#i don't remember what i lined this with...maybe sharpie???

[smilelikeacid]

Gonna add some more of my old art here. This was from 2007, I drew this bc I had finished summer school and was rewarded with an ipod. Simpler times.

#furry art #fursona #sparkle dog #green purple #green #purple #wolf #ipod #2007 #old art #2000's #smilelikeacid #traditional art #color pencils #i don't remember what i lined this with...maybe sharpie??? #maybe i didn't line it #its hard to tell

[batsythoughts]

Alright, but Bruce Wayne with 'Meet Cute' and 'Tragic Love Story' combined? I personally need to get this idea off my chest, so enjoy.

Due to his strained sleep schedule and social life, Bruce would occasionally need a pick-me-up

There was this one Cafe that he enjoyed due to how strong they were able to make the coffee compared to other shops in the city

Normally he would walk in and the employees would start working on his order before he even got to the counter

One day, he was grabbing his cup from the counter when he noticed something unusual on the sleeve of the cup

Holding the cup closer to his face, he takes in the sight of a multicolor butterfly that was 'flying' across the cup sleeve

He turned to the manager with a raised brow, to which the manager looks over at one of the employees at the other end of the counter with an annoyed gaze

Bruce turns his gaze to see you standing there with a handful of sharpies in your apron pocket as you look at both men with a shrug

"I got bored."

Your manager began to give a small lecture on the fact you were getting paid to do a job and doodling wasn't apart of that job

You made a face, which Bruce found slightly amusing, to your manager with crossed arms

"I come in to prep at 3 a.m. for 6 days every week, by myself might I add. I do the work that is supposed to be divided to be done by 3 people. I have to fight you to get 15 minutes out of my hour long lunch. I'm sorry you don't like that I don't actively search for more work to do when I'm already doing more than my 10 dollar an hour pay grade. If you don't like it, fire me. But don't forget that I can sue you for sexual harassment because I'm certain you forgot that the owner put had cameras installed in the freezer to safe guard the minors who work here."

Bruce felt shocked as he glared over at the manager, who was suddenly very quiet and very flustered at your words

Before Bruce was able to tear into this poor excuse of a man, a woman in a formal suit came out of the backroom with fire in her eyes

You smiled as you look from your manager to this woman, who Bruce was assuming to be the previously mentioned owner, asking oh so sweetly if you could go to your break

Bruce watched you walk out the door with a strange curiosity blooming in his mind. Despite having never paid much attention to you beforehand, but now he was wondering what more there was to you

The next couple of weeks, Bruce found himself coming to the Cafe more often in the mornings to interact with you more and to see more of your doodles on his morning coffee cup

He was even subconsciously going to the block on his patrols to make sure you were getting into the shop alright on the days when you opened alone

Eventually, the habits were beginning to get noticed by everyone around him. Tim and Damian noticed he was a bit more cheerful in the mornings when they were taken to school. Jason realized the determination that Bruce put in at 2:57 every night on one block specifically. They were all clueless until Dick, Cass, and Stephanie started rummaging through his office and found the original cup sleeve placed in the back of one of his desk drawers

The next day when Bruce was going to be busy with a meeting with a few shareholders, Dick and Barbara came walking into the Cafe with huge grins on their faces

When they made their way to the front of the line and ordered, they excitedly asked for the barista that was drawing the cup sleeves

When they were pointed to your direction, they went over and started to explain that Bruce had found you interesting and they thought he would want to get to know you better if he could

Barbara pulled up a picture of Bruce in case you didn't quiet remember him. But you smile with a small nod saying the you remembered him from the incident with the old manager

Dick got even more excited as he asked if you would be willing to maybe, potentially, want to go out with Bruce for a date because they bet that he found you cute and was scared to get rejected

Later that day when Bruce had finally gotten home, Dick and Barbara were waiting by the door as they practically were jumping in their spots

They held out a coffee cup to Bruce, which made him feel anxious that they had found out about his small infatuation

He took the cup to see a small drawing of a ticket with a box of popcorn. He saw your name with a phone number with a a simple question. 'Movie on Tuesday?'

Bruce doesn't have time to scold or thank them before they ran off in the manor

He went to his office, closing and locking the door before taking out his phone to send you a quick message about what you might want to watch

He began to think it might have been a bad idea as he started to type that he had the wrong number when he saw a response suddenly pop up

You had confirmed the movie and time that might work with both of your schedules to go watch it

Bruce quickly double checked his schedule before confirming that it worked out for him and suggested to meet up there, he wanted you to feel like you could leave if you ever wanted to during the whole thing

As the day came closer, Bruce felt concerned for the date and if it would be best to back out and spare potential heart ache down the road

But he fought down his worries as he dressed down in casual clothing so he wouldn't be noticed

After getting a pep talk from almost every one of the Bat children, Bruce finally drove to the theater with a few minutes before the meet up time

He was slightly shocked to see you actually standing in front and waiting for him out front in your own style of formally casual clothes

He got out of the car and walked up to you with a slightly awkward confidence with his greeting. The man may have the ability to charm almost any person on a whim, but it was different this time. This time, he was genuinely interested in the person in front of him

The smile you gave Bruce when he walks up warms his heart in a way he hadn't felt in some time

He paid for the tickets and tried to pay for the snacks, but you insisted that you didn't want him to pay for the whole thing

"It's just popcorn and drinks. I've got it this time."

This time. The words had Bruce feeling hopeful for the next date even though this one wasn't even over

Getting settled into the seats, you two delve into light conversation, the occasional laugh slipping in

By the time the lights went down for the movie to start, Bruce had already considered this to be a successful date with how much he felt you two had bonded

The theater was quiet as the movie played, the screen casting a soft glow over all the faces there

Bruce had felt himself truly relaxing for the first time in so long as he sat next to you in the partially full theater

He almost jumped when he felt you suddenly lean into his side halfway through the movie

But he relax before moving his arm around your shoulders as he glanced over to see if it was alright

The small smile on your face as you leaned closer to Bruce made a small flutter to form in his stomach

When the movie came to an end, Bruce kept his arm around your shoulders as everyone walked out into the parking lot

There was small talk about thoughts on the movie before the goodbyes had to be said for the night

He was questioning himself on if a hug would be the best to do or if that would be too forward

You beat him to it as you gave him a small peck to him cheek before saying you would text him to let him know you got home safe

Bruce couldn't help but smile as he drove back to the manor. Completely forgetting about the small army of children that would interrogate him the moment the door opened

He got bombarded with different types of questions from 'did you have a good time', 'what are they like', 'are you going out again soon'

Damian mostly just listened while standing there before he asked if there was a photo of his father's potential consort. Dick says he's got one to show him later

(Bruce makes a mental note to talk to the Damian about appropriate terms to use in relationships and to get the photo Dick has)

Bruce quickly told all of them to go and get ready for patrol as he pushed his way past the entryway

All the children smiled to themselves as the began to go to the Batcave to get their gear together with the intention of getting more information later

Bruce took a moment to breath before feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. Checking it to see that you had messaged him when you got home and couldn't wait until next time

"This one must be special if you smile at a message."

Bruce looked up at Alfred when he heard that comment, not even realizing he was smiling

Alfred had a soft look in his eyes as he gave a simple nod before walking away for Brice to be alone

Bruce typed a quick message in agreement of meeting up again sometime soon before putting his phone away to get ready for the night ahead

The next few months (yes, months because he wants to be cautious with this relationship), Bruce had tried to make plans at least once every week for dates

Each time the two of you spent time together, he couldn't deny the feeling that he got when being around you. You never tired to bring his money into it and never pushed for the pace to go faster over the course of the whole thing

He even asked if you could be official with each other relationship wise, though not entirely out on the public eye if you didn't feel comfortable with all the sudden attention, which you happily agreed to

He had finally asked if you would want to come to the manor one day to properly meet all the kids, who were all eager to get to meet you

You both agreed on a day and time to have dinner later that same week he suggested it

The night of the whole dinner, Bruce and the kids helped Alfred get the manor cleaned and even assisted in the cooking

They were all excitedly waiting in the living room dressed in their best clothes for the occasion as the time for you to get there getting closer

As the minutes went by, everyone starts to get anxious as there wasn't anoise coming from outside the door

The moment the hour struck, everyone was on edge for the knock on the front door to come at any moment

(If you don't

Alternative Ending

Stephanie and Barbara were trying to be hopeful by saying maybe you just had to change outfits from a last minute stain accident

Tim and Dick were saying that a family thing could have come up and maybe you were trying to get it handled before coming over

Damian had a hopeful tone as he stated that there was most likely traffic and you were just caught in the middle of it (he was really hopeful about his father finding a good partner)

Bruce gave a small smile to all of them before he decided to send you a quick text to ask if everything was alright and if you needed to reschedule for another day

Jason gave a small grunt before grabbing the remote. Turning on the TV as he said that Damian was right and the traffic news would prove it

Flipping through the channels, he finally got to the news channel. And dear God, did Jason wish he could take that decision back

Every one stared in silence as the lights flashed on the screen as they took in the sight of a terrible car crash

A reporter talked about the fact a drunk driver had blown through a 4 way stop and had hit the victim's car that was sadly just at the wrong place

The reporter had said that no name was being given about the victim so family could be informed first and make the proper medical decisions

No name had to be given though as the kid's saw the look on Bruce's face

He didn't need to be there to see that it was your car. He didn't need to get a look at the license plate to tell. He could tell just by the small little decal you had on the back window

Jason quickly turned the TV back off as they all nervously look over at Bruce as he continued to stare at the black screen

No words were said as they each moved closer to, but not touching, Bruce to show their support to him as he slowly processed the whole thing

The sound of his phone going off finally broke the fragile silence of the room. Bruce cleared his throat as he quickly picked up the phone, his hand shaking when he saw your name appear on the screen

He answered with a weak voice before he heard the woman's voice on the other line

The woman said she was your mother and slowly asked if Bruce had seen the news report. He could tell she had been crying even through the phone

She hesitated before explaining that it wasn't good and that the doctors said that after a few tests, it was declared that you were legally brain dead

Your mother chocked for a second before saying that she wanted to give Bruce a chance to say goodbye before the next steps were being taken

Bruce took a moment before saying that he would be there within the hour before hanging up the phone

He just sat there for a second as the silence blanketed the room once again

Alfred placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder before saying that he would drive to the hospital for Bruce

All the kids shared glances before getting up and going to pack away the dinner to give Bruce a minute

Bruce stood up before going to the door as Alfred followed close behind. The ride was silent as Alfred guided through the streets, intently going the long way to avoid the crash site

Bruce walked through the door before going to the reception desk to ask what room you were placed in

After getting directed to what room you were in, he saw a woman standing outside as she talked to a doctor. The woman turned her head and stopped the doctor before ushering him over

The doctor hesitantly walked away as your mother politely introduced herself before explaining the severity of the situation. That even with life support, you would probably not even survive one week with how you got hit

She said that you had talked so happily about the relationship the two of you had and believed that Bruce deserved to have his own goodbye

Bruce felt the words catch in his throat as he hesitants to ask if you would be left on life support or not

Your mom quickly explains the plan you had made for a situation like this before she glances at the room you were in. She offered to let him have the final goodbye in peace

Bruce gives a small nod as he gave her a small hug as he expressed how sorry that this had to be how they had met one another

The moment Bruce steps through the door, he feels the tears form in his eyes as he takes the sight of you laying there, basically lifeless on the bed

He walks over to the bed as his hand reaches out to touch yours

He just stands there for a minute as he stares at your face. His other hand coming up to gently brush his fingers over your cheek

He knows that there nothing he could do to potentially help make you recover. He understood this was going to be the last time that he was every going to get to lay his eyes on you

Bruce leaned down to rest his head on yours as he took a deep breath. Closing his eyes as the words finally seemed to come to him:

"I am so glad that I got to know you for the time that I did. Best thing you ever did for me was drawing on the first coffee sleeve. I'm gonna miss you and I... I love you."

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before he pulled away. A sad smile gracing his face before walking back out of the room

He wrote his number and address on a small card before telling her that she could come to him if she needed any help

She had a weak smiled as she thanked him before giving him another small hug as she says to make him aware of all the things regarding the funeral and the burial spot

The ride back is just as quiet as the drive to the hospital. Alfred only giving a small glance towards Bruce as they drove up the driveway

Bruce walked through the door to find Dick standing there with a solemn look in his eyes. He tells Bruce that he can take the night to process everything and that he will handle the patrol

Bruce gives a weak nod as he walks through the manor and to his room so he could hopefully get some form of rest

No one had went to check on him to give him a chance to be alone with his thoughts for the night

Bruce just laid on the bed as he replayed all the moments that he had with you. A sad chuckle passing his lip before he decided to get some sleep

The next couple of weeks involved Bruce going to the funeral and going to the cemetery to put a small keepsake there to leave a part of himself there at all times with you

One day when he got back from work, Bruce was about to go to his office to sort out a few case files that he would be needing

There was a package on the desk the moment that he had walked in. He was concerned about what might potentially be in it before he saw your mother's name as the return address

Bruce carefully opened the package to see a picture frame that was carefully wrapped in some bubble wrap

He took out the frame and removed the bubble wrap to find a picture of you smiling at the camera as you jokingly point to Bruce who was behind you in the photo talking to someone off camera

Bruce remembered the day that photo was taken. It was your fourth date at the park and he was buying a snack from one of the vendors

He didn't know you had even taken any pictures that day. He stared at it for a moment before noticing a small note in the box the photo came in

He picked it up to see a small note from your mom

'I asked for a picture of the man that was making my child so happy. This was the one I was sent as I was told that he could be the one. I thought you would want it.'

Bruce stared at card for a second before a grin ghosted his lips. Setting the photo on the corner of the desk, he tucked the card in the corner

Sitting down in his chair, Bruce just admire it for a moment as he took a deep breath. Staring for a moment before getting the files that he needed together

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #batman #batfam #batman x reader

[vipernoir]

Here's some random headcannons I've thought about Luka for a while

♡ He's not that well liked in his own class and only gets along with a select few at school, and the people he gets along with are the sorts friends you have at school but you don't hang out outside of school if that makes sense?

♡ He's a bisexual king cough cough lukadrien

♡ Also I remember reading a fanfic in a different fandom where they found out their crush was their dad fuck I truly hope Luka didn't have a thing for Jagged yikes

♡ He and Juleka just hang out, paint each others toe nails, dye each others hair, Juleka just uses Luka as a lab rat doing his hair, makeup, maybe even drawing sharpie tattoos on him, but Luka just likes seeing her doing something creative and encouraging her so is more than happy to be said lab rat

♡ Luka respects everybody's music taste, and truly tries to understand every kind of music someone creates/likes even if he isn't partial to it

♡ Anarka raised her twins on the classics; Nirvana, the sex pistols, the cure, the who, Metallica, motley crüe

♡ Both Ju and Luka went through that BVB emo phase, I'm talking full on Andy Sixx makeup, unironically rarw xDing, wearing the billion band wristbands Luka totally still wears some of his

♡ Anarka raised both the twins to live your own life, love who you love, play what's in your heart

♡ Luka has a lot of strong opinions on certain things, and whilst he will always respect and validate someone's different opinion as much as be can he always sticks to his own morals

♡ Luka occasionally does graffiti to promote these morals

♡ He's ran from the cops before for getting caught spray painting ACAB under a bridge

♡ His forgiving nature means he automatically trusts everyone and wants to give them a fair chance, so all of the built up frustration and sadness from being neglected by his own father all of those years is buried under a layer of fake happiness, he hides how he truly feels to give his dad a chance but a strong part of him wants to not forgive him as easy but it just isn't Luka's nature

♡ He's fascinated with bugs, he used to collect them as a child and study them, draw them, watch them, eat them

♡ He has a small following on YouTube for posting covers of popular songs, he isn't that big as he isn't regular with uploading as he just does it when he feels like it

♡ Luka's music taste varies it can go from political pop punk like Mindless Self Indulgence, to more hard-core sounding music like Rob Zombie or Slipknot, only to switch to sadboy sound cloud like lil peep, to then soft pop punk like Paramore, then one minute he's sat listening to old Disney playlists, his music taste is so versatile

♡ Luka definitely obsessed with the camp rock movies as a kid, like him and Ju would sing and dance out all the songs together, always on repeat

♡ I like to think Luka is vegetarian just because either he felt kinda bad eating meat, or Mylenne converted him somewhere down the line

♡ Luka always keeps a spare pair of headphones, a spare guitar pic, and a notebook and pen for lyrics, with him at all times

♡ After his break-up with Mari he started writing sad, heartbreak songs, he wasn't trying to be that cringey but it's all that would come out.

♡ He refuses to play them though, because they're that sad that probably even Chloe would shed a tear hearing them, and he would never want Mari to feel guilty for hurting him in such a bad way

It's 3 am now so ima stop but I have so many Luka crack hc's it's crazy so ill post some more later

#luka couffaine #lukanette #luka miraculous #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous ladybug #mlb #tales of ladybug and cat noir #luka headcannons #mlb headcanon #miraculous #miraculous headcanon

[cherrybeartoast]

Volcanic Love - Changbin x Reader

୨୧ a Cherry Song Fic ୨୧ inspired by Volcanic Love by The Aces

Pairing: Changbin x Reader

Genre: Angst, exes to lovers

Warnings: Breakups, loneliness

Author's Note: oh my goodness I missed writing and publishing my writing! I'm trying to be gentler on myself this time so I don't burn out...instead of focusing on consistent uploads, I'm focusing on writing and posting what I love. This was one of my favourite fics from my old writing blog before I closed it...enjoy!

Three days, twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes. Four days. Four days and one minute. Another sleepless night. You didn’t mean to count the minutes, but your eyes remained fixated on your phone, half watching the clock, half staring at the lock screen you’d neglected to change. Everything around you brought back floods of memories that you didn’t want to deal with. Pictures from photo booths, his arm slung around your shoulder, his hand on your cheek, his lips pressed to your forehead. The one hoodie you’d managed to hold onto, even after he’d packed all his other belongings up when he left. The pre-workout he kept in the back of your pantry. His toothbrush in your bathroom drawer. He’d been yours in every way, and you’d been his. Maybe this was why you’d been so scared to love your best friend; you knew that more came with risk, chances of slamming doors, crying each other's names, and duffle bags hastily filled. Even when you’d ended things, why were you still writing pages, when he’d been the one to close the envelope? Why were you spending hours nestled on the couch in his hoodie, staring at a black tv screen, unaware of the world around you?

<3 you home? i’m driving over.

A part of you wanted to run into the bathroom, brush your hair, remove the two-day old mascara on your eyes and change into something nice. A part of you remembered he’d seen you in every single form and knew he’d loved you regardless. His hoodie, a messy topknot and your sweatpants would do.

<3 outside.

Taking a deep breath and slipping on your sneakers, you began walking down the hallway of your apartment building. Even though the elevator wasn’t broken for once, you wanted to take the stairs. You needed time to think, and time to turn back if you felt the need. Why were you so easily coming to him? He’d broken your heart. No, not broken. Slowly tugged at it, until nothing that remained was a dull ache and your pulse. You thought about turning back, About yelling in his face, About simply bursting into tears and curling up into a ball at the bottom of the staircase, until your neighbour came and yelled at you for disturbing everyone’s sleep at 12:29am. You thought about these things, but you never felt like acting on them. What was the point, anyway? You never would have meant it. You spotted his familiar black car, the scratch on the bottom from when he’d practised parallel parking, the Sharpie stars you’d drawn with him whilst drunk on his windscreen. You felt your heart swell a little, and even more so when the figure inside the vehicle turned his head to look directly into your eyes. In silence, you walked over and sat down in the passenger seat, doing your best to look at everything but him. He nodded, pressing his lips together in a thin line, and started the engine. “I miss you,” you whispered, barely audibly. “Hm?” “Your seatbelt isn’t on,” you replied. “I was in a rush.” There was a sudden quiet. The click of his seatbelt, then yours, then the gentle hum of the car as he began to drive. You didn’t really know where, and you honestly couldn’t care less. He almost felt like a stranger. A stranger you’d poured your heart out to, and spent hours with, pressing kisses to each other's faces whilst watching movies, watching work out in the gym, cooking food for and dancing while doing the dishes with. A stranger who’d been your everything. As you drove in silence, apart from the soft beats of his playlist in the background, his hand found its way to yours, and gently caressed your fingers, as if asking for permission. You allowed your palm to open. His fingers tucked into yours, and his thumb brushed against your hand. His hand felt warm, familiar. His fingertips were calloused; a result of the way he gripped his pen when he frantically wrote his lyrics late at night. The car slowed down, then stopped completely. He’d pulled over on the side of a road, in the middle of nowhere. It was ghostly silent, and the trees cast shadows through the headlights. It was oddly comforting. “I fucked up.” “I know you did, Changbin.” He covered his face in his hands in frustration, letting go of yours in the process. Your hand felt a sudden coldness. “I didn’t…I don’t know why I left you. I nearly called you, right after I left. I thought…I thought you’d want space, thought I shouldn’t have to put you through anymore…” “I was still in love with you.” “Was? Past tense?” “I still love you. I didn’t necessarily fall out of love, Changbin, I just…I felt like I lost a part of me. Everything felt familiar and distant at the same time, and there were traces of you everywhere. I couldn’t sleep.” “I can never sleep.” “I know.” You paused, staring at each other. Changbin faced you properly. “I’m still in love with you. And I’ll try forever if it means I can make you fall again.” You smiled a little. “We should probably get some sleep.” “Your place?” “Our place. I still have your toothbrush, I think.” “Even if you don't, it doesn't matter,” Changbin replied, clasping your hand in his again and gesturing to the backseat. His duffle bag sat there, zipped up, seemingly untouched since he’d left. “I’m coming home.” “You won’t leave?” “Not unless you say so.” “So never?” “Never.”

#cherrybeartoast #cherrybearwrites #cherry writes #stray kids #stray kids imagines #skz #skz imagines #stray kids fic #skz fic #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids kpop #stray kids oneshot #straykids #seungmin x reader #hyunjin x reader #minho x reader #changbin x reader #felix x reader #jeongin x reader #bangchan x reader #lee know #minho #changbin #seo changbin #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #felix #yongbok #bangchan

[twogyuu]

stay where you are (i'll come back to you)

Pairing: Renjun x fem!reader (ft. donghyeok)

Synopsis: You wished he had told you sooner - maybe then, it would've been a little easier to let go. Maybe then, you would've stayed instead of going. 

Genre: Fluff, smidgen of angst at the end, farm!au, farmer!renjun, songwriter!reader, implied childhood friends, mutual pining, other best friend!donghyeok

Warnings: Mentions of throwing rocks at Jungwoo (i'm sorry my dude 😅) 

WC: ~900

A/N: It's 3AM and I don't know what I'm doing (do I ever?) but here's a first shot at stepping out my comfort zone of SVT before the year ends 😳 Didn't tag my usual crew so y'all aren't spammed with non-SVT content. Scene inspired by this moment in AIB season 2 and the demo of Graduation. Title inspired by Closer by RM ft. Paul Blanco. We'll see where this goes - maybe my only NCT piece, maybe not ._. I'm kinda embarrassed so gonna go hide now lolol.

Your fingers flowed across the last few keys of your grandfather’s piano, your voice following in suit, its pitch rising with the notes. The old wooden thing had been pushed up against the faded white and pink floral wallpaper of your family’s living room as long as Renjun could remember. Its corners were chipped, the yellow surface was faded and worn, similar to the stained keys from various accidents over the years. The lower G key was colored with red Sharpie, fingerprints stamped into the ink – Renjun only remembered because he solely got in trouble for it after Donghyeok dared him. 

So if you take up all your chances, use mine.

If you’ll be there for the rest of my life.

You paused after finishing the last part, your fingertips settling on the white keys. The last few notes of your song hung in the air between you and him, only the sound of crickets chirping and the light tinkle of the wind chime on your porch filling the air. The soft yellow light from the lamp on the side tables casted a pretty glow on your skin, making you look almost . . . ethereal. It very well could’ve been the sweat from the humidity of the day, but Renjun liked to think it was shadows and luminescence highlighted the best features of your face. The smile on your face was the finishing touch – it was something between being pleased, but shy; satisfied with what you’ve written, but scared that you’ve finally revealed it to the world (well, Renjun).

Typically, you were bold and rowdy – it’s why you and Donghyeok got along so well. You weren’t afraid to stand up for those you loved and your values, despite hundreds of people being against you. Renjun remembered when the three of you were twelve and you told off Jungwoo for picking on Donghyeok – you threw a couple rocks too. 

It was because of that, moments like this were all the more precious and beautiful. You were beautiful. You weren’t loud or throwing rocks at someone. Your mouth wasn’t running nor were you bantering with Donghyeok again. It was a side of you Renjun only saw on the rare occasion; the occasion being whenever you share your music with him. This side of you was quiet and vulnerable, but your voice in combination with the piano spoke volumes. Despite being lost in your thoughts and your emotions, you seemed happy and at peace. None of it took away from your usual valor.

It was just . . . different. 

And pretty. 

Your eyes diverted from the piano, flickering to the side to look at your best friend. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you shrugged timidly, followed by a soft chortle. 

“How was it?” you asked. 

Renjun smiled, his lips pressing into a thin line, then growing into a small toothy grin. Before he could catch himself, he blurted, “You're pretty.”

“Huh?” your breath hitched. 

He looked away, the smile falling from his face. Renjun blinked owlishly a few times before turning back to you. He did not just tell you that. 

It’s not that you weren’t pretty – you just weren’t supposed to know he thought that about you. 

At least . . . not yet. 

“It was pretty,” Renjun chuckled nervously. He pointed at the piano. “Y-your song.”

You let out a small breath, clearing away the racing thoughts in your mind. “Really?”

“Truly.”

“You think it’s like . . . MS Entertainment tier pretty?” you chortled. “For the songwriting competition?”

“I . . . don’t see why not,” Renjun replied, he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “I think . . . it’s my favorite. Nostalgic – makes me warm inside.”

You let out a breath of relief, nodding. You dropped your gaze to your fingers in your lap, curling around nothing, your nails grazing across your jeans. It was your favorite piece to date – if it’s Renjun’s favorite too, there was a chance right? You’d have to ask Donghyeok to listen to it too later.

Renjun’s not sure what took over him, but he took in a sharp breath and willed himself to look you in the eye. 

“But . . . uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “You are pretty.” 

Your expression softened, eyes wide and shrinking away from him a little. Heat was already spreading across your cheeks, your lips held agape like goldfish.

“You look the prettiest now,” he said more confidently. Perhaps you were dreaming, but you could’ve sworn there was a glint of tenderness in his eyes. It was different from the moments when he did look at you when he was happy to see you after a long day in the fields. 

“You’re prettiest when you let go . . . prettiest when you sing.”

“Renjun,” you said softly. 

He smiled. “I hope to see it more often.”

Though his comment made your heart flutter, there was a small sense of guilt that came with it. 

Pursuing your dreams of songwriting meant leaving the farm. 

Leaving the farm meant leaving your family. 

Donghyeok. 

Renjun. 

You weren’t sure if you were ready for that. 

At least . . . not yet. 

You wondered if he knew what he was wishing for when he told you.

#renjun x reader #renjun fluff #renjun angst #renjun scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct x reader #nct scenarios

[krash-and-co]

Short fic ideas? Lockwood finding out about Kipps and Jessica? I think he has a bit of a Ross freak out? Or he takes it well-ish by Lockwood standards not sure would love to see your take?!

hi thanks for the ask!! :D locked room spoilers under cut!!

edit from future me who found this in her drafts: this is probably bad 🥰🥰🥰

Lockwood, by rule, rarely went through the drawers in Jessica's room. Never except for when he got her necklace to give to Lucy, or when he was feeling nostalgic, or when he couldn't find something and he had no idea where else to look... Okay, maybe he did more than he thought. Whatever. Lockwood was never one for rules anyway.

Either way, though, it was always the same safe photos that he really moved. One with him sitting on her lap, one of him rubbing his nose against hers (both of them very young in these and, according to Lockwood, quite adorable) and a few others, including ones with his parents. These were in a folder, but next to said folder was a small cardboard box decorated with stickers and a sharpied phrase: 'JESSICA'S PICTURES!!!'

Underneath this was a picture taped to the lid: Jessica, himself, and a stuffed giraffe Lockwood insisted on getting in the shot. Lockwood was squinting at the flash. Jessica was laughing. The stuffed girrafe made no expression change, as stuffed giraffes do.

Lockwood found himself with this box in his hand today.

He slowly, as he had done many times before, unfolded the lid of the box. What was inside was no surprise: a stack of Polaroids taken by Jessica herself. He flipped through them, revealing photos of her in various poses, himself caught in the middle of doing something-- wide eyed as he ate a cookie, lining up apples he picked from their tree. There were photos of them together and friends he hardly ever saw; school friends.

Obviously nothing new. He shut the box.

As he moved to put the box back in the drawer, he heard a muffled shout from somewhere across the hall.

"Lockwood!" Lucy yelled. "Lockwood! There's someone at the door and I don't want to get it! George is in the bathroom, and I'm not going in there..."

He jumped. He dropped the box. Pictures fell everywhere.

"Shit," he breathed.

He didn't have to hide the contents of this room anymore. he didn't have to act like it was never opened. Jessica's room certainly wasn't a secret anymore, but he always did get pitying looks when he went inside, so he liked to keep his visits a secret.

Lockwood cursed again. And then, louder, called back, "Who is it? If it's not Arif's girl, tell them to go away!"

Lockwood scrambled to pick up the photos, biting his lip. After they were all back in a stack, he reached for the mildly damaged box. It was slightly dissasembled and-- wait.

Underneath the bottom flap was another photo, bent in two. Lockwood had never seen it before; it must have been knocked loose from the fall. Slowly, shakily, he pulled it free. He straightened it. He held it up to the light.

Jessica was smiling in it, making a mock kissy face at the camera. Her arm was around a boy about a full head shorter than her, red haired and scrawny. He smiled bashfully.

A boy friend? Lockwood thought. He searched back in his memory. Yes, he did remember her having a few male acquaintances, although their faces were foggy and they had no names. And then an even worse thought occurred to him: a boyfriend? And wait.

Something tugged at the back of his mind, something he thought of as soon as he saw the picture but didn't want to acknowledge, hoping he was perhaps mistaken: He recognized this boy. This boy was Quill Kipps.

And he was with his sister. And they looked happy.

How?

He dropped the photo. He bolted through the door. He dashed towards the phone. His mind reeled with questions.

"Lucy, George, if you are planning on using any phones in this house for the next ten minutes, no you are not! It is mine for the foreseeable future!"

"Your voice sounds weird," George called from the bathroom, ignoring everything else. "All wobbly and stuff. Don't tell me you're scared of Barnes or something."

Lockwood blinked. He stopped dialing. "Shut up!" Lockwood yelled back. "No, it doesn't! And I am not!"

"I bet you're doing that hand thing too."

"What hand thing?" he sputtered. "Am not! Leave me be!"

"Oh," George cooed, "Someone's cranky!" The toilet flushed, and the faucet sounded for an unsatisfyingly short amount of time. Lockwood hit dial and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Kipps asked over the phone.

Lockwood squeaked. "Hi." He did not answer with any further human words. He couldn't.

"Eep."

"What?"

Lockwood hung up. He was probably going to die.

~

to be continued lol, I found this in my drafts and didn't want to leave it to die so take this.

#hi I found this in my drafts here you go lol #I'll finish this later #it's not

[primewritessmut]

20 - FREEZE

My psychiatrist collects Precious Moments figurines.

I never would have pegged him for it. He’s short and stocky with a shiny bald scalp, and he dresses in short-sleeved white button-ups paired with drab polyester ties.

A little boy balancing on the back of another boy like a cowboy on a horse. A little girl wearing yellow polka dot rain boots, splashing in a glazed porcelain puddle with a frog at her feet. An entire shelf of soppy, big-eyed children with their palms pressed together over their hearts, standing, kneeling, praying. Watching.

An entire schoolyard worth of kids stuck forever in twee poses.

There’s a hanging wall calendar from the NRA pinned behind his desk with a black thumbtack that looks like a key ripped from a typewriter. The ampersand. The calendar is open to a photo of four artfully arranged hand guns, the barrels all pointing at each other across the circle they make like that Spider-Man meme.

It’s terribly lit and the month written underneath the picture reads September.

“Your outreach coordinator called me,” he says gruffly, leaning back in his chair in a way that never fails to make me think that the entire thing is going to flip over backward. “She’s worried that you haven’t checked in.” There’s a pause long enough to choke on. “Why haven’t you checked in?”

I stare at the hand guns and try to identify what they are.

A Luger P-08 that looks like it was made for World War II.

A Smith & Wesson Model 1 that’s a clear recreation.

A Walth—

“You know,” he sighs gently, “this works a whole lot better if you talk to me.”

I freeze in my chair like prey being hunted. Or maybe like a small porcelain child entreating a god that doesn’t exist.

“Your boss said your work is exemplary. Your landlord reports that you’ve paid your rent on time every month since the eviction notice. These are the kinds of wins you should be sharing.”

I can feel his eyes boring into me. His eyes, and hundreds of little porcelain eyes, and the black holes of the gun barrels all watching. Eyes upon eyes upon eyes. Probably even some I can't see. Don't want to see.

“Is there something else going on?”

I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood but it doesn’t keep my eyes from dropping to the source of the problem. It’s such a human fucking reaction and it makes me feel human for just a second until I actually see what I’ve looked at.

If you asked me, I’d tell you that it happened yesterday.

But my arm tells a different story.

My left hand is black from the tips of my fingers to midway down my palm and, when I flip it over, I can see wisps of shadow snaking through my veins. Thicker toward my fingers and fading as it travels up my forearm. There’s darkness swimming in my veins all the way up to my elbow.

An inch below my wrist, someone drew a line in Sharpie and wrote 4 weeks. The writing looks like it’s been gone over more than once to keep it from disappearing. It might be my handwriting but I don’t remember writing it a first time let alone several times.

I curl my fingertips toward the palm of my hand and—

“I’m here to help you.”

My psychiatrist leans forward over his desk, pressing his forearms into it and giving me an approximation of concerned empathy. His desk isn’t glass but the top is lacquered and I can see fingerprints smeared across the top. I don’t know why I think about that.

“I think you should tell me what else is going on.”

I lift my eyes to his as I shove my hand into the pocket of my hoodie.

“My hand is cold,” I manage.

And I think it's the first time I've ever talked to him.

19 - SCANDAL || 21 - FRAGMENT

#spooktober 2023 #31doh2023 #day 20 #original story #the monster under the bed #the nra wall calendar makes its first and possibly only appearance

[pinkiepiebones]

Do you have any fun little stories or anything with Copia and the band ghouls?

Not sure if you wanted a Special answer or a fic so I'm going to be lazy and just revisit when I met Ifrit and Aether and Tobias

Basically I was just incredibly lucky to see Ghost for the very first time when they were touring with Iron Maiden. It was July 2017 and I didn't know the behind the mask names. I barely knew the stage names. And I knew I loved the band.

We've all heard of my encounter with Papa III so I'm skipping it.

Close to the end of Iron Maiden's set my brother and I went out to where I had pointed out a couple of buses parked behind the venue when we'd arrived. My brother was insistent that the band was either already on the buses or would not sign things even if there was only ten of us outside waiting.

Billy Vanilla showed up and was super cordial with all of us and regaled us with stories about the tour and about Tobias ("Henry Rollins-level smart") and implicated himself as a possible vampire (I just think blurting out "I'm over four hundred years old" is a big sign of vampirism). Billy also went onto one of the buses and came back with a handful of spare picks; my brother didn't care to get one so I got two :3

Ifrit was the first guy who came out, at the time I had no idea who he was but he happily signed everyone's "spirit board" (VIP merch on that tour included the Ghost branded legally distinct from Ouija spirit boards).

I forget how much time passed but it was certainly after midnight and my brother was threatening to leave me there while he went back to the hotel (he didn't lol). Then I looked to the right and up the sidewalk came a group of maybe half a dozen people, led by a man in a white Misfits shirt and the skinniest skinny jeans I had ever seen. He looked up from talking to a kid with an iPad (one of his kids? I remember the kid had long blond hair) and it felt like he looked right at me. I started punching my brother's arm going "it's him it's him it's HIM IT'S PAPA IT'S HIM." It was the eyes, man.

Some of the people went onto the bus but Tobias stopped and said to us "I have to put my bag up, but I will be back out shortly" or something to that effect. I don't remember everything exactly here just because I was so tired but also so hype. But Tobias did come back out, as did Chris, both armed with Sharpies, and like three guard-looking guys came out I think and Billy gave us all the "no photos, no selfies, no videos, please be cool" speech, which like, of course man, I made a show of turning my phone completely off lol

Tobias and Chris went down the line of us, talking to everyone one-on-one and signing things. When Tobias got to me, the first thing he said was "I really do like your shirt!" See, earlier in the day, Papa III had complimented it... I just, I love that he felt the need to either clarify that Papa was being sincere, or that both his character and himself liked the shirt. I told him I had an extra and I'd bring it for him next time I saw the band, and he, like, looked genuinely surprised? And he said "wow, really? Thank you, that's so kind of you." Then he signed my spirit board and I think he thanked me for the little letter I had handed over pre Meet and Greet and that's when I just wordvomited all over him about how this was my first concert in a decade and my physical and mental health were big hurdles but Ghost showing hp so close to him was like some kinda sign and I ended with "so thank you for existing." And he took it like a champ, responding simply "oh, you're very welcome" and then asked what I thought of the show. And I was like, when am I going to be in this situation again? So I kissed ass. I said "Honestly, it didn't feel like Ghost was the opener, you guys were the main show and Iron Maiden was your closing act" and I swear to christ this man GIGGLED and put his hand over his mouth like an anime and said "shit, don't let them hear you say that!" but then thanked me for the review lmao

So tobias moved on to my brother and Chris moved on to me and Chris as chris signed my board he said "you're the one who gave us the cat card? It was brilliant!" (I had written a note to the band inside an old Halloween greeting card that had black cats and pumpkins on it). I told him "yeah and the cat stickers inside are for everyone, don't let Papa hoard them" and Chris whirled around to shout to the guard guys "NO ONE TOLD ME THERE STICKERS" in like a silly fake anger thing. Then we talked about being cat parents. He whipped out his phone to show me his lock screen and said "that's my Rosie, I have two more weeks before I see her again" and I told him about my Loki and I think he was anticipating me showing him a picture but I was nervous to take out my phone ;-;

So yeah. I have a spirit board signed by Ifrit, Aether, and Papa III.

And yes, Tobias got the shirt.

Never seen a photo of him in it but I have the thank you note to prove it.

[icarus-suraki]

Thunder, dahlia and sunset!

thunder: would you ever get a tattoo? If so, what are you planning on getting? My. Mother. Would. Kill. Me.

That's an exaggeration but she does find tattoos creepy, and I do value my mom's opinions, so I don't think I'd ever get a tattoo because I wouldn’t want her mad at me or disappointed in me or to think I’m gross or creepy.

But if I were to get a tattoo? A year or two ago I would've 100% gotten the muted posthorn from The Crying of Lot 49 on the inside of my wrist (probably my left wrist but that's just because I'd draw it there with a Sharpie or waterproof eyeliner Back In The Day).

I was planning on going to Dublin the year I turned 38 (2020) because Leopold Bloom in Ulysses is 38 and I didn't succeed in getting to Dublin when I was 22, which is Stephen Dedalus's age in Ulysses. My plan was to get a tattoo while I was there of my favorite line from Ulysses: "The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit" and the Doodles Family from Finnegans Wake. I kind of wanted the Doodles Family under my collarbone the way some people have Roman numeral dates?

Anyway, tl;dr: COVID put the kibosh on that one and I probably wouldn't have had the courage anyway lmao lmao. But having been called Issy for several years by a brilliant Irishman, I feel like I too am part of the Doodles Family (that's obscure and I apologize).

"So it goes" has also been a top contender in the past, especially when a classmate in the English department said "I love how you just say 'so it goes' like in Slaughterhouse Five." I never realized I did it but apparently I did. I still do, I think. That classmate was writing her senior research paper on The World According to Garp. I was writing mine on The Catcher in the Rye.

Otzi the Iceman's tattoos are also cool but the Ukok Princess found in Siberia has better ones and it would be neat to replicate those.

For a while in the past, I thought it would be really cool to have a set of sigils or geometric patterns all over my back and maybe down one arm, something that was like ~ooooh I'm well-versed in strange magic and carry such signs on my body oooooh~ Maybe this was inspired by Fullmetal Alchemist but I can't really remember. Geometric and sigil tattoos are super cool but I think my intention there is kind of cringy. (I also had some even more decidedly cringy tattoo ideas when I was younger--like the classic cringe "feathered wings on my back" kind of shit. Let us not speak of those days.)

I think I'd want only one or two pieces and they'd need to have significance to me and I'd want them to look intentional in some way. I worked with a guy who had this amazing Celtic knotwork cuff around one wrist. That was his only tattoo and the only one he intended to get because that was the kind of "style" he wanted. It was really intentional. I thought that was an interesting way to look at body modification/tattoos because most people I knew who had tattoos always wanted more.

My problem is that I know my interests change--a lot. So if I were to get a tattoo (fixed) for an interest (mutable), I'd probably regret it in a major way sooner or later. I'm better off sticking with henna and waterproof eyeliner.

Although if I ever went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem Old City, I'd get a tattoo from Razzouk Tattoo because that's 700+ years of history plus they seem to use a lot of of Saint George imagery who's kind of important to me because of the Margaret Hodges and Trina Schart Hyman book Saint George and the Dragon. But going to Jerusalem isn't high on my to-do list, despite Margery Kempe falling off her ass and onto her ass when she first came in sight of Jerusalem.

Except: I do want to go to Japan and I wouldn't be allowed into an onsen if I have tattoos, so that probably cancels these plans entirely.

dahlia: describe your ideal house / apartment I'm eating too much avocado toast to afford my dreams, but anyway...

sunset: do you consider yourself to be a lucky or unlucky person? Both.

Stephen King's Dark Tower series induces a special kind of brain rot. I don't consider myself to be in the fandom anymore, but you don't entirely get over it. I mean, in the fandom, you call yourself a Tower Junkie. I'm basically a recovering Tower Junkie. It's kind of always in you, even if you're in recovery. I bring this up because there's a concept that fits from the series.

So in the DT series, there's a concept called "ka mai." "Ka" is kind of like…fate? But more like changeable fate? Or like a tendency for certain things to happen in a certain way? It's not like "thou art doomed unto this fate!" It's not like Oedipus. It's more like "yeah, it's me, so that figures." It's complicated. But Uncle Steve was balls-to-the-wall on morphine for a lot of the last books, so…

Anyway, ka is like fate or a trend in events, but ka mai means something along the lines of "ka's fool." In other words, sometimes the trend in events in your life is like a sweet romantic lover. And sometimes it just fucks you over. And that's me. I'm ka mai.

I feel like when I have good luck, I have really, really good luck. And when I have bad luck, I have really, really bad luck. It's feast or famine. I had a long string of bad luck and job rejections and unexpected expenses and odd frustrations not too long ago. But suddenly I've been getting job interviews and more potential job openings and unexpected connections and certain things are panning out. And it's like, yeah, that figures. When it is good, it is very, very good. But when it is bad, it is horrid.

It's probably confirmation bias, but it sure seems true.

Either way, I like to remember a Cormac McCarthy quote from No Country for Old Men: "You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from."

(Also shoutout to whoever it is in my area that actually has KA MAI for their license plate. I've only seen your car twice at most, but it felt like maybe that in and of itself was ka. Maybe.)

Summertime Asks!

#ask game #ask me things #anon is on

[dzpenumbra]

12/13/22

Today has been a bit tricky. I noticed that Max's hyperthyroid meds were running very low last night. It's a twist applicator and it has stickers all over it, so it's like... impossible to see what level the ointment is at, and I don't know how to even eyeball the amount. And --- I'm getting frantic. I'm afraid that she's going to run out of meds. I probably wrote about this last night. I ordered overnight delivery, the pharmacy says it shipped and I did 1 day delivery, like I shelled out $30 for that shit... But I can't see tracking info, it just gives me an error. I'm just flying by the seat of my pants here, I am praying it gets here tomorrow before 1PM, or that I even have enough meds for tonight - let alone tomorrow morning, too.

It's the not knowing that gets me. And kicking myself. "I can't believe I didn't think to refill this sooner." "How did I not notice?" "I'm a bad pet parent." "She's going to have to be in physical pain, possibly get more sick, because of my inability to manage my life."

I have no idea why I am so afraid of the criticism of others, no one could kick my ass a fraction as bad as I kick my own ass every day. I don't think anyone has even come close. Like... when people try to make fun of me or mock me or criticize me... I'm not even exaggerating, it sounds comical. It sounds like a Kidz Bop version of an insult. Because inside my head... inside my head is an improv stand-up comedian who's been doing crowd-work in my head for over 30 years. Who knows all the ins and outs of my personality, every weak point, every insecurity, every chink in the armor to slip that dagger in. He rolls nat 20s in his fuckin sleep. So seriously, I have no idea why I give a shit about the superficial, juvenile judgements of outsiders when I have this demon to deal with.

Maybe that's why isolation is so hard for me. It's not being by myself, that's never been an issue, I kinda prefer it in a lot of ways. It's being stuck with that motherfucker. Having the only critique of my work being: "Welp, you just sank like 2-3 hours into polishing this piece of cool green mineral and... your dumb ass decided to use purple Sharpie to mark bevel lines. Purple. Remember color theory? Remember how that's a complimentary color? Like the highest contrast, most out-of-place color you could use? Yeah, did you... um... think to check if the mineral was porous or not? Nope, of course not, why would we do that... Now your hours and hours of work have resulted in a beautiful green mirror-surfaced mineral with big purple splotches soaked into it. Way to piss the day away dude, you could've done wood carving, you could've worked on that weird goat skull project, you could've drawn on your tablet. Now your arm is completely worn out. Way to go. <slow clap>"

When that's the only feedback you get on your work... How long can you keep going?

But with something like this, like caring for a loved one, like medical stuff, executive functioning stuff, life stuff. It's just whole other ball game. And I just feel like a complete sack of shit. Like how the fuck... Okay, you know what, I'm going to give the real second half to that sentence. Not "how the fuck do I keep fucking up so bad." Nope. It's "how the fuck do people keep track of all this shit?" "How do 'normal' people function?" It legit blows my mind, probably the same way it blows their mind that I can draw the way I can. I just can't keep up, I can't keep track of all this stuff. It took me like an hour to just figure out what the hell I was doing for dinner, and I was trying to do something easy. I tried to do Grubhub and just kept getting distracted, then I couldn't make up my mind, then the clock was ticking and I had to order before a specific time, then I think about how expensive this is getting and rabbit-hole on that for a while. Then eventually I'm just like "fuck it, I'm just making ramen, this is dumb." After like an hour of not being able to find anything appealing. It's obnoxious and it's like... every fucking day.

Can you tell I'm stressed out? XD

So... my cat's fate on this is really in the hands of the delivery people. This needs to be an act of faith. I did my best here. And I --- okay, you know what, I'm telling the story.

I used to be on Lamictal. I was on a bunch of different meds, one was some fucking anti-psychotic med they give to people in retirement homes (I was told after I got off it) that I was taking for the side-effects to help me sleep... yeah... Not even gonna tangent on that one, I'm sure you can go on your own personal journey of medical outrage. And I was on a titanic dose of Xanax just for daily functioning. If you want to call it that... All this from a psychiatrist who wore more makeup than any person I've met in my whole life. I was neurotic about my meds. I had the fear of God put in me with a bunch of side-effect scares - serotonin syndrome being one of the biggest, but not the only one. After not being able to move my eyes without vomiting for hours, trauma ground the lesson in my head that you do. not. fuck. with. meds. You take them on time. You do not miss doses. The side effects can be life-threatening, and you don't know how bad it is for you personally until you're there. So... what happened?

I forgot to get my prescription refilled. And it was a Sunday afternoon. I remember it clear as day, it was a cloudy afternoon, it looked like a storm was rolling in from the South. It was summer of 2019, probably around... May or June. It was like 4 in the afternoon, that was when my med time was and I just flat-out did not notice that I need a refill until I opened my med container thing and there was nothing there. I fucking lost my shit. I called every pharmacy I could find, nothing was open. I called places up to like 45 minutes away. I was driving around town while calling these places, saying "I'm in my car right now, I can be there in X minutes." Nothing, no one could help me. I panicked so much, I shit you not, I went to the police station. God, this is so embarrassing, but like... when you don't have any friends and no one picks up the phone, and no professional will help you... and you're afraid for your life... what do you do? I panicked. Maybe I should've gone to the hospital? Nearest one was 40 minutes away. Anyway, they didn't know how to help me either. No duh there, I guess. So eventually I just was out of options and I went home. This part of the story feels weird to tell because... well... in the past, it might have gotten someone into trouble. At least that's what he thought, I disagree, but whatever. I called up an old friend of mine that I recently reconnected with briefly. He mentioned he was on Lamictal at one point, we connected on that. I... asked him if he could spot me one so I didn't go into withdrawal. And, because he worked at a mental health facility (as a like... handyman, but still...) he was unsure if that would be okay. Like... it was weird, and he was afraid he'd get fired for it if anyone found out. He hasn't worked there in a few years so I feel okay telling this now, and it's not like I'm naming him or anything. See how fucking paranoid we all have to be nowadays?! This isn't even a controlled substance!!! Like I really don't think you can abuse Lamictal... But yeah, he bailed me out with one dose so I didn't freak out. And I guess that was like... one of the biggest friend moments I've ever had. Though I wish we could've been less afraid of the cops showing up or some shit. It's so stupid looking back at it, like... all of it. But, this is a big one for me.

So, I'm dealing with a similar story with my cat now... At least, it feels the same. Where, despite my best efforts, I have managed to overlook med details, forget to keep up with them, and I'm praying to any deity that will listen for her to not have to go an extended period of time without the med in her system. But it hits different. See, when it was me... it was fear of mortality, fear of death. With her? It's fear of guilt, of having to live a life with that blood on my hands. In my fucked up imagination, she's already dead from thyroid imbalances somehow cascading and leading to organ failure. And it's all my fault. And I have to live with that survivor's guilt for the rest of my life. Dark as fuck, right?

See, that's why I don't like isolation. I don't have anyone else in the world to say, "Hey, look, it's probably not as bad as you think. Let's do some research on this." So I can feel my feelings fully, which all stem in intensity from how much I care about her, and not deny or suppress them. But also make informed, logical decisions. God fucking damn is it hard to do both at the same time. And I see so many people take this insanely valuable asset - another human perspective, emotional grounding, compassion, comfort, reassurance, support, stuff like that - for granted. It's the piece that's missing for me right now, and I really don't know where to go to find it. I mean that. Instagram? Feels weird. Here? How? Dating apps? Feels even weirder, somehow. At this point in the list... I just start getting really depressed and resign to my current situation.

I wrote to my social worker today. I told him about the ADHD stuff. I tried to keep it brief and ended up writing at least a full page, it's hard to really gauge how much I write in a digital format, I guess that's why they're switching from "pages" to "minutes" as a way of telling how long a read things are nowadays. I'll see how he responds.

I'm afraid I'm just... too fucked up. I struggle with too many things, and I have for too long. The system doesn't seem to be designed to help people like me, I guess. Like... it's supposed to be like a social support system, social services, right? But everyone I talk to just gives me tips on positive self-talk, how to set healthy boundaries with people and encourages me to exercise and meditate. All of which I work on, and none of which are fixing the massive gaping holes in my life like... I've been living out of piles of cardboard boxes for like 6 years. It takes about a week for me to lose my structure and my dishes pile up to the ceiling. I build up my self-confidence into a freight train of motivation, then go to a job interview, feel like I did a great fucking job and then... it goes nowhere. Rarely even a call-back. Same for applications, I write this legendary cover letter, something heartfelt, conversational, personal, real. And I don't even get a fucking "sorry, we're not interested." And I try to set up my own businesses, and somehow... no one can help me with... any of them? Like... at all? It's fucking weird, it's like I'm radioactive. Naw. It's like I'm cursed. It's like I was hexed by the Witch of the Woods and everyone got the memo like 10 minutes before I showed up, so they hide the memo behind their backs and go "hey, _____, nice to meet you!" With a big fake smile that my naïve and insanely emotionally overwhelmed ass reads as completely legit, and then they nod and smile as I do my best to confidently, honestly stroll through the interview. Meanwhile they're checking the clock the whole time, because they made up their mind before I walked in the door.

I feel like no one. Not my family, not my friends, not therapists, not mentors, not potential employers, not potential business partners. No one wants to take a chance on me. And I don't know why. Maybe it's because I have too much to say? Maybe my constantly racing mind is too overwhelming for them? Maybe it's my strong emotions? Maybe they're intimidated by me? I have no idea, this is all 100% speculation.

Can you tell I'm depressed? XD

So yeah, I don't have huge hopes that he will be able to support me in the way I need it. And, despite browsing two dating apps every morning, I feel like if I were to date someone, I would seriously just be giving them a big list of chores. Like... dating me would be a job. Make sure he doesn't forget that the daily alert to start his sleep routine went off in his pocket, but he got distracted and wandered off to dig through a random box for something he hasn't used in 4 years. Make sure he's actually eaten food and drank water today. It's 2AM, tell him to go to bed. I would do these things for a girlfriend in a heartbeat. I mean that sincerely, and I have. I've actually been denied the ability to do that by my ex, due to her pride, and it made me feel like I wasn't allowed to be a good boyfriend. And it sucked. I know how much these and other gestures mean, especially to people like me. Like... it's life-changing. But it still feels like a tall order.

So yeah, difficult day. But I sanded down an agate today - it's really pretty, pink and purple and white - the best I could until my arm wore out, then I played Rimworld, smoked a tiny tiny bit and took a shower, then worked on sanding another piece of that green stuff, I still don't know what it is, I think it's fluorite but it's very grainy and opaque. And I worked on a small triangular piece of reddish... I'm guessing sandstone or something, it was very easy to polish, much more pleasant to work with. And here I am.

I'm gonna dig up a midnight snack. I guess this brain dump was helpful, I don't know, this kinda just felt like my depression jacking off. Like... I'm very conflicted on this. I have a lot of deep gut instincts that have been telling me for a long time that the solution to most of my problems would be to get in a healthy relationship with someone where I can help them in ways that they lack, and they can help me with the things that I struggle with. And every time I float this idea, people look at me like I have 40 heads. Like I should have 20 friends before I even start looking for a girlfriend. Well... who is going to go out and meet people with me?

I have always been the tag-along. Any time I moved, it was because I had a friend there. Any time I went to an event or a party or... anything, really... it was because someone I knew was there. I have always functioned atrociously when I don't have someone else there.

Someone was being really loud in the hallway and decided of all walls to bang against... to do it on mine... Made me jump. Still not used to being in close proximity to other humans. Maybe I don't function atrociously when I'm alone. I function differently. I don't think in social-mode. Because the majority of my experience on a daily level is... internal. It's in my head. It's not interactive. I shift purely into introspective mode. Where, when I'm in regular social interactions, I have outside stimuli to pull me out of my head. When that's absent, I have a tendency to go through gigantic creative growth spurts... I fucking wonder why... but also, all the shit you're seeing here tonight, that runs rampant. Like a cartoon of Halloween or some shit, all my demons and depressions and anxieties and panics and inner-critiques and all that shit are just swooping around and divebombing poor me as I'm just trying to go throughout my day. I think it's a BIG reason why people like me tend to impulsively just jump from relationship to relationship, without even noticing it, without even thinking about it. To avoid that. The alone scaries. Being stuck with their own thoughts. Alone.

So yeah, good night! Sleep tight! XD

I try so hard to end on a good note with these things, or at least a mic drop or something, but yeah. Fuck it. Today is just a weird one. Fingers crossed I get some good sleep, and here's hoping for a better tomorrow.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

[mrssecretwife]

Maybe ... maybe not

Today I think it 's the worst that I have felt being married. My husband & I were laying in bed. He had his wallet in his pocket. I took it out to look at it... nothing that I haven't did before. I was looking at his id picture at first, then I went through the wallet. I found a tiny folded up piece of paper that was tucked away in his wallet. I unfolded it. On one side it was an email address, on the other it was a number belonging to "Jordan" . Big bold letters, in a black sharpie. I was so confused. Of course I asked him what was this? What do men typically say when you ask them about something along those lines. He told me the number was over a year old. But it wasn't. I remember that piece of paper from when we were getting married and I had to send out invitations. He would write people email address down on receipt paper and give it to me. I remember the email being on this paper, but not that big number belonging to Jordan. WHO TF IS JORDAN!!!! Now, I know his work friends or the regulars that he is cool with, but I never heard of anyone named Jordan.

When I kept asking him what was this about, he told me that this is what I get for going through his wallet. Excuse me??????? This is what I get for doing what??? Then he proceeded to say something like "yall ladies do this & that" or something iddkkkkkk. How dare you try to blame me for you cheating on me? Now I know that is a major to accuse someone of, but I don't put that cheating shit past anyone. Shit, if Beyonce can get cheated on, then who am I to say that I am exempt from that? I don't think my husband would do me like that, but hell you never know. That is why I will never put myself 100% any relationship, because you just never know. I am tired of being the heartbroken, "damsel in distress" girl. I wanna be happy with a fairy tell ending.

After all this, he went to the store without me knowing and brought me back some chips. He just threw it on the bed and left the room. He then came back in and told me I was ungrateful and should say thank you. I stayed silent and he took the chips away. Its the gaslighting for me! Instead of doing me like that, how about you hold me & reassure me that you're not doing anything that you're not suppose to be doing. I'm a simple girl, I don't require much.

I think back of when he said a woman was in & out of his job trying to get clients. I know men are like teenagers when they see something fresh and knew, but I just cant bring myself to think the guy I married is like that. I wanna believe it's nothing, but I dont want to downplay it if its actually something.

My feelings are so hurt. I have to hide and go in other rooms, just to breakdown to myself. I will never let a man see or know that he has got the best of me. I replay scenes in my head when I first was catching my ex cheating. The way he will deny or gaslight me to think I was the wrong one or he wasn't doing anything at all. If my husband is cheating then, I will have no choice but to divorce him. Cheating is my deal breaker & I wont stand for it. Now the real question is .... is my husband cheating on me??? Maybe ... maybe not,

[the-masters-pieces]

I don't wanna do this no mo.

I wanna just hop on a plane and go show up at her dō. Stop and get some cheap sss flowers on the way, knowing she's gonna turn her nose up when I give 'em to her. She'll take 'em and they'll shatter petals and stems all over the place just before the tears spill over and run down her face. I'm sick of seeing her not being well taken care of, looking like she don't know why she ain't got nobody giving her the kinda love she wants. Having her say she's doing without and she ain't got and she ain't got no job or motivation to get one, haven't had nothing t'eat or somebody scammed her sss again tryna make it happen the way she seen it did. Or heard. I keep googling it, y'know, typing it in the search bar checking the prices, picking the day and looking at my schedule dates, and I leave open the page, I let not knowing what 3 months with her might do to her before I put a foot in the race, I wish for her lips to taste, and I know they're right there waiting, the shadows of some other's skin, the nexus of some other's flesh just, wiped clean and hidden memories under lies to unasked questions, and I'm here flexing these innocuous thumbs, absent, letting time steal her away, and tempt fate to place her at the right time for a blind date, and I don't wanna do this no mō, I promise I don't, but I let ghosts scare me away, and that's not even the car, I saw the tints before it got to the light and went bone stiff, it could have been, I stay seeing this one lady she lied on to save face and lied to about me, her dance in my head, her voice in my face, her pieces she touched that once we're a part of me don't even collect dust, and I won't throw them away even though she's done playing with them, I keep saving them and going back to check and see if they're where I let them lay, I'd swear I won't endure another instance, all these cuts from walking on this piece of ventricle I remember by the scar and where it came from, I, can't, I would tell you how it started but it's kinda foggy now, and maybe I like it that way, but I still wanna forget all that, scribble on them pages with a sharpie til it's nothing left but a black page, start over with a blank, a two lines story, in a DM, me: I'm here and her: ok

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Superheroes with Secrets: Yuletide Excitement (Fic Part 174. Set in 2001)

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places. Please inform me if you wish to be tagged/untagged from posts.

Tags: @tantamount-treason @piratewithvigor @thedollmaker16

Reference Posts: ‘Giantess’/‘Blacklight Bandit’ Kirby Roussimoff x Shane ’Hurricane’ Helms (Circa 2001)

"Did you take a mold of me for this?" He chuckles, pulling it out.

"Nope, just got very lucky they had different sizes and shapes, Delilah actually got slightly annoyed because she couldn't find one to match Jeff, although there were a lot of rainbow ones."

"Should've been close enough."

"I don't know, I've never seen what's in Jeff's pants."

"Lucky. The locker room is a heinous place."

"Why do you think I ask for a private dressing room everywhere we go?"

"Good point."

"The less time spent telling Lita and Trish that 'yes, your tits do look big in that top' the better."

"Can't blame them much. A lot of the women's roster depends on their looks to keep their job."

"Okay, I don't depend on my looks, I depend on skill, and my skill to hold my tongue and not say 'I have two melons strapped to my chest on a daily basis and I don't give a fuck what people think about them unless it's my husband' is lacking at the moment."

"And right now, your husband is gonna play with them."

"Wanna give them a squeeze, mon ouragan d'amour?"

"Goddamn right I do."

"Squeeze as much as you want, Shaney baby." Kirby whispers, guiding his hands to her chest.

He begins practically kneading them, mouthing over the skin and nipples with fervour. Kirby moans in ecstasy, holding onto hips for support.

"They're so perfect…"

"Really? You think so?"

"I know so."

"Oh my love, you are so good to me."

"You're just as good to me."

"Well, I would hope so, I am pregnant with your child, I may as well try my best to keep you in my arms."

"You succeed, you goddess."

"Goddess, hmm?"

"Absolutely."

"Shane, I want you to ravage me, mon sauvage." Kirby purrs.

"Whatever you want, Princess. Lie down for me."

Kirby lies on the bed next to Shannon, kissing his neck and making Shannon squirm and glare at her. Helms gives Shannon's cock a quick squeeze before sliding into Kirby. Helms picks up his pace slowly, but it isn't long before he's fucking Kirby fast and rough.

"Oh that feels like heaven, oh putain, oh mon dieu."

He's kissing along her neck and collarbone, leaving little bite marks and hickies.

"Oh God, yes, Shane, more."

"Love hearing you beg like that."

"You like hearing me beg, then I'll always want more, mon amour."

"Just the way I like it."

"I love you, Shaney daddy, I want you to fill me up until there's no room left in my pussy."

"Planning on it."

"Shane, you remember when I edged you the first time, how much did you enjoy that?"

"Well… it made the orgasm at the end all the harder."

"You remember how you tried to get me to give in and let you cum in me, what if we did that to Shannon?" Kirby smirks.

"Let him cum in you or make him beg?"

"Make him beg and then let him cum in me. Maybe you two can share me, ya know, take turns cumming in me, make a day out of trying to have sex as much as possible?"

"Mm, that does sound nice."

"Ooh, we could keep a tally on our skin of how many times we've had sex, like sharpie a tally on our stomach or thighs?"

"Mm, I like that."

"I could go get the other toys if you want, Shaney baby, like you could plug me up if you wanted to."

"It's playtime for Shane," he grins excitedly, "I'll whip out the toys as I see fit."

"I love it when you excited about making love."

"Am I not always excited?"

"Not this excited, but yes."

"Fair point."

"I love you, my little sugar cube, you are the most handsome man in the world."

Helms can't help but be a little smug towards Shannon, who rolls his eyes.

"Don't make mon petit jouet feel annoyed, he might end up deciding not to fuck one of us if you do that." Kirby murmurs.

"You're right. Maybe I should make it up to him a little bit." He chuckles, licking a long line up Shannon's cock.

Shannon moans against the gag, his hips bucking up in an attempt to slam his dick into Helms' mouth.

"I know your tricks, Moore. Y'ain't pulling that old one on me."

"Shannon, the only way you would have succeeded is if you held his head there, and you currently can't use your hands." Kirby notes, making Shannon give her the look of 'no shit, Sherlock'.

"He succeeded once. It turned into a hell of hell of a scuffle and my ass being sore for a week."

"Oh my poor little sweetheart." Kirby whispers, stroking Shane's hair gently.

"I got him back. You remember that, Shannon?" He smirks, making Shannon go a little red.

"What did you do?"

"Found a remote-controlled vibrator, stuck it inside him and made him go through the whole school day with it in."

"Oh, mon mari, you torturous beast." Kirby gives him a quick slap on the arm.

He grins playfully as he shrugs, "He earned it. And when I took it out, he almost blacked out from the strength of cumming."

"Oh you poor baby, mon petit jouet."

"Long story short, him and I are even."

"You are both poor little sweet things, I love you both, but I love Shane more, because he's the one who gets to impregnate me."

"I should think being your husband also gives me bonus points, but whatever." He laughs.

"I wouldn't let someone I wasn't married to get me pregnant." Kirby whispers, pulling Helms into a heated kiss.

He kisses her back intensely, "Fair enough."

Kirby moans against his lips, cumming against his dick and covering him with her juices.

"That's my good girl."

"I love you so much." She whispers breathlessly.

"I love you too."

Kirby rests her head against his shoulder, softly humming to herself as she gets her breath back.

"Feel okay?"

"I need a drink of some sort, my vision is all fuzzy." Kirby murmurs.

"You wait right here. I'll go get us some Gatorades."

Kirby snuggles up against Shannon and waits for Helms to return. He comes back not long later with three bottles and hands one to Kirby as he undoes Shannon's gag.

"Why is your wife so adorable for such a big girl?" Shannon asks gently.

"Because she's her." Helms smiles proudly.

"Thank you." Kirby murmurs sleepily.

"You need a nap, love?"

Kirby nods, barely managing to keep her eyes open.

"Get some rest. You give your blessing for me to help Shannon cum? I might kiss him a little, but will mostly fuck him."

"Yeah, you can fuck him, but can I have a kiss before I fall asleep."

"Of course." He smiles, kissing her gently.

Kirby kisses back softly before snuggling into the bed and falling asleep.

"You think you can be quiet so my wife can rest, or do you need the gag again?" Helms purrs.

"I can be quiet, I can be very quiet." Shannon nods eagerly.

"Good boy."

Shannon smirks, staying as quiet as possible. Helms pushes into him softly, groaning as he does. Shannon moans, biting his bottom lip to stifle his moans. Helms is much slower with Shannon, trying to bring his heart rate down a little. Shannon tries to stay as quiet as he can, but moans in pleasure slightly louder and makes Kirby stir a little. Helms kisses him softly to muffle his moans. Shannon melts into the kiss, moaning against Helms' lips. He's being so tender with Shannon more so making love to him like they did as teens.

"Shane, you haven't been like this since we dated." Shannon jokes softly.

"I just got the ab workout of a lifetime pounding her like I did… and maybe I wanted a chance to be soft with you."

"Yeah, I noticed that you're getting really muscular after you met her, you were skin and bones for so long and now you're fit and muscular."

"She wants me to be able to carry her throughout her whole pregnancy. And I want to too. So I work out hard every night for hours."

"Ah, so it's a case of being a strong daddy for your wife and baby daughter." Shannon teases jokingly.

"Well, that's part of it. Other part is that I'm finally eating properly again and it's paying off."

"Not just eating properly, but eating what your sexy French maiden of a wife makes."

"Exactly. God, she's good."

"Imagine that, Kirby in a French maid dress, and no underwear, God, that would be sexy."

"Think we'd have to beg to get that to happen."

"Or we could do what she did, leave it in a box with a note saying to wear only what's in the box." Shannon suggests.

"That's not a half bad idea."

"Oooh, Shane, we can put a ribbon that's just big enough to cover her nips in a box and just that, she's a good girl, she knows to take orders."

"Oh that's perfect."

"Wrap her up in a black ribbon, deny her a little and make her beg before you fuck her senseless."

"Only a little. She hates being edged."

"Not edging her exactly, more denying her before you actually put your dick in her, like when she comes up to you and wants to fuck, you deny her once or twice before you give in and fuck her."

"So more like teasing."

"Yeah, tease her and only fuck her when she gets really needy."

"Now that sounds like fun."

"You get to have some more control over her, but you also have to control your urge to give in before you fuck her."

"You know me, the control freak."

Kirby's phone goes off, not one of the recognizable ringtones.

"You know whose phone that is?" Shannon asks.

"Kirby's, but I can't tell who's calling."

"Maybe you should answer it, she is your wife, you can see if they actually need to talk to her."

He groans softly as he reaches over to pick it up, "Hello?"

"Hey, is Kirby there?" A Hawaiian accent asks.

"She's asleep right now. Need me to wake her up?"

"No, it's okay, uhm… just wanted to see if I could ask her out on a date, haven't spoken since high school."

"Can I ask who this is?"

"I'm Ikaika Pachis, why?"

"Just wanted to tell her you called?"

"I don't even know if she remembers me but Kealani gave me her number last Christmas and it's taken me a year to build up the confidence to reach out."

"Have you spoken to Kealani in a while?"

"Nope, haven't spoken to her since February."

"Well, then I don't have to get frustrated with her." He chuckles.

"This is her number right, Kealani didn't completely screw me over?"

"Yeah, this is her number."

"Are you one of her co-workers or something?"

"Well, yes, but more importantly, I'm her husband."

"Oh fuck, shit, sorry, bye." Ikaika squeaks as he hangs up."

Kirby stirs awake slowly, "what's wrong, hon?"

"You got a call from an old friend from high school."

"Which high school and what 'friend'?"

"Didn't say and Ikaika."

"Oh fuck him, he isn't a friend, he fucking bullied me, probably used a fake story to get you to hand me the phone."

"He said Kealani gave him your number a year ago and he just now got the courage to call you up. Hung up real quick when I said I was your husband."

"Don't doubt Kealani gave him my number, she's always a little too helpful to everyone, but he fucking bullied me and was the guy who kicked the shit out of me at fifteen."

"Wish I could have given him an earful."

"You can always call his number back and leave a message." Kirby murmurs.

"Halfway tempted."

"If you do, I'll make you some more pancakes and some chocolate mousse, hell, I'll even let you eat if off my tits."

#superheroes with secrets #shane hurricane helms #kirby roussimoff #blacklight bandit #orange and green - the perfect team #shannon brian moore #sws #kirby andrea roussimoff #delilah keshet rosenbaum #gregory shane helms #jeffrey nero hardy #matthew moore hardy #lita hardy

[rantsintechnicolor]

in the bookstore

It's a strange feeling when you recognize a place you have never seen before in person. It seemed like a lucky day when I happened upon a bookstore I was following on Instagram. Why was I following a bookstore I didn't think I would ever visit? Why was I following a bookstore that had no cats? Probably because Charlie Jane Anders is a goddess.

No cats, but it was dog-themed, sort of. It is called Dog-Eared Books. It's on a corner in the Mission District of San Francisco, the lower level of a Victorian style building with apartments above. (And I wonder if someone has written a novel of someone living in an apartment above a bookstore, but maybe it was a movie. Was it the first lesbian movie I saw, Better Than Chocolate? Did she just work at that bookstore or also live above it? Maybe the movie was based on a book...)

Normally, I would walk right by. Normally, I have no money and I have no room in my small library. But there are a few books I feel I need to have in the tasting room library, and I should pop in and see if they are available. And at that moment, there was no where I need to be.

The shop is in great contrast to three blocks east, where it is chaos and grime and pain and poverty. It is neat and clean and orderly and all the books look new, and likely arrived in the bookstore unattached to any crime. The sections are heralded by sharpie written on cardboard, like the panhandler with a sign on Octavia Blvd with the scrawl, "HIRE ME". So much light comes from the front windows and the windows lining the high ceiling. Bright and cheerful and, yes, slightly dog-eared. I thought of how the big box bookstores cannot embody the charm of this place, with its history and haunted books and long-haired clerks. I wonder if all the clerks are budding writers, or have a podcast about books. I thought of how much I missed Leon's Books in the town where I went to college, how it's a hair salon now. They kept cockatiels and parakeets that would titter cheerfully while you browsed the shelves.

It's pretty crowded for a Tuesday, but it is after 5pm. I wonder how many people just stopped by on a whim like me. I wait patiently for people to move, so I can follow or pass them by, making sure we all have our space. Most of the patrons are masked, which is good, because there is another surge of covid infections.

I find myself surprisingly overwhelmed though it is calm and quiet. My mind is racing with all the things I want, all the authors I love. I could easily assemble a pile, but I talk myself out of most before I reach for their spines. I haven't read that yet, am I sure I want it on my very selective shelf? Is this book on-brand for the tasting room? I should probably have this book there for representation, but is it the best one? Oh, look, Edgar Allen Poe. W was just asking me if I remember The Mask of the Red Death. And I thought of all my book loving friends. My new friend, K. I thought of Hal. And IMG. And I thought I should put this one book back, but definitely buy these two to support this little neighborhood gem. I stared longingly at the Miyazaki movie book with Totoro on the cover. I thought maybe I should buy their only copy of Blood Child by Octavia Butler, an author that continues to blow my mind with her writing. But I don't. I've already bought it once. I should probably have a list with me, so I'm more focused the next time I happen across a used bookstore, because I'm sure there is something special I'm leaving behind.

I wonder if anyone else experiences bookstores this way...

"Would you like a bookmark?" the clerk asks me. It seems likes like you have to call the person working in a bookshop a clerk. I wonder what they like to be called.

"Um," I say. "Okay."

"I don't mean to pressure you," he teases me.

"I don't feel pressured," I laugh. And I wonder if it's a shtick, like, you could have this bookmark... or you could just dog-ear the page.

#bookstores #books #creative writing #writing #mission district #san francisco

[rogue-durin-16]

LIFE-SAVING SHARPIE

Summary: Despite being a muggle, Y/n's mother was an expert in divination. She tried to teach Y/n, who saw it as a mere muggle game. But, oh, what a powerful weapon a muggle game can become in the hands of the right witch.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst (w/ a good ending)

Tags:

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: injuries, death(ish)

A/N: I'm not saying I'm incapable of writing an angsty ending for a Fred Weasley story, but I'd rather not do that, so here comes a stupid story that occurred to me this morning, enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Y/l/n!" I sighed. "Is it true?"

"Your mom is into divination?" George question made me throw my head back in desperation as both twins made their way through the Great Hall to meet me.

I knew that day would be a bumpy one the moment we entered in the Divination classroom. The fact that a muggleborn aced a new subject since class one was strange.

I knew I would have to give some explanation to my friends after. Ron was particularly shocked by the fact that my muggle mother had taught me —against my will, may I say— lots of Divination-related things. I knew Ron, being Ron, would surely tell every soul that would listen about his discovery, but I had hoped for him to wait until the third period at least.

"Secrets spread like wildfire here." I said.

"Are you secretly a soothsayer?"

"Yes, Fred. You see, I have the Sight." I ironically stated, and, seeing this as a perfect opportunity to get closer to the boy I fancied, I added "Want me to read your palm?"

They shared an amused look, fully aware that I was joking. Even in the Wizarding World, divination wasn't something to believe in.

There were supposed to be people able to see the future, such as professor Trelawney, but no student had seen her predict a thing, so she wasn't the best example.

George was the first one to sit down. "Predict my future, oh, you who were gifted with the Sight." I snorted as he laid his palm before my eyes.

I picked his hand on mines, "Hmm..." Fred hovering over my form from behind wasn't ideal for me to concentrate. "Okay so..." I felt one of his hands toying with the clasp of my necklace, brushing my nape. "Will you stop touching my necklace and sit down?" I demanded.

"Yeah Fred, sit down." George reprimanded his brother. "She's trying to see my future." I heard Fred chuntering before he plopped down on my other side, leaning on a tad too close for my liking. "Alright, fortuneteller, is there a love line?"

Of course he would ask about that. "Let's see..." I traced said line, unable to remember to the T what my mom had tried to teach me. "So, the heart line is arched... Which means..."

"That you can't tell a thing?" I slapped Fred's arm.

"Which means he's balanced." I corrected him. "You're able to realize when you need to take care of yourself, and when you should let a someone in." George seemed invested. "You'll have just one serious partner, but they'll be the right one."

"Well, that doesn't sound half bad, huh?" He looked at me with a content smile.

"My turn." Fred spoke, smacking his brother's hand away and replacing it with his left one. "The line of life or whatever." He scooted a bit closer and I felt my heartbeat pick up. "What's my fate?"

"Are you left-handed, Fred?" I questioned with an eyebrow raised, already knowing the answer. "I need your dominant hand." Oh well, that came out wrong.

"Straightforward, are we?" George snorted at his brother's remark as he exchanged hands, turning to straddle the bench to be more comfortable. "Alright, what do you see?" He had leaned on to the point where he only needed to tilt his head down a couple of inches to rest it on my shoulder.

"A hand." I deadpanned, which earned a playful push from him. "Okay, okay— I see..." A puzzled frown took over my gaze. "Wait—" I turned to George. "gimme your hand."

"What?" Fred questioned, shifting his position ever so slightly.

"Uhm..." The frown grew bigger, and I had to remind myself what I was doing was a joke. "You... don't have a lifeline?" I dubiously informed. "I mean— it sorta... Starts? but then it fades away." I widened my eyes and froze, remembering what that meant.

I saw Fred tilting his head slightly. "Is it so bad that you won't tell me what it means?" He asked jokingly in order to lighten my distraught mood.

"It— well, it means that you'll die at a young age." My eyes met his and, despite the amused smile that always danced on his lips, fear slipped out of his orbs now, too.

"Wait what?" George propped himself on his forearms to see his brother's palm. "Can't be. Check mine?"

"I just did, you git." George wasn't even smiling. Maybe he did believe it. "Yours is fine."

The three of us stayed in silence for an instant. Even if none of us believed in divination, the fact that Fred had no lifeline was rather unsettling.

"It's fine." I cleared my throat, turning to my bag and leaving Fred's hand over the table on the process. "Apart from seeing the future, I can fix lifelines." They looked at each other when they saw me grab a sharpie. "Don't move." I demanded, holding down Fred's right hand before tracing a black line where the lifeline was supposed to be. "There. A long, healthy life."

When I looked back at the twins' faces, I saw them ready to laugh. Distress had already left them, and that helped my own evaporate.

"Merlin, Y/n!" Fred dramatically exclaimed. "You've just saved my life!"

"She sure did." George agreed, patting my back.

"Now go and tell Ron to shut up." I didn't want to imagine what would happen if people started to believe I could actually predict their future; the twins were sceptic and even they had somehow fallen for it.

I was so focused on George getting up that I didn't even notice Fred's hand flipping and wrapping around mine.

A soft kiss was placed on my cheek and I felt my face heating up even before meeting Fred's proud grin. "Figured I'd give my savior something in repay." His eyes seemed to flicker to my lips for a second; it's just my imagination, I thought, unaware of Fred's thumb caressing the back of my hand until he removed it in order to stand up.

Four Years Later

FRED'S P. O. V.

One second I was laughing at Percy's joke, and the next one everything was black; not only visually, everything was pitch black in every fucking sense.

I heard nothing, I couldn't touch anything, my voice was gone.

My mind was completely blank, until a thought slipped in my brain: 'you'll die at a young age'.

My head was spiralling now. I was dead. That's what death felt like? Nothing?

Y/n's words kept going on and on, frying my brain. How ironic it was that the voice I would have forever in my mind belonged to the girl I had been in love with since I was fourteen, and the words were what we thought to be her silly prediction.

I had no idea how long it had been, but suddenly I felt it; a tear running down my cheek. A flaming hot tear, burning its way off my face. Then I felt something else, some sort of rope wrapping tight around my right hand and wrist, so tight that it made my pulse speed up.

My pulse.

It dawned on me that my heart was beating fast against my chest. It was beating.

I needed to breathe.

"FRED!" Someone forced my eyes open; It was Percy. I couldn't see him right away because the lights were blinding to my eyes, but I recognised his voice. "FRED SAY SOMETHING!"

"Y/n..." I couldn't hear my own voice, but I felt her name going through my vocal cords.

"HE'S ALIVE!" Ron cried. "you're alive-" my sight was blurry but I could pick out my younger brother's crown in front of me as he sobbed over my chest.

"We gotta get him out of here right now!!" Of course it was Hermione who got everyone moving. As both my brothers managed to pick me up, I felt my eyes closing once more. Not even the fear of not waking up again stopped me from passing out.

READER'S P. O. V.

I had volunteered as Healer to help Madam Pomfrey during the Battle, that's why it was me who received two Weasleys practically dragging a third one into the improvised infirmary.

I recognised him from his jacket. "Fred..." At first I thought it was his corpse, that's how bad he looked.

"Y/N!!" It was only when Fred seemed to tilt his head up due to Ron's cry that I reacted, rushing to help them. "Keep him alive!" I only nodded, taking Ron's place as he took off.

With one of his arms over my shoulders and the other over his brother's, we managed to carry him to one of the stretchers; his painful weak groans went directly into my ear as we moved him, triggering the tears I was holding to fall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

FRED'S P. O. V.

"—alive, somehow." Y/n's voice, though it sounded far away, let me know she was close. "No, don't wake him up."

"Listen, you gotta get him to St. Mungo." It seemed George the one talking, but his voice was too shaky to tell. "in an hour this is gonna get really ugly, I want him out."

"George, we're besieged." Her tone was hopeless.

"Look at him, You said it— It's a bloody miracle he's still breathing." my brother's voice shattered; all I wanted was to get up, hug him and say I was okay, but I felt my brain spinning once more. "Bill and I will escort you out of the castle so..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time I opened my eyes, terror inundated me; everything was dark again. I gasped for air and propped myself up, instantly regretting it. A stabbing pain attacked every part of my body, triggering a shocked cry out of me.

"What are you doing?!" Y/n whisper-shouted, before placing both her hands over my chest to push me back to the bed again. "Are you mental?" Her fingertips moved out of the way a bandage that covered my eyes. "Oi, listen," when she noticed my shaky hands desperately trying to reach my face, she took them in hers. "You're safe."

I tried to say something —anything—, but my throat was sore, and the only thing that was able to leave it was her name.

"Shhh." She hushed me, letting one of her hands travel to my face. "You have to rest." I would have sworn she was crying, but I couldn't tell. "Everything'll get better." Her thumb stroking my cheek was the most soothing thing I had ever felt, so it wasn't difficult for me to close my eyes, this time willingly, though I was equally scared. "I'll stay by your side." The reassuring squeeze her hand gave me, made me aware that she had noticed my fear.

Before drifting off, I felt Y/n's lips placing a chaste kiss on my forehead, making my heart hammer against my chest.

I was still alive.

A Month Later

READER'S P. O. V.

It was Ron who sent me an owl the moment Fred finally got out of the hospital. He informed me that, instead of going to the Burrow to rest a few days—as planned—, ha had gone straight to the shop.

That's how I found myself the next morning inside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, which was not-so-surprisingly full of people again.

Due to the huge amount of customers, it was relatively difficult for me to spot the twins.

Apparently, I turned out to be easy to spot.

"Y/n!" I turned in the stairs' direction to be met with a very enthusiastic George who, before I could even greet him, engulfed me in a hug.

"I see you can't catch a break." I observed, pulling away with a big smile on my face. That place really made the trick to bring joy to everyone.

"You can't imagine." He replied, his gaze wandering around before pulling my hand. "Oi, Fred! Look who dropped by!" He shouted over the hubbub, leading me to the till counter, behind which I saw the reason why I had come in the first place.

Just as Fred's eyes noticed me, he attempted to rush out of the till. I left George's side as soon as I realized that he, in fact, couldn't really rush out.

"Merlin's beard!" Despite he had just had to grip the counter in order not to fall, he tried again. "Take it easy, will you?" I scolded him, steadying him by his forearms and helping him step back to rest against the till. "Do you want to go back to the hospital?"

"If you're the one taking care of me, I wouldn't complain." The first time his eyes fell on my lips, I missed it because I was still securing him. The second time it was impossible to miss. "You know? Your sharpie saved my life."

I snorted at his nonsensical words. "You're delirious, Weasley." My hands finally left his forearms, just to be picked up on his. "Still suffering from the concussion?" I joked, trying to deviate my own attention from my fast heartbeat.

Another glance at my lips.

"I should get going." George spoke behind me.

"I was going to visit you tomorrow." Fred stated, his gaze now focused on my eyes.

"Sorry to break it to you, love," I pointed out, motioning at him with our hands still held. "But you can barely walk."

"Yeah, but I needed to see you." He looked somehow sheepish; I doubted I had ever seen him like that before. "I'm gonna be as clear and concise as possible—" He cleared his throat and forced himself to look at me. "I'm pretty much in love with you." I didn't know my eye could go as wide as they went. "Thing's I've known for a good couple of years now." He shrugged. "Telling you scared me, but then this happened." He gestured at himself. "And now not being able to tell you scares me even more." His eyes scanned me before looking around. "This wasn't the ideal place to tell you, but I didn't want to wait any longer."

I gulped, trying to process it as fast as possible.

"For Godric's sake, Y/n," he gently tugged my hand. "Say something, please." Fear started to take over him, even if he tried to keep it at bay. "It's alright if you don't feel the same, we can still be friends, I promise—"

"How do I kiss you without hurting you?" I questioned, already feeling the heat on my cheeks.

I could tell by his face that, out of everything I could have said, he was not expecting the answer I had given him. "Ever the caring one." He let go of my hands to cup my cheeks. "Just kiss me," he sounded so happy, it was contagious. "I'll deal with the pain later."

I listened to him and, holding onto his blazer, stood on my tiptoes and crashed my lips against his— only because I had been wanting to kiss him for too fucking long.

I got lost in the kiss and my brain completely dismissed that an entire wall had collapsed over the boy before me just a month ago; my hands went up to his neck, pulling him closer and, consequently, earning a painful groan from him.

"Shit! sorry." I was quick to let go, suddenly very aware of our surroundings, too.

He just shook his head and pulled my back to him, this time by my hips. "I said I'll deal with it later." He spoke against my lips before going in for a second kiss.

I was more gentle now, careful not to cause him too much pain.

To our dismay, we were interrupted.

"You said love confession!" George snapped us out of it; this time the groan Fred let out was from annoyance. "not snogging session in front of our customers! Get to work!"

He huffed, unwillingly separating from me. "If you stick around until lunch time, we can resume this."

I pretended to think about it. "I guess I can find something to do until then." My smile was as wide as his, and it grew wider when he pulled my into a hug, placing a kiss on the crown of my head. "I love you too, by the way."

His laugh reverberated on his chest. "Good to know."

"Freddie! Now!" This time it was me who groaned at George's demands.

"Help me out, love." Fred requested, pulling away from me so I could help him move behind the till counter. "See you in a couple of hours?" I nodded, pecking his cheeks and walking away from the shop.

It was when I started to walk down the Diagon Alley that it clicked.

His lifeline.

The sharpie.

"OH MY FUCK—"

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fred x you #fred x slytherin reader #fred x y/n #fred lives au #fred weasly x reader #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley fanfics #fred weasley fluff #harry potter #battle of hogwarts

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Things We Don’t Say (modern AU - Actors)

Summary:  No one is perfect, and sometimes, two people are just so perfectly flawed that those pieces fit together and make something beautiful. When sparks fly between two leads of a new hit show, is there a happy ending in sight, or will their own mistakes overshadow any chance they had at something worth fighting for.

Rated: Explicit    

Warnings:   This is a joyfully Captain Swan story, but there are a few warnings. It does start with Emma/Neal and Killian/Milah. I don't write non-CS, so there won't be any sexual anything happening 'on screen', so to speak, between those couples, but I won't guarantee there may not be a mention. This story contains numerous episodes of cheating. If any of these things make you squick or are not your bag, carry on.

AO3 - FF 

- or read below the cut - 

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged for further updates. 

Tag list: @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @teamhook @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @kmomof4 

Chapter One

Emma scrolled through the email her manager had sent detailing the new role she was being offered. It was something fresh, something different from what she normally focused on—no hint of a police procedural in sight—and based on the tone, it sounded like they were very interested in getting her signed for one of the leads. She stretched her legs out along the couch, digging her cold toes underneath the pillows in search of some warmth, only to yank them back when she encountered something both crinkly and wet.

“Dammit, Neal! What the hell is this?” she growled, glaring at the brown sludge coating her foot.

She leaned forward, careful to angle her toes away from any other surface, and peeled the throw pillow from the couch. Smeared across the white fabric and the expensive leather was what looked like the remainder of a milky way bar, the wrapper still clinging to the puddle of caramel and chocolate.

“You have got to be kidding me. Neal!”

The only response she got was the sound of something hitting a pan full of oil in the kitchen, the apartment filled with the sizzling hiss of something frying. Dropping her phone and forgetting all about the email she’d just been reading, she hobbled down the hall into the bathroom to clean up, wondering how in the hell to get out a chocolate and caramel stain. Why he couldn’t just learn to clean up after himself was beyond understanding. Sometimes it felt like she was living with a teenager who never wanted to grow up, and she couldn’t help but long for the days when her apartment was clean and didn’t smell like whatever weird odor it was that Neal always brought home—grease and cigarette smoke, maybe.

Her foot finally clean enough to be walked on, she headed into the kitchen to get some paper towels only to be greeted by what looked like every dish she owned spread out on the counters and island. Every surface was dusted in flour and drips of batter, measuring spoons leaving trails of oil and sugar across the floor and counters alike.

“Oh my god,” she cringed, knowing the mess would be left for her. “What are you doing?”

“I was wondering when you’d get off the phone,” Neal poked, giving her a quick glance over his shoulder before motioning proudly over the mess that just seemed to get worse each time she looked at it. “I’m cooking.”

The casual way he always stabbed at her phone use was exactly what she didn’t want to hear right now. Maybe she wouldn’t have to spend so much time working if he bothered looking for something himself. He’d had a recurring role on a family comedy when they met, but he’d been fired not long after, and for the last six months, Emma was pretty sure he hadn’t even gone to any of the auditions she’d mentioned. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if he had an agent anymore. 

“When was the last time you had a Milky Way?” she asked, choosing to ignore his snide comment. She just wasn’t in the mood.

“That’s a weird question. I don’t know, maybe last week? You didn’t pick any up the last time you ran to the store.”

Emma nodded, her lips drawn tight as she tore paper towels from the rack and returned to the living room, pulling what she could of the melted mass from the couch and thinking she’d need to resort to Google to get the rest out. Her anger bubbled with every sticky string of caramel that wrapped around her fingers. Why couldn’t he go to the store on his day off? He only had seven of them. She stomped back into the kitchen, hitting the garbage can a little harder than necessary and tossing the mess of chocolate and paper inside.

There was just enough room in the overload sink—what had he used the colander for—that she could wash her hands.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge. What was so important that you had to turn the entire kitchen into a complete disaster?” she questioned, already adding up how much time it would take her to wash and wipe everything down.

She’d be lucky if she was able to get back to her manager before tomorrow as requested.

“You remember that travel show we watched the other night?” he prodded, his eyes glued to the pan as it hissed on the stovetop, a spatula held ready in his hand. “You mentioned you hadn’t had good churros since that trip to Mexico, so I thought maybe I’d make you some.”

The anger that had been just about to boil over slipped away to that place far enough below everything else that she could just go back to ignoring it.  

“Neal,” she sighed, suddenly more exhausted than anything else. “Thanks.”

“Of course, Ems—anything for you.”

In the living room her phone blared to life, the dark tones of The Imperial March echoing as it vibrated across the coffee table.

“Work calls,” Neal sniped, a trace of resentment running beneath the pleasant smile he fixed in her direction. “Wouldn’t want to keep Regina waiting.”

It was amazing how quickly that anger came right back to the top of everything, and she found her feet pushing her as far away from Neal as possible, snatching her phone from the table and forgetting entirely about the couch as she stormed into the bedroom.

“What?” she hissed, slamming the door behind her and clenching the cell like it was something she wanted to crush. “What is so important that you couldn’t give me a few more hours, Regina?”

The other end of the line was silent, as if Regina had either hung up, or was waiting for an apology. Well, she wasn’t getting one—not today.

“Is there something you needed, Regina?”

“Are you okay?” Regina asked, not as a friend, but as an employee that was curious to know how soon she would have to contact Emma’s PR team and inform them a mental breakdown was imminent.

“I’m fine. It’s just a bad time. I got the details you sent. I just haven’t read through everything yet.”

“Well, that explains why I haven’t heard from you. Honestly, I thought you cared more about your career than that. I was quite clear this was urgent. Don’t take your time with this one, Miss Swan—they want you, but they can’t wait much longer.”

The line went dead after Regina had delivered her scolding and Emma sighed, dropping to the bed and rolling onto her back as she flicked back into her email and started again from the top. It was an interesting premise with even more depth than she’d originally thought—a new series that centered on the mental health of a man who had developed delusions after a car accident that took his brother, leading him to believe everyone in the hospital was a character from a fairy tale world—but then she got the part that Regina really focused on, the money.

“Holy shit!” Emma gasped, double checking the figures and thinking how she’d never seen such a good offer—not for someone in her bracket. It was unheard of. “I guess they really do want me.”

It wasn’t until she read through the rest of the itinerary and details that she wondered if the big paycheck wasn’t recompense for the filming location and duration—the middle of Nowhere, Maine, as if Maine wasn’t already considered the middle of nowhere.

She read everything twice before she shot Regina a quick text.  

E: I’ll take it

The message had only just sent and there were already three ellipses following. Emma could practically hear her manager’s smug response.

R: I knew you would. I’ll be in touch.

There should have been nerves fluttering in her stomach, or at least a solid pit of dread at the prospect of having to walk into the kitchen and tell Neal, but there was nothing. It was a big decision to move across the country for what could be a long-term role, but it was still her decision to make.

Hopefully, he would be happy for her, he would understand that this had the potential of lifting her out of her rut and providing great income for the foreseeable future. There were some great names attached, veterans of the industry that were looking to branch out into a new genre.

She was excited for the first time in a long time.  

She didn’t need to feel guilty, at least that was what she told herself as a niggling pang of guilt worked its way into her chest.

It would be good to break it to him gently though, to put a good spin on it.

The minutes ticked by and she finally realizing she couldn’t put it off any longer, she wandered into the kitchen, her arms crossed in front of her as she looked for him, but the apartment was empty. The stove was turned off and a plate, probably the last clean one, was waiting on the counter with a pile of golden churros perched on top of a greasy paper towel.

Next to it was another torn paper towel with a note scratched onto it in sharpie.

The boys called and I’m heading out for a few beers. Don’t wait up. Enjoy the churros.

She waited for the anger to bubble back to the top, but there was nothing—no anger, no guilt, just a deep, hollow nothingness that grew and yawned as she fingered the scrap of a note transparent with oily fingerprints. Feeling like maybe this job had come at the best possible time, she picked up the plate of churros and walked over to the trash, watching them slide in with the rest of the garbage.

#Captain Swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #emma and hook #sailtoafarawayland #modern au #actors #the things we don't say