#i became more confident in my writing and art this year

[i-have-no-braincells]

‼️‼️HAPPY NEW YEARS‼️‼️

#here’s to a good 2024 #it’s been a rough year but honestly had some really really good moments #i met some of the coolest people and made some of my best friends #i met my boyfriend whom i never thought i’d meet someone so amazing #honestly so grateful for the people in my life right now #and i hope for a long relationship with all my friends and a wonderful future with my wonderful partner #i became more confident in my writing and art this year #which i also owe to my loved ones who support me more than my family ever did #AUGH I JUST LOVE Y’ALL SO MUCH IF UR READING THIS THIS IS ABOUT YOU 🫵 #robin rants

[vauxxy]

SECOND THAT

luke castellan x reader

★ “i’m restless, i’m wrestling with the song that you love, it’s been stuck in my head”

ABOUT - luke castellan is the only one at camp who sees right through your perfect and poised persona; and all he wants is the satisfaction of ruining it.

WARNINGS - smut, mentions of choking, both the reader and luke are TERRIBLE but luke is much worse lol, swearing, written from the perspective of a deranged luke, penetration, only loosely proofread.

A/N- i have NEVER written and posted smut before EVER. like i get close but i never go all out. so… no hate guys 😘 also i feel like this is a bit ooc for luke so just pretend he’s actually insane and terrible guys!!! if you ignore his incoherent ramblings, it’s PWOP sooo… anyways this might be the first and last time i ever write smut who knows

luke castellan is no amateur when it comes to pretending to be something else. growing up, the only thing that mattered to luke was receiving praise or recognition for being ‘great’ or ‘honourable’ or whatever.

when you live your whole life pretending to be a perfect person, you kinda start to believe you really are a perfect person.

and if everyone you meet also believes you are indeed a perfect person, what’s the harm in continuing to pretend?

at the end of the day, both parties gain something. you get the validation and acclaim that you truly deserve, and they get a role model they aspire to at least halfway resemble.

luke is the sweetest guy at camp- everyone loves him. and he deserves it, doesn’t he? he deserves their praise and love and respect. gods, he should be rewarded for pretending to be so admirable for so long. he’s entitled to it.

you, on the other hand? you don’t. you don’t deserve an ounce of the praise luke has worked so hard to receive.

to luke, you’re vermin. behind your polite smiles and sweet words, there’s darkness. there’s an evil lurking within you- he’s sure of it.

he sees it during early morning sparring sessions, watching from the wings while you tactfully dodge every attack that comes your way. and when you eventually falter, he sees how your eyes turn cold and your smile fades.

he sees how you take a shaky breath, brushing yourself off with your bony hands before flashing a toothy grin. he feels nauseous when you extend your arm out to shake the hand of your opponent- because how the fuck can they believe your little act?

your gentle kindness and bashful charisma is so obviously fake. of course, he’s not pissed that you’re acting; everyone at camp is acting to an extent. but you’re going all out, and he can still see through it. what pisses him off, is that nobody else seems to recognise how truly malicious you can be.

maybe it’s because you’re pretty. luke is no stranger to getting special treatment based on his appearance, and neither should you be. maybe that’s the whole basis of your appeal. it seems to be the only thing holding your pathetic little facade together, considering your sloppy acting skills.

if you were ugly everyone would be able to call out your bullshit straight away, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about sharing the spotlight. honestly, the only reason why everyone loves you so much is because half of them want to fuck you, and the other half want your attention or approval- not that it’d be worth anything.

it was the last week of spring, meaning only the year-rounders and a few of the older kids were at camp. you just graduated high school, and arrived at camp early.

of course, you just had to return to camp prettier, taller, more confident, and with a fancy college acceptance letter. maybe you were much smarter than you let on- but it became very apparent that your intelligence wasn’t the reason you got accepted into NYU once he learned what you were studying.

“oh, i’m getting a degree in art history,”

seriously? art history? that’s gotta be the funniest thing luke has ever heard in his entire life.

“really? why art history?” he asks politely, watching your every move as he awaits your dumbass explanation.

you shrug cheerfully, looking around at the few other campers scattered around in a tight-knit circle as they wait for you to tell them about your ‘lovely’ 18th birthday and ‘eventful’ senior year.

“i don’t know, my mum works with a lot of artists, so she said it’d be a good conversation starter,” you say cheerfully, as if it wasn’t the stupidest thing to ever exit your mouth.

luke can’t help but let out a little giggle, before instantly lowering his head to offer some non-verbal apology. but to his surprise, you laugh along. “yeah, i really wanna score a job at the MET or something. i don’t mind either way,”

luke nods politely, letting the conversation continue without interrupting with a snide comment or unsolicited laughter.

he plays along as the conversation continues, pretending he doesn’t want to grab you by the throat and push you against the wall, demanding you to confess. demanding you to tell the fucking truth; that you’re a manipulative sycophant who’s bound to end up in rehab for getting addicted to designer drugs.

why is he the only one that sees you for who you truly are? gods, if he knew any better he might be charmed. you were naturally picturesque- or at least you seemed to be. the way that you were sitting on the grass with your hair draping over your body; you looked gorgeous. but you always look gorgeous, that’s your best quality after all.

of course all of camp half-blood was fooled- you were to pretty and kind to be lying. maybe it was better to let them keep on believing that you were this perfect image of a girl.

but he’d still appreciate the satisfaction of seeing you for who you are- seeing you in your rawest form.

and then suddenly, he saw it. some athena girl asked you if you wanted to go on a run with her later, to which you politely declined. of course, you kept your composure, told her that you had to take a nap, offered her a sympathetic smile and a ‘maybe next time’. but she didn’t see the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as soon as she looked away.

luke was astonished. you really were getting sloppy, huh?

and yet, nobody else saw it. nobody else saw the look of disgust on your face as soon as she finished talking. he was seething- how on earth could everyone be so blind?

luke looks around at the group of people surrounding him, his eyes darting back to you ever 5 or 10 seconds. they all look at you with awe- as if you’re the most precious thing on earth.

fuck that. he was going to put you in your place.

a few hours pass, and it was finally time for everyone to walk back to their cabins.

luke spots you walking alone to your cabin, your face dimly lit by the moon as it shines over the camp. he’s so overwhelmed with anger, he couldn’t fathom caring about the consequences of whatever situation he was about to put himself in.

he quickly catches up to you, meeting your walking pace as he shoots you a friendly smile.

“hey, y/n. you got a minute?” luke asks, still adorning that charming smile. you smile back at him, nodding your head ever so gently, as if it would fall off if you moved it too fast. like a rusty elvis bobble head bought 1976 that resides on the dash of your grandmother’s busted car.

“yeah, why?” you hold your hands behind your back as you walk beside him, slowly approaching your empty cabin. luke shrugs his shoulders. “oh, i just had a little question. mind if we talk in your cabin?” he asks.

you nod, opening the door for luke and letting him walk through. you close the door behind him, before leaning your back against the wall. luke stands in front of you, his cheery demeanour vanishing as he crosses his arms.

“why the fuck are you such a little bitch all the time?”

you furrow your brows, mirroring his posture as you cross your arms defensively. “excuse me?”

luke rolls his eyes, letting out dry laughter as he looks you up and down. “you heard me,” he adds, watching you anxiously begin to pick at your lips with your freshly manicured fingernails.

“do you have a problem with me or something?” your whole body feels tense as you continue picking at your lips, your eyes locked onto his.

“yeah, i do have a problem. i’m tired of your little ‘nice girl’ act. it’s getting fucking annoying,” luke scoffed, taking a step closer towards you. your eyes darken, before shaking away your hostile expression.

“are you sure you wanna do this right now, castellan?”

“is that a threat?”

you pull your fingertips away from your lips, shifting your weight to the other side of your body as you cross your arms once more. you let silence fill the room before finally speaking up.

“listen, luke. everyone pretends to be someone they’re not. you and i just tend to do it more than others-“

luke cuts your off, taking another step forwards. “fuck off, we are not the same.”

you roll your eyes, banging your head against the wall as you groan irritably. “so what? are you gonna go around spreading cheap lies about me now?” you ask tiredly. luke shakes his head, slightly shrugging his shoulders.

“nah.” he replies curtly, his voice blunt and expression vague. “mkay, then what the fuck is your problem?”

luke takes another quick step forward, tightly holding your chin in his hand as he lifts your head to face him. “you’re my fucking problem.”

you let out a dry laugh, staring into his eyes as you attempt to intimidate him. “you’re such a loser.” you whisper, refusing to fight back against the way he’s gripping your face.

he stays silent, biting his lip as he looks over your form. “and you’re a brat.” he retorts.

“are we just going to keep throwing insults back and forth all night, or are you gonna explain why you’re so obsessed with me?” you ask playfully, cupping his face in your hand as an attempt to patronise him.

luke is stumped. to be fair, he is entirely obsessed with you. and he has been for years now. and now he has you cornered, watching your weak attempts at asserting dominance over him.

luke was over it.

suddenly, luke leans in, harshly pressing his lips against yours. you retract your hand from his face, pressing it against the wall as you feel his body moving towards you.

he wraps his other hand around your neck, only gently gripping it as to not alarm you.

luke is surprised by how you sink into his grip, pulling away to see your closed eyes and swollen lips. when you wipe your mouth and look at him with those hauntingly innocent eyes, he’s almost fooled.

you scoff, smirking as you tear away from his grip and take a few steps back. “is that all you wanted?” you say confidently, watching him turn around to watch you carefully pace around the room.

he shakes his head, groaning quietly as he walks over to you once more.

luke purses his lips, trying to suppress any sense of genuine attraction to you. but when his eyes gaze over to your red lips and flushed cheeks, he can’t help but let his mind wander.

“if you’re done, you can leave, castellan.” you say irritably, leaning against your bed frame.

it goes straight to his dick when you call him that, especially when your voice sounds so hoarse and cocky. he feels as though he’s finally accomplished what he’s been yearning to do for years now. he’s seeing the real you.

he couldn’t dare squander this opportunity now.

he pushes you down onto your bed, watching how your hair flows over your newly made bedsheets as your head hits the pillow.

“but you don’t want me to leave, do you?” luke says lowly, hovering over your body as his hand hold your wrists together above your head.

“i don’t care what you do, castellan.”

luke groans, pressing another rough kiss against your lips. you kiss back for whatever reason, and your firsts relax within his grip. it was almost as if you got off on the idea of someone calling out your bullshit. or maybe you got off on the idea of somewhat hating your guts. either way, luke knew you were more than eager to continue.

he let go of your wrists, before biting your bottom lip. your mouth opens slightly, offering entry to his tongue, deepening the kiss.

you hand cups his face, while the other grips his shoulder. after a few moments, he pulls away and begins sucking at the skin of your neck, leaving purple marks on your delicate skin while you let out hoarse whimpers.

his hands begin to fiddle with the fabric of your shirt, causing you to push his body forwards as you position yourself to sit on his lap. you take off your shirt, throwing it away as you run your hands down his back.

luke looks down at your chest, growing more aroused at the sight of your lacy little bra. it’s as if you knew someone was going to see it.

you feel a hardness growing from under his jeans, poking against your upper thigh as you slowly grind against his lap. luke let’s put a low moan, continuing to bury his face in your neck.

“i fucking hate you,” he growls, gripping the sides of your waist with his hands as you move against him.

“don’t care, take off your shirt,” you demand hurriedly, running your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you.

luke rolls his eyes, before taking off his shirt. he quickly presses another series of harsh kissses against your neck, fiddling with the clasp of your bra as you push your chest up against his. you giggle softly at his incompetence, before he finally unhooks it and ravenously pulls it from your chest.

luke pushes your body backwards onto the bed, trailing kisses down from your neck and onto your tits. you let out a quiet moan, before biting down onto your hand in order to stifle the sound. his large hands knead your left breast, while the other grips the area just under your right breast, resting on top of your ribcage.

luke’s hands slowly move downwards, hip thumb tracing circles against the side of your hip as you gently grasp onto his hair. his fingertips gently pull down your shorts, leaving you in only your underwear.

he rubs his thumb over the wet fabric, before tilting his head to look up at you. “pathetic,” he mutters, smirking at your flushed faced. you groan, burying the back of your head further into the pillow as your back arches involuntarily.

luke’s thumb massages your clit from over the soaking fabric, watching you squirm in response. he lets out a dry laugh, before pulling down your panties and tossing them onto the floor.

“luke…” you moan quietly, closing your eyes as your hips jerk into the mattress. his fingers trace your wet folds, before letting his thumb rub circles against your clit and forcing two fingers inside of you.

you whimper before pursing your lips, rolling your head around as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out. he quickens his pace, pressing down harshly against your clit while beginning to suck on the skin of your upper thigh.

luke holds down your hip with his free hand as you begin to squirm.

suddenly, he stops.

you look at him with a confused expression, your face red as he pulls his fingers out. he chuckles at your disappointed face, before taking off his pants and boxers. you stare at his length unashamedly, biting down on your bottom lip.

“so fucking needy.” he says lowly, his voice horse as he softly begins to continue massaging your clit. you moan, feeling your back arch as he positions himself in front of your legs. he forcefully spreads them open as he teases your folds with the tip of his erect member.

you let out a little whine, your voice trembling as you try to move your hips against his length.

luke rolls his eyes at your poor attempts at penetration, before slowly pushing his cock into your entrance. you let out a breathy, high pitched moan, your hands eagerly gripping your bedsheets.

he gradually pushes in the entirety his length, continuing to rub circles into your clit. luke tightly grips your waist as he begins to slowly pull out, before jamming himself back in. you let out a breathy yelp as you body moves with his thrusts.

like continues relentlessly pushing in and out of you, massaging your waist as his thumb gradually increases the speed of its attack on your clit.

you try to steady you breathing, your face flushed as lukewarm continues to deliberately overwhelm your body.

“mm… luke, i’m gonna…” you mutter, your hips jerking upwards. he smiles at you, amused by how blissed out you look taking his cock. “so soon?” he teases, rapidly moving against your body.

you let out a stammering series of whimpers as your back arches upwards, feeing yourself suddenly release. luke grins, continuing to rub circles into your clit as he rides out your orgasm.

luke slowly retracts his thumb, repositioning the hand to gently grip your hip. he begins to slow down his movements, before quickly thrusting into you repetitively. you squirm, the movements of your hips constrained by his grip.

suddenly, he pulls out, releasing onto your stomach. see? he was a gentleman.

luke gazes over at the girl he just reduced to a panting mess as he stands up and puts his clothes back on. he smiles at you as he zips up his jeans, before kneeling besides you as you turn your head to look at him.

“i wont tell anyone how fucking pathetic you are, don’t worry, princess.”

you nod, staring at him as he continues to look at your defenceless body. “such a pretty girl,” he hums, cupping your face in his hand before kissing your forehead.

he reaches over to your discarded underwear and gently pulls them up your legs, the gesture acting somewhat as a peace offering. he takes a step back, simply taking in how endearingly stupid you look.

you slowly sit yourself up, grabbing your camp t shirt and putting it on. “goodnight, luke,” you choke out, your voice hoarse and breathing shallow. he nods, smiling softly as he turns to walk away. “night, princess.”

#luke castellan enemies to lovers #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fic #luke castellan smut #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader smut #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #pjo x reader #pjo tv show

[firewhiskykiss]

I’VE GOT MY EYE ON YOU | DM / YOU

draco’s eyes have been following you everywhere, even to the prefects bathroom. requested by @dolcid <3

a/n • this was so much fun to write. i didn’t know what genre i wanted this to be so it’s a mashup of everything!!!! and all of my current ideas. i could’ve made this sm longer but i decided to keep it short.

theme • angst, fluff, sexual allusions but no explicit smut.

warnings • bullying, nobody likes you, you’ve got no friends, nonconsensual sexual advances, some sexual content, complicated feelings, rejection, angsty stuff, kissy stuff, etc.

word count • 4.8k

petulant. that is how you would describe draco malfoy. not that anyone would bother asking for your opinion. you were of the firm belief that bullies never wholeheartedly meant anything they said, that it usually came from a place of unresolved insecurity. draco malfoy was that sort of bully - the annoying, insincere sort, that probably only did it for some corrupt form of entertainment or to compensate for his dreadful hair. but his style was nevertheless cruel. he had an aptitude for humiliation and throwing insulting pieces of parchment at the back of your head during lessons. he loathed the sight of you. your brother, harry, was not much above malfoy’s bullying, and silently enabled every vile remark that the blonde boy threw at you. despite the unremitting teasing, you noticed that your brother appeared to have lost his tongue every time he bore witness to these events, and failed to stick up for you, despite your own fierce loyalty towards him.

you and harry and been bought up similarly, but in your first year at hogwarts together it transpired that harry was much less affected by the dursley’s abuse than you were. he became a brilliant, albeit cocky, boy with lots of friends and you seemed to drift in the opposite direction. by the time the second year of school had come around, you had no friends and had been thoroughly ostracised by your own twin and his two best friends. it made no difference that you and harry shared the same blood, it was irrelevant to almost every student and teacher in the school with the exception of luna lovegood, a girl who was as equally rejected as you were. you had to admit, even you found her a bit excentric sometimes, but she had a heart of gold and you couldn’t fault her.

it wasn’t uncommon for unkind students to play pranks on the both of you. once, you had found a pair of your shoes tied to the branches of the whomping willow. you would have loved to say that you were brave enough to retrieve them but you and luna had consecutively agreed that your lives were not worth a pair of scruffy, canvas pumps.

today, you had defence against the dark arts with professor snape. you’d learned to expect teasing and paid no heed to it, treating it as indifferent to the rest of your daily routine. you heaved your book up onto the desk and mindlessly inked the date onto your parchment. the fact that malfoy was yet to start flicking black ink at your school shirt was almost concerning, so you mustered up the confidence to glance at him over your shoulder. although you weren’t able to make out his snide remark, it wasn’t hard to infer the nature of his words because his face was screwed up with disgust, as if he’d just sniffed something foul. he usually looked at you like this when he was saying something callous.

as the gaunt teacher strode down the aisle of desks, he jabbed at the fact that your last piece of homework had been smeared with an unrecognised green substance. that had been the fault of malfoy’s goons, you recalled.

“ten points from ravenclaw.” you could have sworn the professor had nearly been snarling at you when he returned your assignment by slapping it onto the desk infront of you.

subdued by his harsh glare, you sunk into your seat hoping it would be enough to hide you from the sniggers of your classmates or, more severely, hoping that you would disappear.

malfoy arrogantly hollered, “nothing new with y/l/n, sir, she’s completely useless.”

“as much as i regret to divulge the truth…” snape droned on, “it seems you leave me no choice but to agree with my pupil, miss y/l/n. i must implore greater care from you next time.”

with a weak smile you looked up at your teacher and apologised, ignoring the eyes that bore anonymously into the back of your head. they were malfoy’s, but you were preoccupying yourself with the wall.

malfoy was an expert in his field. at some point he had gone from being an annoying little boy who only picked on you for your slovenly, second-hand uniform, to becoming one of your greatest anxieties, howbeit intelligent and even better at avoiding reprecussions. at the same time as malfoy had transcended this level, you noticed that he’d also started to outgrow the puppy-fat around his face, broaden around the shoulders and get increasingly taller. dare you say, he was becoming quite handsome. this wasn’t something you conciously thought about, you were too busy removing the hexes from your possessions before bed every night.

his goons, crabbe and goyle, marvelled the ground he walked on, to make matters worse. suppose malfoy didn’t show up for a lesson, you could unfortunately rely on crabbe and goyle to ravage your mood instead.

malfoy enjoyed having you on ropes, his victories came as a breath of fresh air because he was so used to overconfident gryffindors standing their ground. you were easy to break, not that he got any sadistic pleasure from ruining your day. the rationale behind it was that teasing you bore resemblence to a sort of callow game, it was a childish delight. at a push he found it cute when you reddened with embarrassment when he teased you. guilt was only small component of the game, he scarcely felt it. he might’ve felt remorse if he’d ever seen the tears in your eyes, but you never gave him the satisfaction.

you felt something suddenly bounce off of your head and land on your desk, it was a note. the hand it had come from was disciplined, their writing was neat however there wasn’t alot of it, instead an animated portrait of you being dangled in the air by the branches of the whomping willow tenanted most of the space. you furrowed your eyebrows.

“who…”

“surprised you don’t recognise my handwriting by now.” quipped a familiar voice. you shuddered. “never been one to pay attention though have you, y/n? i think that’s why you’re failing most of your classes.”

he wasn’t wrong. but it would be a whole lot easier if you weren’t subject to constant abuse.

“actually-” you began, prompting malfoy’s lips to curl into an unpleasant smirk. he cut you off before you could thoroughly begin.

“maybe if you weren’t so busy concerning yourself with that lunatic friend, you’d have room for school in that tiny brain of yours.” malfoy didn’t care who else he brought down in the process of taunting you. “or is it - remind me, what are they called again? the wrackspurts? total nonsense.”

despite the scorn in his voice, you detected something soft behind his eyes. everything about his expression mocked you, except for the eyes which studied you, to the point that he almost looked fascinated on the contrary to his angry eyebrows. his eyes followed your hand down to the piece of parchment and watched as you tucked it into your pocket.

strange. he thought. he’d expected you to throw it away, but instead you’d kept it on your persons like a souvenir of his cruelty.

in the strictest of confidence, he thought it was cute.

he thought you were cute.

the following day, you had care of magical creatures. you pursued a winding path that was swallowed by the forest on the way to your lesson. the grounds were impeccably preserved. you had always found yourself mesmerised by the school’s unworldly beauty: the dulcet choir of birds in the morning; the unflinching snowdrops; hagrid’s mountain of brilliant, orange pumpkins; the pine trees that shed their needles across the underwood. you were nature’s undeclared admirer.

you had learned to quickly tame your school book this year, by stroking along the binding as if to comfort it, but your fellow classmates were slower to this realisation, which made for a very messy walk to lesson. neville’s book wrestled him to the ground and tore at his uniform, by the time you had all formed a circle around hagrid, neville had been dismissed in order to find a new set of robes because his lay in shreds on the forest floor.

“wouldn’t do you much harm, y/l/n”, malfoy chorused, “weren’t you saying that you needed new uniform?” he said, gesturing to your faded cloak. the soles of your shoes were also coming apart.

“just leave it, malfoy.” you sighed defeatedly, clutching your book to your stomach.

“i’m quite good at fixing shoes, i learned a few things from the cobbler in diagon alley”, he started, lowering his wand to your feet.

to little effect, you began to step back, the other students paying more attention now to malfoy than they were the lesson.

“taranallegra!” he thurst a cloud of purple smoke at your feet, and stepped back to admire his work.

your legs soon become restless, you were hopping from one side to the other, until you were involuntarily dancing infront of the entire class. it wasn’t something you could resist, if you’d strained any harder your legs might have snapped in two. it took hagrid few strides to reach malfoy because of his huge legs. then, the teacher grabbed the boy by the scruff of his collar and growled.

“you undo thats now or i’ll ‘ave yer sent up to dumbledore this instant!”

hagrid’s narrowed eyes pressured malfoy into searching desperately for his wand, but the boy wasn’t successful. whilst you jigged uncomfortably, a small mound of black fur hurried to your side, it was a creature you had been studying as part of your elective, an innocently disposed niffler, whose small paw was wrapped mischievously around malfoy’s wand. the slytherin gulped and the niffler looked up at you with a pair of sinless eyes, they twinkled. if creatures could smile, the niffler would have been smiling. it tapped your shoes, sweetly ending the jig, and scampered behind your legs to where it hid from malfoy’s long, condemning finger that pointed straight at it.

“professor, that thing has stolen my wand!”

“oh shurrup, yer slimey toad.” hagrid groaned and released malfoy’s collar with some force.

the teacher winked at you kindly as he picked the niffler up with two hands, like a small puppy, and pulled malfoy’s wand from it’s grip.

it was difficult to say who had been more embarrassed.

“you’ll pay for that, you pathetic halfblood.” draco sneered, snatching his wand back from hagrid without thanks. his two goons crossed their arms threateningly over their chests and smirked. they were like puppets - funny looking ones with protruding features and round tummies. at this, you laughed and turned your back on malfoy for the rest of the lesson leaving him to stare at the back of your head with a heavy chest.

he felt he’d gone too far. he wasn’t sure why. but that didn’t dissuade him from ensnaring the tree roots around your feet with a dark charm to wind themselves around your ankles.

“MR MALFOY!” bellowed the giant teacher. the niffler ran up to malfoy and mounted his leg, attempting to bite him with it’s blunt teeth. you would’ve found it funny if you weren’t bound to the forest floor. in typical fashion, harry undid the hex - ONLY because he hated malfoy just as much as you did.

actually, you weren’t sure if you hated him. you just hated that he hated you.

weeks had passed now. the sad smile you cast towards hagrid at the end of the lesson was the denouement of malfoy’s bullying. in the weeks that followed, he’d been battling an unfamiliar feeling of guilt. it was foreign to you as well, but you’d been feeling, noticeably, lighter and draco had been observing your newfound happiness.

it was fine. it didn’t bother him. not one bit. he spent most of his time convincing himself that he didn’t miss your… altercations. perhaps he meant interactions? he certainly couldn’t besmirch himself by apologising, that was too far. so he had to ignore you.

until one evening he found his goons picking on you in the library.

you had taken up harry’s reluctant offer to study with him and ron in the library, ron hated the idea, but harry had learned to tolerate you ever since malfoy had stopped ridiculing you. truthfully, you were less of an embarrassment to him this way.

you had left your desk to find the book that you needed, when a cold hand prevented you from pulling out of the shelf.

“whatchu need that for, ay?” you recognised crabbe’s uneducated accent.

“just studying…” you hadn’t missed this. the constant apprehension. perhaps you’d let your guard down too much, you’d stopped excepting it. knowing your luck, malfoy would probably appear soon and start being cruel in some way or another, and crabbe prolonged the minutes by staring down at your cowering figure.

goyle was stood there too, lethargically pressed up against the bookshelf opposite you.

“what should we do with you? draco’d kill us if he thought we were here-“

“-taking the liberty to annoy you ourselves.”

they completed eachother’s sentences like twins.

“bet your brother’s glad to be shot of you for a few-“

“but we could do him a favour and make it a lot longer if you’d like us to.” goyle teased while crabbes hand made it’s way through the folds of your robe.

“no, i don’t think that’s-“ you tried, but crabbed pressed a fat finger against your lips to silence you. you knew that any attempt to escape them would be done in vain, they would have already planned ways to stop you. goyle dipped his chubby mitts into your pocket and took your wand, tucking it into his back pocket. nifflers were an unlikely occurrence in the library. all of your options were exhausted.

“no, please-“ as crabbe’s hand rode up your thigh, goyle went suddenly rigid and slumped onto the floor, your wand rolling out of his pocket onto the stone slabs.

“patrificus totalus!” you’d closed your eyes expecting to be the victim of another immature prank, but you mistaken. the anonymous wizard had missed and the spell rebounded off of the bookshelf, causing crabbe to retreat into his neck fat and turn around.

“malfoy?!” you choked, surprised. he looked at you but he didn’t acknowledge you, in the same way that he picked up your wand and shoved it abruptly into your chest, but refused to say a word.

instead, he gritted at crabbe and poked his wand viciously into the folds of his skin.

“the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at?” at the same time, he kicked goyle’s pleading hand away from him and grimaced at the lump on the floor. “consider yourself lucky, the pair of you.” he threatened, taking crabbe by the collar and tossing him down to the ground .

“pathetic.”

you must’ve accrued some sort of respect from malfoy after the incident with the niffler.

the look that crossed malfoy’s face was not explicitly guilty - until your eyes began to well with tears. after everything, you’d hoped to be immune to everybody’s incessant wickedness but it had somehow come to this. scooping up the book you’d been after, you brushed past the slytherin, whose mouth had fallen open to say something but failed him.

over the days that ensued, you were left to ruminate as to why he’d bothered sticking up for you at all. draco malfoy hated you. there was no means of distracting you from these thoughts, especially now it was the holidays and luna had gone back to spend it with her father.

you were one of few students that stayed at school during the holidays. you and harry. malfoy’s father had insisted he spend his spring break at hogwarts to focus on his studies, he was keen for his son to make a success of himself, if only he knew about his extracurricular activities. in some ways, you preferred it when the other students left to see their families, but your biggest headache still sat across from you at all meal times.

you noticed that draco’s eyes had become less hostile, more watchful and there was no distracting you from that, either. every time you looked up from your plate, his chin was connected to his palm in a manner of deep, undisrupted thought.

his blue eyes followed you through abandoned corridors, up enchanted staircases, though his feet maintained a fixed position.

silly, conflicted draco.

he was beginning to feel things that he wasn’t used to, that provoked him to behave strangely. if you ever confronted him about his actions, he’d justify them by saying that he was simply protecting you, because you were truly incapable of protecting yourself, supposing that no one had slipped veritaserum into his morning pumpkin juice.

malfoy was on his way back to the slytherin common room after quidditch practice, when he’d noticed the sound of footsteps in suspiciously empty cloisters. darkness had stolen the day. it was cold. he whispered “lumos” to his wand, and followed the fading noise. he was also unconsciously trailing after a familiar scent - something that echoed honeysuckle. meanwhile, you were unaware that malfoy was skulking behind you.

you’d borrowed harry’s invisibility cloak to slip into to the prefect’s bathroom late at night. you unlocked the door and hung harry’s cloak on one of the many hooks. when malfoy realised what he’d gotten himself into, he held his breath. he immediately felt like a complete pervert. not only was he unaware that it you was you hidden beneath the cloak, he’d also been unaware that this was the prefects bathroom until he got himself locked inside.

you began to shed your layers, your tired robes of the day, your figure appearing to draco in the moonlight. the moon kissed your skin shamelessly through the stained glass, draco tried to keep his eyes trained on the floor, but your body was an invitation to a temple he’d yet to worship.

just as you submerged yourself in the bubbles, he stepped forward, clearing his throat. he’d since put his light out and dropped his wand on the floor, leaving little light to highlight his features. the looks you gave eachother were a surprisingly comfortable exchange, you felt fine so long as the bubbles covered everything that made you shy.

“i didn’t realise you were following me, draco.” you whispered gently, pulling the bubbles into your breasts, careful not to melt them with the water dripping off of your hands.

“nor did i.” he chuckled breathlessly, eyes blown wide with fascination.

neither of you had yet noticed the snow falling softly from the ceiling, it melted too quickly in the water, for draco’s magic was attuned his feelings of guilt. this also spurred feelings of sadness, hopelessness and desperation - he desperately wanted to be forgiven. around the bath grew tiny, white posies of mistletoe that also harmonised with his feelings. but these feelings were of a different nature, but he lacked the adequate vocabulary.

everything that had been repressed was surfacing in the bathroom.

“why are you here, draco?”

“i’m sorry, it was an accident, i should be goin-“

you extended an arm out of the bubbles and grabbed his ankle.

“but i haven’t said thank you yet.”

“for what?”

“for sticking up for me.”

malfoy stiffened and shrugged, his back still to you. if he looked at you for any longer, he’d turn the bathroom into a garden.

“yeah well, i don’t mind a prank. but they took it too far. i don’t like you any more, i don’t hate you any less.” he lied, causing the flowers to suddenly wilt. you noticed and frowned, cupping your cheeks in contemplation whilst your elbows rested on the side of the bath. the snow from above delicately crowned your head.

you now bathed with an uncomfortable silence, draco couldn’t bare it any longer. he withstood all of his words, all of his beliefs, and turned around quickly, kneeling down and pulling you onto his lips by the face.

he moaned longingly, wetting your mouth with his kiss. you returned the gesture with keen interest, using your arms to hoist yourself out of the water, although you were no longer hidden by the bubbles and your chest was flush against his quidditch uniform, making it wet. you were only far enough out of the water to reveal your top half, the bubbles still hugged your little waist, he loved it.

he pulled back quickly, shaking off his green uniform and leaving it in a careless heap on the floor to be soaked as he jumped into the water. draco was considerably bigger than you, however thinner. he swam to you, pulling your legs around his waist and snogged you up against the wall of the bath, blonde hair how damp and rugged-looking. he had kept his underwear on as courtesy, but it was clear you cared little for chivalry as you lips made their way down his neck.

“i’m sorry, y/n, it was supposed to be a game,” he breathed, slowing your endeavours, and pulled your focus up to his eyes by holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “got out of hand…”

despite all of the heat, and the fact that you requited the feelings inhabiting his cold heart, it wasn’t going to work out with draco the way you hoped it would. you weren’t pleased to submit yourself to a person like that. you deposited these feelings quietly in the water, in the hope they’d disappear down the drain along with all of the bubbles, and petals…

previous discrepancies between you and draco made you reluctant to kiss him any further, you even welcomed thoughts of hating draco, it would have been so much easier to let go of him that way. still, you loosened your grip on his hair and shook your head.

“it would be too foolish.”

he preciously rubbed your cheek with a thumb and disagreed, “then be a fool for me?”, innocently cocking up an eyebrow. he’d never felt so vulnerable, if you rejected him he’d have to drown himself or do something spectacularly awful, he thought.

then, he thought he couldn’t possibly be bargaining with you. he cringed slightly and pulled his hand back too. he had stripped to not only reveal the best of him, but all of the worst too. he considered remorse, and vulnerability to be a few of the worst qualities, that were redeemed by the big package in his underwear. it was childish, his way of thinking. you were accustomed to it.

it would have been nearly too easy to make draco malfoy your friend, let alone your lover.

you were surprised that the sun hadn’t begun to dazzle you through the stained glass mermaid. what felt like epochs, transpired to be 2 hours after you’d returned to your dormitory in a fluffy robe and slippers. that night, despite how tired you felt, you couldn’t sleep soundly with draco malfoy’s kiss weighing on your conscience. and the fact that you’d rejected him.

when the term resumed, you expected your kiss with malfoy to have been forgotten about. rather than teasing you for your tatty uniform, he instead discovered ways to flirt with you to an insufferable extent, they worsened day to day. it was his revenge. because you challenged his disposition. because you lead him astray. because you seduced him with that perfect, perfect body of yours. because you forced him to admit that he didn’t hate you at all. because you -

you.

it was all your fault.

despite however much you pretended to hate him, you couldn’t deny the ghost of his hands nor the way they’d pawed at your breasts and loved you. yearning for him seemed to consume you more than hating him, but deliberately nosey glances from your brother made it difficult to reciprocate anything out-loud during lessons.

one day, he’d leaned over to “borrow your textbook” in potions, his cool breath making contact with your ear as he muttered a sly “thank you” to which you valiantly fought him off with an elbow and snatched the book out of his hands.

you craved him. and bickering with him was but a lame excuse to touch him, because it looked strange any other way. so you both unrelentingly fought the other. you hit his arm, you elbowed him as much as you had to if it meant you could feel close to draco malfoy. because loving him was not an option.

at night it wasn’t your heart, but your pussy that needed him, for so many consecutive nights you clutched your pillow to the warmth between your legs and rocked back and forth, wishing he was there.

perhaps it would be sufficient to fuck eachother and avoid the subject of love all together? you wondered this sometimes. you wondered about things like this when you shouldn’t have been, when you should have been paying attention to professor snape’s arrogant ramblings. perhaps you should try and forget about that night in the bathroom for good? move on? unlikely. these thoughts usually occurred to you in quick succession and overwhelmed you for the rest of the day.

it would’ve been an ordinarily overwhelming day if malfoy hadn’t seized you from within the alcove he’d been hiding it, and covered your mouth with his big hand.

“i must be going crazy, y/n.” he started angrily, “i haven’t thought about anything else.”

his eyes were crazed, his mind was demented, his heart was torn. you fiddled for your wand, even though you knew you wouldn’t need it, but he stopped you anyway and pinned your hands to the stone wall behind your head. he was gripping you so tightly, his knuckles had turned white.

you weren’t religious, but you’d mistaken draco for the devil. clearly, something had been tormenting him all day, he looked disturbed, and it was making you tremble.

“get off me you dog!” you whisper-shouted, above the sound of a party. you assumed slughorn must’ve been throwing one of his do’s, judging by the raucous music and the smell of alcohol lingering on malfoy’s breath. funny, he wasn’t usually invited to events like that.

his robes were smarter than usual. he was always well dressed but they weren’t embroidered with his house crest, and his tie wasn’t green, instead it was all black and stylish, his blonde hair combed neatly either side of a middle part.

“dog? dog?! you-“

“SHUT UP!” you shouted, because you couldn’t put your hand over his mouth.

“you can’t just kiss me the way you did, and expect to forget about it!” he seethed at you, burying his knee between your legs, making you gasp, “my heart talks about nothing else.”

“no one else.” he continued sincerely, silencing his heavy breaths against your forehead, but it was hardly a kiss.

“you must be drunk, draco.” you tried weakly, but in vain, because you were moaning when he kissed you for the second time in your short life.

“who’s the fool now?” he questioned, mumbling against your lips between short kisses, “you have been mine, the whole time i have known you. you never knew it.”

you had no fond memories at hogwarts besides those shared with draco. as he looked upon you with fierce eyes, you came to the uncanny realisation that your entire teenhood had revolved around him in some way or another, fate had been twistedly weaving you together. you hadn’t been intending to tie your soul to his every time you’d fought him off with a glare, or ruined the other’s day. every tear you shed was his, he owned every feeling you’d ever felt in human extremity, all of the smiles he’d watched from across the hall were contingent on his actions, and for too long he’d abused this power.

his hold on you relaxed and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for seconds. his tongue ravaged your pretty mouth, and licked yours. you knew what the kisses would lead to, if you carried on in such a way that had draco panting for breath and lowly whining when you denied him the chance to grind against your hips. your innocence was his, too, to bear and to deconstruct. he did just this, leading you on foot through the halls, before he grew impatient and threw you over his shoulder, handling you through the door of the slytherin common room and throwing you against the leather sofa.

he crawled ontop of you, discarding his black robes on the floor and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, exposing so much more than skin.

“don’t you ever try anything like that again,” he said furiously in reference to your attempt at denying all the obvious feelings you had, and wrapped his hand delicately around your throat.

“i’ve got my eye on you.”

#draco malfoy #draco x you #draco x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fic #draco angst #draco smut #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter fanfiction #slay!

[jeanniebug623]

Hello, internet lovies! 🐞💙 I can’t believe I get to celebrate this! Silent As Shadows has reached 10k hits! This calls for celebratory chibis of these sweet summer children! Spider’s look is inspired by earlier chapters when he was learning how to communicate with Rey’ka (aka Rey’akina) and writing it all down.

🎉🩵🥂

I can’t be more humbled that this story became more than a passing fancy. 🥹

I posted the first chapter on August 29th of last year with no expectations or confidence in my writing/storytelling abilities and am stunned to see how far it has come. The support from the AO3 community has been incredible and Tumblr opened a lot of doors to other opportunities and meeting other writers I’ve only fangirled about! 🤣

From comments from @cyren-myadd first appearing to fan art by @anxiousdreamcore (which has been my PC’s background ever since!) to writing prompts from @lilt78 to unexpectedly meeting people from AO3 here on Tumblr (your names are safe with me but I hope you know who you are! 🤫) to regular reblogs of SAS and other works by @nilnether and others…

Ahh, I could exhaust my character limit thanking people for the inspiration they give!

My silly little story of Spider and a deaf Na’vi OC going through the trials of RDA imprisonment in the missing time of Spider with the recoms is more than I ever imagined. I genuinely believe it would not have made it this far without all the helpful criticisms, comments, and kudos. Thank you for making me feel a part of the Avatar fandom in a most unexpected way!

🕷️💙✨

#atwow #atwow fanfiction #atwow spider #atwow oc #rey'akina #rey'ka #spider quaritch #recom quaritch #avatar recoms #ao3 writer #silent as shadows #atwow fanart #10k #so humbled

[literallyjusttoa]

SUUUNNYYYY

I was reblogging some posts of yours on my sideblog (@apollosgiftofprophecy) and!!!! found!!!!! your art of the Delphic Family!!!!!

YOU SAID YOU HAVE IDEAS AND THOUGHTS ABOUT THEM👀👀👀

ABOUT MY FAV KOIOS AND PHOEBE???? ASTERIA PERSES HECATE LELANTOS AND AURA???

I LUB THEM SO MUCH. PLEASE. PLEASE INDULGE ME. I AM BEGGING YOU. I WILL WRITE FANFICS - I HAVE WROTE FANFICS ABOUT THEM AND I HAVE MORE FANFICS ABOUT THEM

LITERALLY BEGGING YOU TO SPILL THE TEA

OK OK I DON’T KNOW IF I’M AS WELL VERSED IN THIS SIDE OF THE FAMILY AS YOU ARE BUT HERE ARE SOME OF MY LITTLE HC’S

All the cousins are besties, but Artemis is closer to Aura and Apollo is closer to Hecate. Artemis and Aura hunt together all the time, and Apollo researches magic practices a lot (God of knowledge and all that) so the two of them have fun experimenting with mystic stuff.

Asteria, Lelantos, and Leto were very close growing up, but the titanomachy put them all on different paths. They all still care for each other deeply, but scars from the past hold them back from being truly close. Recently, Asteria and Leto have been reconnecting, but Lelantos is still reluctant. 

Also because of the Titanomachy, the three siblings have various levels of strained relationships with their parents. Asteria sees her parents most favorably, and she and Leto are still regularly in contact with their mother. Leto holds a grudge against their father, and Lelantos doesn't speak with either of them. 

All of the third generation (Hecate, Aura, Apollo, Artemis) love their parents so fucking much (minus Zeus, of course) And not only that, they love each other’s parents too!! Hecate thinks Leto is the most kickass coolest aunt she could ever have! Artemis looks up to Perses like nobody's business! If Lelantos didn’t exist, Aura would ask Asteria to adopt her! And of course I have my little post-toa hc that Apollo and Lelantos become v close and wholesome and I love this family. 

Phoibe loves to brag on her kids and grandkids. Specifically, she loves to brag on the twins. See, Phoibe is not a fan of Olympus, or gods, in general. So to her, Apollo and Artemis are the only redeeming qualities of the immortal world today. So whenever something good comes out of Olympus, Phoibe is like “Well of course that was 100% because of my grandchildren. They get it all from their mother you know, nothing from that nasty child of Kronos. Oh how glorious, and you don’t see any of the godly children becoming the rulers of the sun and moon hmmm? Exactly.” 

Also according to her Apollo and Artemis are honorary titans. 

Koios hasn’t been able to interact with his grandchildren much, but he’s just as proud of them as Phoibe is, just in a … less wholesome way. Mans is certain he can convince his grandkids to retake Olympus for titan glory, which is never gonna happen. Whenever he brings it up the rest of the family just smile and nod awkwardly. 

Bonus: A little blurb about Leto I wrote about a month ago

During the titanomachy, Leto stayed on Hyperborea with her mother. She shored the defenses and kept the other titans alive. Leto had no exceptional healing or magical abilities, but she worked tirelessly and kept her heart open. She cared easily and earnestly. She fought to get her brother out of trouble with the gods after the fight ended, though she could not do the same for her parents. For years, it was just the two of them, until Leto met Zeus.

Zeus was everything Leto wanted to be. He was confident and assured, and so kind with her. They sang and danced and spoke about everything, and Leto did what she could to soothe his fears. When she get pregnant, Zeus was overjoyed. However, after the twins were born, he became colder and distant.

Leto was basically abandoned, her children taken to Olympus and her lover rebuffing any attempts at being close. She resolved to make a place for her family to return to, but they came less and less. Now Leto keeps her hearth steady, as she has for her whole life, wishing desperately that someone would stop drifting away, and come back to her. In her solitude and grief, she doesn't even realize that the earth itself will set down roots if she only asked, just as it had before.

#they make me feel things #big big things #trials of apollo #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #delphic family #I love that name for them #sunny speaks #ask #long post

[harlowcomehome]

Fifth Master List!

Minors do not interact!

All writing is original work by @harlowcomehome and is not to be used or posted on any other platform by anyone that is not me. Thank you.

High school sweet hurts series:

Part 1: Backstory as to how you and Jack became high school sweethearts.

Part 2: The breakup.

Part 3: Jack and Jace.

Part 4: Banner Ceremonies & Heartaches.

Summary: You and Jack spent a majority of high school together, but when life started getting serious things changed.

“What’s the best way to cheat on someone?”

Summary: Tiktok trend gone wrong with Jack.

Father’s Day tears and flowers:

Summary: Early Father’s Day fic where Jack gets emotional about all you’ve done.

Hazel and Jade studio days:

Summary: Hazel and Jade talk Jack into letting them come with him to the studio.

Classroom bunnies

Summary: Jack always pretends to be allergic to animals simply because he doesn’t want any, that finally backfires.

Bentleys and babies

Summary: Father’s Day fic where you gift Jack something special.

Remember when?

Summary: Jack and Y/N have a date night at home to themselves and start reminiscing. (Fluffy!!)

Rage room meltdowns

Summary: Jack is having a hard time dealing with his emotions so you take him to a “rage room” to blow off steam.

Gonzaga Jeremy

Summary: Based off Jacks character in WMCJ, this fic is about Jeremy and his torn ACLS.

Blue eyes

Summary: Jade and Jack are spending some time alone when Jade realizes Jack has blue eyes and she doesn’t.

Your best guy friend:

Summary: Your best guy friend has been in love with you for years but you never noticed it until Jack pointed it out. Now your friendship is in a compromising position.

Stargazing and reassurance:

Summary: Jack is having an off night and can’t sleep so you surprise him with a gift you had been saving.

Mommy & Jade day:

Summary: Jack chaperones Hazels end of the year class trip leaving you and Jade to spend the day together.

Sleep away camp:

Summary: Hazel goes to sleep away came and y/n has a business trip to attend leaving Jade and Jack alone.

You’re not that funny:

Summary: You go with Jack to a music video shoot and you get jealous about how one of the models is acting around Jack.

In my head:

Summary: You’re feeling insecure and Jack reassures you not to.

Roller skate date:

Summary: Fluff piece about roller skating with Jack.

School supply shopping:

Summary: Jack goes school shopping with you for both of the girls.

Jaded

Summary: Your insecurities make you push Jack away but he’s willing to be patient with you.

Arts and concerts:

Summary: Hazel and Jade make some bracelets for Jack and to trade at his NPLH concert.

Coffee and rainy days:

Summary: You and Jack get rained out while you’re walking around on a mini vacation.

Beverly Hills & Basketball:

Summary: (Based off Jacks character in WMCJ.) Jeremy and you both come from very different backgrounds but make it work.

Divorce and take out menus:

Summary: One of Hazels friends is dealing with the split of her parents making Hazel worried about yours and Jacks future.

Daddy-daughter dates:

Summary: School is starting in a few days and Jack takes the opportunity to spend the day alone with Hazel and Jade.

Wigs and secret dates:

Summary: Jack had been stressed about work lately so you plan a day full of dates for the two of you, going out in disguise.

You deserve better:

Summary: Jack is constantly calling you to confide in you about his girlfriend who isn’t very nice to him, he knows you have feelings for him but can’t stop himself.

Baby that’s a Kentucky accent:

Summary: Jack is following you around doing an over exaggerated version of his accent to make you giggle. Fluff piece! 

Mullet concept:

Summary: Jack debuted a new hairstyle IRL, so I wrote a small blurb about it.

Lies and football games:

Summary: You planned a date night for you and Jack but a football game became more important, making Jack fake an illness to get out of plans with you.

Long distance decisions:

Summary: You and Jack have been dating long distance for a while now and a decision has to be made.

The wedding guest:

Summary: You meet Jack at a wedding and the two of you hit it off.

Silent treatment with Jade Harlow:

Summary: Jade gets upset with Jack and gives him the silent treatment.

Pumpkin spice and everything nice:

Summary: Reader is pregnant and obsessed with pumpkin flavored items so Jack and her go shopping.

Thanksgiving on the road:

Summary: A bad snowstorm prohibits, you and Jack from going home for Thanksgiving, so you have a makeshift Thanksgiving at the hotel.

Something about Waffle House:

Summary: Jack can’t sleep and is feeling anxious about NPLH so you have a breakfast date to get his mind off things.

You’re home to me:

Summary: You and Jack have a relaxing night after a long day. (Fluffy!!)

Gas station snacks:

Summary: Hazel and Jade go inside the gas station with you to get some snacks before the family of four go on a road trip.

Hazel and Jade’s damn cat:

Summary: Jade has wanted a cat for a long time and Jack finally applies the pressure when Urbans friends cat needs to be rehomed.

Christmas card mix ups:

Summary: Jack forgets about your planned Christmas card photo shoot.

Can’t sleep:

Summary: Jack is at home with the two girls while you’re away and when Jade can’t sleep she gets into the kitchen and makes a mess.

Wrapping your room:

Summary: Hazel sees a TikTok prank online that she wants to do to Jack.

Salt dough ornaments:

Summary: You make some ornaments for Christmas with your nine month old Hazel.

So sick of love songs:

Summary: A fic based off the song “So sick” by Ne-yo.

A modern Cinderella story:

Summary: You meet Jack on NYE and hit it off.

Made for me:

Summary: A fic based off the song “Made for me” by Muni Long.

Chores and soap bubbles:

Summary: You are overwhelmed and exhausted from always having to do the house chores, Jack has been distracted lately and Hazel and Jade try to help. 

Love somebody like you:

Summary: Jack is recently divorced, and you’ve been his shoulder to lean on. Does it become too much?

Dollhouses & haircuts:

Summary: Jack fall asleep while he was supposed to be watching Jade. She ended up cutting a piece of his hair, hence how the mullet was born. 

PG and Paper Rings:

Summary: Hazel borrows Jacks PG ring and it gets stolen from her at school.

Morning workouts:

Summary: Jack comes homes form a workout and you can’t keep your eyes or hands off him.

Grammy award-winning:

Summary: You and Jack skip the Grammys and talk about future plans. (Very short fic.)

Vintage Celine and birthday showers:

Summary: Celebrating your birthday with Jack and getting some nice gifts too!

Can’t keep loving you from a distance:

Summary: Friends -> Lovers! You and Jack hadn’t each other in a while and with some help from your friends maybe things change between the two of you….

Runaway husband:

Part two

Summary: Jack gets cold feet on your wedding day but that’s not the last you’ll see of him…(angst!)

Burnt out sleepovers:

Summary: You’re overwhelmed with the kids so Jack steps in to host a sleepover.

Love is blind x Louisville:

Summary: Jack goes on the Netflix show love is blind.

Birthday cakes & vacations:

Summary: You and your daughters make Jacks birthday extra special.

CALYPSO:

Summary: Based off Bryson Tillers song Calypso. (Smut)

#Harlowcomehome #Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader

[sillymints]

guys, this is my persuasive speech for ian flynn (which i had to do in english class)

Some people only see the violence in video games. Some people view it as a waste of time and intelligence. And some people only look at their comics as a bed example of storytelling through art. They are just saying the negatives. Video games are a major source of entertainment, offering a diverse range of experiences. But, most importantly, video games opens up a world of possibilities for narrative and a unique powerful medium for messages, both simple and emotional. Some even life is changing, thanks to the writers behind the screens. Although it is not clear, if we take a deep dive, there are some role models who admire and inspire many to follow their same footsteps to write an amazing masterpiece through words, to overcome obstacles and have the passion for everything video game. Let us welcome Ian Flynn.

Without characters, who is going to drive the plot? Ian Flynn is a freelance writer and a concept artist for all forms of media (mostly video games and comics) but is mostly known for writing Sonic the Hedgehog. From playing on the Sega Genisis as a kid to submitting scripts, he knows all major and minor characters by heart. He has the ability to create original and fun characters (examples include Dr. Starline, Tangle, Whisper, Surge and Kit) as well as fixing familiar faces to make them interesting and likeable for the targeted audience. Let us take an example, Miles “Tails” Prower (Sonic’s sidekick, close friend, and a tech genius). On both Sonic Adventure 1 and 2, Tails was written exceptionally well in his character arc as he learnt to believe in himself and step out of his comfort zone. He thrived from once an anxious and lonely kid to a confident and determined hero. Yet, in the 2010’s, new writers were hired without any knowledge of these characters which ruined everything that made Sonic… well Sonic! And poor Tails had it the hardest. His character development was inconsistent, his only usefulness was his inventions and always stood by the sidelines (like Sonic Lost World and Sonic Forces). Fortunately, James Ian Flynn (or “that Sonic guy”) changed things for the better. In Sonic Frontiers, his character was renewed yet still acknowledge his past mistakes and now is on his way to find his clarity. Characterization from Ian Flynn’s perspective is vital for the narrative and wanted many more to understand the importance, including video games. This is because if a video game has engaging characters, the player can be fully immersed and entertained during gaming. And I even agree with his statement. Characters, even fictional ones, can change someone’s life, like mine. Tails made me realize that I needed to get out of my comfort zone and believe in myself that I can do anything. Plus, what is funnier is that an eight-year-old fox has 300IQ and being the smartest one in the group (aka Tails).

Get your eyes peeled and make sure you are sitting up straighter because this next sentence is going to blow your mind! …Ian Flynn was actually a really bad writer. The hardest challenge was not actually his job but about getting the job. He first applied to Archie Comics in late 2001 but, it was a ‘laughable bad attempt’ as he describes in his website, The BumbleKing. The script were rough and embarrassing in retrospect; material thrown together with little to no thought behind the creation and it was not self-addressed. But he had hope and was determined. In 2003, he made a truly focused attempt, getting an English degree and his scripts improved drastically. During this time, the Archie Comics team were shifting and replacing their roles including their editors, artists, and writers so, he was lucky enough to get a spot in 2004. Quickly, he became one of the most talented members of the team, submitting scripts in 2005 and by March 2006, he was the head writer for the Sonic Archie Comics. Though his hardships was not insane or dramatic, it was life-changing since it shifted his perspective. Resilience and patience is key to being a writer.

2010’s was the worst decade for Sonic the Hedgehog as fans were left unsatisfied due to the poorly written characterization (as mentioned earlier) bland storyline and “trying to be funny” dialogue. Once known as a hedgehog for a like of adventures, a cool chill back attitude and the heart of a hero was suddenly demolished, and it is glory ripped into pieces. There was no hope left for this famous blue icon, no idea how to change it from junk to a wonderful masterpiece again. Until Sonic IDW comics. Sadly, Archie Comics was out of business in 2017 due to lawsuits (and had to cancel Issue 290 for the Sonic Archie Comics, which still holds the record of the longest video game comic series) so, where was “that Sonic guy” going to go next? Well, of course he had to take part in the Sonic IDW comics! Yet, since this took place after Sonic Forces (the worst Sonic game due to the storyline by reviews), he had only one goal. To revive the franchise. Issue after issue, fans eyes widened as Sonic was beginning to take back his place, especially since he became the head writer on April 9, 2018. New and old characters were now cool and interesting, storylines hooked the readers, especially in their intense situations and professionally written dialogue tied all together. I even fell in love with the comics when I first got into fandom. The passion for the fastest thing alive was alive. And as Sonic Frontiers was released on the 8th of November 2022, everyone joined hands with Ian Flynn for flawlessly saving the fandom. And all it took was dedication and passion. Let us draw it all back together. Video games is an escape to brilliant storytelling and characters and can actually benefit you. The ability to change points of view in games has changed everything. And a lot of people are actually heavily inspired by people like Ian Flynn to join the gaming industry to write a script that can positively impact everyone and everything around. With passion, determination, hope, resilience, patience, talent and a bit of good luck, game writers make themselves fairly good role models for future generations. Ian Flynn is a good role model. And so can you. Because if tv shows, movies, novels, why cannot video games and their comics do the same? That is your chance and your time to show the world what video games can do. What you can do. Because everyone can be just like Ian Flynn. I even tried to write a comic about Sonic the Hedgehog, and it is not easy as what meets the eye. But again, and again I tried and completed a short, simple yet cool comic and now banging my head on the desk, paying respect for this guy’s hard work. So, if you cannot do anything else… play Sonic the Hedgehog. I am begging you.

:)

#sonic the hedgehog #tails #sonic #tails the fox #ian flynn #sth #shitpost #funny shit #school #lol #haha #lolz

[eemamminy-art]

I've been sitting on a fic that I finally finished after slowly picking at it for the last two years.

I feel like people don't really talk about this anxiety around sharing things-- I mean, there is always that anxiety of like, is it good, will people like it, stuff like that, but I guess for me the anxiety's a little different. Don't get me wrong I do have the other anxiety too, I'm very self critical and I do not have confidence in my writing in the same way that I (occasionally) have confidence in my art.

But the thing that's got me in a chokehold is well, that fanfic is complicated for me.

I barely read any fic at all. I barely write either, but I think a lot of writers will only put out a couple of things in a year anyway, but they're at least reading things during that time.

I've never been much for reading. Well, maybe when I was very young and just learning to read, but at some point it became really difficult for me. I don't have any official diagnosis and I always got good grades so there was never any cause to look into it, but reading has always been such an ordeal for me. I'll read a page and get so distracted in outside noises or my own thoughts that I have no idea what I just read. I have to concentrate really deeply for anything to sink in, create a voice in my head to read it to me, and even that sometimes doesn't work and I'm really slow. I use a screen reader and that does help but it still takes immense concentration for me.

Then there's just well, my pickiness. If it's boring or out of character, well that just makes it all the more difficult to focus. Too long and the screen reader's voice begins to drone and I tune it out and my thoughts wander away even as I scan the words going by. If it's not tagged well and I run into my trigger (which is often not tagged for at all) then I not only feel like I wasted my time but also am upset and lingering on the trigger for sometimes hours, sometimes days.

So then, what to do when I post a fic? What justification is there for anyone to bother with mine when I won't bother with theirs? Whether my reasons are good enough or not, whether it's easier for them to read than it is for me, whether you say fandom is give and take or not, I feel like I'm not upholding my end of the deal. You read mine, I read yours. Except I don't, other than maybe a handful of things each year.

And I know it's a problem. I know it makes people feel slighted. It's the same way I feel slighted when I try to engage with other artists and they don't give me the time of day or share my art in return, and then I begin to resent them for the rejection. I'm certain the same thing happens to me with fanfic, that I have all these reasons for why I rarely read fic, and then when I read the 2 or 3 fics that I can manage each year, it's a slap in the face to those who weren't among those rare few.

So I feel held back by it. I'm so bad at responding to ao3 comments too because I feel guilt about it, about not participating in the way everyone else does. So I was excited to finally think of an ending to this fic only to just... do nothing with it.

I have to wonder if anyone else experiences this? Or something similar? Or knows at all what I mean?

#personal #writing stuff #fandom stuff #ok to reblog #I'm just kind of rambling I suppose but I think about this whenever it comes to fic #it's such a difficult subject for me #idk what to do with myself really #when I try to read more I get burnt out immediately and it's not fun

[didididraws]

my tablet is currently halfway across the country for repairs (my brother's the most tech-savvy in my family and asking him to take a look at it was cheaper than taking it to a shop) so i haven't been able to draw lately. i've made a bunch of traditional sketches in the meantime, but none of them are presentable enough to post here, so i decided to take a trip down memory lane and fill out one of foxorian's influence maps!

below the cut are the names of the artists featured here, as well as a little bit of director's commentary on how they've influenced me :]

yugo limbo (website, tumblr, twitter) - some time last year, i realized something profoundly unnerving: i actually... don't like the art in smile for me's original release all that much? that's not to say it's bad, just that there isn't a whole lot about it outside of maybe its architecture that stands out to me. which is REALLY WEIRD, considering i wrote a whole retrospective about how much this game means to me. art-wise, however, it was only after smile for me's release that yugo limbo's art evolved in a way that really resonated with me; i love how textured everything is, i love the way they simplify clothing folds and the way that skin wrinkles around the joints, i love their love for puppets; all of those things ended up worming their way into my art style and tastes one way or another, and i couldn't be happier!! it didn't feel right to leave smile for me out of the equation entirely, though, so i chose a piece that was both related to that game and that i felt reflected a lot of what i love about yugo's more recent art.

echobsilly (twitter, tumblr) - oh god, speaking of yugo limbo - god. i fucking love echo's art so much i have no idea how to even do it justice in writing. like many people i first found him through his smile for me/limbolane fanart and animations - and those are some of his best work, don't get me wrong, but i really wanted to include one of his original designs to make a point that he's just fuckin great at art in general. character design, facial expressions, body language, composition, LIGHTING... he makes it all just. so so so gorgeous. i always liked "painterly" art styles for lack of a better word, but i think his art is what first pushed me to embrace that more in my digital art. i also like how he talks about dr. habit like he's his dead wife. i'm very proud to call him a friend these days :]

japhers (tumblr, twitter, instagram) - i first found japhers' art in high school and he very quickly became a HUUUUUGE influence on my taste in character and costume design. one of the big reasons i never fully bought into the idea that men's fashion is inherently harder to design is bc so much of his art is already dedicated to exploring fashion Without the restrictions of a gender binary in place which is to say that he's really good at drawing buff dudes in frilly outfits. i also think he gave me more confidence to draw more intricate costumes without having to worry about super dainty and clean lineart, bc a lot of his art looks like it's kinda been carved/rendered out of sketches, and it is Gorgeous.

moe suppe (website, tumblr, cohost) - another artist i found in high school, albeit originally from a long-gone instagram account. his art is what kickstarted my desire to have some Roughness in my art, some Texture. it may not have stuck to my lineart, but it Definitely stuck to my rendering. it helped that i was going through a pretty big angel/demon phase at the time, which meant i was pretty immediately drawn in by his delightfully weird worldbuilding. i should probably read fear not now that it's an actual serial...

val wise (website, itch.io, twitter, instagram) - a more recent influence, but a pretty significant one nonetheless. i featured the cover of délicatesse here because it was the first thing from him that i had ever read, but in general his grasp on the human body really blows me away given how deceptively simple his style looks at first glance, especially his faces. the way fat and hair sits on her bodies, and how much it varies from character to character... it's beautiful without being So glamorous that it feels untouchable. his costume design is also great. i recommend his comics for low fantasy/ursula k. le guin fans who are Dying to see more fat characters in leading roles. i also just found out that i am of two hearts is free on itch.io, so i'll be treating myself to that over spring break.

partycoffin (tumblr, twitter) - if you have known me for any amount of time at all then this should not come as a surprise to you. i actually wasn't going to include partycoffin in this map at first, because while welcome home has inspired me in Many creative pursuits, i didn't think visual art was one of them? i definitely picked up some of clown's love for dramatic lighting and thinner lines with just a smidge of well-placed hatching subconsciously, though.

ryoko kui - probably the most recent artist featured here? anyways i have a confession to make: i have yet to read dungeon meshi. i just know that when i saw a post compiling a bunch of ryoko kui's sketches from her daydream hour series, i was so overwhelmed with this feeling of, like… "oh, yeah, these capture almost everything i love about women as flesh and blood people. when i draw women this is the kind of beauty that i want people to see in them." of course, ryoko kui is a great character designer in general, but something about her women specifically really speak to me. the earthier color palettes and rendering also do a lot to endear her art to me.

shuzo oshimi - specifically his art in blood on the tracks. something that really stood out to me in that series was whenever the shadows would get really intense, and you'd get these big blocks of black with just the faintest bit of hatching to soften out some of their edges. it was always very effective in creating this sense of claustrophobia. i really want to keep incorporating that in my more intense pieces!

person918x (tumblr, instagram) - i don't work with 3d art often and i don't see myself doing so any time soon, but the composition of person918x's pieces is something i take a lot of inspiration of. i also love his sequential art, as someone who does a lot of dream journaling it's sick to see the exact Vibe of a dream be put to (digital) canvas. i also firmly believe that he's one of the only people out there who knows what he's doing when it comes to using generative AI in art.

oops i made this list too long so now i have to put the last two artists in a new block.

10. meatgiri (twitter, instagram) - definitely the artist i've known about the longest out of this selection. i think i've been following her since…. oh god. since i was in middle school. way before she was meatgiri, even. i think her influence probably shows up the least in my art, but there are definitely some characteristics that stuck with me for a very long time (the lil block of black accompanied by one or two lines for shading on the neck, the looser lineart making it really easy to incorporate soft curves and sharp edges, the Eyes, etc etc.) i chose this drawing of her oc juniper bc i thought it was both reflective of her current art And a good embodiment of a lot of things i wanted to emulate from her art as a young'un.

11. dragan bibin (website, instagram) - specifically his 'deimos' series. much like with person918x, it's his compositions that really stand out to me the most, and you probably know by now that i'm a sucker for high contrast. i find it interesting though that he uses high contrast to obscure more than he does to highlight... helps a lot with giving the deimos paintings that air of Quiet Unease. another thing i want to incorporate in my horror-adjacent art! manmade environments gone wrong!

#not art #influence map #artists on tumblr #yugo limbo #echobsilly #japhers #moe suppe #val wise #partycoffin #ryoko kui #shuzo oshimi #person918x #meatgiri #dragan bibin

[enhastolemyheart]

𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 | PARK JAY

pairing. Jay x reader

genre. strangers to lovers

synopsis. if the love is real, you will always find each other again.

word count. 600+

warning(s). fluff, a lil angst, a happy ending, proofread but lmk if any mistakes

a/n. hey!! im finally back with a fic! my writers block got the best of me and I was able finally write something. I also wanted to write smth on Jay. this isn't my best work but it was enough to get rid off my block. I will try and write more as time goes. thank you so much for being patient. requests are open! enjoy reading!!

Chapter 1: The Meeting

You stood at the bustling café, your gaze fixed on the pages of your book. Lost in the world of words, savoring the tranquility it offered. Across the room, a young man named Jay entered with a confident stride. His eyes scanned the crowd until they met yours, and in that moment, their hearts skipped a beat. The anticipation to talk to each other only grew more as the time passed.

Chapter 2: Serendipitous Encounters

Days turned into weeks, and chance encounters transformed into planned meetings. You and Jay discovered a shared love for art, music, and adventure. You both spent hours strolling through art galleries, attending live performances, and exploring hidden gems of their city.

Your guys' conversations flowed effortlessly, as if you had known each other for a lifetime. Every word exchanged painted vivid images in their minds, connecting their souls in a tapestry of emotions.

Chapter 3: A Love Blossoms

Yours and Jay's love for each other only grew stronger with each passing day. Your hearts intertwined, and they reveled in the beauty of their connection. Together, they embarked on countless adventures, creating memories that would forever be etched in their hearts.

They danced under the moonlit sky, the soft music playing in the background like a symphony composed just for them. hands delicately placed on your waist while yours were around his shoulders, swaying side to side to the sweet melody.

They hiked to breathtaking viewpoints, their eyes capturing the splendor of nature as their souls soared high.

Chapter 4: Trials and Triumphs

But life is not always a smooth sail. Jay and you faced their fair share of challenges. They encountered storms that tested their love, yet their commitment to each other remained unyielding.

Through their hardships, they discovered the strength of their bond. They held each other through tearful nights, reassuring one another that brighter days lay ahead. Their love became a sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of the world.

Chapter 5: The Distance

As fate would have it, circumstances forced you and Jay to be apart. Jobs in different cities, obligations pulling them in opposite directions. The distance was painful, their longing palpable.

But distance couldn't extinguish the flame that burned within your both hearts. They wrote letters, pouring their deepest thoughts onto paper, bridging the gap between them. Their words became their lifeline, keeping their love alive despite the miles that separated them.

Chapter 6: Reunion

After what felt like an eternity, the day of reunion arrived. Yours and Jay's hearts raced as they saw each other at the airport. In that moment, the world faded away, and they were the only two souls in existence.

They embraced fiercely, tears of joy streaming down their faces. The longing they had endured dissolved into a profound gratitude for the love they had fought for. Their reunion was a testament to the power of their love.

Chapter 7: Forevermore

Jay and you knew your love was meant to last. You embarked on a new chapter of their lives, building a future togethe, moved in together, intertwining their lives in a home filled with love and laughter.

Their love story became an inspiration to those around them, a reminder that true love endures. They grew old together, their hands still finding solace in each other's warmth. With every passing year, their love deepened, like a river flowing steadily and eternally.

Yours and Jay's love story continued to resonate through the ages. Their love was a testament to the power of connection, of two souls finding solace in one another. Their legacy lived on, whispered in the hearts of those who believed in the enduring power of love.

And as time spun its web, new lovers would walk hand in hand, inspired by the tale of Jay and Y/n, knowing that true love would.

a/n. OMG thank you so much for reading!! Hopefully it was good! lmk if you have any idea you'd like to share! requests are open and so is the taglist! and I'll see you in the next one!

perm taglist: @jak-ey , @snoowhore , @hsgwrld , @seungiesluv , @1-800shutthefuckup

© ENHASTOLEMYHEART ON TUMBLR, 2023 — do not translate, copy, modify, or repost any of my works as your own in any platform or form of use.

#<enhastolemyheart3 #enhypen headcanons #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #enhypen jay #jay enhypen #park jay #park jeongseong #lee heeseung #jake sim #sunghoon

[eye-of-enigmatic-thought]

[Note: Image description is in the alt text of the images due to its length. Let me know if writing them down on the post's description is more preferred!]

Here is Wilt!! My Flower Kid for Smile For Me with a new and improved art ref! I still love this tall goober even if I've never done much with them, lets hope that changes seeing my hyperfixation for Smile For Me STILL isn't over!!

Additional info and their backstory under the cut!

In the middle of nowhere in the US, there was a old reclusive farmer. This farmer took care of everything mostly on his own and didn't allow many people to come onto his property, the reasons varied, but part of it had to do with how he had Shadow abilities that he'd use to 'possess' straw bodies to help him in his work, also part of how he was able to care for his farm on his own as well.

The farmer however, would grow especially attached to a scarecrow he constructed to ward away any pesky birds from his crops. This attachment would prove to be so great, that the shadows from the Farmer would separate and make the scarecrow into their own person, who the Farmer would name 'Wilt' for their droopy appearance and tendency to care for even the most wilted plants.

The farmer and Wilt had a father-child bond, and he took care of them and taught them everything he knew. However even if the farmer tried his best, he was still a recluse and didnt dare step away from his farm, and so neither did Wilt, leading to them to be very unsocialised, things became worse when the Farmer eventually passed from his old age, leaving Wilt alone for many years until when in their early 20s, they finally decided the loneliness was too great for them to bear, and decided to leave it for the nearby town their father would distribute their crops to.

Wilt had a incredibly hard time adjusting to town life, they were not only incredibly clumsy and would get into a lot of accidents, but their social inability made many find them unsettling to be around. Even now surrounded by other people, Wilt was still lonely, and for a while mostly spent time exploring the streets in hopes for someone to interact with, even if briefly.

Eventually, they were found by a friendly couple that ran a flower shop and needed a helping hand. When they saw Wilt's ability to care for flowers that had even wilted greatly, they decided to take them in and help them settle in. Whilst Wilt now had a occupation and friends in the shop owners, they still felt lonely from how many customers would still find them offputting and how the shop owners had a lot of difficulty understanding them. Even now, they were still unhappy.

Eventually, some mysterious fliers would appear around town, talking about a retreat known as the Habitat where sad people go to fix their frowns. Intrigued and feeling that they could use something to fix their frown, Wilt decided to embark to the mysterious Habitat...

Wilt, personality wise, is a very empathetic and kindhearted scarecrow, always wanting to help others and nurse unhealthy plants back to health. Their empathy can be so strong that the thought of stepping on flowers makes them shriek in emotional pain.

Unfortunately Wilt has incredibly poor social skills due to only ever knowing their farmer father, who was also very socially inept. They barely talk and often can only make wheezing sounds or say short one syllabel words at a time due to anxiety. However, this anxiety is a tad eased when Wilt talks with their little crow puppet Root, which was made to initially tell jokes to make their father smile and laugh, and so ends up being more confident (and even sassy) with it.

Despite this overall anxiety, Wilt has at times a mischevious side, and has the habit of sometimes standing completely still like a regular scarecrow before jumping at someone to surprise them as a joke, though they don't always understand why someone wouldn't laugh back at them!

#my art #digital art #krita #smile for me #smile for me game #flower kid #smile for me oc #character design #character reference #character sheet #oc #wilt the flower kid #s4m oc #scarecrow #crow #farmer oc #spooky

[misrisblog]

"Unveiling the Chatterbox: Understanding 'She Speaks A Lot'"

"Yaar ye kiitna bolti hai?"

I've often heard this question from friends, family, and even strangers who barely know me. But has that ever stopped me from speaking? Nope. You might be thinking it's rude of me to disregard a genuine concern about my talkative nature. However, I see it as a situational comment.

Recently, I was engaged in a serious conversation with someone new on my college campus. We were discussing the typical student existential crises, and, being myself, I became deeply invested in the conversation. I spoke at length, delving into my thoughts and wanting the person to know that I genuinely heard and understood them. Then, a fellow student politely asked me to lower my voice. I understood where they were coming from; I tend to speak quickly and loudly. So, I toned it down to accommodate their request.

There have been other instances as well, like at a family gathering where I shared my thoughts during an adult discussion. I couldn't help but overhear the exasperated voice of a well-meaning relative saying, "How much does she talk?" In such situations, I feel the person is wrong unless I've said something inappropriate or immature.

These two incidents are just a couple of examples of how people have tried to rein in my speech. Let me share with you the power of speech I inherited from my extremely talented father. He was once a radio jockey and later pursued a career in the expressive world of the corporate sector. During my schooling, he encouraged me to express my thoughts freely. However, right before college, he imparted a piece of advice that he had learned the hard way and continues to learn: speak less and choose when to speak wisely.

During my first year of undergrad, I might not have fully heeded this advice, but as I gained more experience, I understood the importance of knowing when and where to speak. Not everyone will share my sense of humor or interpret remarks in the same way I do. My journey of mastering the art of speaking has been ongoing, and I doubt it will ever truly end.

I'm the type of person who, when sad or angry, might go silent for a while. Those close to me become concerned about my lack of speech during those times, while those less familiar with me see it as a respite from my sometimes overwhelming conversations. I'm the kind of person who fills silence or voids with speech. Just as some people eat to fill the void, I speak. I'm awkward, what can I say? I can't sit still, constantly fearing that others might be quietly judging me or getting bored. I often dislike silence, but the newly discovered ambivert in me seeks silence when I'm with people who share that comfortable silence.

As an inner romantic who's currently single, I long for someone who can tolerate my nonsense, random quips, facts, old memories, and discussions ranging from world politics to pop culture moments. I desire someone who can walk with me silently during our late-night strolls. Returning from my dreamland, what I'm trying to convey is that the characters I relate to are often as talkative as me, like Geet from "Jab We Met" or Kitty from "That '70s Show." However, lately, I've started to see myself in observant yet talkative characters like Aisha from "Wake Up Sid" or Phil Dunphy from "Modern Family."

I'm the type of writer whose thoughts are all over the place, but in my defense, my writing serves as a way to channel my talkativeness onto paper (or Instagram captions). I believe I've begun to learn when to speak in class and whom to share my thoughts with. But I still occasionally reveal my crazy side in front of those who make me feel comfortable. This can sometimes land me in trouble, but that's what this journey is all about, right? The process will guide me towards the right balance of enthusiasm and confidence in my speech, knowing when and where to express myself.

Life will continue to teach me how to proceed, but for now, I'm going to keep learning, speaking, making mistakes, and repeating. To conclude, do you think you talk too much or too little?

#speaking #desi writers #writers on tumblr #jab we met #wake up sid #theartofspeaking #speak now #being desi #desi tag #desi tumblr

[sxftmusings]

when he sees me

summary: you have always been scared of the idea of marriage, but that all changes when you meet benedict

warnings/tags: fem!reader, brief mentions of abuse (nothing happens to reader i promise!!)

You have heard many stories of the horrors of marriage, how husbands would control their wives, while they have the freedoms to cheat on them with mistresses, and some go as far as to beat their wives. You never had the best model of marriage growing up, your parents were always fighting and were never affectionate, only ever being close in the public eye to maintain their image.

You grew up to believe true love wasn’t real, it was just something written in romance novels, and after hearing of your friend's cruel marriages, you were convinced love doesn’t exist.

You swore to yourself you would never get married, not wanting to live an unhappy life under someone’s authority and having the limited freedom you had as a woman taken away from you. But your life took a turn when you met Benedict.

You first met Benedict at a ball. You had successfully avoided any man that wanted to dance with you that night, and you were trying to blend into the walls, until you bumped into the brunet, causing the drink in your hand to spill all over your dress. His face morphed into shock and he apologized profusely. He tried to find something to help clean your dress, but you just giggled at his actions and insisted you were fine.

You and Benedict spent the rest of the evening outside in the fresh air, away from the stuffy, overcrowded ballroom. You two slipped into conversation easily, bonding over how much you hated social events and how you would much rather be doing what you love. You mentioned how you wish you could be writing at this moment, and he looked at you with intrigue.

“So you are a writer?” He asked.

“Well, it’s just something I do to pass the time, although I am very passionate about it. I will admit, I am not the best at it though.” You explained. “And what about you, Lord Bridgerton? What would you rather be doing than to be stuck here?”

“Sketching, or even painting.” He sighed, remembering his latest piece he was working on.

“So you are an artist then?” You have never heard of any Bridgerton being interested in art. It fascinated you.

“Yes, but much like yourself, I do not think of myself as any good.”

“Oh, I must see one of your sketches.” Your curiosity got the better of you, surely he can’t be as bad as he claimed to be.

“Only if I get to read what you have written. I am sure you humble yourself and that you are a skilled writer.”

“How can you be so confident in my skills when we hardly know each other?” You asked and he shrugged.

“Just a feeling.” Benedict sent you a warm smile, making you smile back at him. Your conversation continued until the ball ended, and a part of you was disappointed you had to leave him, wishing you could continue to talk with him until the sun rose.

After that night you and Benedict have become very close friends. As promised, you exchange one of your poems for a sketch of his. You admired it all day, impressed by his natural skill. The next time you saw him you told him how beautiful his art was and how it captivated you. He returned the compliment, saying how you have a gift of evoking strong emotions with just the written words. You could’ve sworn you blushed, but you brushed it off as someone complimenting your work for the first time and nothing more.

You two became inseparable. It was common to see you two together almost everywhere, your arms linked together, laughing at his jokes. For the first time in years, you have shared not only one dance but multiple dances, with Benedict. You never enjoyed dancing, especially when the men you’ve danced with before have talked too much and never let you state your opinion. But Benedict was different, he listened to everything you said and let you speak your mind freely. It was refreshing, and you wished all men could be like him.

You started to enjoy the social events more, feeling excited as one approached. You found yourself putting more effort into how you looked, and you mentally slapped yourself for it. You knew you were doing it for Benedict, and you told yourself you couldn’t fall for him, you refused to.

The next day, Benedict surprised you, visiting your house with flowers in hand and asking to court you. You were shocked but quickly gained your composure.

“I truly am sorry, Benedict. It seems I have led you on somehow. I have no interest in marriage.” You revealed and watched Benedict’s face fall, which broke your heart. He excused himself and you watched him leave, a feeling of regret sat inside you.

Your mother and father scolded you over how you could let such a perfect man get away, but you paid no heed to their words. You wished things were different, but you couldn’t court Benedict. It could lead to marriage, a concept you will always despise.

When you two met again, Benedict told you to forget about all the events that transpired. He told you he would like to remain your friend if you would allow it. You were relieved to hear that. You were certain he would distance himself from you after rejecting him, and you weren’t sure how you could live a life without him. Of course, he didn’t make his feelings forgotten. He would subtly drop hints to remind you of his interest in you and you reminded him of your disinterest in marriage.

You admitted to yourself it felt nice that he tries so hard to get you to change your mind. You never had a man interested in you like this before. If you were to reject any other man, he would have moved on to another lady, but not Benedict. You could tell he was determined to show you he was the one for you and it pained you to not accept him.

One day, you two were walking in the park. You wanted to feed the ducks and Benedict insisted on keeping you company. Currently, you were standing on the bridge, wanting to enjoy the view for a few moments. There was a comfortable quietness until Benedict spoke.

“You have denied my hand in marriage and make it clear you have to intention to marry, but may I ask why? You do not have to tell me if you do not wish to, but I do wish to know if it is something that I have done. Have I made you uncomfortable in any sort of way?”

You shook your head and said. “My refusal had nothing to do with you, my lord. You have been very sweet and kind to me. But you do deserve to know why I rejected you.”

He looked at you, ready to listen to every word you said. You explained, “All my life, I have been surrounded by unhappy marriages. My parents may seem like they care deeply for each other, but it is all an act. I have grown up in a household where my parents would scream at each other, and refuse to be near each other. I always believed love does not exist in the real world. Then all my friends got married, and it is horrible. They tell me how their husbands control them and how they have no say in what they do in their own life. Some of them even go as far as to bash their wives. I thought it was the most absurd thing. People are supposed to protect the ones they love, not harm them.

“I swore I would never get married. I am content living the life of a spinster. The only reason I participate in the season is because my parents force me to. I would rather keep whatever freedoms I have than be trapped in a miserable life.”

You looked out to the view, not wanting to see the look on Benedict’s face, and he sighed. “I am a fool. I could not show you just how much you truly mean to me.” He took your hands into his own, forcing you to focus on him. “Y/N, I-I love you. I love how passionate you are, how you don’t worry about how others may view you, and how kindhearted you are. I could never imagine stopping you from doing what your heart desires. I would rather die a thousand, painful deaths than ever hurt you. I love you.”

“I’m sorry, Benedict. I can’t.” You could see Benedict’s heart drop and you couldn’t stand being the cause of it. Overwhelmed with emotions, you tried to excuse yourself, pulling your hand out of his. “I have to go.” You ran away and didn’t look back.

You haven’t seen Benedict in days, which was the longest time you have gone without seeing him ever since you first met him. You kept replaying your last conversation in your head and how you wish you had the courage to tell him how you truly felt. Your mind kept reminding you of your vow but you could tell your heart was trying to tell you something else, so for once, you listened to it.

You knew deep down how you felt about Benedict. You loved him too. He was different than any other man you have met. He made you feel safe and happy. You could imagine a life with him, getting married and having children together. You knew what you had to do.

You showed up at his house with a single orchid in hand. You saw him sitting outside painting and you were relieved his family was nowhere near, wanting to see him in private. You walked up to him and he didn’t acknowledge your presence, which hurt a bit, but you did not let it affect you.

“May I sit?” He nodded, not looking away from his painting, and you sat next to him.

There was silence for a few minutes, before he asked, “What is the flower for?”

“It is for you.” You smiled, holding it out.

Benedict furrowed his eyebrows and finally looked at you, taking the flower from you. “For me?”

“I wish to court you.” He grew more confused and you clarified, “I realize it is not traditional, but everything else we have done is unusual, like falling in love before we have courted.”

“You mean-“

You nodded before he could say anything else. “I love you, Benedict. I have been denying my feelings for too long, living in fear of what I thought all marriages are, a loveless trap. But you showed me that I was wrong. You never made me feel inferior to you, you listened to me and showed me you care about me. I know I would never feel miserable with you, not when I feel like I can be my true self around you. I love you.”

Benedict didn’t say anything at first, which made you nervous that he would reject you. You knew it was a possibility with the way you rejected him first and ran away from him when he confessed his love. But before you could get up to leave, he pulled you in for a kiss. You quickly melted into it, but before it could go any further, he pulled away and said, “Yes, I will accept your courtship.”

You giggled and kissed him again. You felt fireworks erupt inside you and you knew this is what true love felt like.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton oneshot #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton fic #bridgerton oneshot #💫.sim writes

[er4mnesiia]

WHITE WHALE: the allusion formed within reality.

Albedo, Scaramouche x gn!reader (seperate.)

SYNOPSIS : they might be quick on their feet, but don't be decieved; they're slow to completely process the fact that not everything will be returned. they're chasing after the white whale, after all - and your love is worth lbs of Mars' gold.

cw : kinda angst/hurt?? ooc behavior may shine through.

a/n ! : somewhat self-indulgent, once again.. as of late, i've been writing more than usual, and feel the want to write more angst😭 i feel like i'm straining my eyes when reading incredibly small texts,, but i like the aesthetic of it so i'll keep it (/hj)

EDITED on Nov. 21, 2022 : i noticed a mistake in the title, so i had to change it hehehe

✩ Albedo :

on the outside, Albedo's an enigma traversing the only desolate, brumous land in Mondstadt: Dragonspine. up there, he's seen as stolid and highly focused on his experiments, adamant in fulfilling loads of work before the stroke of new light. but, how about Starsnatch Cliff, where the local cecilias add beauty to the greenery with their white petals? well, there, he is different. 'there' was where he threw his previous worries and fear of rejection out the window, and built the courage to confess to you. but, with the worry and fright you still held, and with the inexperience of relationships, you turned him down — politely.

“no? ” Albedo's eyebrows furrowed, and he began to examine your expression with a newfound and befitting emotion.

a soft but nearly heart shattering sound of his heart was brought to your attention, as too the fluctuation in his voice, and you felt the embarrassment rise to your face. “no.. i'm sorry,” you said, nervousness noticeable within your vocals. you didn't deliberately mean to hurt his feelings, and really, no offense was taken. however, for this reason, he felt he could do more. more to hopefully pull you within his tides. so, he attached himself to the belief that he could tie his ropes around you, and hopefully, just maybe, tackle your heart.

he isn't an expert when it comes to the concept of love, but he felt he had an opportunity, even after being rejected. so, he worked hard. he played the role of a capturer and prayed to have you his victim one day; to have you be the one his lips find solace in when they move together in all speeds, and for all lengths of time. his hopes are high, and his stance is unshakable now that he's been blessed with this feeling of 'love'.

you're glorious in his eyes, and he just can't leave such a fascination alone. but what'll happen if all fails, and he's left with but a speckle of dust of you instead?

“you, (Name), the most pulchritudinous art i've ever lied my eyes upon - you hurt, damage- destroy me, even.”

✩ Scaramouche :

Scaramouche isn't sure what to do with his emotions. seeing you devoid of them, he wishes he were too. maybe, he wouldn't have to go through another insufferable year if that was the case. “haha, you don't feel the same?” he laughed it off, as if there wasn't an issue, but rather a joke worth convulsing of laughter for.

“yes, i strongly don't.” ouch. hearing those harsh bitten words, there was an issue. maybe that wasn't the best thing to say, because now he feels like he's more than infatuated- he's intoxicated. under the influence despite your unreciprocated love. so much so, that your repudiation didn't stop him from loving you; rather, he became obsessed with the idea of making you love him. making you love him like how everyone denied loving him. in his mind, who were you to turn him down? he'd have his ways of gaining the gratifying title of your "sweet lover" anyway; he was confident. he'd have your love coating his thumb in no time as he sucks on it with delight as if it were his favorite flavor. he'd warm the cockles of your heart, and you'd do the same for him. he'd bathe you in luxuries, but you'd be his luxury. he's never wanted anything more.

the way you stride; the way you talk; the way you get just close enough to him that he can feel your body's heat. he wants your voice, your love, your everything.

so, “love me back,” Scaramouche demands, voice controlling but shaky from the tears and cries he spilt just mere moments ago. he's worried in actuality- terrified. but he can't stop. he needs to feel your pace with his, quick and fast. he needs to feel your love entangling him so tightly that he can't escape.

his cravings need to be fulfilled, and he needs to have you. you're the only panacea to this burning ache in his chest. bruise him with affection — entrap him with it for all he cares. but,, he wants all of you.

Scaramouche isn't sure whether the idea of being loved is what's so addictive, or whether it's just you that induces this overwhelming feeling of greed.

#genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #albedo x gender neutral reader #albedo x gn reader #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x gn reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin angst

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

For Aurelia

2. What kind of skills did they learn in childhood and adolescence?

16. What's something they'd spend significant money on for themself?

For Laurent:

4. How often do they dance? Do they dance by themselves? Significant dancing moments, if any?

27. Have their morals changed over time or stayed relatively the same?

Thank you for the ask 💜 from this ask game.

Meh, it's gonna be long *snips*

For Aurelia

2. What kind of skills did they learn in childhood and adolescence?

As a child, she learned the normal things children in a major city with access to schools would learn — reading, writing, calculating, basics of history and some natural sciences (don't come at me with worldbuilding). She already had bad vision, so she struggled with some things, and when their parents got a third child, they kind of... dropped her.

They didn't bother teaching her any but the most basic life skills. In a way, they're still convinced she won't make it on her own — and she's 44, hasn't lived at home in over 20 years, and runs her own store. On the rare occasions she visits home, they still ask her if she's found a man yet to take care of her 🙃

When she was around 12, she began to hang out at a candy store and befriended the owner, Rachel. Rachel let her help for fun at first but quickly realized that Aurelia really loved what she did. So she began to teach her for real, and When Aurelia became of age, Rachel let her move in.

Finally out of her parents' house, she grew much more confident. She found a group of other blind people who shared their knowledge with her, she learned how to navigate the city, and how to live on her own. When Rachel's health began to decline, Aurelia took over more and more responsibility, ultimately inheriting everything.

The latest thing she learned is this world's equivalent of braille. It started to spread widely a few years back, and since she now has barely any usable vision left, she gladly embraced it.

16. What's something they'd spend significant money on for themself?

She loves her store, but I don't think any kind of rare ingredient or machine she doesn't have yet is really in the spirit of this question 😂 She totally would.

For herself, there is little she needs or wants. She inherited everything from Rachel, store, living quarters, furniture and all, and sees little reason to replace anything. She likes to buy nice clothes, but she also would not spend *significant* money on them.

She would probably pay people do to some things for her. At the moment, she pays to has her laundry done and her store windows cleaned, but she would gladly get someone to do all paperwork for her, clean everything else, or perhaps cook, because she doesn't like cooking. She would also love to hire and teach an apprentice, to keep the art of candy making alive and have a pair of helping hands around.

If she didn't have a contact in the Order of Fire, she might buy some of the assistive devices they make. That would probably take a while longer though; many are still prototypes and it's unlikely she would have access to one to figure out what she likes and can use if Cecelia didn't keep her updated with the newest developments.

For Laurent

4. How often do they dance? Do they dance by themselves? Significant dancing moments, if any?

He dances occasionally. Yvan refuses to show up at any pompous parties, so Laurent sometimes accompanies Cedric. He did learn it to fit in, or perhaps to get close to someone for information, it's been a while. Whatever the reason, he realized he liked it, though he prefers smaller occasions to the grand balls of Caldeia's elite.

There's something about the rhythm and pattern of steps and movements he likes, and it gives him a reliable framework of established rituals to interact with people oh no, please can one of my chars stay NT for once.

Significant dancing moments, you say? *giggle*

27. Have their morals changed over time or stayed relatively the same?

He has been friends with Cedric for over 20 years. Let's just say, with time, I think all their morals changed. In their 20s, they were much more idealistic, but they quickly figured out that being good gets you nowhere.

I think at the core, there's still the fact that they would never willingly hurt innocents—it's just that their definition of hurt and innocents has become, uh, flexible. Stealing some small things from rich people won't really hurt them, and someone who's a threat to them or their friends isn't innocent 😅

I would love to say that they're helping those in need and shit like that, but while that sometimes happens, their primary goal is their own lifestyle and the lives of those close to them.

#salad-ask #starlit-hopes-and-dreams #Laurent is a guy to count on #Aurelia is a sweetheart #wip: lies #and now that she has one they'll pester her about when they'll get married #if he even has money #if she'll finally give up this silly store #let's just say she will keep contact to a minimum

[womaninwinter]

Writing vs Visual Art

Prompts from @insidethekaleidoscope: if you both write and make visual art, how would you compare the experiences?

Have you always done both or is one a more recent hobby?

I've always been doodler and a storyteller, but it's only recently that I started thinking of them as Art. When I was a kid, I thought I was going to be a writer. When I was a teen, I thought I was going to be an artist. And now I'm writing again.

2. Do you prefer one over the other? Why?

I am a better (more practiced) writer than artist, so I am generally happier with the results of my writing than my drawing/painting. At the moment I'm on a writing kick, but there was definitely a long period where I preferred visual art, and I think this also had to do with the online spaces I was hanging out in. When I'm in fandom spaces, the primary way I can contribute is writing, so I tend to do that. When I was not into fandoms, and was just more generally into Insta art communities, I was seeing a lot of art, so I was doing a lot of art.

3. Are you drawn to the same themes in both?

Hm. Now, I never thought of myself as having Themes in my visual art, again because I'm not that good at it and thus I don't have a great deal of control. However, there are definite stylistic commonalities. My thought process tends towards gothic/intricate/exaggerated/intense and both my art and my writing have those characteristics.

4. Do you see them as connected practices?

This is funny. I've never thought about them as connected, mostly because I only seem to have the time/energy to do one creative hobby at a time. The times when I produce a lot of art are the times when my writing is fallow and vice versa. That said, I think that producing visual art sometimes helps unstick me in my writing, but then again, so does writing longhand on paper, so possibly it's just easier to be creative when I'm not taking psychic damage from the screen.

5. Do you feel more confident in one than the other?

As is probably obvious from my answers so far, I'm much more confident in writing than drawing/painting, but this is mostly because I've had more practice and training in writing. I've had almost no formal art lessons (until a couple of years ago when I did a life-painting class, which did actually rule), but writing was part of my education all the way up, and then it became part of my job, as a translator. Wish I had more time to practice/learn art, but alas, the brain worms are dead set on writing right now.

6. Do you do both at once or do you have periods of time where you only write or only make art?

Also mostly already answered. I can do both, if I really make a conscious effort to build it in, but it takes a lot of discipline and I don't have much of that. I really wish I had the brain space to do both, because I love painting and I miss it. But I do still make art in that I doodle constantly - all my notebooks have little scribbles in the margins, of castles and funny little people and flowers. My work diary is stuffed full of little scraps of paper like this.

7. Does one come easier than the other?

I would be tempted to say writing, but it really depends on what type of art or writing I'm doing. I doodle without thinking or even meaning to. If I have a pen and paper, the difficulty is stopping my hand from drawing. But a big writing project (like a chapter of a fic for example) comes more easily to me than an artistic project.

8. Do you feel more invested in one than the other?

This also varies over time and I think is hugely influenced by what I'm getting more feedback about/what forms part of my social life. At present, my social circle really revolves around writing to a great extent, so I'm super invested in that. But up until very recently, my answer would have been 100% the other way around. I have a drawer full of sketchbooks that I was so so painfully proud of.

9. Does one medium feel more true to you or representative of who you are as a person?

I don't think so, although I think I do tend to be more surprised to see myself coming out in my art. I'm often very conscious of what I'm doing in my writing, and I'm usually aware of a lot of what I'm revealing about myself in it. Because I'm less in control of my art, it's always a surprise to see how specific it is to me, that unbeknownst to myself, I was drawing an experience that I was having.

10. Do you decorate your house with your art and do you reread your writing?

I was going to say 'no' to decorating my house and then I looked up to the right at the massive portrait from my life-painting class stuck up on my wall and rethought that answer. So yes to the art, but not a whole lot. I do tend to reread my writing until I'm sick of it. And then I leave it a few months and come back reread it and think "oh hell ya, this girl knows my tastes exactly." (Actually, maybe this is why I'm less happy to decorate with my art. I'm not really good enough to cater to my own tastes there.)

11. What do you find the experiences have in common?

Flow state I think. It's been a long time since I reached it for either medium (creativity's always in bits and snatches with me, because that's generally all I have time for. It's easier for me to write 100 words though then it is to do a 10-minute sketch.) but the sensation of being totally absorbed, of not noticing time passing, and the burning pride and joy when you produce something good is the same in both cases.

All done! Thank you Mo for this very interesting and much needed exercise in self-reflection. I think I'll draw something now!

#art talk #reflecting with the help of Mo