker was very aware of your presence in a room. Your “average” beauty was more than average to him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d known that he liked you, but he guessed that it started around the first time he read one of your essays. Your way with words was something he would never stop admiring. He was a science kid, through and through but he could see your passion for writing even in the simple essay you had to write about symbolism in Lord of the Flies. 

He wanted to talk to you and ask you just how you did it, but there was always something holding him back. You were either hanging out with your small group of friends and he didn’t want to interrupt or you were studying quietly in the library and he was sure you wanted to be alone. He never seemed to have the courage to talk to you and he wasn’t entirely sure why. 

So he never approached you. In the three years he had known your face he never spoke a word to it. Every class that you had together never required a group project and assigned seats that were never next to each other. Sometimes, it felt like fate was keeping you apart. 

~

You kept a container under your bed. There wasn’t anything that special about it originally. You put some stickers on there when you were a little younger. There was no reason in particular that you did it, you just had some stickers and wanted to put them to use. You ended up sticking it under the bed eventually and left it there for a while. 

There was a day when you got sick of keeping your crush at bay. It wasn’t all that long after you “met” Peter. Who knew that staring at the back of someone’s head could make you like them so much? 

So you did the thing you knew best; write. 

You wrote him a letter. A letter you hoped he would never read because it was too embarrassing for him to see. 

Dear Peter, 

How does one tell you they love you? Perhaps I could tell you in this letter, but a letter alone could not capture the raging feelings I have for you. The butterflies I feel when you walk in a room, the sense of calmness I feel when I see you smile, the giddiness when you shoot your hand up to answer a question. Not a day goes by that I fear I won’t see that smile again. But that doesn’t come close to the fear that you’ll never see me. For I am little more than another face in the crowd. I’m average and you are anything but. I wish this letter could make you see me, but I doubt anything really can. I hope this is a letter you’ll never read, but fate has ways of changing the things we want. Maybe, some day, you can be mine. 

With love, 

                 The girl I wished you’d see

You read the letter once over and weren’t sure what to do with it. You obviously couldn’t give it to Peter but you didn’t want to get rid of it. 

Your eyes caught sight of the container under your bed and you grabbed it, folding the note and putting it in there. You placed the container back under the bed and worked on more homework, hoping that somehow, the letter would rid you of your feelings. 

Over time, the container accumulated more letters. From little notes to full length letters describing how you felt, they never left that container. You even wrote “Dear Peter” in sharpie on the side. There were things you hoped you could mention in the hallway as you passed him and things you could only hope he would never know. 

From

Dear Peter, 

Your smile makes me happier than One Direction. 

To

Dear Peter, 

Sometimes, I fear that you’ll realize that you’re too smart and kind for the people at Midtown to treat you like they do and that you’ll leave. Sometimes, I wish I could be the one to make it better. 

You never told anyone about the container. It was something you felt was too personal to share. Even if your friends knew all about your crush on Peter, you weren’t sure you trusted them with the things you wrote to him. 

~ 

“Alright, I’m gonna get changed,” you said to your friend, Becca, as you grabbed your pajamas and headed to the bathroom across the hallway. The two of you were having a sleepover and you didn’t want to be in jeans while you watched movies. 

Becca twisted the ring on her finger as she waited for you when it accidentally came out of her grasp and rolled under your bed. 

“Oops,” she said to herself as she kneeled on the ground to get it. She swiped her hand under the bed before she found it, curiosity striking when she felt the box it was resting against. She looked down and was met with the container, the “Dear Peter” in your handwriting facing her. 

“What’s this?” She pulled the container out enough to see the folded letters sitting in it. She pulled one out and read part of it.

Dear Peter,

I love you. There, I said it. Well, wrote it, I guess. But that’s as bold as I can be right now. I’m still the girl you’ve never seen; the girl you’ll never see. 

The sounds of your footsteps interrupted her reading and she quickly put the letter back, shoving the container under your bed. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, seeing her kneeling on the ground. 

“Oh, my ring dropped.” 

You smiled. “You need to stop dropping that thing, my gosh, Becca.” 

“I know, I know,” she chuckled. 

Later that night, when you were asleep, Becca took some of the letters and shoved them in her bag. There were tons of notes in there. Surely, you wouldn’t notice if five of them were gone. Maybe she could get these to Peter. It wasn’t the nicest thing to do behind you back, but she was sick of hearing you swoon over the boy. Just because you were oblivious to the yearning looks Peter gave didn’t mean she didn’t see them. 

The next Monday at school, Becca didn’t hang out at your locker for long, claiming that she needed to go to the bathroom before class. While you went to class early, she pushed the letters in through the crack of Peter’s locker. All she could do now is hope that Peter knew what to do next and that you wouldn’t kill her. 

~ 

“Dude, did you even read the chapter last night?” Peter asked Ned as they walked to his locker. 

“Of course not. Why do you think I’m asking you about it now?” 

Peter scoffed as he put the combination to his locker in. “What if everything I just old you wasn’t true?” 

“You would never-”

Ned was cut off by a few pieces of folded paper flying out of Peter’s locker. Peter picked one up, reading the short message written in small handwriting. 

Dear Peter, 

Your eyes are like the midnight sky. Dark and mysterious yet beautiful. 

“What is that?” Ned asked, reading it before Peter could move it out of eyesight. 

“I don’t know. Maybe someone’s putting notes in people’s lockers or something.” 

“Then why do you have four others in there?” Peter closed his locker, leaving the rest of the notes in there. 

“Aren’t you going to read them? What if Y/N finally confessed her love to you?” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “She is not in love with me. And I’ll read them later.” 

Little did Peter know that Ned was right. As he read the notes later, he couldn’t help but wonder what led you to put such personal and deep notes in there. 

Dear Peter, 

It’s me again. I know I’ve written a million notes for you, but I don’t know what else to do. I am helplessly and completely head over heels for you. You and your cute sweaters, your genius brain, that little smile you get when you know all the answers to a test. I’ll probably be stuck writing letters to you ‘till the day I die, but oh well. You are the sun and I am a small blade of grass in the middle of a field. You are the ocean and I am one of the thousands of fish. You are you and I am just me. Maybe one day I’ll gain the courage to tell you that to your face, but until then, I remain the little fish in the big pond. 

Sincerely, 

                The little fish, 

                                      Y/N 

Dear Peter,

Yeah, you’re Peter Parker and I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N but what if you were Peter Pan and I was Wendy Darling? (That sucked, I’m sorry but not really)

Love, 

         Someone who wishes they were your darling

He couldn’t believe his eyes. He had been dreaming about you for years and all of a sudden you just threw some love letters in his locker? 

Of course, it could be fake. It was a little elaborate to be fake though. Ned couldn’t write like that and nobody else knew about his crush on you. Maybe it was an actual dream come true. 

~ 

“Hey, Y/N!” Peter called when he saw you standing at your locker the next day. He didn’t know what you were doing there since it was a lunch period but it didn’t matter. He walked towards you quickly, one of the letters subtly stuck to his side. 

You gave him a confused look. He knew who you were? Since when? 

“Hey, I uh . . . I got your letter.” 

“What letter? I never gave you a letter.” You closed your locker and turned to face him fully, arms crossed as you leaned onto it. 

“Well this letter says it’s from you. Unless there’s another Y/F/N Y/L/N in this school I don’t know about.” He held the letter up and your eyes widened. You snatched it out of his hands and scanned over the message. Yup, it was definitely yours. 

Dear Peter,

I love you. There, I said it. Well, wrote it, I guess. But that’s as bold as I can be right now. I’m still the girl you’ve never seen; the girl you’ll never see. I keep telling myself that if I can confess these stupid feelings behind the pen, then I can do it in person too. But that day hasn’t come yet. I guess it’s like liquid courage but with ink. Ink courage? That’s weird. 

That wasn’t even the end of it. There was a lot more on the page, things that even if you were to tell him how you felt, you would never want him to know. And you were absolutely mortified. 

“How did you get this?” 

“I don’t know. I was in my locker the other day. There were like four others with it.” 

“Four?” You stared at him like you had just seen a ghost. 

“Yeah four. This was the deepest though.” He had a shy smile, but you couldn’t even look at him. 

“You were never supposed to see this.” You leaned your head on the locker and brought a hand up to cover your face. “I don’t know how it made it to you.” You’ve never told anyone about the box of letters. 

“Well-”

“I’m so sorry you had to read that, Peter. It must be so weird. You don’t even know me. I’m really really sorry. You were never supposed to read it.” 

You looked like you were about to burst into tears in the middle of the hallway. Thank goodness nobody else was around to witness it. 

“Hey, no. It’s okay. I thought it was really sweet.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it softly. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but he had an urge to comfort you somehow. 

“You don’t think it’s weird that some girl you’ve never talked to is writing love letters to you?” You finally let your hand fall and glanced up at him quickly, reverting your eyes to the ground when he made eye contact. 

“No, it’s really cute actually. Just because we’ve never talked doesn’t mean I don’t know who you are.” He looked sincere, but that did little to relax fear and embarrassment swirling inside of you. 

“You know, Y/N, I’ve always thought you were cute too.”

Your head snapped up quickly, banging on the locker and causing you to grimace. 

“You okay?” He immediately stepped closer and took your head in his hands, checking to make sure you hadn’t really hurt yourself. 

Warmth spread through your body like a fire. The feeling of his hands was a little more comforting than you cared to admit. “Yeah, it’s just a locker. I’m a little tougher than that,” you laughed softly. 

“Just making sure.” He smiled sheepishly and pulled his hands away. 

You stood there, staring awkwardly staring at each other's shoes until you spoke up.  

“So can we agree to just forget about this and never speak of it again?”  

“Only if you will go on a date with me.” 

Your head shot up and you hit it on the locker again. Peter laughed and you sighed as you took a step away from it.

“I really need to stay away from lockers apparently.” Peter smiled a little wider and you swore your whole word was on fire. “But yeah, I’d really like to go on a date with you,” you said shyly, scratching your neck as a surge of nerves pulsed through your body. Peter Parker actually just asked you on a date. 

“I’ll make sure to go somewhere without lockers.” 

“Oh, how considerate of you.” 

“We should probably get to lunch.” 

“I’ll walk you there.” 

“To the cafeteria?” 

“Where else? Unless you want me to follow two steps behind you like some creepy stalker.”

“No, no, that’s okay. I guess you can walk me.” 

“What a privilege.” 

“It is actually. You get to walk with the Y/F/N Y/L/N.” 

“True, true.” You both turned and walked in the direction of the cafeteria, smiles on your faces. 

“Happen to have any more of those letters?”

“Oh you have no idea.” 

~

Please reblog and leave some feedback! :)

[heffrcns]

william schofield falling in love with a stenographer:

this is my first hc request, so i’ll give it a shot :) though please keep in mind this is my first time doing anything like this, so please be easy on me (esp. with typos/mistakes) !! also, this ended up being pretty long i’m sorry ahhh !!

warnings: none really, fluff! kinda cliché in parts though oop, i’m a sucker for it

(also i apologise for any historical inaccuracy, this is all for the purpose of the story!)

will was in the trenches, which he was somewhat used to at that point, when he first saw her

a beautiful young lady (he especially thought so) stood with her pen and paper in hand, scribbling down her observations

will was instantly intrigued by both her beauty and what she was doing

she was allowed restricted access to near the front lines, in order to record her eyewitness accounts of the horrendous war that was happening around her

this made will think a lot about how different their roles were, in the same place at the same time

while being deep in thought, he also made the decision that he needed to talk to her, at some point or another

but initially, he couldn’t bring himself to

what if he made a fool of himself? why would such a beautiful woman want to speak to him? she was surrounded by men, after all

he brushed away his irrational thoughts by moving along the trench to check on his fellow soldiers

he also made a promise to himself - that he will talk to her next time

the next time her saw her, however, she wasn’t alone

another soldier he didn’t know the name of was striking up a conversation with her

although he was too far away to hear what they were saying, he did hear her let out a laugh

and wow, was it the most angelic laugh he had ever heard

but he then remembered why she was laughing

because of another soldier. another soldier that wasn’t him

filled with involuntary jealousy, he stayed put until the soldier (finally, he thought) left her alone

this was his time to talk to her

so with sweaty palms, a nervous gulp and sigh of frustration for getting so worked up, he started to make his way over to her

his jealously faded more and more the closer he got to her, her beauty being undeniably overwhelming to him

when he finally got to within a metre of her, she noticed his eyes directly on her

this lead to the most vibrant smile making its way onto her face

oh boy, will almost died on the spot

the smile was aimed at him

he faintly smiled back, being in too much of a trance to reciprocate it properly

if he could rewind time he would’ve replayed that moment a thousand times over

but since he couldn’t, he found himself clearing his throat nervously, realising he should probably say something

“uh, hi, i noticed you here a while ago - not that i was watching - well i was, but only a bit, uh, and thought i’d say hi.. so, hi?”

he cursed at himself in his head for saying ‘hi’ 3 times and being a blabbering mess

but she let out another one of her angelic laughs, to which he suddenly took back the mental cursing

he didn’t care what he said, he made her laugh

“well, hello” she smiled again, following it up by introducing herself, “and you are?”

it took a few seconds to even process his own name

“i’m lance corporal schofield, uh, william schofield. but uh, you can call me will”

“we’re going by nicknames already, will?” she joked

that was it.

that was all it took - her beauty, her smile, her laugh and her witty remark was all it took to know he had fallen

and he had fallen hard

from then on, that was how it went

every time he saw her (which he made the effort to do a lot), he’d make conversation

he gradually got more confident around her, making jokes himself

and he definitely appreciated her laughs he received in return

it even got to the point where blake noticed his frequent visits to the young woman

so of course, teasing endured

will always replied with a “shut up” or “get lost, you bloody idiot”

but he couldn’t ever deny blake’s remarks

because he was right - he was well and truly whipped for the young stenographer

after a few more weeks of talking, laughing and even a bit of flirting (go on, will ;) ), the time had come

she had to retreat back from near the front lines, as she had a satisfactory amount of records to keep her going

but she didn’t want to go, she really didn’t

and will most definitely didn’t want her to

but duty called

as relectuant as will was to let her go (for now, he determinedly thought) he was also partly relieved that she was going to a less dangerous place

he thanked god that nothing bad happened to her while she was here

and although war doesn’t stop for love, he sure as hell felt like it did when it came to her

so they both savoured the last few times they shared with each other

where it became apparent, for both of them, that their love for each other had grew immensely

out of all the things will expected from the war, falling in love was definitely not one of them

and he really, truly had

never in his life has he felt this way about a woman

no girl he’s ever met at school, the pub or down the street has ever come close

so when they were sharing their last moments together before she had to go, will simply couldn’t keep it in any longer

“hey, uh, i have something to tell you before you go,” he stammered

the same nerves he had when he first met her came flooding back

and she noticed this too

“yeah, what is it?” her intrigued, somewhat concerned voice asked

“i- well, you’re just so amazing, funny, beautiful, god, you’re so beautiful, caring, and every other positive word i can think of,”

he was rambling again, like he did during their first meeting, but still, it felt so different this time

“and anyways, what i wanted to say is, uh, i love you”

and again, just like their first meeting, she laughed

it was a lighter laugh this time, almost like laugh of relief

will looked confused for a second, almost regretful in case she thought he was being ridiculous, until she replied to his confession

“i love you too, will. so much. i wish i didn’t have to leave you just yet”

let me tell you, will’s heart EXPLODED

e x p l o d e d!!!

and the fact she felt the same, combined with the fact she was leaving, gave him a confidence boost

to do what he’d been wanting to do pretty much since he laid eyes on her

with literal heart eyes and a deep breath, he slowly leant down

and then he felt her soft lips on his, as she met him half way

they both melted into it, like their lips were made for each other

cliché, i know, but that’s exactly how he felt

his hands went to rest on her waist, while her arms wrapped loosely around his neck

when they finally (and reluctantly) pulled apart, their foreheads lay against each other, neither of them wanting to move

“hey, will, promise me something?” she broke the silence

he hummed in recognition of her question

“when all this is over, you’ll come find me?”

“of course i will, but you’ve got to me promise me you won’t get hurt. stay safe for me, love, and i’ll come find you as soon as i can” he said

even just the thought of something happening to her made his heart beat faster

“then you’ve got to promise that as well, stay safe for me”

and that sentence, that very sentence, gave him all the determination in the world to make it through the war

he kept going, through each gruelling day, just to see you again

he saw some sights he never wants to see again, lost some people he wish he didn’t, and escaped close calls along the way

but he knew, deep-down, that she was still out there - his love

and she was, waiting for the day will came back to her

thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed :) i feel like i ended it kind of abruptly i’m sorry, but i already got too carried away lmao. i’m also experimenting with tenses, and my next one might be using ‘you’ rather than ‘she/her’, which will also help to make some of my future ones gender neutral :D

P.S. i hope the formatting is okay, it’s done on mobile so let me know if it’s not worked!

[sparklingpax]

Tales From Iacon - Part 3: Understanding

A/N:

-Part 1, Part 2

-I also have a wattpad where I’m posting updates as well as other stories! (user is @/kunixjiro)

-Lol so after an actual eternity I finally resolved this,,,sorta,,,,sorry for the wait ^^’’

-Sorry if this is badly written (and for any typos, mistakes, weird phrasings, etc)

-This one’s long too O//O’’ oops....^^’’

-Please forgive me for constantly making up bots to fill roles I need in stories lolo I,,,I promise I’ll figure out a better way to do that,,,,, :’D

-Oh, and apologies if anyone was ooc >//< 

-And yes I cut it off before the encounter because I’m mean >:D and because it’s not done being edited but I really really really wanted to post the next part of this story tonight so anyway, here we are ^^’’

-Ahhh....and with that, I guess, enjoy!!! <3

///

Weeks had passed since Orion and Megatronus had parted.

           Megatronus had fought more battles at the rink. Since then, a familiar ache had set into his bones, making him wonder why every fight seemed duller than the last. Yet, for the crowds that surrounded him most nights, he put on his best show. Judging by the sounds of their cheers, he had done a good job at that.

           Though, at his spark, their cheers felt distant and faded.

           Why was it such a big deal, that the archivist did not wish to see you fight?

           When he was alone, the thought came to bother him, to almost taunt him for being so…dramatic. For a moment, he’d justify himself, but Megatronus quickly came to see that Orion had come with only good intentions.

           What I lacked was understanding, a grand flaw I have yet to fix, it seems.

           Parts of him wished he could forget about Orion…but most of him wished only to see his friend again—to say to him it was all ok. The last thing he’d wanted was to scare his friend away…and he’d done just that.

           All of him wondered…could Orion ever forgive him for being so childish?

///

Orion Pax had continued his work and studies. He spent his days working around the building, organizing, and filing one thing after another. At night, the young archivist studied until he couldn’t keep his optics open any longer. He worked tirelessly at his projects, writing papers with much fervor.

           Yet deep down, he felt an emptiness. Sadness and guilt continued to weigh on his spark.

           Orion wished more and more with each passing day, that he had kept silent. Had Megatronus been angry at him, he wouldn’t have minded…but the rejection that shone so clearly in his gaze…

             Orion could scarcely bear the thought as it came to distract him every now and then. Still, the young bot kept a small hope alive in his spark.

             Primus willing—he thought, setting down a box of old files—I’ll see him soon. Maybe then, I can fix things…I only hope that time has done its work.

             Almost without thinking, Orion moved towards a window, to gaze absent-mindedly at the stars dotting the sky—sparkling from afar, mildly, elegantly.  He had realized only in these past weeks that Megatronus was someone special to him…

             A friend I…do not wish to lose if I can help it.

///

             “Orion, are you in here?”

             The young bot looked up from his holopad, hearing a voice from outside the door, abruptly torn from a riveting story about—

             “Yes, Alpha Trion,” he left his desk and made his way to the door. It was quite odd that his teacher should come by at such an hour, but all the same, Orion offered no argument.

             He stepped outside to find his mentor already slowly walking down the hall. Before he could inquire about anything, Alpha Trion lifted an arm to silence him, not even turning to do so.

             “Walk with me, my student.”

             Without a word, Orion followed the master archivist, quickening his pace until he had come up beside him.

             In silence, they walked for a few minutes. Then, as if sensing Orion’s curiosity, Alpha Trion chuckled softly. His optics sparkled with gentleness, serenity, and boundless wisdom.

           Orion had always thought that—even from the first moment he’d laid eyes on his mentor, when he arrived at the door to Iacon.              

           “Orion, my student,” he began, “I am sorry to have interrupted your recreational free time.” To that, Orion gave a polite smile.

           “It was no trouble at all, master.”

           Alpha Trion hummed to himself and nodded. “I just wanted to let you know that I notice you have been working hard. Therefore, I wish to allow you a break.”

           The surge of excitement was quickly deflated once Orion quickly remembered that such free time was not of much use to him…as he no longer had anyone to meet…and nowhere to go, really.

           Sure, it was nice to read—which was usually what Orion enjoyed doing when he had the time. But since he’d met Megatronus, the prospect of hanging out with him was far more exciting than any of the tales spun in his books.

           His friend was much like a tale unto himself….

           “However, you cannot really use that time for much, right?”

           Orion’s spark skipped a beat at his mentor’s words. He halted, staring at the floor. His teacher continued on a few steps before he, too, stopped.  

           That’s right…and I have only…myself to thank for that…

           As if hearing his thoughts, Alpha Trion turned to him and drew close, placing one servo on the young scholar’s shoulder. His eyes shone with something wistful…something Orion couldn’t really put into words.

           “Young spark, listen to me.”

           “I am.”

           “The details of the situation are beyond my knowledge, but I only wish to say one thing. I sense that you know this, but you must fix whatever has happened between you and your friend. I know not his name, nor what caused the evident rift in your relationship. However, I do understand…”

           A pure sadness—some kind of deep regret—passed over his gaze, shimmering faintly.

           “I understand what it means to lose a friend, to wish only that you’d done or not done one thing or another. To wish you’d not let it all happen…that you could go back in time and do it all over.”

           He stared to his right. Following his gaze, Orion set his optics on the gorgeous mural hanging on the wall. In silence, he studied the painting—an artist’s depiction of the Thirteen Primes, all in harmonious glory and power. Not moving his eyes either, Alpha Trion spoke once more.

           “Eventually, time comes and takes from us. So, cherish what is meant to last for the moment, and replenish whatever you can. I believe you know in your spark…how to make things right. You have given it time, Orion. Do not let such a precious thing as friends slip through your servos like sand.…for no matter who they are, if they bring you joy…”

           “Such a bot is…a true friend….”

           “And now, there is understanding. Trust that he…has gained his.”

           Leaving Orion to stare ahead, speechless, Alpha Trion gave his student one last pat on the shoulder, then turned and continued down the halls, disappearing round the bend.

///

            Tap, tap, tap, tap!!

           Light footfalls sounded on the dirty, metal floors, quickly drawing closer to Megatronus’s quarters. He only barely heard them as he sat alone in his room.

            His eyes were closed, head against the wall and tilted towards the ceiling.

            No real thoughts swam around in his mind.  

           “Megatronus, sir!”

           The shrill voice reached his audio receptors, jolting him out of this blank state. He growled to himself, wishing he had not been disturbed. Then, with a sigh, he rose from the berth and unlocked the door to peek out into the halls.

          “There you are! I—I have a message from—uh, from…” the young, thin-framed, brightly colored bot shuffled around his brown bag for a moment. At last, he pulled out a thin screen—a message tablet. As the bot entered something into his delivery log, Megatronus folded his arms, interested.

           Who would be trying to contact me…who would use a message tablet…?

           “It doesn’t say who it’s from, but the order here says it’s urgent—so here you go, sir.”

           The bot carefully handed the gladiator the thin, glowing object. Megatronus nodded his thanks and took a step back into his room.

          “Uh—uhm, sir…”

          The delivery bot stammered quietly, causing Megatronus to stop look up.

          Now what?

          “Do you need something?” He asked as politely as he could.

          The thin-framed mech gripped the strap of his delivery bag and looked away for a moment before nodding.

           “I, uh…I just thought—well, I wanted to let you know th-that—um…”

           He shook his head harshly, worrying that Megatronus was starting to become annoyed.

           “I’ve…listened to a lot of your discussions—your speeches—and, um….” He took a deep breath, then looked up to Megatronus, admiration sparkling brightly in the depths of his optics.       “You’re a hero to me, sir. I—I want to let you know that…wherever you take your fight for freedom…I, for one, am right behind you…” he bowed his head a little. “As a delivery bot, with my weak, thin frame, I’m—I’m no good in any of the professions I wish I could enter, anyway…but your speeches about—y’know, equality and all…I just get so inspired!”

           Megatronus was taken completely aback by this, yet pleased to know he had one more ally in his campaign. Feeling pride in himself and joy knowing he could help this bot, he reached out and placed a firm servo on the smaller mech’s shoulder.

           “You are worth as much as you wish yourself to be, young bot. And your capability is also, only defined by you.” He smiled warmly. “What is your name?”

           The delivery bot looked so happy it seemed as if he’d burst.

           “Mikro, sir!”

           Megatronus laughed softly. “Thank you for your kind words, support, and,” he held up the message tablet with a grin, “This.” They shared a quiet laugh. After a moment, the gladiator continued. “Always remember this, Mikro. All bots have a spark in them, and that is the only deciding factor of their worth.”

            With that, he nodded a goodbye and stepped back into his room, closing the door.

           What a nice, young soul.

           He set the tablet down on a table and touched it, hoping to see who had sent the—

           “Megatronus, hello.”

           Orion’s face appeared on the screen, accompanied by his soft, level voice.

           Megatronus was greatly surprised. He felt a twinge of anger, but it was outweighed by a strange joy at seeing and hearing his friend after these long, empty weeks…

           “I am recording this from my room, and I will send it by an acquaintance of mine as soon as possible. I hope this reaches you well,” On the screen, Orion looked away, seeming nervous. “I will be at the entrance to Kaon city tomorrow. If…you are willing to meet with me…I have something to tell you—to show you—something that would not mean as much were I to share it over this screen. I apologize if I have inconvenienced you. May Primus be with you in all you do, Megatronus.”

            Click!

           Megatronus stared at the blank screen, seeing his own face reflected in the black glass. He sighed, gently setting the tablet face down. He laid on his berth, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

           Finally, he reached a decision.

           “See you tomorrow, then, Orion.”

....

I wanna just apologize again if there was any weird wording, spacing, typos, etc because I’m falling asleep/my head hurts/my stomach also hurts as I’m editing this :P ,,,,it’s 2 am,,,,,but for the sake of finally posting it because I’ve wanted to for so long, I’m trying my best! I’ll read through it tomorrow and probably fix some stuff lol

Oh an dw I’m not abandoning the other fic I’m writing, just updating this one cuz it’s been a while....^^’’

ANyway, thanks so much for reading!!! <3 

[darker--serenity-blog]

The Dark Dwindling Decent of One Davina Gerard.

[Sitting beneath the large statue that stares itself into the ocean, small wisps of hair begun to flicker across her face. At one point she wanted to cut it all off, shed the hair and just go short enough for a ponytail when it would be needed. The glamour spell she had done for halloween had proved her thoughts true to herself. 

But she knew it would make her aggravated if she did actually cut it. 

Maybe it was just a cover for something else. No. No one changes their physical appearance as a way to escape mental issues. That's not a thing. 

She tugged at the earbud that was wedged into her ear, and it popped out to reveal the sounds that she had been missing. 

Waves crashing softly,people all behind her, roaming the streets despite the need to stay inside and take care of themselves. 

Maybe humans aren't the apex species they all believed. Maybe if they did the research on their own history people wouldn't be roaming around making jokes of such a threat. 

But then again- had she stayed within her own lane of normal, maybe she would be out with friends, maybe dancing, trying to forget that death lurks in every crease and shadow of the world. 

The thoughts swirled and cascaded down deeper into her mind until finally, a almost shriek from behind her caught her off guard, and she shifted slightly, eyes falling onto a couple of friends walking down the road, laughing and making jokes amongst themselves. 

They're wild. 

Such an odd thought process for it, but think, they're fragile, like snowflakes, yet they dance on top of the wood burning flames, in a small hope they can make it to the other side in an unharmed fully in tack way. 

I could eat them. 

Blinking as the words sprawled across her brain like it was a basketball game and the scoreboard worker made a slight typo, she shook her head softly. 

Just because I could doesn't mean I should. But then again, every day is a roll of the dice for the lot walking not even thirty foot from her now, she shifted again, bringing her legs underneath her to stand up slightly, still thankful for the full fledged statue keeping her hidden from them. She inhaled softly, and her head tilted, one of them was wearing one of her favorite scents. 

Which, thinking on it, was probably everyone's favorite scent at one point or another- Warm Vanilla Sugar-. She paused,finding herself in an almost pouncing stance before she huffed some air through her teeth and turned back towards the water, dropping onto her ass with a soft force to zone her back away from the loud drinkers. 

Gently rubbing her hands around the sweaters end, which has eroded over the past existence, wearing down from the anxiety tugging inside of her brain, it had twisted the fabric and pulled this way and that until it finally began to snap, pulling itself apart at the seems and revealing uneven dashes of fabric protruding from the outskirts of her finger tipped length maroon comfort. 

Almost like her brain- in its own way, coming back had left her in a pile of memories and confusing moments that didn't even try to organize themselves back onto the memory shelves in her brain. They just laid sprawled out in an endless labyrinth of moments. 

It wasn't too bad- in a twisted comforting sort of way, she didn't have things to stress or freak out over, quod fit, fit.

Latin- what happens, happens. 

The weird tingle feeling that rested in her chest gave her the momentary thought that not everyone is like this when they think, most people have to have two sides of a conversation, but not a third part, a genuine part that couldn't care less of the events that occured. 

But, not knowing what could happen, or when something could happen gives a reason to freak out. 

She'd been staring into the water long enough her eyes blended lazily the scenery and surroundings that traced her exterior. The streets hadn't cleared either, when the sun fully dives into the deepest part of the other side, its almost like clicking on the "we're open" sign across the city. Normally, she would just get lost in her own mind, staring, over thinking, and under breathing. But not even under breathing can help with the sea of voices, noises, and smells that began to assault her. 

Building her house had been an experience she never knew she needed, but it was finally done- all except for decor and furniture, which additional help from a young Gilbert would make it easier. The beginning of whatever they were at this point had been such a gut shifting little event that honestly, she couldn't understand why they weren't constantly trying to murder each other. Or jump each other. Oops. 

She really needed to try and figure out how to introduce him to her family in a safe and cautious manor. Maybe wait a little bit for everyone and everything to chill out. 

The thought brings a violent laugh to her lips, and she almost doubles over. 

God she's in deep shit with that one, but - n her defense-

Yeah she's got nothing. 

Rubbing a cold hand down her face to almost physically ground herself she shook her head, and decided to wait this night out here, freezing herself in a mental state over too many thoughts, luckily there was no heart rush to give her anxiety about it all, sadly there is no heart rush to help the numbness that stabbed her fingertips and the top of her legs through her pants. 

She might /actually/ freeze out here. 

Wouldn't that be almost comical. She pulled herself up slowly, and began to gently shake out her arms, pushing the blood around in an awkward attempt to rid herself of the tingling numbness that made no sense to call it "sleeping"- when arms went like this- or legs, it was a more close to death feeling over a tired and asleep sensation. 

But thats another time. Maybe not. Huffing softly she pulled the hood over her hair and began a slow but casual walk back to the outskirts, back to her house that hid away from all the inanities that the city holds within its lines. So much had happened, and /was still/ happening. But she couldn't wrap her brain around it long enough to begin processing what it all was. 

It was horrible really, the fact that she wasn't already offering to help, or finding a way to. No wonder no one really trusted her right now, she didn't recognize herself lately, and maybe trying to go back to the way she was wasn't possible. 

She kicked at a loose stone softly, not really putting enough effort to launch it, just to toy with it as it led her way down the road. Following the piece of stone with her eyes as well as her legs, she finally found herself turning onto the horribly cared for road outside of the city, she paused and lifted her head, blurred eyes scanning around. She had just been walking, no thoughts clouding, no ideas forming, just walking. It had gone faster than she prepared for, and before she knew it, her hand was twisting the door knob, pushing the door open slowly, she was alone tonight, which oddly enough was weird in a little amount. She needed someone else here honestly. 

 

Letting her jacket fall, she tossed it to the side of the couch, and dropped herself on a soft cushion, reaching down to unlace her boots, slowly and carelessly, her fingers were fucking cold. 

Finally kicking the hard boots off, she made her way to the thermostat, and rolled her eyes at the digital numbers, no way in all of life is it actually 74 degrees in this house. She dialed it up, all the way to 78 before she felt it would do good. 

She turned on the balls of her feet, and almost skipped to the kitchen, reaching into the fridge to her thermos without question before turning again, and moving herself upstairs, the creaking of the stairs raised the small hairs on her arms and she made a mental note it was probably better to stop shaving her arms for the winter. 

Pausing, she tilted her head slightly to one side, closing her eyes to listen around for a brief moment, after a solid moment of pure silence she softly sighed, and began back up the stairs. The thing with absolute silence is that it can be the loudest noise anyone ever has the sad truth of experiencing. The second she was within reach of the TV remote in her bedroom, she clicked on unsolved mysteries and sat at the edge of her bed, letting the sounds of other peoples tragedies drown over the white noise of the air. 

-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Thibodaux

[puffmamaa]

Elbow Deep: Part 1

So this is my first time ever writing fanfiction!! I’m a little bit nervous because in this fandom, whew chillay.....y’all are some muthafuckin’ WRITERS, hunny. “Talent all up & thru this bitch.” lmao I hope mine is decent enough for y’all tho.

But anyways, here goes...something lol.

Pairing: Erik “Killmonger” Stevens x Black, Dark-Skin, Plus Size OC. (Always💛)

Summary: Erik begrudgingly attends a benefit gala. He prepares himself for a wack ass night, only to be met with a quite, scrumptious surprise. 😉

Word Count: Somewhere around 1400, 1500.

Warnings: Cussing. Use of the N-word. Dragging white people. T’Challa on his bullshit lol. But mostly fluffy and cute.

A/N: In my mind, I want this to be a series but I’m not sure how to make it work yet. If not, than I guess a cute little one-shot? Idk, If y’all like it enough, I’ll try for a part 2 at very least. Also, I wrote this on my phone at like 3 AM so please excuse any mistakes or typos. 😝

“Dedicated to my new found love for hot wings.”

——

“Welcome ALL to Wakanda Outreach Center’s Annual Benefit Gala”

Erik snorted as he read the overzealous banner. He hated these kind of events. The only reason he even bothered to show up was because he lost a bet to his cousin. Nigga prolly cheated, he thought to himself.

Erik N’Jadaka Udaku-Stevens wasn’t one to be presurred into obligation. So when King T’Challa tried to convince him to support the Wakanda Outreach Center at their annual gala, Erik literally laughed in his face.

—

“Hell nah, nigga. I don’t go to these things for a reason. My energy is better used towards actually doing work for the community. Not rubbin’ elbows with a bunch of uppity negroes and cracka ass crackers.” Erik snapped, twisting his lips and being extra as hell.

Princess Shuri giggled. She (not-so) secretly loved when her cousin went off on one of his colonizer-dragging rants.

“N’Jadaka, we talked about calling them that.” T’Challa shot Shuri a stern look while crossing his hands behind his back. “And, it IS for the good of the community. Engagement with everyone, including other races, is necessary to keep things civil. How would it look if our own Director didn’t show up to support?”

“It’ll look like exactly what it is,” Erik said, crossing his arms across his chest. “A bourgie ass event with bourgie ass people, throwing around bourgie ass rhetoric about shit they don’t know a damn thing about. I’m good, love...”

“...enjoy!” Shuri blurted out in her Keke Palmer voice, cackling with Erik at T’Challa’s frustration.

T’Challa pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He was completely over Erik and his shenanigans. Quickly, he perked his head up and rolled his shoulders back. He had the perfect Plan B. “How about we make this a wager, hmm? If I win, you attend the gala. If you win, I won’t bring it up again,” He teased with a sly smirk, knowing his competitive cousin all too well.

Erik paused.

Shuri turned on her Kimoyo beads.

“Bet. You won’t be smiling when I beat that ass, tho.”

“Oh it is on, cousin.”

“Say less, cousin. Throw them hands up.”

“On scissors.”

“No nigga. It’s on shoot. Tryna best me when you don’t even know how to play? Tuh! Have fun at that punk ass gala, boi!”

—

And there he was. In a stuffy ass suit watching his corny ass cousin fake laugh with rich white folks for donor money that they didn’t even need.

“Fuck rock, paper, scissors,” Erik murmured to himself, shifting uncomfortably against the wall.

T’Challa peaked over at Erik, watching him sneer at another group of white folks who almost ran into him.

“Excuse you. Damn,” Erik nostrils flared. “I know y’all can see my big ass standing here.” T’Challa appeared, placing his hand on Erik’s shoulder to stop him before he lit into they asses. “Relax, N’Jadaka. This is supposed to be a fun night.”

“Fun, my ass,” Erik growled lowly. “This shit is wack. Even the food is trash. I mean, what the fuck is liver pâté on cucumber toast? All the Black people you know and you couldn’t get some decent food? No chicken? Shit, some Jollof rice would suffice,” He bellowed, rubbing his grumbling stomach.

“Nakia was in charge of the food. She likes to...experiment,” T’Challa chuckled. “One time she tried to get our chef to make these Chinese style pork buns. Which was comical because his only Asian specialities are Japanese cuisine and—.”

“Yeah, I don’t care,” Erik huffed dryly. “I’mma go see if they got some real food around here. I’m starving.” Erik rolled his eyes as he stomped away, leaving T’Challa standing there with the oop face.

“He on my last nerve, I swear,” Erik spat to himself.

He shuffled past a crowd of people mingling in the gala hall, before bursting through the kitchen door. “Hey, y’all got anything else back here? Shit, at this point I’ll settle for a grilled cheese sandw...” Erik stopped mid-sentence, completely taken back by the sight before him.

A woman seated in a tall stool at one of the islands was expertly downing a plate of hot wings, not getting a speck on her crisp white, off-the-shoulder gown. Erik watched her do a little happy dance as she cleaned every bit of meat and gristle off the bone. She popped a mocha colored finger in her mouth, sucking off left over sauce as she turned towards the direction of the eyes she felt gazing into her side.

“Oh, my bad,” Erik said, realizing he was staring at her a little too hard. “I was just looking for something to eat. But I see you beat me to it.” He smirked, while rubbing his hand nervously over his neatly braided dreads.

The woman let out a short laugh. “Did you see what they’re serving out there? Might as well put up a sign that says. ‘Don’t eat if you have tastebuds.’ You would think with Black people in charge, at least the food would be good.”

Erik smiled, letting his dimples peak out for the first time all night, “I’m saying, tho.”

“Here,” She exclaimed as she pulled up a stool next to her. “They’ll make just about anything you ask for. But I suggest the wings. They’re bomb.

“Mhmm,” Erik said as he took the seat & looked her over. He motioned towards the chef. “I’ll have what she’s got.”

As the chef prepared his food, Erik surprisingly found himself in deep conversation with the eccentric woman. Mostly about random things like where to get the best wings in Oakland & why white folks don’t season their food. Still, he was memorized by how laid back and real she seemed to be. Something he didn’t expect to find at a uptight, bourgie ass gala.

“Daamnn. You cleaned those bones like the chicken’s going somewhere,” she teased.

“Says the woman elbow deep in buffalo sauce,” Erik shot back jokingly, eying her as he finished off his last wing.

“Pffhtt...whatever! You wouldn’t even have known to get the wings if I wasn’t here. You should be thanking me,” She huffed, folding her arms across her chest.

Erik laughed and rolled his eyes, dramatically sucking the chicken bone in his hand while leaning in her direction.

She swatted at him playfully before checking the clock on the wall.” Oh shit, I gotta get back out there.”

She wiped her hands, before standing to smooth her gown. “Do me a favor and check my dress? Last thing I want is to be thinking I’m cute but I’m actually covered in chicken stains,” She said with a chuckle, slowly turning in front of Erik.

“Sure.” Erik said lowly before clearing his throat. He took in her frame, admiring her glowing dark skin and the way the gown hugged her fluffy tummy.

“You good.” He said, forcing his eyes to hers before they got lost in between her thighs.

She kissed her teeth and shot him a bright smile, “Thanks. Well, this was fun. Um...?”

“Oh, uh..Erik,” he replied, smiling back. “And yea it was...fun. Um...?”

She giggled. “Janessa.”

And with that, she sashayed out the double kitchen doors and into the crowded gala hall.

Erik sat back with one arm slinged over the back of his chair, juggling a toothpick in his teeth as he rubbed his now satisfied belly.

He would definitely see her again.

——

I hope y’all enjoyed! (lmao I’m so corny but Keke cracks me up🤣)

Also, let me know what y’all think. 👀

CONTINUE: Part 2.

🌞

[yorukamiko]

Vampire AU

I’ve been toying with this idea for a while, so here it is in writing.  Julian, somewhere between the fateful Masquerade and the beginning of our story. On the run. We more or less know his route: getting away from Vesuvia with Mazelinka, getting on a ship to Macawi port in the South, then going back to Vesuvia. But the Masquerade was three years ago, and Portia started working at the Palace a year ago, probably shortly after she got to Vesuvia, which leaves us with two years of Julian’s journey. What has he been up to, then?

EDIT: I started writing this 3h ago and just wanted to get stuff out of my head. I guess stories live their own lives, so it became WAY longer than I expected. Oops. It’s 3:30am and starts getting NSFW. Part two will happen when I get sleep. Alas, beware of typos and other mishaps.

Also TW: human trade 

Here an idea:

The ship Julian’s on is attacked by the pirates. Not Mazelinka’s crew, but a more nasty type. Julian tries to make his way out of the situation by telling them he’s a doctor, but they don’t need one on their ship - instead, they decide to make a pretty penny selling him to someone on the coast.

As they arrive to a small port, Julian is escorted straight to the market. There, a young lady dressed in finest lace buys him and a few others. She seems very well educated and rich, but not very kind. She haggles well, not about the money, though, but about additional people for the same price. The handler seems to be cautious with his words, as if afraid of her, and finally agrees. When she’s done, she drives away in a carriage, while Julian and the others make their way to the estate on foot, with a few guards.

The residence is a beautiful place by a river, with a garden smaller, but no less amazing than the Vesuvian one. They pass the fields and the meadows on their way there, and Julian takes a good look at the people working in the fields - there are no guards, and some people are resting in shade, drinking and laughing. They seem.. relaxed.

Upon their arrival to the house, the ropes are taken away and they are offered a bath and a fresh change of clothes. Julian’s clothes are simple and plain, but kind of nice. He washes up in a small tub of warm water, and heads to the dining area.

The lady who sits at the head of the table is the same lady who was there in the market. She’s way nicer now, welcoming them in her house and asking them to enjoy the meal. Everyone is a bit reluctant, but she takes the first few bites and that gains her enough trust among the newcomers. Even if this is all extremely odd, they are hungry.

After the dinner is cleaned out from the table, she announces that they are by no means obliged to stay, and they are all free to go the next morning. However, if they would like to stay, she offers her employment. A roof over their heads, food they will grow with their own hands, freedom to come and go, a fair wage, and her protection - under two conditions. There will be a small donation of blood required every now and then, and there will be her reputation to upkeep. There is a murmur among the guests, but she cuts it off, saying she would like them to go meet the servants who decided to stay, before they make the final decision. 

The lady of the house takes time to chat with those who stayed in the room, and finally makes it to Julian. Unsure what to do, but utterly intrigued, he decides to accept the invitation and stay for some time as a physician. If nothing else, playing by their rules can make an easier escape later on.

The next morning he is asked to move to a long building closer to the servants quarters, where he is given an office and an adjacent room in which he can live. All of it is rather simple, but sufficient. There are no decorations, but there view out the window is pleasant. Way better than his office in the Palace dungeons. He shivers at the thought, but pushes it far away. He is safe now. Everyone dear to him is safe and away from Vesuvia. Mazelinka has reached Portia by now and passed the news of his escape. All he has to do is to lay low for a while.

There is a knock on the door and a young boy with a little girl attached to his leg walks in. Julian smiles and puts on a “kind doctor” face, then throws himself into work.

Weeks pass by and Julian is well-known and liked among the people of this weird place. His initial distrust slowly vanishes. He can see that the people are indeed free to come and go, they are paid, fed, and happy. They work for themselves, mostly. Some work in the fields, some with the animals, others sew clothes or build furniture. There’s a carpenter, a blacksmith, and now him - a doctor. It’s a self-sufficient little town, all under the protection of this young mysterious lady with a bad reputation on the outside. Whatever they have in abundance, they trade away in the port. Julian goes with them once, and plays along when he is told to put on shackles and look miserable. He knows a reputation can save one from the fight altogether, and he is well aware that if those pirates knew the place wasn’t cursed, haunted, and controlled by a powerful witch, it would get raided in no time. 

As they return back to the estate, they joke and laugh about all the silly stuff they saw pirates do - spitting over their shoulders, sprinkling salt, or murmuring anti-hexes while avoiding their gaze. Julian loves it, mischief and drama is something he lives for, and he offers a few new scenarios and tricks to play on the pirates the next time they go to town.

But even before they reach their houses, someone stops them, visibly shaken. They say that there has been an accident and the doctor is needed immediately. Julian rushes back to the estate, where the injured is being taken care of. 

A child is laid on a cleared table in the main hall of the house, pale and motionless. There is a family gathered round them, sobbing and comforting each other. Julian is afraid he’s too late, but the child is still alive. Their breath is rugged and bubbly. A close examination shows there’s a lung pierced and some external bleeding. As much as Julian wishes, he’s way under-equipped to perform a surgery. Instead, he removes his gloves.

The room falls silent as his mark glows. With his head tilted backwards, he sees a movement at the top of the staircase. Then, he folds in half as his own ribs crack and bend inwards, piercing his lung. He gasps for air, but he’s drowning, yet he does not move his hands away until he sees the child gaining back consciousness. He collapses to his knees. Last thing he sees is blood on the floor and his hands as he coughs it up. 

He wakes up sore, in a strange room. It’s dark, with curtains drawn. The door opens and a servant comes in with a tray full of deliciously smelling food and a lit candle. She smiles at him, sets the tray and begins to light the candles. She seems like she wants to say something, but she only utters “thank you, thank you so much” when she’s about to leave. 

Only now Julian realises there’s someone else in the room, sitting in an armchair. The stranger walks towards his bed and Julian can now see a tall, lean figure with a storm of dark hair surrounding her perfectly beautiful face. She looks like a living sculpture, her skin dark, eyes golden. Her entire shape screams elegance. She sits at the foot of his bed and smiles an all-knowing smile.

Julian is too hazy to ask the right questions, and he is starving, so he lets the stranger speak as he ravishes his dinner. The woman seems completely comfortable in his presence, as well as fascinated. She introduces herself as Mistress Zoe, the real lady of the house, and tells Julian she is impressed with his magic, but also a bit hurt he haven’t mentioned being a magician earlier. Julian explains between bites that he is not, in fact, a magician, thank you very much, but he has been cursed by one. She laughs, and asks how possessing an ability to perform miracles and save lives is a curse, to which Julian mumbles something in response, blushing at the compliment.

Zoe asks him to be completely honest with her from then on, and offers the same in exchange. In fact, she would like to start.

She created this whole place, because she dislikes how violent the world has become. There’s no joy for her in hurting and killing, and hurt she must - to feed herself. Now here lies the real curse. She cannot step in the sun, she cannot eat or drink what the others can, she needs to feed on blood. For years she tried to cope with her situation, on her own, with no one to guide her. She did horrible things in her youth, hurt many, just to stay alive. Killed some, yes. But seeing she lived longer than any man she has ever met, she decided to make a difference. That’s why with all her accumulated wealth she bought the estate and surrounding grounds, and created this safe haven. Julian nods and asks about the reputation and Zoe smiles. Well, yes, it’s a repellent for those who would want to attack her, but some of it is true and had the need arise, she would be able to protect her people.

“And the blood donations?” Julian asks. Ever since he took on the physician’s job, he had been tasked with drawing blood from the volunteers. She looks away with poorly hidden disgust. She knows she can draw a little blood from a lot of people to sustain herself and not harm them, but honestly, it’s like taking a bite of every possible dish at the same time. Feeds you, but it’s awful. It’s the closest she’s ever been to being fair with her people, so that’s her way now.

Julian furrows his brows. If she’d let him, he would very much like to examine her. She laughs and it takes a moment until he realises how he sounded. He flusters and tries to explain himself, but she’s having none of it. She teases him and makes him blush even more. Eventually, she lets go and tells him that yes, that is possible, but now she wants to hear his story. Julian obeys, and tells her the most dramatic and entertaining tales of his adventures.

They stay up all night and when the sky behind the drapes starts getting lighter, Zoe decides to bid her goodbyes. She thanks him again for saving the child, and for their time together.

Over the next few days Julian goes back to his routine. He is now treated like a hero, but there’s a bit of distance in how people interact with him. Rumours of magic is what they were laughing at together just a few days ago, not knowing he possessed any abilities. What if he didn’t like their jokes back then? They know he can keep a secret, so maybe he holds a grudge now? Better not get too close with him, better leave him a small gift at the windowsill, just in case. Julian is a bit frustrated by this behaviour, but he can’t blame them - he himself is distrustful towards magic. 

His thoughts, however, go back to Zoe and their night together. He felt so good in her presence. She’s bold, and funny, and she seems to like him, too. And gods, creating all this? That takes some guts.. and kindness. He’s sure she could put a lot less effort into it if she hunted.

The next time volunteers come over to donate blood, one of the house servants informs him that he has to deliver the blood himself. After he closes the clinic for the night, he gathers his journal, and a small basket of vials, and goes to a room upstairs. Zoe is already there, behind a room divider, taking a bath. She invites him to sit in a chair next to her tub, completely unashamed. He passes her the vials and she downs a few of them right away, her irises dilating as she drinks. She rests the back of her head on the edge of the tub and he can see her fangs. He opens the notebook and writes down his observations. 

It takes her a while to come back to her senses. Her throat bobs up and down and she sits upright. “It’s a very vulnerable moment for me,” she says, “when I feed. It’s even worse when I was feeding off of a living human. You know how lone predators drag their prey into hiding before they start to eat? I had to go to hiding, too. I usually lured them into a safe place, and only then fed. When I quench that thirst, I’m completely helpless. I can control myself, but as for anything going on outside - I’m done. So much for a great predator” she laughs. 

Julian sits there, taking notes, asking questions, and trying not to stare. The way she moves, the way she talks, the way her lips curl, her brows furl, her nose wrinkles.. Everything about her is perfect. He is enchanted by her voice and her scent. He blushes, when she catches him drifting away. “Guilty as charged, I was not listening, sorry, you’re just too beautiful” slips his lips and his eyes widen, while his cheeks burn. He did not mean to say it out loud. 

She just smiles, a wide predatory grin. Well, of course she is beautiful, but it’s nice of him to notice. Perhaps he would like to put the notebook aside and pass her the towel?

Julian blinks rapidly, then reaches for the soft cloth hanging on a hook and hands it over to her. He wants to turn around but she stops him. He’s welcome to look, in fact, she would very much enjoy it. He doesn’t need another word. He sits there, transfixed, biting his lip, as she puts on a bit of a show for him, slowly drying herself down, giving him all the right angles. 

He hasn’t been close with anyone since... since that damned witch. He enjoys Zoe’s company, and she apparently enjoys his. She seems dangerous and alluring, a sweet combination he always had a soft spot for.

She steps out of the bath and bends over, putting her hands on armrests, so their faces almost meet. “What’s your poison, then?” She asks. Julian smiles, eyes full of mischief. “I love pain and servitude, Mistress. Bind me, use me, deny me, hurt me - I’ll take it all. I heal well” he teases. Zoe’s eyes light up at that, she licks her lips, slowly. “May I feed on you?” She asks. Julian swallows, hard. “Yes, please.”

[greasers-against-onision]

Onion Boy’s Reapers Creek (BIG problems right off the bat)

Warning! Minor discussion of a lewd scene involving minors! Marker in red.

Hey onions slicers, I’m gonna go on a quick rant about Onion boyo’s third book in his horribly cursed trilogy of “””literature”””” (I hesistate to even call it that). This is my first real rant, so it might be too long, it might be too shitty, but we’re gonna try. I’m in AP English Literature and Composition, and I’ve been in AP English Language and Composition. I’ve got 2 years of reading classic novels and analyzing them under my belt. I know what can be considered at least an okay book. And Onion boy’s book is not okay. It’s not even bad. It’s the unbearable. Because of my experience with all that AP “author’s purpose” shit I’m going to be critiquing this very harshly.

Also I’m REALLY sorry this came out super long, I got carried away lmao.

Also good luck to anyone taking any APs this year! I’m rooting for y’all! :)

I really sympathized with KrimsonRogue in his review. (LINK! It’s a great video, I highly recommend it. I applaude Krimson for putting up with all of Greg’s shit.) I read up until Chapter 10, as I just couldn’t handle the disgusting content Onision’s had written in—nor could I decipher exactly why he put it in there. Whatever the reason was, it was as poorly executed as the rest of every type of similar scene Greg has written.

There are some pieces of work that are so bad it’s good. Let’s look at The Room, by Tommy Wiseau, for example. A classic definition of “so bad it’s good”. Awful writing and dialogue, even worse acting...but it’s all these that gives it its charm. I’m a sucker for shitty works like these. But Onision��s Reapers Creek** is so bad it hurts. There are some moments that are straight up disturbing and SHOULD NOT EVER have been as much as conceived by Gurg’s edgy twisted mind.

****——Warning: slight discussion of a lewd scene involving minors below!——****

Aside from its obvious self-insert main character,—“Daniel” is sometimes referred to as Greg, oops!—the poor formatting, the endless typos, the shitty syntax style, etc, the biggest most disgusting part about the book is the explicit scenes with the 11 YEAR OLD MC. And it’s EXPLICIT. It is a sex scene. With an 11 year old boy. I do not care that Julie or Julia (or however Greg felt to spell her name this time around) is 15. They are MINORS. I nearly fucking threw up reading this. If you don’t believe This is CHILD PORNOGRAPHY, Greg! Do you know how many sick, disgusting fucks would get off to this if you let them get their hands on this?

For comparison, let’s look at Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov. It’s a controversial work, I know, and absolutely disgusting to read, but I have read it to reference it on the AP at the advice of my teacher, as she read it in grad school. Keep in mind, Lolita is by far worse in content, as it focuses on a pedophilic relationship throughout the whole novel. There are gross scenes where the nasty pedo protag makes out with Lo, but there are no explicit sex scenes. The most is like a sentence just saying that it happened. But it was done with a reason. Nabokov uses pretty language and juxtaposes it with horrible, disgusting acts on the protagonist. It’s about propaganda. The reader is tricked by the protagonist Humbert into thinking he is a good guy on purpose. It’s “Tyranny from the POV of the Tyrant”, as one person put it.

The point is, Nabokov had passable reason to write on a subject matter so horrifying and despicable. To show how people can be manipulated with pretty words and an unreliable narrator (sound familiar?) By the way, it’s totally fine if you disagree and hate Lolita. It’s an uncomfortable read, and I totally understand. I’m just bringing up its merit to show how Greg’s writing is utterly horrible.

Why does Greg make his 11 year old protagonist have sex? Why, the same reason there’s sex scenes in all of his other books! The same reason he throws tragedies like school shootings in his books. Because he wants his self inserts to get laid. Why the fuck else?

In Stones to Abagaile**, the school shooting only brings James and his love interest closer together.

In This is Why I Hate You**, the school shooting again only brings Arthur and whatever love interest he had back home closer together again.

In this book, its sex for sex’s sake. Greg just wants Greg—oops! Silly me, I mean Daniel— to get laid. That’s it. Oh, and didn’t Onision himself give us the green light to interpret the novel as we wish? In the introduction he says that we can decide what really happened and what is just a “product of creativity” I believe he said. So, in the words of KrimsonRogue, headcanon accepted, Greg only wrote this to fulfill his weird fantasies.

Thank you for listening to me go on a literary rant about this shitty book.

**I’m not gonna italicize it. It doesn’t deserve even that. These books suck, btw. Not you, though. You rock. :) unless you’re Onision.

[samanthabrielle]

Arya after the Battle in Winterfell

sorry, I am no expert in writing, but I just wanna have a fanfic that portrays Arya the way I see her.  blahblah, just nevermind. 

Okay so this came longer than I thought at first. oops.

Sorry if there are typos, English is not my first language, so..... anyway. <3

***

Her arm was numb and she fumbled to get a feel of her fingers. She felt the warm trickle of her own blood on her eyes. She couldn’t open her eyes yet but she smelled the charred bodies around her. It was no different from how it smelled before, when the Lannister Armies burned village after village. That was too long ago, a distant memory brought to life by the smell of whatever was burning beside her. She felt the warmth of the fire and the coldness of the snow on her face as she lay face down on the earth. She blinked her eyes, twice, thrice, and again and again until she can see the clump of bones and rotting flesh in front of her. She tried to get the feel of both her arms again, acknowledging the piercing pain on her left arm and the jab she felt on her right hip as she tried to lift her self. With her right knee pressed against her shoulder, she pulled herself up, swaying slightly as she tried to compose herself again. 

The smoke was worse than the smell. Smoke and fog mixed as the sun rose and made everything look like ghosts, shadows all around her, the trees, broken in some places, corpses and weapons, covered in snow and blood and ash. If there were Seven Hells, she was sure she was in it. 

The ringing in her ear didn’t help either. She looked ahead, squinting her eyes to see through the smoke. A soldier with his spear was going through the field, looking as forlorn as she felt. It slowly came to her how tired she felt, but just as she felt her strength dip, people flashed across her mind. Sansa. Bran. Jon. and... 

She felt a croak rise from the lump of her throat. There was no use to cry and scream for their names. She felt helpless as she staggered from where she stood. She looked around again to try to figure out where she ended up. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to remember the last thing she saw. Bran, the dragons, the Dragon Queen, Jon on Viserys, the Hound as he came running from the crypts shielding her sister from the wight trying to grab her. Women screaming as they ran towards the wall. She opened her eyes wide. Searching for the towering stones of her home, charred and smoking, all the while, snow fell on her, just as ash and she felt the warm blood trickle down her finger tips. She held her bleeding arm and tried to stop the bleeding while she walked, pacing the field trying to find more men.

She paced from soldier to soldier, trying to see who are still alive, and helping them to their feet. The others did so as well, and they walked through the smoke, back to the castle. Surely the others would reassemble at the castle, where they can treat the wounded and feed the tired men and women from battle. She tried not to pay too much attention to the fallen, the ones she’s seen were being taken to be burned. She tried not to think how soldiers and knights as strong as them were dead but not her. She tried not to think who else was dead. She forced herself not to linger as she held Brienne and find no pulse, the big red bearded wildling along side her as they were dragged across the field to be burned with the other fallen soldiers. 

She saw Sansa first, her fiery hair a tangled mess as her braid has come undone in some places, her cape slightly singed on one side and her face dirtied by ashes, but her eyes were red and her hands held together in front of her as if in prayer. When Sansa sees her, she breaks into a run, her left leg slightly dragged but reached her sister just the same. Arya buried her face on Sansa’s shoulder for the briefest second and pulled away to search her face. Arya opened her mouth to ask for Jon, for Bran, for the others. But the haunted look on her sister’s eyes was a desperate plea. Her sister muttered her name, her voice rasp and crooked, as if she had been screaming for hours. “I’m glad you’re safe.” Sansa shivered as she spoke.

“Jon? How about Bran” Arya asked, her voice trembling, her eyes searching her sister’s face, but Sansa only shook her head. “I have not seen them both. Ser Gregor has lead some soldiers to look for them already”

Arya paused and took a step back . “You should get those wounds treated” Sansa pointed to her arm. “I can get the Maester attend to you in your room - “ but Arya cuts her off, “The Maester can see me with the rest of the soldiers.”

Arya has a lot more on her mind. Did they win? The dead are no longer marching but it was as if they did not win. With the ringing still in her ears, she heard the muffled cries of the injured men as they were brought to the courtyard for the Maester to see them. 

“My lady, more soldiers are needed to bring the others from the field.” A knight from the Vale stood behind Sansa as he swept the sweat off his brow. Sansa did not want to take her eyes off her sister again, but she reluctantly faces the knight, but held Arya’s hand still. “More soldiers should be in the hall, call all the men you need to treat the injured.” Sansa commanded, her voice steady.

But Arya’s eyes drifted as she followed the sight of a discarded hammer. Suddenly, Arya’s hand slipped away from Sansa’s, Sansa followed Arya with her gaze as Arya half walks, half runs across the courtyard, checking every cot, every man as they are carted in through the gates. She shook her head, she knows she’s seen him during the battle, but she can’t pick exactly where. He cannot be dead. She willed herself to think it. She ran through the steps and looked over the castle walls. Surely she can spot him from here, she thought. He must be outside, helping the others get to their feet. He must be.

Her eyes search the snow, she squinted to try to see through the smoke. She could see the Hound with dozen men behind him walking the field, searching. She scanned the courtyard again, and she turned around to search the field again, she walked briskly along the wall to see the other side of the Castle. The battlements were half a waste now. And through the burning corpses, she sees him lift his hammer from the ground, and another on his left hand, a sword so thin it almost looks like  a stick. Needle. She felt her tears coming as she released the breath she didn’t even know she was holding. She smiles in relief. She shook her head once, twice, as the tears came right back up. She came down the steps and she let herself be ushered by a Wildling girl who held her arm up to examine her wound. “Sam! Another here!” The Wildling carried her babe at her back as she worked to attend to those who were still alive. “Its too deep a wound, you need to lie down.” 

The man beside her was moaning in pain, Arya can see half of the man’s face was burned a stump from where his left arm should be. The pain in her body seemed to double as she sat down, and she felt her body crumble as the Wildling girl tried to lay her down. A man in black coats wobbled over to where she was as the Wildling girl went off to another soldier, and offered her to drink. She felt her eyes droop after a while, she wanted to stay awake, but her body betrays her. The last thing she heard was her name as something heavy dropped on the ground beside her.

She was floating in the halls of her home. The stone walls played tricks on her eyes as the flame cast shadows big and small across them. But she wasn’t floating anymore, she felt the arms before she saw them. It was Robb, her brother finally came home. Catelyn followed them as Robb laid her down her bed. She touched Robb’s face. His beard soft on her callused hands, and she can’t help the tears fall as she thought of her sweet brother and of Mother’s voice as she said her name. She held his hand “What took you so long to come?” He held her hand with both of his. He cried as if in prayer, and knelt on her bedside. “I thought I lost you.” He buried his head in their entangled hands as he spoke. But when he lifts his face, he was no longer Robb. It was Gendry, his blue eyes swimming as they search her face. She looked over her Mother but saw Sansa as she stood at the end of her bed. She tried to sit up but Gendry quickly steadied her shoulders. “You’re not strong enough.” He muttered weakly, but his words were like knife for her. She felt her whole body sore and she let herself be enveloped in the furs of her warm bed. “You should rest for the day, I will have the Maester check you before the sun sets again.” Sansa had a different coat now, he hands bare but dirtied, blood stains were still on her cuffs. “Jon? and Bran?” Arya saw her sister glance quickly and nervously from her to Gendry, and back to her. Sansa opened her lips to speak but her voice failed her.

“We’re still looking for them.” It was Gendry who answered her. She knew there was something wrong. She knew something happened, she knew Sansa was holding back. Sansa paced the room and looked out the lone open window of the room. “There’s still many things to see through. The Dragon Queen is still not found, and neither are her dragons. We have to find a way to feed the soldiers and aid the injured before the Lannisters come, whether they are fighting for Cersie or the Night King. Almost everything burned inside and outside the castles. Lucky the Godswood still stands.” Sansa was frustrated and nervous, Arya can tell by her voice. Sansa walked swiftly to the door without facing her sister again. “I will see that the Maester comes by.” She repeated with her hand on the door. “Please rest Arya, the battle may be done but the war is far from over.” Sansa was gone before Arya can argue with her.

Arya then turned to Gendry, his face buried in her hand once more. “Tell me the truth.” but Gendry merely shrugged before putting his forehead on hers. His eyes were closed but she can feel his warm breath, She wanted to close the space between her lips and his, but even moving her neck was impossible. She breathed him in, her chest rising, and she was afraid he would hear the loud drumming of her heartbeat. Gendry still had his eyes closed and they stayed like that for a long while. She can smell his sweat, only then that she noticed the gashes on his cheek, ears and neck, cleaned but still fresh, red and spotted. He slowly lowered himself and rested his head on her neck, his lips brushing her eye and cheek lightly. He brought himself under the layers of her bed and pulled her close to him. She could feel his arms around her as she drifted to sleep again. And Arya let herself be enveloped in him.

Tomorrow, she said. She’ll send him off tomorrow. She’ll be a warrior again tomorrow. But for now, she’ll be his, as Gendry is hers.

[penmanship]

Dear New Authors

I've been reading a lot of newly released fantasy novels through the Kindle library app. At about thirty so far this year, I'd guess. And there's some things I would like to beg of authors...

Please don't have your main character kiss and fall in love with the guy who just brutally murdered her beloved husband two days ago. What the hell. Why is your main character blushing and acting subservient and awestruck and all hot and bothered over the handsome MURDERER WHO KILLED HER HUSBAND? She doesn't need to get laid that badly, and if she does there are thousands of other peeps besides the INSANE MURDERER WHO KILLED HER HUSBAND LIKE THREE PAGES AGO?

On that note, please stop having your main character fall in love with insane, selfish, overprotective, overreactive, dominant, cruel, manipulators. And stop saying that it's so sexy and interesting and appealing that they are smart enough to be that manipulative. THAT IS NOT A GOOD TRAIT IN A LOVER. Especially if you are writing your main character to actually have dignity and self respect and intelligence. Even more especially if your main character specializes in society and intrigue and is good person who wants to save the world and protect the common people. THEY SHOULD HAVE ALREADY REALIZED THAT THIS PERSON IS BAD NEWS. Like. What. How can you have a smart, kind, sweet main character AND MAKE THEM FALL IN LOVE WITH A CRUEL AND MANIPULATIVE ALPHA FUCK?

Please don't have your main character stop to spend five minutes making out and chatting with her crush in the MIDDLE of a highly perilous fight scene (and, at that, a rushed fight between plague zombies, sentient steampunk inventions, vampire ghosts, and her mom who we saw die already but oops she wasn't dead she turned into a bird actually because this entire book feels like a dozen ideas were just poured out of blender and then served without even being blended). I DID NOT ENJOY READING ABOUT YOUR MAIN CHARACTER TALKING ABOUT THE GLISTENING WHITE SKIN AND BRUISED PURPLE LIPS OF HER STUPID CRUSH, AND CONFESSING AND KISSING WHEN SHE PROBABLY SHOULD BE DEAD ALREADY AFTER SPENDING THAT MUCH TIME GETTING INTIMATE WHILE ZOMBIES ARE LIKE TWO FEET AWAY. WHY DO I NEED TWO PAGES OF HOW DEEP AND SENSUAL AND SMOOTH AND LOVING THIS STUPID KISS IS, ANYWAY? I couldn't even finish this book. After this happened, I raged and yelled about it to Eli for ten minutes, and I quit the series. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IT TAKES ME TO NOT FINISH A BOOK? An endless stupid kiss in the middle of battle, apparently.

Please don't spend three paragraphs explaining that your main character is such a badass. You can show that. Really. I BELIVE IN YOU. I believe in your ability to reveal character personalities and traits and past smoothly throughout the book and through actions. You don't need to convince anyone right away. You're just making it seem forced when you spend so much time praising the character without proof of the praise. STOP TELLING ME HOW BADASS THEY ARE. SHOW IT.

And please, for the love of any and all gods, get an editor. I shouldn't have to struggle through every paragraph because you went and published your book with a crap ton of typos and wrongly replaced spell check errors. HIRE AN EDITOR.

These are five different books that really bothered me. I ain't naming no names right now. If you happen to recognize any of these, I'm sorry for your suffering, too.

I am surprised these things happened in published work. I would really appreciate it if somehow these things would not happen in future stories!