#asked for all these things within 300-500 words

[vashhanamichi]

Lesser Evil - Omegaverse Remix

So @metalomagnetic wrote Lesser Evil, which I love and already wrote a fic of, and said that it could have been an omegaverse story. I'm an omegaverse fan so of course I agree and after the last chapter I had to write my own take on it even if it's rushed and bad (I usually write 300~500 words a day but I wrote 2000 in two days because the last chapter made me a bit insane. Anyway). This is also for @kazuza-art whose art makes feral for Dumbledore. Nonsensical, unbeta'd omegaverse feat. Omega Albus, Alpha Gellert and Alpha Tom under the cut:

It’s sudden: Tom bends, burying his face between Albus’ shoulder and neck, holding him by the waist with the familiar, possessive motion Albus has come to associate with the Alpha’s need for sex. His expression is sharp and his eyes are dark when he raises them. Half child, half untamed thing of unspekable hungers. Unreadable for now – Albus doesn’t like him like this. Blank, out of his reach, as he was during those first days of torture.

“You are an omega.” Tom says. He tilts his head a little. Dumbledore’s hand immediately covers the space, the gland against which Tom’s nose was burrowing just now. He thought he was done with the troublesome particularities of this body. Age, starvation and torture should have rid him of this one thing. But it’s there – fainter to him than it is to Tom, the honey of his own scent. He speaks aloud before he can’t stop himself, surprised, too:

“Gellert didn’t tell you.”

Tom’s expression hardens and so do his hands – around Albus’ wrist, around his waist.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I thought it wouldn’t be relevant. My heats had been sparse even before our meeting. I always used suppressors and the ordeal my body went through during our first months together made them unnecessary. I thought I’d come out almost a beta.”

“Almost a beta.” Tom mocks. “That’s not why you didn’t tell me.”

Albus licks his lips. Rarely he attempts to omit. He thought, perhaps, Tom would allow him this one grace. But he’s a greedy, cruel boy and Albus shouldn’t have expected differently.

“It’s not a favoured aspect of my life, Tom.”

How could it be? He always hid it, as many other omegas do, because he knew what it meant. There would be pressure for him to use his womb rather than his brain in service of the magical community. His secondary gender is rare and coveted because the wizarding elites are perpetually desirous of magical babies. He made a life for himself as an unremarkable standard man – a beta, as some still say. The only one alive who knows the truth is Gellert.

Well. Tom now, too.

It unsettles something in him to know that, for all he’s done, Gellert didn’t betray this one secret. Not even to his precious Schatz.

He kisses Tom’s forehead, his murmuring soft, maternal, pacifying:

“It doesn’t matter. I’m old. It will go away.”

-//-

It doesn’t.

The weeks pile on and so does Albus’ scent. How could Tom have missed this? He follows the curve of Albus’ hips, of his belly while he sleeps, it’s such a subtle thing, there’s so little in him that’s mellow, he’s wiry and bony, it’s so hard to imagine this as a body meant for harboring life – but what would Tom know? He, whose sexual experience before Albus amounted to bending over for another Alpha?

But he feels. The coil at a lower and ancient core within.

“Can you get pregnant?” He asks Albus one day. Sees, enjoys it perhaps, Albus wincing at the question. Serves him right for not telling him. Nothing of Albus should be barred from him. No secrets. No thoughts.

“It’s very unlikely,” the Omega answers softly. “I’m over sixty, Tom. Even for powerful wizards, that’s not young.”

Is he relieved? He doesn’t like the idea of sharing Albus with some runny brat, even if the brat looks like him. If Albus was to be tender with anyone else – god forbid, if he was to love anyone more than he loves Tom. He thinks he’d take the bairn and crash his head against a wall. Perhaps. He pictures it and it does scares him, which is good, isn’t it? He’s not all teeth. When he thinks of killing a baby, one he sired, there’s something in him that recoils. Wouldn’t Albus be proud? But still, Albus is his. He’d crawl inside his womb himself if he could. Odd thinking, but his head hasn’t been right for years now. And Albus’ scent is making him madder.

There’s too, in him, what rejoices at the thought. Get him pregnant. Change him. Watch him swell in a way Gellert never managed to do. He’s stirred and he can’t keep his hands off Albus and when they part there’s blood on the Omega’s lips and between his thighs.

Three weeks pass. It’s undeniable now, no matter how much Albus appeals to his age. He will go into heat and soon. And though it’s Albus who suffers it, moaning, whimpering, running a fever that rises as the night approaches, Tom feels the rawness of it in his own bones. Like an ache behind his teeth. His cock stays half hard throughout the day and his knot is a painful weight at its base. He never felt like this before.

Two days earlier he asked:

“Did he fuck you while you were in heat?”

Albus looked away. It was all the answer he needed. When the Omega asked him to bring suppressants Tom pretended not to hear. Gellert doesn’t get to taste something from which Tom doesn’t partake as well.

Albus cries, begs. Tom missed his tears and his pain. Is he a child wearing his Father’s clothes? When he covers Albus’ body with his own and licks the slick on his thigh, he’s half mad with rut himself. He doesn’t carry any unwanted name and he knows nothing of the world but his own right to claim that which lays open for him. His power so vast it’s a thrill in itself. Please, Albus calls, finally humbled, finally unmade, inside, inside, please! He mounts Albus and pulls his hair until he screams in pain and that scream he swallows with a bloody kiss. All of his body used to punish Albus and to mark him, too. He feels hale. This is what Gellert robbed him off, this is a testament of his might – he pulls Albus’ hips up and drives into him, again and again, as the Omega cries and begs him to go slower, to be gentler, even as he spills his barren seed across his belly. His cock doesn’t bother Tom as much now that he knows how nonthreatening it is. Tom’s mind only clears a little as the knot forms and Albus’ hole milks him, wanton, greedy. Bite marks all over Albus’ chest and shoulders and neck. Tom licks the blood and begins again.

It goes on for three days. He fucks Albus two dozen times in that period, stopping only to drink water, to eat something that isn’t Albus blood. Albus faints a few times but that doesn’t deter him. He grows warmer still, having him so prone.

When it ends he bathes Albus, cleans the blood from his body, washes away the sweat, the slick, the semen. Untangles and brushes his hair. The Omega hums, his head against Tom’s chest, submissive, half-awake.

-//-

A frown between those red eyebrows. It’s the fourth day, Albus’ blues eyes unclouded, Tom’s rut gone. He wants to tell Albus to cease whatever guilt is brewing – they’ll do this again. He can’t have Albus taking suppressants anymore. This is something he’s learned that belongs to him, untainted by Gellert. He knows, truly knows, what is like to be an Alpha now. It feels like an armour and a new name.

“I’m sorry,” Albus says again. Like after Tom first fucked him.

“Don’t be.” Tom presses the pad of his finger against the frown, eases it away. “I liked it. You did too.”

Albus closes his eyes. The tears there, once more. Now Tom is the one frowning.

“Say it.”

Albus bites his lip.

“I liked it.” He whispers.

--//--

How it shifts, unused, this axis in him. It doesn’t take the retching that morning, or the following one; forty years he’s spent trying to be mind alone but flesh takes its toll. He’s attuned to it now, and knows.

A fitting punishment for being weak, for desiring Tom, for allowing himself to be desired back. I liked it. In the mirror after the washes his mouth he sees, for the first time in ages, that beauty Tom alluded to: his skin is healthier, rosy even, his hair shinier. He remembers his mother looking prettier than ever when she carried Ariana. Perverted old man, he thinks, whore.

He doesn’t tell Tom, though his window of opportunity to do so is closing fast. Wonders (hopes?) his body, aged, thin, battered, will make the choice for him. But the days pass and it continues to germinate – it, because he can’t bring himself to call it anything else. Not yet.

--//--

After saying his piece, Gellert examines him. Snow has started to fall and it melts, tiny drops of it, on Albus’ hair. Albus wants, for a moment, to find the same relief Gellert did in confessing, in accusing, in sharing the grief of the years. They always understood each other perfectly, though coming from different mother tongues, as if they made their own, that summer. And it evolved to become a sharp, bitter dialect. Still, one that is familiar, one they speak fluently. They’re two old lions of the same pride, they have seen the same killing, they tasted the same meat. They were once cubs together, as it were.

Gellert’s eyes widen and he laughs.

“Oh, Albus. I’d pity you if I had it in me to pity.”

“I’ll take your scorn instead, old friend. Pity won’t do much good for either of us.”

“Not scorn. Bewilderment. Amusement. And curiosity too. How will you talk your way out of that one, I wonder.” he pauses, and his expression is almost clean of resentment. “How far along?”

“Nine weeks, give or take.”

“And yet you came expecting to duel me. Did you hope the strain of fighting would solve that growing problem of yours?”

“I considered it, to be honest. But no, I don’t think I would’ve let you make that decision for me, in the end. I was never one to shy away from my responsibilities.”

“When we were young, you used to drink that horrid potion every morning after I left your bed. Do you remember? I was glad for it, back then. I was sixteen, of course I didn’t want to be saddled with a child, being a child myself.” he looks away, his voice a tad softer now. “But over the years I did wonder. What would have happened if you hadn’t taken it so religiously. If you had forgotten, one day.”

Now they’re both imagining it. Useless experiment.

“Gellert I--” Albus approaches him. Kisses him, on the cheek. “You never told Tom. You never told anyone. Thank you for keeping my secret. And I’m sorry.”

The Alpha smiles and for a moment Albus thinks he’ll say he’s sorry too. But he only touches Albus’ cheek, gazes at his belly.

“You’re fucked, old friend. That viper in your bed won’t share, even with his own blood. You know that, don’t you? The way adolescent lions sometimes kill their own baby brothers.” he takes his hand away. His words have no bite left. “Pregnancy suits you, Albus. You look beautiful. I’m sure the child will be beautiful, too.”

--//--

Tom wakes up, still weak from the Horcrux. Albus dozes next to him but opens his eyes slowly, feeling the shift in the bed. They rearrange their bodies until Tom can lay his head against Albus’ navel. Tense flesh underneath. Fecund silence. Tom tries to discern movement under Albus’ skin. Some proof of life besides the change in his scent. But it’s still too early. If he pulls it out it will be a handful of blood, not even formed. He’d be doing it a favour too, sparing it from this world. But Albus would be sad. And if he was a baby he’d like to be born to be reared by Albus. To meet him and inherit his power.

He doesn’t know what he feels. With the Horcrux he’s rooted in life like he wasn’t before, where life could be taken from him like a stolen trinket. Is this a form of rooting, too? The poor man’s immortality. Any man can fuck a bitch and leave a trace of himself for posterity.

He closes his eyes. Albus gently caresses his hair. Maybe if the brat has Albus’ red hair he won’t hate it too much. Maybe if Albus is right and there’s in him that with which to make a father. He doubts it, but compared to the ones he knew he might not be so bad. Maybe.

Albus’ body makes him warm at last. All he knows is the hand caressing his hair, lulling him back to sleep.

#riddledore #metalomagnetic #my fic #lesser evil #if objectifying dumbledore is wrong then I don't wanna be right etc

[mourntheantagonist]

so they moved to california. It was rushed, sort of on a whim. it had sort of been this thing that they’d just talk about, running away to somewhere far, getting out of this town that never had anything good to offer them aside from each other. steve knew billy was serious about leaving, but he didn’t know he was serious about wanting steve to come with him. that was until billy had come to him, serious as a heart attack, grabbing him by the shoulders and telling him they should just run away. they should do it now. they graduate in a couple of days and they can run off and never turn back.

and steve, maybe a little stupidly, maybe a little bit blinded by his love for billy, just said yes.

in one day steve had packed up his closet and scrounged up every last bit of cash he had. he also made an attempt to shake his parents down for a little bit more money. successfully got an extra $300 out of them.

in two days steve had told his friends. he told dustin and nancy and asked them to spread the word for him. he told billy he had to tell max, he told him how despite what she may say out loud “that girl loves you, and she’ll miss you.” however, hypocritically, steve had no intention of telling his parents until he was an easy 500 miles outside of indiana.

in three days, just the day before they’d pack up and haul ass, steve sold the beemer.

billy had offered to sell the camaro, saying it was worth more and that steve’s car was more practical. but steve saw the way he was clenching his teeth, and the way his eyes had turned sad, and he couldn’t let him give up the camaro. steve knew how much that car meant to him. he knew it was much more than a car to him. he knew it was special.

and for that reason, steve didn’t gripe much with giving up the beemer.

with the car sold, and all of their savings combined, they had enough money for an easy six months of bills, plenty of time to get themselves on their feet, and they didn’t much mind having to share a vehicle to do that.

so much so that, by the time they’d really found their footing, the two of them finding jobs that paid the bills and moreso, making enough money between the two of them that they could finally afford a second car, they didn’t jump on the opportunity.

steve didn’t have to commute to work, not with it being just four blocks away from their apartment, and steve would be lying if he were to say he didn’t love to drive the camaro.

steve never considered the possibility of something happening to the car. he never considered what would happen if it happened to be his fault.

it was a sunday afternoon. the church crowd had finally made their way back home and the roads were mostly clear, and the grocery aisle lines were short. they had run out of laundry detergent just the other day and they liked doing laundry together on sundays. it was the day they both had off, and they loved the quality time of just sitting in front of the tv, folding warm stacks of laundry, talking about their weeks.

billy was cleaning out the cupboards, annoyed by the way he found a two year expired can of tomato soup when making himself lunch the day before. he was on his hands and knees, checking the date on every single item, so steve had been the one to offer to make the trip to the grocery store for both the laundry detergent they needed, and some not-expired tomato soup.

it was a quick trip. the store was just under a mile down the road and he knew the route by heart, so well that he could do it with his eyes closed.

unfortunately, someone else had seemed to have the same idea as he had, clearly driving with their eyes closed with the way they flew through a red light just as steve was driving through his green.

steve swerved. he missed the car.

and then he hit the telephone pole. hard.

his whole body jerked forward and the air bags deployed and within seconds he was sporting a severely broken nose and a splitting headache and his whole body started to hurt.

but as he looked up out the shattered windshield, seeing the thick wooden pole that had split the camaro’s front end in two, seeing the smoke waft up from the hood and everything else…all he could think about was the fact that he destroyed the camaro. he destroyed something that was special to billy. and that hurt far more than any broken nose ever had.

the crash had happened only fifty feet from their apartment. which meant billy heard it. he had to have. he could probably see the state of the accident from the view of their window.

steve didn’t even try getting out of the car. he just sat there and cried, half hoping the car wouldn’t explode, half hoping it would.

it felt like a long time, but according the the clock that still somehow worked, it had only been a matter of two minutes before he heard sirens outside of the car, and flashes of red and blue refracted off the broken glass.

It took the same amount of time for them to show up as it took billy, who had run directly from the apartment to the driver’s door, pulling it open. he was out of breath, but he still managed to get the words out.

“steve!” he was crying, he could hear it in his voice. he wouldn’t look at him. he couldn’t face him. “hey, baby! hey! fuck are you okay?! please look at me baby!”

reluctantly, steve did, and he was terrified to see the sad look on his face. he was bracing himself for it. bracing himself for the sight of a completely shattered billy, looking just like the state of the camaro’s windshield.

steve sniffled, feeling the mixture of blood and snot drip down the back of his throat. “I’m sorry.” steve said, sobbing through the words.

“what?” billy asked, just shaking his head as he reached his arms inside the car and undid his seatbelt.

“I’m sorry,” steve said again, “I destroyed your car.”

billy’s eyes went wide and his hand retreated from where it was just on steve’s lap, reaching up to his face to wipe the tears from his eyes. “hey hey hey hey no.” he said, his hands coming back inside to car to gently cup steve’s bloody face. “It’s just a car. It’s just a car it doesn’t matter.”

steve could barely see billy past his own tears and the blurred vision as a result of the concussion, but he still could tell that billy was serious. “but it’s the camaro billy. It’s special to you.”

“you’re special to me!” billy cried, “I can replace a car! I can’t replace you!”

steve hadn’t had the chance to react to that, because just a second later the paramedics were pushing billy out of the way and helping him out of the car.

they wound up having a long conversation at the hospital. steve finally realizing he was being silly for once thinking that billy would be mad about the car. but steve coming to that realization didn’t stop billy from curling into that small little hospital bed with him and telling steve just how special he really was.

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #stranger things #mandi writes tresh #ficlet

[lietpolski]

i deleted the ask because i'm a dumdum, but @sneakystorms asked me to talk about denmark! so here it is, my denmark character analysis through history: warning, this is gonna get long and it will be a mix of canon, real history & my own headcanons!

denmark is a SUCH a fascinating character to me, because he has subtle but really important character development over the centuries!! (both in canon and in my crazy little head)

i think earlier on in his life he was for sure on the cocky side, and he had every reason to be! he and his buddies are destroying the british isles, gaining a presence in continental europe, and being all around incredibly powerful forces. as their presence in britain and ireland dwindles, that's still just fine to him, because now you have the kalmar union! where denmark, sweden and norway (with finland & iceland as territories of the last two) were united under denmark's crown! not only are he and his friends together as a powerful kingdom, but within it he is the one with the most power and political control

we see this manifest in him heavily because he begins to identify as the "leader" of the nordics (both then and in modern times, but i'll get to that later)

he is the leader, he makes the decisions, people listen to him. and that's when he gets too cocky, and it's not just cockiness anymore but a refusal to budge on what he thinks is right. which brings the stockholm bloodbath and the multiple battles that brought about sweden's independence and the end of the kalmar union

and denmark is upset. it's fine for a while, but then things get rough: he begins to lose battle after battle and war after war to sweden. here's a comment that i found interesting: even though denmark kept losing, he continued to risk the safety of the kingdom just for petty revenge

and even some of his other motivations are selfish: pride, wanting to protect the slowly crumbling image of a powerful empire

this also brings into the discussion what i think is a fascinating aspect of norway and denmark's relationship at the time. i think of this in a dennor context but it can be platonic if you'd like! but in both instances of denmark & norway that we see in canon during that time, norway is never bitter at him. denmark is having a rough time geopolitically and he's making mistakes over and over again, but their relationship never becomes strained, because norway cares too much

and in return, denmark who has internalized this idea of him as a leader and a protector comes back to this: he needs to get stronger, needs to make sure it doesn't come to this again

it doesn't last forever. in 1814, denmark-norway enter the napoleonic wars on the wrong side, and as war reparations, denmark must now cede norway to sweden. from himaruya's notes on 1814:

this is a clear example of how denmark's cockiness, his selfishness, his want to be the leader, to best sweden, to get revenge raptured his relationship with norway over time. and the word that stands out to me is childish: denmark is always described as a big brother type in modern day, a little silly but mature, a businessman. not one to throw tantrums and cut ties with his best friend, not because he misses him, but because he lost

and what's left of denmark then? an ex-superpower with increasingly dwindling territory and the man he's been in a union with for almost 500 years given away to the man who's only taken for him for 300 years (albeit, denmark instigated a lot of those doomed battles)

this is where denmark and iceland's relationship becomes so fascinating! because i think now is where the shift begins to happen. don't get me wrong - denmark was never a bad person, he's always cared for the people around him, but he's also been selfish and stupid and careless. and now his best friend's brother is under his care, he's lost everything, and the world stage is changing rapidly. what does denmark do?

well, he tries his best.

he's maybe not as tactful or sweet or comfortable with iceland as he is in modern day, but he tries. as he explains later, he believes he raised iceland. he views himself as his guardian!

also, this is just really cute:

this brings us to the denmark we see in modern day, after two centuries of learning how to be a nation instead of an empire. i think a lot of his modern day personality is a reaction to his past which he deeply regrets. he raises iceland, mends his relationship with norway, even mends his relationship with sweden! he's not the selfish cocky ruler that he used to be, and in my opinion, he purposefully overcompensates, making sure that this time he is listening to others, he is taking their feelings into account, he's more selfless:

we also see how he has redefined his "leader" identity! he still identifies with it, but now he uses it to be a good friend to the people he cares about:

and there he is! denmark, ex warrior, ex ruler, ex asshole trying his best, now reformed dad, friend, and boyfriend, still trying his best :)

there's more to get into, like his relationship with iceland and norway in more depth and other historical relationships like him and estonia, him and england, or him and poland, but that's a story for another day!

#CAN U GUYS TELL THAT DENMARK IS MY FAVOURITE. IDK I THINK IT KINDA SHOWS #hws denmark #hws iceland #hws norway #hws sweden #hetalia #hws #maia talks #if i got any historical facts wrong lmk i was going off memory!

[caxycreations]

Hi there, its Athena for Sunday Ask-A-Thon week 2 at @ask-a-thon: Is there any advice you would give to a new writeblr or a friend/ an oc who wanted to get into writing?

A few things, actually! There's some pretty simple and basic steps you can take to really sink your teeth into writing.

Don't be afraid to write small! It doesn't matter if your work is 500k words, 250k, 10k, 2k, or just 500 words long. It's your work, and that's worth being proud of! So if you want to write but don't feel like you can put together the full story in your head, just pick your favorite part of it, find a starting point for that and put a little of it into words. Even if it's only ten words, it's experience and it's progress!

If your project is big, set a reasonable daily goal. If you can usually knock out a couple thousand words a day, then set a goal of about 1.5k. It's easy enough to be within reach, but not so low that you feel unproductive calling it quits there. If you have a slower pace and average around 200-300 words a day, that's fine too! Terry Pratchett only wrote 400 a day and look where it got him! Set reasonable goals, and you'll make progress at a solid, steady pace, I promise.

Take breaks from the serious work. It's important, believe me. Nobody can sit there and write seriously for hours a day, multiple days a week, for any length of weeks, without getting burnt out or sick of their own effort. Whether "taking a break" means stopping writing entirely for a day or two, or if it means writing a silly, goofy little non-canon ficlet, do something to relax your writing muscles. You'll be glad you did.

Writing for you is the most self-sustaining method, but if you're like me and you just CAN'T write for yourself with any degree of satisfaction, write for one person. Can be your mom, a friend, a role model, or a hypothetical person you don't know exists for sure. But pick someone, someone important to you, and write for them. You don't need to write for thousands, or millions, or even just hundreds. You just need to write for one, single person. And if you can't be that person for yourself, remember you always have at least one other person who will read your work and love every word.

This is the big one...BE YOU! Write like YOU. Nobody picks up a Terry Pratchett book and expects to find Stephen King's writing, nor does anyone pick up one of Tolkien's works expecting to find Rick Riordan's writing. If people are reading your work, it's because they want to read it the way YOU wrote it. So don't ever let anyone else tell you what style to write in, or what perspective, or even what format. Write YOUR way. The right crowd WILL find you, and they will ADORE you.

That's all I can really say on it. Hopefully it helps someone, somewhere. Thank you for the ask <3

#sunday ask a thon #ask a thon #writeblr #writing #writing tips #writingcommunity #answer

[hyewka]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well and I absolutely adore your stories, really. You’re an amazing person and I can see it.

As a fellow writer I just feel like asking you a question or so.

See, I’ve written like 30-40 or so full fics within the span of half a year or so, right. I even have a few series on my acc that I’ve spent so much of my time on. All of my stories, I enjoy writing them but then when I post them I don’t get much likes or reblogs. Like when I look at the graph it’s always so low.

What do you think I should do to be doing better? Or is it all just chance and luck?

Thank you!!<3

Hi anon! To answer your question, it's not necessarily all up to chance and luck especially on a platform like tumblr. To get higher interactions and to reach a bigger pool of people you should consider a few things!

One: what fandom youre writing for. Generally, to gauge at how active your fandom fanfic community is, check two things; top posts of all year under the most commonly used tag and top recent posts. On moablr, I wouldnt consider a post with 300-500 notes flopping and anything beyond that interval is big on here. In other fandoms, especially bigger ones, this information might be different so considering your fandom base is important in managing your expectations.

Two: what tags you're using. tags are very very important on tumblr. for txt, txt smut tag is the most followed versus using something like tomorrow x together smut. Don't use broad tags either, it wont get you that many interactions. For example, something like kpop smut isn't gonna do much for you.

Tags that work for me in relation to txt smut work: #txt smut, #txt hard thoughts, #txt hard hours, #txt x reader - also if it's not ot5 add the members name in place of txt for example: #yeonjun smut.

Tags I've seen people use that don't work: #txt x gn!reader or anything that identifies the reader like plus size!reader in tags just wont reach that many people.

Also, if you write things like hybrid and sub!idol I'd recommend to use those in tags! Though it seems broad, most people who follow these tags read anything regardless if it's within their fandom space or not.

Three: you have to consider your writing. Too many gramatical mistakes, too niche, the length- all those things matter. If you're writing in English make sure your writing is cohesive and easily understandable. I would say to stay away from writing abbreviations in dialogue or in your writing, things like "tbh" or "bcs" is a little amateurish and might put some people off if it's repeated throughout your work. Just make sure it's decently consistent. And also!! Cant stress this enough but if you're writing a full fic be mindful to not have a lot of very long paragraphs.

If you're too niche, like what you're writing is a fantasy world building driven sex dungeon, there might not be that much demand. I'm not saying to stop writing things that interest you or adjust your hobby to what people want, it's just that the more genre your fic falls under, the more niche it'll get. Meaning a smaller audience. Yandere and dubcon will always appeal to a smaller amount of people so keep that in mind.

When it comes to length, it's not that big of a deal but it might sabotage you. The longer it is, usually the less people interested. Especially if it's smut. Anything over 25k might be too much. Now on the other hand, a fic really small (like a sentence or two so basically a blurb) might not catch someone's attention enough to hit like or reblog. 1k-4k word counts is desired.

This also has to do with summaries, avoid very long summaries. Two to three sentences would do.

Four: how your fics look. check the layouts of your fics, and then compare it to everyone else's. I'm not saying it has to look the prettiest or be very neat, but adding pictures to your fics especially on tumblr REALLY helps with engagement. I also recommend using simple dividers and not to use different fonts for titles, especially tumbrs cursive one. Either three icons that are cohesive with the other or a header that's the size or a little bigger than twt headers dimension.

Five: what's popular on tumblr. This goes hand in hand with the niche point I made earlier but making the switch to x reader instead of a named oc genuinely makes a very, very big difference. Switching from first person narrative to 2nd person, so instead of writing in "I, me, we" use you and your. This also makes a difference.

That's all I think might be hindering your amount of interactions, tags I'd consider the most important. If you want tkwo build a more dedicated followg, I'd recommend opening your requests!

#✶ ━━ rana ; answered #if you think youve done all of these and are in this situation dm me #ill be glad to help out anon

[maplecornia]

ending notes

Three years, 300+ notes, 76 chapters, 200K words, 500+ pages...

"Infinite Stars" has finally drawn its last chapter. 

When I first started this project of mine, I didn't expect it to recieve as much love and support as it did. I was a novice, still honing my craft and working on my novels and stories, a girl with a dream that seemed so far out of her reach. Writing this, no matter the long nights or the late updates or the sparse glances of sleep, has been a great comfort to me these past few years. It's healed me, in a way, and taught me more things than I'd care to admit. And now that I have grown, and have begun walking towards my own path towards my dreams and aspirations, seeing a project I've worked for so long on draw to a close is just as much bittersweet as it is rewarding.

It's weird when a dream dies...isn't it?

You worked so hard for it, strained yourself, nearly broke yourself just to achieve it and suddenly, one day, you don't believe in it anymore...or rather you can't believe in it anymore. It's as though you had woken up and are in a state of tired delusion, between the waking world and the one of dreams.

It'd be a lie to say that I didn't fashion Yen somewhat after myself in this book, for if I were to make someone to relate to each of you, I first had to have her relate to myself. And in this case, as I was writing I continued to ask myself what I would do in her situation, if I could really give up everything just for my dream. And then I wondered, why do I have to give up everything? Why does anyone have to give up anything just to achieve what they desire? 

You see, Yen was willing to give up her very soul, the things that made her so uniquely her all so she could achieve something she thought she had lost. She was willing to ignore her feelings for Taehyung, and she was willing to sacrifice her morals, what she thought was right, all so that she could live her dream. She had that drive, and that commitment to set aside everything so she could succeed. 

And as I was writing this, as I myself continued to pursue that dream, I realized that I was living within a fantasy. I thought I knew the stakes, and I thought I had dealt with the dark sides to everything. I thought I had foreseen anything that could get in my way, but I hadn't. And the funny thing is, while I could see everything that was wrong, I never let it sink in within the surface before. But once I did, I realized I didn't want it anymore. 

I still have passion and desire for the stage, that will never change, but I want it to be on my terms, I want it to be within my control, not theirs. And I realized, in order to be an artist, in order to be a star you have to accept the inevitable truth that one day, you will burn out. 

You might not realize it at first, you might live within the delusion of seeing everything only on the surface, but once things begin to sink in, once you begin to recognize the control they have over you, you'll finally realize that your flame is beginning to dwindle. 

And we've seen it happen so often within the industry, especially the kpop industry. They are worked and prodded until there is nothing left. Stuck within a cage of what their company wants from them with little to no creative freedom, just running forward because that's all they know how to do.

That's all they can do. 

And I didn't want that, I didn't want someone else to have control over me, someone else to decide what I should do, when I should be the first person to do that. 

Yen was different.

I wanted to show this world, the good and the bad parts. The exhiliration the stage gives you and the desire to perform, as well as the damages this industry can have on you. How it can break you from your very core, even if you're willing to give everything, because even that's not enough if you want to achieve that impossible dream. 

If you think about it, in some way, idols were made to be our dolls, and the industry was our own personal dollhouse. A place where we could dress them up as we like, make them do what we want, all for our enjoyment. We suck the life out of them and pretend as though it's everyone else's fault when, in reality, it is partly our own. 

And though it is beautiful, and these trainees, these idols, fight for a dream which they feel they cannot live without; it is covered with thorns made to shatter anyone who dares stray from the path that was made for them.

I wanted to do a lot with this book, but the main thing was I wanted to let all those dark things we let lie on the surface finally sink in and ask us a question that we should have thought up from the very beginning. 

"Is it all worth it?" 

And once we've finally answered that question, perhaps we can work towards a world where being an artist doesn't mean you have to choose between yourself or the stars.

.

.

.

Thank you all for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed! For those of you wondering, yes, I will be making a continuation to Infinite Stars, the link for which you can find down below. I hope that you'll continue supporting me throughout this journey to the future of this project as you have supported me thus far.

I cannot thank each and every one of you enough for taking the time to read this, as I feel it is so important that we talk about these topics more when it comes to kpop. The main reason I started this was so that we can try our best to slowly make a change, and seeing so many of you not only understand my message, but relate to it deeply on a personal level means so much to me. I can only hope that in the future we can show the same empathy to those in the spotlight as you have shown to mere characters on a page.

Once more, thank you to everyone who enjoyed reading and I hope that you'll continue to read till the very end. But until then, I'll see you soon in the next chapter of our story.

To all those who dare to dream...

Goodnight.

08.30.23

Maple

BOOK TWO | Sea of Treasure

#bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #namjoon fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #hoseok fanfiction #seokjin fanfiction #jimin fanfiction #ot7 fanfiction #{infinite stars} updated! #kpop fanfiction #writeblr #bts x fem!reader #bts romance #bts angst #bts!ot7 x fem!reader #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #kim namjoon #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim seokjin #park jimin #bts #Drama #Realism #Romance #series #angst #fluff

[prpfs]

Hi! 21+ nb looking for a m/m oc roleplay on discord! I really want to get back into writing my hybrid bunny boy after finally having some time to rp again! 🐇⏳

I would love to make this a whole hybrid universe, ideally also omegaverse! Totally open to whether everyone's hybrids, or hybrids are more seen as pets/rarities, both ideas sound good to me! All I ask for is that you let me write my boy/bunnies/omegas in general as afab!

My bunny boy is canonically a spoiled rich mafia brat, throwing tantrums when he doesn't get what he wants, extremely intelligent but childish, lacks most practical life skills, and is definitely meant to be broken and then lovingly cuddled back together! I think he'd go well with about any type of character, but as of right now I'm thinking maybe one of his bodyguards, or someone from a rival fraction would be ideal!

This can get as dark as we want either between our characters or due to outside influence, but in the end I'd really love for some true romance to happen! As for smut, my bunny's libido is usually through the roof and he's a kinky little brat with a major thing for being bred and owned! I can def write him as a power bottom dom, but he's just as good of a sub when it comes down to it, so whichever you prefer, we can switch and/or settle on a dynamic together!

I write about a 500 word average per reply, this can fluctuate down to 300 and up to 1k depending on the scenes, but I do expect someone within that range who has a perfect grasp on grammar and spelling (slip-of-the-pen mistakes of course not counting, we all make 'em!) and likes to be descriptive and in-depth!

Anything else we can discuss further in private, so interact and I'll reach out!

Leave a like, and anon will get back to you!

#oc roleplay #oc rp #oc x oc #m/m #dead dove

[darkdoverpseeker]

Hi! 21+ nb looking for a m/m oc roleplay on discord! I really want to get back into writing my hybrid bunny boy after finally having some time to rp again! 🕊️

I would love to make this a whole hybrid universe, ideally also omegaverse! Totally open to whether everyone's hybrids, or hybrids are more seen as pets/rarities, both ideas sound good to me! All I ask for is that you let me write my boy/bunnies/omegas in general as afab!

My bunny boy is canonically a spoiled rich mafia brat, throwing tantrums when he doesn't get what he wants, extremely intelligent but childish, lacks most practical life skills, and is definitely meant to be broken and then lovingly cuddled back together! I think he'd go well with about any type of character, but as of right now I'm thinking maybe one of his bodyguards, or someone from a rival fraction would be ideal!

This can get as dark and violent as we want either between our characters or due to outside influence, but in the end I'd really love for some true romance to happen! As for smut, my bunny's libido is usually through the roof and he's a kinky little brat with a major thing for being bred and owned! I can def write him as a power bottom dom, but he's just as good of a sub when it comes down to it, so whichever you prefer, we can switch and/or settle on a dynamic together!

I write about a 500 word average per reply, this can fluctuate down to 300 and up to 1k depending on the scenes, but I do expect someone within that range who has a perfect grasp on grammar and spelling (slip-of-the-pen mistakes of course not counting, we all make 'em!) and likes to be descriptive and in-depth!

Anything else we can discuss further in private, so interact and I'll reach out!

interact if interested!

#oc x oc #m x m #1x1 rp #fandomless rp #omegaverse rp #dead dove #dead dove do not eat #spicy #discord rp #rp #roleplay

[productofnfld]

Bank Robbers on the Run

It was 1848 and £1900 was a small fortune; enough money to change a life.

It was certainly enough to change the lives of two young men named Brady and M’Naughton, if for no other reason than they’d stolen it. The duo had robbed the Bank of England in Manchester and, in doing so, became the subject of a trans-Atlantic manhunt that brought them to Newfoundland.

Before it all unravelled, they lived large in St. John’s leaving behind a mystery that remains unsolved to this day.

The Robbery

In 1848 William Francis M’Naughton was a clerk for the merchant firm of Mssrs. Alex. Henry and Co. in Manchester, England. As a clerk, M’Naughton observed the running of the office and handled paperwork for the company.

He watched vast sums of money moving through the firm — far more money than he could ever hope to earn. As a clerk he was perfectly situated to learn the paperwork that directed the money in and out of the firm’s hands.

It occurred to him, that with the right documents, he could direct some of that cash into his own hands.

On March 29, 1848 he presented himself to a teller at the Manchester branch of the Bank of England. In his possession was a forged cheque in the name of the firm. He asked to have it cashed. It was for the exorbitant sum of £3450, 17s.

The teller obliged, giving M’Naughton six £500 Bank of England notes, four £100 notes, one £50 and 17s. in gold and silver.

Later that day, M’Naughton proceeded to the Cunliffes, Brooks & Co.'s Bank seeking a letter of credit for the Liverpool Bank. He produced three of his stolen £500 notes.

The request raised the suspicions of the bank, they asked M’Naughton to bring someone who could verify his identity. His companion, Thomas Brady, vouched for him. The bank remained suspicious.

Feeling they were about to be discovered, M’Naughton and Brady hurried from the bank, leaving their £1500 behind.

They were disappointed to have lost so much money, still they had over £1900. It was a fortune. In modern spending power it would equate to over £180 000 (over $300 000 CDN).

Brady and M’Naughton realized that if the bank in Manchester had been suspicious, they were in trouble. If they hoped to remain free men, they needed to get away from England.

The pair decided a new life in North America looked appealing. So, travelling under the assumed names of Bradshaw and O’Kelly they began their trek.

By March 30th they were in Dublin. They took advantage of their time in the city to get a makeover and to spend some of their cash. They got haircuts and treated themselves to some expensive new jewellery.

On April 1st they boarded a ship called the Alcester and, in due time, they found themselves on the New York waterfront.

New York

The story gets a little fuzzy here.

The timeline suggests that the pair spent about two months in New York, but little is known about their time in the city. It seems life wasn’t as relaxed as they’d hoped — word of their crime had reached the States. Worse than that, the police had let it be known that the bank robbers might have made their way to New York.

Suddenly, staying in New York seemed like a risky thing to do. It was certainly no place to spend their stolen cash. Cashing a large sum of English money might bring with it too many questions. Worse again, the papers had printed the serial numbers on the bills — any suspicious banker could easily identify the stolen bills.

M’Naugton and Brady needed to find a place further off the beaten track. They headed to the waterfront and were greeted with an ideal opportunity. Right in front of them was a small ship taking on cargo for Fogo, an island off the northeastern coast of Newfoundland.

It was the perfect, out-of-the-way place the pair needed to throw the police off their trail.

Fogo

M’Naughton and Brady approached the ship’s captain. It was as if fate were smiling on them — the boat was short two deckhands. Without any hesitation they took the jobs and, within hours, they — and their ill-gotten cash — were en route to Newfoundland.

The trip to Fogo was uneventful. M’Naughton and Brady proved themselves to be able seamen. By the time the ship had tied-up in Fogo, the captain was impressed enough with their work that he offered them the opportunity to accompany him on a fishing expedition to the Grand Banks.

The thieves had no intention of accepting; they hadn’t robbed a bank so they could become fishermen. They wanted a taste of the sort of life £1900 could buy.

In Fogo harbour the secured passage aboard a schooner headed for St. John’s.

St. John’s

It was early July when the set eyes on St. John’s — they had been on the run for over three months.

When Brady and M’Naughton had robbed the Bank of England, it wasn’t the life of a fugitive they had in mind; neither was it life in Newfoundland. As they began to explore St. John’s, they realized that the city was nothing like New York — for better and worse.

It lacked the opulence of New York but, importantly, it offered the pair a chance to start afresh. No one in St. John’s knew the ‘Bank of England robbers’ were anywhere near.

The fugitives wasted little time in exploring the finer things St. John’s had to offer. They dipped into their cash and bought themselves stylish new clothes. The soon embarked on a plan to head to Spain.

Going to Spain was going to involve spending more money, and though the pair felt relatively safe in St. John’s, they weren’t reckless. They were careful to spend only small bills. Spending the large notes, they reasoned, might look suspicious or, at the very least, pique curiosity.

Along the way, the pair frequented all of the city’s most fashionable and expensive establishments. To the citizen’s of St. John’s, the pair appeared to be well-educated, affluent Irish gentlemen. They were charming and entertaining, and soon found themselves rubbing elbows with the well-to-do.

M’Naughton and Brady were thoroughly enjoying themselves.

There was just one problem; by the end of July, with their preparations for Spain and lavish lifestyle, they had burned through their small cash.

They were going to have to spend some of their stolen banknotes.

They made a plan.

The Bookseller and the Bishop

They decided to buy some books.

On July 31st, M’Naughton approached Mr. Duffy, of the Dublin Bookstore on Water Street. He told him that, if he could change a £100 Bank of England note, he and Brady would buy £12-worth of books.

A sale of £12 seemed like too good a deal to pass up. Still, it was an awful lot of money to have in a single note — remember, £100 in 1848 was equivalent to the spending power of something-like $25 000 CDN nowadays.

It was more money than Duffy had on hand, but he assured the men he could find the change. He took the note and instructed the men to meet him back at his storefront later that evening.

Though he’d agreed to the deal, something didn’t sit right with Duffy. He went to see his friend, Bishop Fleming to discuss the matter.

As the Bishop examined the note, he paused; he had a faint recollection. He’d read about a robbery in England in which two thieves had fled with a number of large banknotes. If his memory was correct, the newspaper had printed the serial numbers of the bills.

He set about searching for the newspaper.

In short order, he found it. There, printed in black and white, was the number 38,458 — the same serial number as M’Naughton’s and Brady’s £100 note.

The Arrest

They summoned the Chief of Police. Duffy told him everything he knew about the bill, M’Naughton and Brady. The police descended on the hotel where the bank robbers had been living. They arrested them and carted them to jail on Signal Hill.

News spread through St. John’s like wildfire. No one, least of all the new friends of Brady and M’Naughton, could believe it. They insisted that there had to have been some miscarriage of justice.

M’Naughton and Brady thought so too.

A Chance at Freedom

They argued that their arrest had been unlawful. On August 5th, they took their case to the magistrate who, upon investigation, decided there had been irregularities in the arrest. Ultimately, the chief justice quashed the writs against the men. Not satisfied to let them go on a technicality, he ordered them detained until the proper paperwork was obtained.

The men were returned to Signal Hill.

Escape from Signal Hill

M’Naughton and Brady may have lost their appeal for freedom but they lost none of their resolve. Their morale was bolstered by the circle of friends they’d made in town.

Against prison protocols, some of their friends began visiting them. They brought with them gifts including new clothing and food. One day, according to legend, a large cake was delivered to their cell. Inside were hidden the tools needed break free.

M’Naughton and Brady used a chisel to quietly chip away at a wooden door.

The night of August 15th was foggy. It was the perfect time, they decided, to make their escape. They slipped through the now-open wooden door, up into the prison’s attic, the through a window, and onto the roof of a prison outbuilding. From there they crept along a narrow cliff-side pathway until they could get to the prison gate.

The gate was guarded by a sentry. The duo waited until the guard patrolled to the far end of the fence.

Just as they were about to escape, M’Naughton decided to turn back. He had, apparently, forgotten his boots in the cell. The pair quickly agreed to meet-up outside the fence.

Behind the guard’s back, Brady bolted for freedom while M’Naughton crept back inside.

Just as M’Naughton darted for the prison, the guard reached the end of his beat. He turned around, spotted motion in the jailyard and raised an alarm.

M’Naughton was quickly captured.

The prison sent word to the police that Brady escaped. A manhunt was mounted. They searched the city, the coastline and the forest but no sign of Brady was ever found.

The Trial of William M’Naughton

On August 24th M’Naughton was transported back to England aboard the steamer Vesuvius. His trial began on September 9th where he was examined in a courtroom that the newspapers described as “exceedingly crowded.” There was much interest in the case, especially among the business people of Manchester. They wanted to see how a man who had defrauded a business of so much money was prosecuted.

The evidence from St. John’s was included in the trial and in December M’Naughton was convicted.

His sentence was “to be transported beyond the seas for a term of 10 years.”

What of Thomas Brady?

Nobody knows how Brady’s story ends.

Some say, he died of exposure in the wilderness.

Others insist that he made his way to the base of Signal Hill and swam across the narrows to Fort Amherst, where he hid in the forest until daylight. From there he made his way to Black Head where, he hid in a hayloft.

Some insist that his friends aided in his escape. Which is not a crazy supposition, after all he had friends loyal enough to smuggle a chisel into his jail cell.

It is said that he cut his hair, got the clothes of a fisherman and assumed a new identity in a small Newfoundland outport, where he started a new life. It’s possible he has descendants living in Newfoundland today, none-the-wiser as to the true identity of their great-great-grandfather.

Or, perhaps he did make an escape and was reunited with M’Naughton.

We’ll never know.

#crime #bank robbery

[hobidreams]

😤

#y'all i needa rant #wtf #i just got graded a 7/10 on a writing 'experiment' for my creative non-fic class #like.. #this is a new prof to the program and i hate taking new profs bc they never understand that there is an expected grading standard #and that is to get 1 mark at the end of the term #that encourages less stress bc creative work is hard to put a number on #literally this mark is 10% of my grade so thats 3% gone already #she gave us like 3 days to write it #asked for all these things within 300-500 words #in her comments asked for me to elaborate more on certain aspects ???? LIKE WITH WHAT SPACE #AHHHHHH im so frustrated #like. i havent gotten a 7/10 in non-fiction classes since the very first time i tried writing in the genre literally 4 years ago #🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃 #bc we have to get accepted into this major #the expected grading average is ALWAYS mid to high 80s. not 70???? #ajwjfoemf #anyway #rant over #hope ur days are going better than mine 🙏 #droplets

[bitchassbucky]

💻 Bitchassbucky's Fic Commissions 💻

💡 Donations, reblogs, and signal boosts are very much welcomed! <3

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📎 My commissions are only open to adults AKA anyone who is 18 years old and above.

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📎 Please use the commission form if you're interested in getting one. Otherwise, all communications (specific questions, conversations, etc.) should be done via Tumblr DMs. General questions can be sent through my ask box.

📎 Please bear in mind that I’m a full-time college student and I work 40 hours a week. That being said, your fic should be ready within 7-10 days. If the fic is longer than 2,000 words, I will give you a longer turnaround time.

📎 All fic commissions will be posted on @bitchassbucky or @bitchassbucky-afterdark (if it’s a dark fic) unless the other party said otherwise.

📎 The fic can be a reader-insert (with or without the usage of “Y/N”), a character x OC, a character x character, characters x OC, or a highly-specific self-insert. It can be in any format you like, headcanon, multiple chapters, one-shot, multi-shot, or even a social media format!

📎 If you can’t come up with anything, I suggest taking a look at my WIP spreadsheet and choosing from there!

📎 I reserve the right to refuse any commissions for any reason.

📎 Who do you write for?

I primarily write for Bucky Barnes but I’ve been known to write a couple of fics for Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Sharon Carter, and Steve Rogers.

📎 What fic genres and AUs will you be writing?

If you’ve been following me for a while now, you’ll know that I write everything from fluff, angst, smut!

As for the AUs, here’s a list:

A/B/O AU

Action/Adventure AU

Age gap AU (LEGAL age gap)

Angel/Demons AU

Bookstore AU

Coffee Shop AU

College AU

Dark AU

DD/LG, MD/LG AU

Established relationship AU

Friends-with-benefits/fuck buddies AU

Horror AU

Modern AU

Neighbors AU

Romantic Comedy AU

Roommates AU

Slice-of-life AU

Social media AU

Song-based AU

Soulmate AU

Can’t find what you like? Send me an ask or a DM on Tumblr!

If you like your fics dark, read the next FAQ.

📎 Do you write dark!fics?

Yes! I do write dark fics, CTRL can be found here and the rest of my dark fics are on @bitchassbucky-afterdark.

For these, not only do I write noncon and dubcon but I can also write horror AUs and their sub-genres.

📎 What are your hard no-nos for your fics?

Disclaimer: I’m not shaming anyone who might be into these things, these are just some of the stuff that I’m not comfortable writing about.

For my hard no-nos, the list below isn’t exhaustive but it’s a good starting point.

Age regression

Feeding kink

Foot fetish

Incest and other variations of it

Watersports, scat, and any variations of bathroom play.

📎 What if you write more than what I asked for? Do I pay the extra?

Nope! You don't have to pay the extra word :) consider it as a gift.

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If you want to, sure! My payment links are up there. Just make sure that you'll give me a heads up first!

For more information about these or if you have any questions, send me an ask or a private message!

📎 What if I can’t pay?

Reblogs are always welcomed! Help content creators by reblogging their works.

i want to say a special thanks to these people who are very close to my heart <3

@hey-its-grey, @soldatspet, @bemine-bucky, @sgt-seabass @buckybarneschokeme, @babyboibucky, @suchababie, @bibbidibobbidibucky, @lokithealligator, @buckys-blue-eyes, @vanillanaps, @spicynudlesoup, @metalbuckaroo, @sunshinebuckybarnes, @lookiamtrying, @xxshelbsxx, @buckbucknonnie, @hootyhoobuckaroo, @goblinofthemoon, + dozens of other people that i can't remember with my smooth brain. i love you all and i probably owe some of you a fic or two that we went back and forth with but nothing ever came out of. i love you all so very much.

#.📣 #fic commissions #ko fi commissions #writers on ko-fi #writers commission

[fuckingthefictional]

Red Stained Dress

Request: “I hope you’re having a wonderful day/evening/afternoon/night! May I request Reader being a cousin to the Shelby’s (mother’s side) and being very very like lady-like, clean, expensive clothes. And one of the boys gets blood on her dress? If that’s alright? Thanks in advance.”

A/N: I made this entirely too angsty for my own good, either way hope you enjoy!

Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence, swearing, blood.

“Mummy what is falling in love like?”

“My darling, it is one of the best things in life. It is special and sacred. It makes life worth living, it makes the world that little bit brighter.”

“When will that happen to me?”

“Time will tell my sweet girl, but be patient- love is always lurking around corner, where you least expect it.”

Your mother was right. It did lurk around the corner and it caught your heart in its grasp and lead you to love. To your husband.

At the age of 20 you went from Y/N Strong to Y/N Massey. Wife of James Massey. You were happy, at peace.

But your mother had failed to explain the complexities of love. That it didn’t come easy. There was darkness and rockiness. And love didn’t always last.

For you it broke in front of you. When your husband was taken on the battlefield- somewhere in France.

And suddenly you were a widow, you were alone.

Your mother and husband had passed. The only person left was your father (if you could even call him that)- Charlie Strong.

On her deathbed your mother had begged you to go and make amends with him. Even going as far to write down his address on a piece of paper for you to keep.

But you hadn’t plucked the courage to do that yet. To you your father was just a man who ran from his wife and child at the first moment he could.

There was only one trait that you shared with that man. And that was your love of horses. You had always had a connection with animals. Horses and dogs in particular would just flock to you- who knew maybe it was in your blood.

“Ms Massey?” A quiet voice interrupted your heavy stream of thought, looking up you saw one of the many maids that worked at the house standing in the entry way to the library.

“Is everything alright Mary?” You asked.

“Ms Carleton has just arrived for you ma’am, she’s waiting for you by the car.”

You nodded, rising from your armchair and taking one last glance at his armchair before you left for the day.

May and yourself were going to a horse auction, you’d been looking forward to it for weeks.

You were both looking for some new horses to take on and train, as well as some new potential clients.

“Stop dallying Y/N!” Your friend’s familiar voice rang out, “The auction starts soon, we’ll miss out at this rate!”

You rolled your eyes towards May, silently dismissing her joking jabs at you.

“We won’t be late May,” You reprimanded, “stop fretting.”

“The clock says otherwise.”

“Ladies like us are never late,” You waves your hands to prove your point, “everyone else is simply early.”

May giggles in response, “if you say so Y/N/N.”

You swatted at your close friend jokingly, you were hoping for a successful, calm day- but trouble always did seem to follow you every place you went.

-

“Ladies and Gents we will start our bidding at 50 pounds.”

The horse auction was surprisingly crowded, it seemed that quite a few people had come to see what breeds could be found at the auction house that afternoon.

It was dwindling down to the last few stallions and the occasional mare. All in all you had been successful in purchasing two stallions and a mare of your own.

The last horse on auction in question was beautiful, it was a stallion- dark and shiny in colour, its legs were long but muscled. A perfect contender for you to train for the races.

You raised your hand in interest.

“50 pounds here,” the auctioneer spoke, looking around at everyone else, “Going once, twice-“

“150 pounds.”

Your head whipped round, looking for the man who was trying to outbid you.

“300” you spoke again.

“500” A murmur rippled through the crowd.

You weighed up your options, it was a lot of money for a single horse- you didn’t want to blow through every single penny you had to your name.

“Going once, going twice-“

“1500 pounds.” A new voice had cut out, there were shocked murmurs erupting throughout the stands of people.

The gavel banged on the table, signifying the final action of the day, as people began to disperse from the auction house- you could finally see the man that had snatched the last horse up.

You knew who it in an instant- it was Thomas Shelby. Your cousin Thomas.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you began to make your way down the stairs with May. Silently you found yourself praying that he hadn’t taken any notice of your presence.

God didn’t listen of course.

“Y/N?”

You took a deep inhale, as you rushed down the stairs to try and escape.

“Y/N!”

Fuck, there was no chance of outrunning them.

You quickly murmered that you would catch up to your friend, before you slipped through the doors arena like stage.

The doors itself open and closed behind you, before it was repeated again.

Here goes nothing I suppose.

You breathed in a shuddering breath as you turned to face your estranged family members.

They were all there. Thomas, John, Arthur, as well as another two men that you didn’t recognise. Not to mention the man that you had long since called your father.

You put on a polite smile, which probably looked far too forced, “Good Afternoon Thomas.”

“What are you-“

“What are you doing ‘ere ‘ey?” Your father cut Tommy off, questioning your motives as his piercing eyes stared into your similar ones.

The action only caused a swell of anger to swirl in her belly.

“I assume the same reason that you are- business.” You spoke simply, biting down on your tongue to keep any more words at bay.

“And what ‘business’ do you have here Hmm?” Tommy’s gruff voice asked.

“Jesus I’m just here to purchase any horses that look good enough to ride professionally- what is your probl-“

“Mr Shelby.”

Everything that happened next, happened all too quickly. Because before you could even register what was happening there was a yell coming from one of your cousins.

“Get down!” John’s voice had cut of your own with a loud yell, as you were suddenly tackled to the floor.

A loud crack rippled through the air as the wooden banister above you splintered into two, a bullet lodging itself in the wall behind it.

You peeled up behind the curtain of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes, “What the fuck?” You screamed in fear, shock melting into every nerve and muscle in your body.

Another gunshot pierced out, as it shattered the large window close by into thousands of shards.

A part of you didn’t want to believe that this was happening- surely it was just a dream? A terrible, horrific nightmare?

Another crack of a bullet being launched sounded close to you, peeping up from behind your quivering hands you saw that it was Thomas who had fired it.

Thomas who had fired a fatal shot into another man’s head. Thomas who had caused the death of a man, who may have had a wife, or a child or a family.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight that was to come next. The sight of your eldest cousin brutally throwing punch after punch after punch at another man’s face.

The sickening sounds of flesh hitting flesh and bones shifting and cracking under the weight of Arthur’s meaty fists continued to echo around the room.

The man’s face slowly becoming mangled into mush, the sand below him becoming stained with crimson blood - you knew you couldn’t take it for a moment longer.

Swallowing your fear, you jumped off of the ground, screaming desperately for Arthur to stop.

You tried to pull him off, only to be knocked backwards onto your back. You felt the air leave your body as you collided with the ground.

You shifted back onto your feet, ignoring the pain surging through your spine. Watching as your father, Tommy and another man ripped Arthur away from the scene.

Crawling over you to the motionless body, you lifted two fingers to his neck. Frantically searching for a pulse. After a few seconds you found one, “He’s still alive- but his pulse is weak, he needs-“

Once again you were cut off by your father, “John take Y/N to the car.”

“What? No!” You protested, “did you not hear me- that man is dying he needs a doctor now.”

Within seconds you felt your body lift off the ground and over someone’s shoulder.

“Stop! You can’t do this!” You were screaming desperately, you voice becoming hoarse “What is wrong with you?”

The feeling of tears running down your face, alerted you to just how upset you felt. You just watched your family kill- like they were predators.

A few short minutes later, you felt your feet finally hit the floor. Looking around you grasped onto the nearest solid object that you could find.

The car was cool to touch and it calmed your raging thoughts for a second before a swell of nausea hit. You wanted to be sick, to cleanse the memories of what you had just witnessed away.

“Y/N...” John’s voice held care, like he was tiptoeing around what had just happened, “About what you just saw.”

“You didn’t see anything.”

You’re head shot up angrily, Tommy stood in front of you, with the rest of the group of men behind him.

“Really because the blood on my fucking dress says otherwise,” you fined, lYou’re fucking insane- you just killed two men, two men who may have had families that will never see them again.” Tears welled up in your eyes, “You should feel ashamed.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “If we didn’t kill them, they would have killed us.”

“We all have a part to play in this world Tommy- you don’t get to decide who lives, who dies and who tells the story. You’re just a selfish coward who shoots first and asks questions later.”

“Y/N you can’t say that- he’s your family.”

Your head whipped around, quick enough that you swore you could’ve gotten whiplash. It was your father who had spoken those words.

“You don’t get to say anything to me- you do not have that right anymore, you lost that a long time ago,” You jabbed a finger into his scrawny chest, “Family Hm? You lot stopped being my family years ago. None of you came to my wedding, none of your cared when my husband was killed, and you ‘dad’ disowned me before I could walk- so don’t you dare lecture me about family.”

“You’re still apart of this family Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, “Well if that,” you pointed back over to the auction center, “is what being apart of this family is then I have no fucking interest in being apart of it.”

Family isn’t always to do with fucking blood- it is what you make it.

#peakyfookinblinder #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peakyblinder #peaky blinders #peakyblinders #requested #tommy shelby x sister!oc #tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x reader

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Monday 28 October 1839

8 20/..

12 35/..

fine clearish morning a sprinkling of snow on the roofs and in the garden opposite – F59 ½° at 9 ½ am on my table – I have no opportunity of knowing the degree of cold out of doors without going downstairs into the court – all our windows made up – no thermometer fixed up outside here as at Mrs. Wilsons’ – I on Saturday asked Mr. Howard to get my own fixed up – breakfast at 10 10/.. to 10 55/.. – then at maps of Asia and Asiatic Russia till 1 20/.. – I observed on Sunday from the title page that in our psalm book a thickish

12mo. we had 350 psalms and 600 hymns – we sand the 3rd version of the 84th psalm a version very inferior in beauty to the prayer book – we read the collect for the 21st Sunday after Trinity .:. epistle Ephes. vi. 10 on which Mr. Cammidge [Camidge] preached – he touched lightly on the opinions respecting the ‘principalities and powers’ and ‘spiritual wickedness in high places’ saying this part of the subject was rather speculative than useful – It seems that the Ephesians of those days were accustomed to a panoply a suit of armour as complete as was afterwards worn by the chevaliers of the middle age – e.g. St. Paul mentions

loin-armour loins girt about (with truth)

breast-plate  (of righteousness)

foot-armour  feet shod with (preparations of the gospel of peace)

shield (of faith)

helmet (of salvation)

Sword (word of god)

spiritual wickedness in high places – i.e. of spirits of high rank in the Satanic government – we are not only tempted by those Satanic spirits or fiends of lower order and grosser wickedness – but those of high rank surrounded by all the pomp and glare of satanic refinement – the ancients understood this – vid. fable of the choice of Hercules – there is little in the external appearance of the apple of Sodom (solanum sodomitica) to be taken its dust and corruption within? Fronti nulla fides – by a man’s actions, not by his words or appearance  - does he discover himself – by its fruit is the tree known – had just written so far at 2pm

on asking yesterday who was the Greek professor at the university, it was inquired one among another and then answer was the appointment was not yet made – i.e. there was no Greek professor – nor is there any professor here of Eastern languages – all that is at Kazan – out at 2 ¾ - nearly 10 minutes driving to chez M. Thal – nobody at home – gone out to dinner – A- and I left our card for Mrs. Thal – then drove to a large curiosity shop – all sorts of things – china, trinkets, pictures – but no Chinese silks nor anything from China but Indian Ink and a few little etc. Chinese papering in lengths about 1 ½ yard long or less and about 2ft.? wide at 10 roubles per length – a Chinese bracelet 50/. a cornelian circle or large ring but I could not pass my hand thro it – about ¾ hour there – then to the other shop of this kind (only 2 in Moscow) near the great salle d’exercise (Riding school) and here from 4 to 5 10/.. – all the things 2nd hand – 2 sable muffs 450/. and 300/. and a sac (cloak-lining) of sable at 12/. that had belonged to a general officer? Great many handsome

some China silk counterpanes rich and heavy and large at 500/. each – old China plates at 75/. (I think) the dozen – 2 handsome plateaux for the middle of a table and writing desks etc. etc. many bought on the death of the general officer to whom they had belonged – a handsome Persian carpet 10x4 sagènes [Sažen'] (say 7 ½ x 2 ¾ yards) for 1500/. bought of prince Youssoupoff of Archangelsky [Arkhangelsky] – but what interested us most, there was a room full of books that had belonged to Count Razumossky [Razumovsky] – it was at last too dark to see them – had a candle – said we would go again – a good work entitled  Dictionnaire géographique et historique de la Russia – par N.S. Vsevolojsky  2nd edition 2 vols. in one – Moscow 1823. printed by Auguste Semen.

home at 5 20/.. – dressed – dinner at 6 5/.. in ¾ hour – before and after till 11 reading Murrays’ encyclopaedia of geology articles Indo Chinese countries and China – had Grotza – wrote the last 22 lines till now 11 50/.. at which hour F62 ½° on my table – took out my St. P- thermometer this afternoon – out outside the window at the last shop for 10 minutes and at 5pm F stood at 31° - not cold – a thin sprinkling of snow while we were in the shop – enough to whiten the siège de cocher – fine day – more Chinese things in London than here – very few people go from here to Kiachta [Kjachta] and buy only tea – the people here prefer the French and Italian silks – and the China is now prohibited -

[softandweto]

Help

I know I should put this up somewhere else, but I can’t. Tumblr is my only option and I need all the help I can get right now please.

I had to make a GoFundMe because there’s nothing else I can do. Please spread the word and the link is right here. I’ll be putting the same info in the GoFundMe under the Read More for those who want information up front.

Hello, I hope this finds any who visit well. Before I get into the reason for me making this, I’d like for you all to know how we got here.

My name is Xenia and my boyfriend and I have been living together for nearly a year now. At the beginning, things were going very well. We both had a stable income, and while that trailer was not the best place, we were secure and didn’t have to worry much about finances. Then, March came around and Covid hit us hard. I lost my job as a Teaching Assistant for Special Education, and my boyfriend’s job got more dangerous as a Med Tech working in a nursing home. I was unable to find a job for months, and things were starting to take a bad turn. 

We had some friends living in the state next over who had offered the both of us to move in with them. My boyfriend would have to go back to CNA work, however, as that would be the only license of his that could transfer to the state. My license as a Teaching Assistant was originally for that state, so it seemed to be perfect. After weighing all our options, we decided to make the move and take the risk.

Once again, things were looking well. We both got a new job within the month, and only had to worry about paying a combined $600/month outside of our car payments. With all this, we were able to put up with a lot of things. A majority of the house leaving the place in disarray for the both of us to handle. The racism that we didn’t catch up on until the end. The disregard for my dogs and their health. The fact that, despite how behind the house supposedly was on bills, they could afford to continue to finance new furniture and electronics while we could barely afford to pay the rent and our own food. We could put up with it because we were with friends. No way they would do all this on purpose.

Eventually, after two months of living there, it became too much and they used every excuse possible to force us out of their home and ostracized us. Suddenly, we were the issue. It was our fault their dishes continued to pile up. It was our fault they felt too anxious to leave their rooms. All their problems were now because of us. We had no other choice to move in with my mom and my brother in our old state. Once again, we were out of jobs and couldn’t find work no matter where we looked. I eventually found a job as a server again, but he was unable to find any work despite his CNA credentials.

When October came around, I was working full time for a server minimum wage, while my boyfriend had finally gotten some good news and was starting to work. We scrimped and saved for two months and were finally able to get enough to get our own home. A trailer in a small suburb just outside town was freeing up early December. At first, the price for the rent seemed impossible to make. But, I had received an email from a work from home position I applied for. Early January, I would be starting with them for more than minimum wage.

Things were finally coming into place. Things were once again looking up and we could taste the stability. Then, after a week of being moved in, we decided to enjoy a meal together made in our own home. All the stress, all the craziness we had put up with, it was worth it. But, we couldn’t taste our food. We started noticing the coughs when we were moving, but didn’t think much of it till then. We got tested, and our fears proved to be true. We had Covid.

It was brutal. It felt like suddenly we’d lose everything. The two weeks we spent in quarantine was like our own personal hell scape. Within the first week I was notified they were training someone else to take over my Shift Lead position. A title more than anything, since the pay did not change and minimum wage was all I could get, but that didn’t stop what I knew was coming next. A few days later, I was let go. Tossed aside like an inconvenience. For my boyfriend, they just put him out entirely. For the third time in one year, we were both out of a job. But now, we could face eviction.

We recovered from Covid, and just in time too. I was able to start my new job, but two weeks of no pay had put us out tremendously. One company hired my boyfriend, but we would shortly learn that they would never actually give him any hours. December and January have tested us on what we could and couldn’t live without. We had to forgo a majority of necessities.

We couldn’t set up a disposal service. We had to leave mail to pile up. Living off Dollar Tree groceries. Go weeks without gas. Pawn what we could just so we could make rent and utilities. Now, with February ending, all of this has caught up to us. 

Months of garbage have piled up so high we’ve designated a “trash room” just to keep it out of the way. Toiletries have been out for weeks, but we can’t even afford groceries so soap and cleaning products are out of the question. Our propane is almost completely gone. All the cans of food we had stockpiled are a day away from running out. And we can’t afford our bills. Not with all my checks being used to barely keep us alive.

My boyfriend has recently started a new job, but they won’t pay him in time for us to pay our bills. Which is why I’m reaching out to y’all for help. We have both done everything in our power to keep ourselves above water, but now we can no longer keep it up on our own.

Here is a breakdown of our situation as of today:

My recent paycheck is completely gone after using it to get some of our bills stabilized, but they are already getting back into the red with how far behind we are.

Our car payments are coming up as well as insurances. One car payment is my full check, and we won’t be able to pay for one of them, much less their insurance

We were able to get rid of four bags of trash thanks to some helpful neighbors, but it’s starting to pile once more and I’m worried bugs will start to come out

Internet and Electric must be paid within the next few days in full or risk disconnection. With these two gone, I can’t make any money whatsoever

Food will be out as of Tuesday and with no money left from my check, we’ll be unable to get any groceries for who knows how long

We just ran out of Propane which is used to keep water hot as well as to cook

I hate asking for help and not letting people know what the situation is or what the money will be used for, so I will do so now.

I am asking for 2500 which will leave us with a touch of extra money for things like groceries, toiletries, and vehicle maintenance that is greatly needed. The breakdown is as follows:

$550 - Rent

Rent is due on the 12th of each month and requires two checks to meet. Last month we were able to pay in two separate payments, but our landlord has said that it was the only time and March forward it will need to be in full each month.

$650 - Car Payments

Both cars are $300/month, but we’ve passed my boyfriend’s due date and have incurred a late fee. My car is due on the 6th and if it’s not paid in time, they will repo.

$500 - Insurance

Both Insurances are ~$250 each. Without the insurance, the cars will also risk repossession and my boyfriend needs the vehicles for transportation

 $235 - Internet + Electric

I’ve lumped these together since they are both necessary for my job as well as being ones that need to be paid by this Tuesday or they will disconnect

$100 - Propane

$100 gives us enough propane to last a month. Without this, we can’t shower, do laundry, or even cook

$120 - Disposal + Mail

Disposal and Mail service needs to be set up as soon as possible, but to be honest they are low on my priority list compared to everything above.

$345 - Groceries, Toiletries, Cat Care, and Car Maintenance

With the extra money we can comfortably get through a month with little hassle. I know that more bills will be due later on, but once my boyfriend starts getting steady checks again We can at least make it through on our own with this little extra

I know that right now, things are very tough. I may also come about as rather...presumptuous and hopeful that maybe, just maybe, people can help us out in our time of need. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you see this and are unable to help us out yourselves, please spread the word as much as you can. I cannot allow us to fall after everything we’ve been able to get through this horrible year. Please, if you can give even a dollar, that’s one dollar closer to getting out of this hole.

Thank you, and I hope that you all have a safe and happy time going forward.

#gofundme #help #homeless #bills #covid #im sorry yall im just at my limit and getting desperate

[danihow]

Four Seasons Writing Challenge

Welcome to the Four Seasons Writing Challenge in order to celebrate my 100 followers milestone I want for other people's work to be recognized because some of y'all are just another level of wowness and if doing this challenge will help I will with all pleasure do this. (Also, lets keep in mind that here at home i just have two seasons so yeah, may some mistakes be made on the way.)

We have our four very familiar seasons, each representing an area for you to join:

Spring, that refreshing part of the year when all the flowers start blooming, when the air is chilling and gradually getting warmer as the days become longer; comfy just as much as our dear Fluff.

Summer, as warm, wild and unpredictable as all the Alternative Universes anyone could ever imagine. The season where the mind goes to edge of happiness if it is let to, imagination and heart wild, is it good or is it not?

Autumn, that season where either things go really well or really wrong; the energy of summer rapidly fades into chilly winds and the words turn to either a beautiful warm tone or to a depressing greyish brown; our dear Fall may be good friends with our Hurt/Comfort trope, where either all goes well or all goes wrong.

And finally but not less elegant at all we have Winter, arriving with its coldness to the season parade; and even if it may be comforting for a lot of us, it doesn't take away how it is very much a perfect match for our Angst, whom we all have a love/hate relationship with.

As we can see each season has an specific 'trope' so with them we will have a series of songs and prompts from which you can choose to be a part from this challenge.

Rules:

A person can participate up to two times for different seasons.

This writing does not has a due date defined yet but it may be said as the time goes.

Each participant chooses a season from which the whole writing will be going around, and within the season the participant can choose a song or a prompt, not both.

There is not a defined fandoms for this challenge, you can write for any fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, DC Extended Universe, Pirates of the Caribbean, Miraculous Ladybug, Lord of the Rings, Boku no Hero Academia, Haikyuu, Julie and the Phantoms, Harry Potter, Given, anything.

Send me an ask with your fandom, character/s, season, prompt or song and your username (anons can't participate yk). Once a prompt/song is taken it cannot be taken again. For my Summer buddies, send me also which AU you are making, I will put one a list of 10 alternative universes you can inspire from but you are totally open to the possibility of making your own AU, I ain't restricting you imagination (AUs can be repeated).

I have not problem at all with: drabbles, one-shots or multichapter fics, if ya'll get inspired, go for it. There is NOT a word limit, the works can go from 300 words to 15k+ (if it is over 500 words please put a cut of "read more").

You don't have to follow me to participate but it will be very much appreciated if you do (i've been kinda dead lately because of Uni).

I DO NOT ACCEPT: smut, incest, 18+ character with underage character/reader and viceversa, rape,.

There is not problem at all with m/m, w/w or any LGBTQ+ kind of ships and/or readers, I accept them all; black, latinx, muslim, asian, plus size (etc) readers are obviously welcome too, this is a not body shaming, not racism and a not xenophobia space.

When your work is posted use the tag #danihow.100 and #dani's [season you chose] (i.e #dani's summer) and tag me, I'll read it! If I miss your post just DM me.

So, here may I present to you the seasons:

Songs

Line Without A Hook by Rick Montgomery

I Belong To You by Jacob Lee

Anyone by Justin Bieber

애 by Stray Kids

0X1=LOVESONG (I Know I Love You) by TXT ft. Seori

Sweet Creature by Harry Styles

I Hear A Symphony by Cody Fry

Prompts

"Nobody said loving was easy, but maybe, if you want, we can try to make it more bearable to handle."

"My heart has never beated so damn fast dor anything, I think you might've broken it."

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" "It is, it truly is..."

Songs

Neverland by Zendaya

War Of Hearts by Ruelle

From Eden by Hozier

Ophelia by The Lumineers

Welcome Home by Radical Face

Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths

Electric Love by BØRNS

Prompts

1. "Even if you don't want me by your side, there is absolutely nothing you can do to avoid it from happening."

2. "You know, sometimes I wish to stop this fraud, I wish for this to be real, for usto be real."

3. "Never in a million years I would've wished for this to happen but there is nothing we can do about that."

AUs

(This are some alternatives so you can inspire from them to write)

Soulmate (anu type, from tattoos to B&W world, anything you come up with)

Fantasy (fairies, dragons, princes and princesses, you get the idea)

Modern (works for those fandoms who got some powers, or fantasy shit going on)

Single parent

Pirates

Genderbend

Apocalypse

Greek or Nordic gods and goddesses

College

Body swap

YOU CAN TOTALLY DO YOUR OWN AU BTW, IM JUST SAYING OPTIONS

Songs

Liberated by NIve

If This Is Love by Ruth B.

Hard Sometimes by RUEL

Unsteady by X Ambassador

This Town by Niall Horan

In Case You Don't Live Forever by Ben Platt

Broken by Isak Danielson

Yellow by Coldplay

Prompts

"Did you knew, that a lot of the stars we are seeing are no longer there? Some of 'em are just their light, which is still going throught the universe until it reaches us; one day they will dissappear, and almost noone will notice..." "I won't let that happen to you."

"I gave them everything I had and it still wasn't enough, what else could you expect from me when I got nothing more to give."

"It doesn't matter how hard I try, I always end up going back even if I don't want to."

Songs

Trainwreck by James Arthur

Hold On by Chord Overstreet

CHICKEN TENDIES by Clinton Kane

Are You With Me by Nilu

favorite crime by Olivia Rodrigo

Arcade by Duncan Lawrence

Happier by Ed Sheeran

Love On The Brain by Rihanna

Prompts

"How come you can just come and throw my heart out of the window like it was nothing? Like it didn't gave you everything? Like it didn't loved you?"

"Everytime I breath it hurts, it hurts to think I no longer have them, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to bring them back to my life because I cannot give them mine."

"I would've hoped for this to end differently, a fight, some yelling then a break up, I don't know, something better than you being dead."

HOW TO GET IN

Reblog this post so it reaches more people who may want to participate.

Sent me a message (not an ask) with all this following information: username, fandom, character (or characters, shios are totally allowed), season, song or prompt, (AU for my summer buddies).

After the message is sent I'll cross out and put your username next to it so people will know you took it.

Aclaration: There is not problem if you chose spring and want to season that fluff with some angst or hurt, is totally okay as long as you accomplish the fanfiction to the season asked for. If you s¿choose a song you are not obligued to put the lyrics in, just write what it makes you feel and I'll be pleased to read it as long as it comes from you.

GO FOR IT MY DEAR HUMANS!

Good luck and may the inspiration be with you

Love y'all and again, thank you all so much for 125 followers my dear humans.

#dani's summer #dani's winter #dani's autumn #dani's spring #seasons #danihow 100 followers #100 follower celebration #milestone celebration #writing challenge #danihow.100 #danihow challenges #multifandom #harry potter #haikyuu #pirates of the caribbean #given #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu fanfic #mha fanfic #mha ships #potc fanfic #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #miraculous ladybug

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.17}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

For a Saturday afternoon in late October, in Scotland especially, it was unreasonably sunny and therefore warmer than anyone should allow. Dreadful, really, and Robin was only glad that she had her beloved round sunglasses to keep the brightness out of her eyes at least as she followed the beaten path. Snape however wasn't as lucky, and all he could do was to scowl at both the warmth and the sunlight as he and Robin made their way towards Hogsmeade like they had decided to the day prior.

It was already quite late, almost the time where most students would be returning to the castle, but Robin had intentionally chosen to head down to the small village only now. If things went according to plan, they wouldn't have to come across any students at all, despite it being the most crowded Hogsmeade Saturday she had ever experienced. Bloody 'nice' weather… good thing they would be staying off the main street the entire time.

They had decided on what to sell the night prior, picking some of the less expensive objects and ingredients to test the waters for now. Still, once they reached the narrow alleyways and passages that were as void of people as they had been when Robin had been here for the first and only time, in her third year, she still couldn't help feeling a little nervous. She had managed to deal with the sleazy shop owner when she had been younger, and less knowledgeable… she certainly would be perfectly fine now too, right? All she had to do was to act on the now genuine boldness and knowledge she had only been able to feign the last time; if anything, it should be way easier now than it had been back then. Yes, she would definitely be fine; and she would win this bet she had going on with Snape.

"What should I demand for the few things I'm selling? Legal or not, I still gotta stay within the normal range of what this stuff is selling for. And since we said it's your choice what I'll be asking for, you better give me a number before we go in." Robin finally said, when they arrived in front of the ominous black shop. It was way less intimidating than it had been back then… or perhaps she had just grown used to thriving in the shadows.

"How about we stay somewhat realistic with this and set the price below value nonetheless. 200 galleons, perhaps?" Snape replied with a subtle not-smirk, giving Robin a look that conveyed both sincerity and amusement.

"That's BELOW value?!" Her jaw dropped, eyes wide with surprise and incredulity. "How much is this stuff worth for real then?"

"Anything between 250 and 300 galleons would be reasonable. In theory, of course."

"That's above a thousand pounds! That's ridiculous! Why would anyone pay that much for these ingredients when they could just gather them for free?"

"These objects are rare for a reason, namely that it is nigh impossible to simply gather them. Not nearly everyone is as… capable as you are, Robin. And for the few people in the field who require rare ingredients for their work in the first place, even 500 galleons would be no sum at all."

"As I said: ridiculous!" She scoffed, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly before she couldn't help smirking up at him when a new thought entered her mind. "Good thing I happened to you, or you'd still be buying your ingredients like a fool."

"I appreciate the way you say that; you really did happen to me. Like a natural disaster or the end of the world." He teased right back, putting on a neutral facade while quirking an eyebrow. "But I would have to agree. It was a very good thing indeed."

Robin's smirk turned into a genuine smile, and she took a deep breath. "So is 200 galleons the price you set?" She was absolutely ready for this now, all nervousness gone. "The bet is still on, isn't it?"

"If you are still looking forward to losing, then yes." He quipped, but even his tone let on now that he didn't much believe in his own victory in this scenario at all. It was a tease, and an encouragement for her to do her best. She definitely would do just that, if not for the ridiculous amount of money she could make then at least to humour him.

"Oh, we'll see who's losing here soon enough." Robin replied with one last smirk while dropping her sunglasses into her pockets, then she set her stony facade of perfect neutrality in place and focused on the task at hand. Bold, and stoic, and serious. Just like last time.

The bells above the door chimed when she stepped through first, letting her eyes flicker over the dusty shop that had very much stayed the same since her last visit. As had its owner, whose eyes widened noticeably as they landed on Robin first. She didn't miss the brief shadow of concern that flickered through his face upon the obvious recognition, but after two seconds of staring, he caught himself and flashed her a wolfish grin.

"Spare me the sweet-talk, I'm not here to buy from you." Robin was quick to speak first, giving him one of those piercing icy glares that could kill if they were to become any more tangible. The man's smirk dropped from his face immediately in return, and his frown deepened with every step that Robin came sauntering closer. So close, in fact, that he backed up seemingly subconsciously until his back hit the closest shelf behind him, making the jars and bottles rattle in protest. Obviously her sinister reputation had either spread even to this godforsaken place, or the impression she had left here four years ago had persisted throughout the time in between. Good.

"What can I do for you then?" He finally asked in a strained voice, while his eyes sought for a way to escape her presence. Honestly, Robin didn't know why people were this uneasy around her, considering how tiny she was in comparison to mostly everyone else, but then again, so were scorpions. Small in size, but often lethal. The thought made her smirk ever so slightly, which only served to upset the man in front of her even more. If everyone already thought she was insane, she might as well act on it. Showtime.

"The better question is what I can do for you." She started in an almost eerily sweet tone now, giving him a haunting smile. One of those that always made her shudder when Morgan sent them her way, and that had absolutely nothing happy or polite about them. "The dust on your shelves is piling up by the years, it seems, and yet here you are, still in business. Which can only mean that what you usually sell isn't put on display, is it? You certainly aren't that foolish."

"How do you-..."

"Knowing things is my trade, you see, and as you certainly have noticed, I have used my talents to become someone who indeed doesn't require affiliations, but who people wish to be affiliated with in return." She let her eyes trail over the many objects in the storage shelves for a few seconds, then they snapped back to his. Obviously she had no idea of whatever shady business this man was involved in, but the pieces of the puzzle she could see told her by far enough. So she would play on that now. "I have no use for this shop any longer. In fact, I could easily replace you in this line of business entirely. Or I could end your dealings with a single word in the right place at the right time. However, I have no intention to do either."

"Under which conditions?" He grumbled, frowning down at Robin wearily while the general tension and unease stayed present on his features nonetheless.

"None." She gave him that bone-chilling smile again. "I have no need to threaten you, there is nothing you have to give that would be of interest to me."

"What game are you playing at?" His question came out more shallowly than he probably would've liked, which only served to humour her in return.

"None you would understand." The corner of her lips quirked up into a sincere smirk for a moment, then she turned on her heels and sauntered through the shelves and displays. "Not when you are asking all the wrong questions."

The man seemed to be entirely confused now, deprived of his usual position of having the upper hand, of being the one who led the conversation and controlled the outcome of it. Indeed, he looked rather relieved to be free of Robin's piercing gaze now, but stayed standing in his spot with his back to the shelf nonetheless. She had him right where she wanted, and he obviously didn't have the slightest idea. Perfect.

"What are you here about?"

"Hmm." She hummed in feigned indifference, not even giving him a single glance now as she studied the dusty jars and bottles in distaste.

"What the bloody hell do you want?!" He asked again, not in anger as it might have sounded to anyone who didn't know better, but in unease and desperation.

"I want you to start asking the right questions! I don't have all day." She snapped back at him, approaching him in certain steps once more that had him trying to back up on instinct, only to hit the shelf again. For a moment he actually seemed to think then, which usually was a great improvement to any situation already, while Robin glared at him impatiently nonetheless. The moment he would realize that she was no threat to him was the moment she would lose, and thus she did her best to keep up the impression of danger as long as possible.

"What is it that… you can do… for me?" He finally dared asking, holding her gaze even though the twitching muscles in his face were a clear indicator of his real sentiments. Really, he needed to work on his facades.

"Finally a question worth answering." Robin sighed in feigned annoyance, then went back to the safe neutrality of talking business. "I have a few objects to sell which certainly will be of interest to you."

"What kind of objects?" His tone was weary, but there was no denying that he was interested in the offer. Wordlessly Robin placed the ingredients on the counter behind her, well out of his reach of course, but close enough to see. His eyes widened in an instant as he stared at them first, then at Robin. "Where on earth did you get those?"

She ignored his question, merely giving him an indifferent look for a second, then continued on her own terms. "You certainly know the value of what I have to offer, and be assured, so do I. But seeing as you obviously will be able to sell them for a much higher price than what I expect you to pay, please be so kind and spare us both the time and effort of trying to bargain with me."

"How much?"

"300 galleons."

"Are you bloody joking?!" He scoffed, while squirming under Robin's glare nonetheless.

"Do I seem like the type to joke?" She raised an eyebrow at him with an otherwise grave expression, and finally he just had to look away, anywhere but at her.

"Fine…" He grumbled in disdain, and when Robin graciously made way for him, he moved over to an inconspicuous trunk in the far corner. "But you'll have to take it in cash."

"Fine."

Without another word, he opened the trunk and climbed in, descending a staircase Robin could only guess was hidden inside it. A minute later he returned with a large wooden box, which he placed on the counter next to Robin's cardboard box of ingredients. While he then moved to inspect the ingredients more thoroughly, Robin for her part counted through the thirty stacks of ten golden coins each, in carefully hidden amazement. Honestly, if her facades weren't routine by now, her jaw might just have dropped from the amount of money under her very fingertips. A thousand and five hundred pounds… three hundred galleons. Bloody hell.

"These ingredients are first class… better than most I have seen." The man's scratchy voice finally drew her attention back to him. "I should be able to sell them for a high price indeed."

"Obviously." Robin replied with a sigh in feigned annoyance yet again, and when the man began sorting the few ingredients into the shelves far behind the counter, she carefully stored away the many golden coins in the depths of her backpack. Good gods, she still couldn't believe it. This was bloody insane.

"You know, it's been four years and I still have absolutely no idea who you are." He finally said as he came back, quite obviously more at ease now that the reason for her presence had been revealed. The wolfish grin returned to his lips a second later, but he did well to stay at a distance to Robin. "But I must say, you are still creeping me out more than anyone I know. There just is something about you, all that danger and all the smarts… If I wasn't so terrified of you every time you show up, I might just have to ask you out, now that you've turned into such a delicious piece of eye candy as well."

"The 'eye candy' will likely cut your tongue off if you do not keep your lewd comments to yourself." Snape's sharp voice cut in before Robin herself could reply, and the man behind the counter jumped visibly as his eyes frantically scanned the room for the words' origin. He obviously hadn't taken notice of Snape's presence before just now, but Robin couldn't really blame him. Snape was truly remarkable at staying unseen by anyone whose eye he wanted to avoid, and Robin could only hope that he would show her how he did it one day. For now, she just was more than happy when she felt his presence coming up right behind her, and she directed her attention back to the man behind the counter, who looked even more nervous now that they both stood before him.

"You should keep in mind who you are speaking to." Robin said to him in a neutral calm, seeing no reason to intimidate him any more now. "I came here to trade, not to socialize. Have a nice day."

Turning on her heels, she gave Snape a small smirk, then made for the door. The bells chimed once more as it fell shut behind both of them, and finally they were out in the street again, turning right and walking a few steps before Robin couldn't help grinning at last. It had gotten considerably darker now, the sun gone and the warmth quickly fading, but it didn't matter. This entire ordeal had been a big success, and gods, it had been way too amusing for anyone's good. They still walked on in silence for a little while, until Robin just couldn't help nudging Snape in the side ever so slightly in her giddy excitement.

"I did it." She grinned up at him, not even bothering to take the necessary step away again, which left her arm brushing against his as they walked. "Can you please tell me that this actually just happened? Because I honestly don't know if I dreamed it or not."

"Didn't we say 200 galleons?" Snape asked in return, a tease more than an actual question, as was visible in both his tone and the not-smirk. "Because I cannot remember saying that you should go for 300."

"I wasn't seriously going to sell under value. You know me, I like to push the limits."

"I know." His smirk turned into a real one, and his eyes finally met Robin's while the two of them sauntered along the alley. "That was one of the most impressive displays of power I have come to witness to this day."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up at the compliment, her heart skipping a beat, and when he just gave her a look in return, she went on with a smirk. "Well, find me someone else to snap at –someone who deserves it– and I will repeat the 'display of power', if it entertains you so."

"I certainly will, at a later point in time. For now I have lost a bet, and I would like to pay the price for this… unfortunate misjudgment of your talent for trade as soon as possible."

"I won't complain, I've been looking forward to this part of the trip all day."

"I had feared you would say that." He sighed, but the smirk stayed on his lips nonetheless, and Robin knew that he shared her sentiment after all.

"May I choose my drink?" She asked then, with mischief written all over her face as a mirror of the plan she had made this morning.

"You traded for more than I suggested; I would say you deserve the freedom of choice."

"Great. I want firewhisky."

Snape stopped in his spot in an instant and turned to look at Robin with an equally shocked and amused face that had her grinning even more. "Are you certain about that?"

"Yeah. I've always wanted to try it, but there's never been an opportunity to." She shrugged easily, her gleaming eyes fixed on his. "And seeing as I've never had any kind of alcoholic beverage before, we might as well start there."

A small snort escaped him as his lips curled up into a sincere smile. "You want to start drinking, and choose firewhisky as your first?"

"Whyever not? I do things entirely or not at all, remember?" She smiled in return. "But funny how that is what's bothering you, and not the fact that I am choosing something alcoholic in the first place."

"As if I would care… On the contrary, I appreciate it even! It opens up the possibility of us drinking something other than coffee in the evenings together, once in a while. However that is only if your first glimpse into the wide field of alcohol isn't ruined by something as crude as firewhisky."

"I am open for suggestions, should I end up not liking it, but I want to try it first nonetheless."

"Fine. Your choice." He mused, and as he turned to walk on, a hint of a smirk played on his lips once again, with just enough mischief in it to have Robin feeling excited. Whatever he was plotting in that big brain of his, she was definitely going to enjoy the outcome of it.

For a few minutes Robin followed him through the maze of alleyways, curious where he was leading her, until at last he stopped at the back of a wooden house that probably had its main entrance on one of the busier streets. With a not-smirk, he opened a small door that was so inconspicuous that Robin had missed it entirely on first glance.

"After you." He said as he held it open for her to pass through, and without a second thought Robin stepped into the complete darkness that lay behind it. She took three steps, but when she couldn't see where she was going nor knew where she was supposed to go, she waited until Snape had closed the door behind himself, which should leave him in close enough proximity. The suspicion was confirmed when she felt his arm moving around her shoulders to guide her along through whatever path they were following in this darkness, and for once she enjoyed the frantic drumming of her heart that came along with the situation. He obviously knew perfectly well where he was going, and as long as he kept his arm around her so securely, she actually saw no reason to be nervous for once. Only excited, by the touch and the darkness and the mystery. But before she had the time to really enjoy the feeling of being curled into his side, they took a turn and then stopped for a second as he opened a door.

The brightness of too many lamps and candles stung in Robin's eyes immediately, and she blinked it away while she let Snape pull her into the room ahead. It undoubtedly was some kind of bar or tavern, depending on what one wanted to call this less-than-average establishment. But there wasn't a single person she knew in this room, and she got the vague idea that that's just why he had chosen this place to come to. On the wall opposite of where they'd come in, the actual entrance door opened a moment later to welcome in a small group of customers, who drew Robin's attention to them with the irritating amount of noise they brought into the place. The remainder of the room wasn't any more spectacular than any other bar she'd seen before; booths and tables occupied by witches and wizards who obviously dreaded the minimal attention Robin was giving them already.

"Aren't we going to sit down?" She asked when Snape made no attempt to find an empty table and instead led her straight to the bar.

"No. We are only here for an experiment." He replied, and the calm and quiet tone of his voice contradicted the sinister facade that was back on his face now that they were among people again. Robin watched quietly as he ordered a single glass of firewhisky, and then pushed it towards her after the man behind the bar had set it down on the counter between them with an odd glance between the two. "Try it."

"You obviously haven't understood the concept of buying someone a drink… You are supposed to drink with me!"

"As I said, this is merely an experiment. I still intend to pay my debts to your very contentment afterwards."

"You do?" She quirked an eyebrow at him with a smirk, and any doubt was washed away by a new rush of excitement. If he wanted to make this a more complex thing than it had to be, she wouldn't complain. Especially since this 'experiment' obviously was just part one of a more elaborate plan he had come up with just now. With an almost teasing smile, she finally lifted the glass to her lips and took a large sip while keeping her eyes fixed on his, which were observing her intently in return. The very moment the amber liquid touched her tongue and ran down her throat however, it left a burning trace behind that really did the drink's name all honour, and she couldn't help coughing desperately. She still tried to breathe through the oddly pleasant pain of the intense burn, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears that were mainly a result of the coughing, and while she definitely had learned her lesson to take smaller sips in the future, she also found that she did enjoy the taste after all. When her eyes finally stopped watering and she could open them again and blink away the blur, she found that Snape was still observing her. And he was having a very hard time not to laugh. His facades had stayed in place of course, but beneath all that she saw raw and honest amusement. A frown settled on her face in return, but she also couldn't help her own amusement at his expression.

"I know you're laughing beneath all that neutrality, and it's not fair!" She whispered to him with a scratchy voice, in a scolding manner, but her smirk betrayed her efforts, which actually sufficed to finally break him enough for the corners of his lips to curl up into a smirk as well. He was fighting it, that much was visible, but Robin knew that he was losing.

"How was the first sip?" He inquired in barely contained humour now, his own tease threatening to finally make him laugh, and that precisely was what made Robin laugh indeed.

"Good, actually." She replied softly, once she had regained some control over her body. "Tastes good, I just have to work on the dosage."

"Measurements have never been your thing, have they?" He quipped, and Robin sent him a very unconvincing glare and stuck out her tongue just for good measure indeed. Then she made a point out of taking another sip, a smaller one this time, and seeing as she knew what to expect, the burning came as a welcome sensation now rather than a pain. The smooth liquid warmed her insides all the way to the pit of her stomach, leaving her with the pleasant impression that she was burning from the inside out. Glowing, lighting up the room.

Without a word of warning, he suddenly snatched the half empty glass out of her hand and downed the remaining liquid himself before setting it back down on the counter in one move.

"Hey! That was mine!" Robin protested in a laugh, but the mere fact that he didn't mind drinking from the same glass as her left her feeling short of breath, and even warmer on the inside than what could be blamed on the whisky. For a moment she felt overwhelmingly tempted to try catching a taste of it on his lips, to seek out something far more intoxicating, but she quickly forced the thought away. Definitely not a good thought to entertain in his company… especially not in a public place. Damnit. She couldn't even blame it on the alcohol, she had only had two sips just now, and that hadn't even sufficed to leave any noticeable difference with her other than the warmth in her chest and stomach.

"We wouldn't want to get you drunk in public, now, would we?" He raised an eyebrow at her with a not-smirk, and it sent another surge of electricity right from Robin's mind to her very core. Of course he was joking, nobody would be getting drunk tonight, but still… what exactly was he playing at?

The question only grew in extent and relevance when he leaned over the counter –unbothered and unhindered by the bar man– and fished for an unopened bottle of the same drink with an unsurprising elegance before dropping three galleons on the counter and motioning Robin to the door without another word. She frowned at him for a second, but then turned on her heels and made for the exit indeed. He went to place the bottle in her backpack even while she moved, closing it up again just before they stepped outside; a gesture that had become so familiar over the summer that it didn't surprise her anymore, nor require much thought or effort on either end.

"So, are you going to share your plan with me or do you want me to make wild assumptions to humour you?" She finally inquired as they walked along the by now entirely lamplit street. It really had gotten cold without the sun, and she regretted not wearing something warmer, but she also couldn't be bothered to fish a jacket out of her bag now to wear under her robes. She didn't even know for how long she would be outside after all, nor what to expect now.

"It will be dinner time shortly, we should return to the castle." He replied innocently, while pointedly ignoring everything that Robin had obviously meant to ask about. Insufferable idiot…

"And your debt?" She refused to let him off the hook quite so easily, and therefore started with the obvious. "Didn't you say you intended to pay up as soon as possible?"

"I did, and I will. But seeing as you have made a point out of the fact that 'buying you a drink' in this case means spending the evening drinking together with you, at my expense obviously, I would prefer to go about it correctly."

"Correctly as in…?"

"Entirely, or not at all." He said, giving her a teasing smirk that had her biting her bottom lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. He really was getting way too good at playing by her rules, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything other than loving it.

"Perhaps having a bite of dinner would be a good idea though… Isn't that one of those pieces of common wisdom, to have a proper meal before drinking alcohol?" She finally asked, while they made their way through the darkness back towards the castle. "Because I honestly have no intention to get drunk tonight. I have tutoring to do in the morning!"

He let out an amused huff in return, and even through the darkness Robin could see the lingering smirk. "Neither of us is foolish enough to get drunk quite so easily, you do know that. But we certainly should attend dinner indeed. For the meal, and to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to our whereabouts of the day."

"And after dinner?"

"That you will see then." He smirked again, and Robin rolled her eyes in return. Honestly, he was enjoying the secrecy way too much. But she had to admit, the suspense was beyond exciting, and it left her with a giddy feeling and a resurfacing smile she just couldn't get rid of. If he wanted to play games with her, she would play along; she knew that he would only ever play to her advantage after all. Who knew what the evening was yet to bring?

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