#perceiving him like wow. I look exactly like this. I don't of course. but I do

[gordonsicedcoffee]

Leigh Whannell on Recovery (1999)

extra:

me when I fckn GET u

#leigh whannell #this is his Lewk ever. to me #had to preserve it in gif form for posterities sake #these gifs come from the bit where he's defending his star wars knowledge lmao #we had a bit of ~controversy~ last week :o #the switchboard was flooded w/calls about MEEEEEEEEE #need him carnally #also. gender #perceiving him like wow. I look exactly like this. I don't of course. but I do #also. used an absolute metric FUCKTON of noise on these jfsdhjhfdsj #but the quality is already v low. so I'm givin myself. one iota of grace 4 that #mine

[ghostofskywalker]

Congratulations! You Just Won The Shock of Your Life At 2 AM!

Clint Barton/Reader

Fictober Day 2 of 31

Words: 870

Summary: The sound of someone in your home puts you on edge, but that surprise soon takes on a more positive connotation when you realize who it was that broke in.

Clint Barton Masterlist

This was how you were going to die, you knew it. Of course it had to be in the middle of the night, by the hand of a masked intruder who would take your life in pursuit of a few perceived valuables and some unfortunate timing. The baseball bat in your hand would be wrenched from your grip in less than a single action, but you had to try and defend what was yours if you were going to die with any glory at all.

Whoever it was currently resided in the kitchen, and you crept down the stairs while trying to remain in the cover of darkness. The light was on, which you found odd to begin with, but chalked it up to a particularly brazen thief who had no qualms about taking care of the trouble that may interfere with their goal tonight, which unfortunately for you, was robbing your house.

Just as your foot hit the penultimate step on the stairs, you heard the sound of the refrigerator opening. Wow, this one really had no shame, didn't they? And you had just recently gone to the grocery store too, so it must have felt like some kind of divine intervention. You were going to die and this thief was going to eat all the donuts you bought for yourself, this truly was a cruel existence.

More shuffling sounds could be heard as the intruder busied themselves in the kitchen, and right before you were about to take those final few steps and face your impending fate, the sound of something hitting the floor echoed through the space, and a string of curses immediately followed it.

Wait a minute, you knew that voice.

Even though you didn't let go of the bat, taking those final steps into the kitchen was a little bit easier now that you had an inkling that you knew who was in the room, and that they were far from dangerous. And sure enough, you were exactly right.

Clint Barton was many things in life, but he was not always the stealthiest, and apparently this was one of those times. Standing in your kitchen, covered in a blood-stained SHIELD uniform, he stared owlishly at you as you stepped into view. "What on earth are you doing in my house in the middle of the night?" you asked, still trying to relax from the short period of time you were convinced that you were going to fully die because someone was in your home.

"I was hungry?" the answer was framed like a question, and you just sighed, though you could feel a smile breaking through the worried grimace you had previously wore. Of course you couldn't be mad at him, he was your best friend and he did in fact have a key, so technically he didn't break in at all.

But you didn't want to let him off too easy, because you did remember specifying that the key was only to be used in extreme emergencies, and this didn't seem like one of those. "So you decided to break into my home and make yourself-" you glanced at the floor to see what he had dropped in better view "-coffee?"

Clint looked sheepishly at the pile of coffee grounds on the floor, from when he dropped the container and the lid popped open. "I wasn't sure, but then I dropped the thing, so I think that decision was made for me."

You smiled at him, noting the tiredness behind his eyes. "I have more grounds in the other cabinet, why don't you sit down and let me make you a cup of coffee and something to eat?"

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I can help-"

But you just shook your head as you pulled a broom from your closet. "Clint, I promise it's fine. I can see you're covered in blood too, so why don't you just sit down and take it easy for a few minutes?"

You expected more push back from him, but was pleasantly surprised when he nodded and sat down at the kitchen table, allowing you space to sweep up the pile of coffee grounds. There were always a few that evaded you, but that wasn't a big deal right now. Clint told you about his mission while you made him a cup of coffee and some leftovers from your fridge (you offered to make him something from scratch, but he wouldn't agree to it, citing all the trouble he had already caused you this evening).

Time passed in the blink of an eye, and soon you were barely able to keep your eyes open. The adrenaline from earlier in the night was completely gone, and Clint could tell. He ushered you off to bed without letting you do anything else for him, and you knew he was right, because you were asleep moments after your head hit the pillow.

Clint was gone when you woke up again (much later in the day than you usually did), but a beautiful bouquet of flowers now sat in the middle of your kitchen table.

There was no note attached, but you didn't need one. You knew how it had gotten here. 

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

#ghostofskywalker.fictober #clint barton #clint barton x reader #clint barton x you #clint barton fanfiction #clint barton x gender neutral reader #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #hawkeye x reader

[bropunzeling]

12, 18, 19 for the writer's meme? 😌

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

(1) that i would know the right title right away every time instead of staring down the ao3 posting form (2) that the things i think of when falling asleep would automatically show up in my notes app so i don't forget them (3) that the editing would just happen with no effort from me whatsoever

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

here is a bit from contact high:

In the night, they’ve shifted. Leon is pressed along Matthew’s side, one arm curled over Matthew’s stomach. His chin rests in the divot between Matthew’s shoulder and neck. With every deep, slow breath Matthew takes, Leon can feel his chest rise and fall under his hand. The barest amount of light filters through the gap in the curtains, catching on their silhouettes.

It had been like this in March. Lying together in Matthew’s bed as the clock ticked past Leon’s curfew, even though he knew he should head back to the hotel. Their last game of the regular season looming as tomorrow came closer and closer. They hadn’t even flipped on a light switch, had fumbled through kissing and fucking all in the dark. It didn’t matter. Leon had still known Matthew’s body, what Matthew wanted, and Matthew had known him.

It was dark, and Leon was seconds away from falling asleep in Matthew’s bed the way he had never let himself before, when Matthew had broken the silence. Had said, in a voice scratchy with sleep, “It’ll be different, next year.”

Leon froze in place, suddenly wide awake. Hadn’t trusted himself to speak, to do anything more than make a noise.

Matthew heard his unspoken question. Said, again in that soft, rough voice, “I’ve been thinking about leaving Calgary.” A long pause as Leon lay there, perfectly still. “I don’t know. I’m just ready for a change, you know?” A sigh. “It’s going to feel really fucking good. Leaving all this shit behind.” And then, finally: “Don’t tell anyone, yeah?”

Leon had nodded. Lay there for five long seconds, but couldn’t get warm. Gave up, told Matthew he’d be heading back to the hotel, waved off the offer of a ride.

when i first started this fic, i was simply like wow, sex pollen sounds fun for them! i love making matthew and leon have dubious sex! and then maybe 2k in i went for a walk and was like you know what this needs. this needs leon feeling deeply, deeply abandoned by the trade and both of them being fucked up about it. and the whole tenor of the fic changed! i started dropping in more hints about previous feelings, about perceived unevenness in their relationship. but by the time i finished the horny shit i had to settle on what actually happened, and that was when i worked on this little flashback segment. and it took SO long to figure out exactly what matthew would've said that could hit the exact right note of matthew's feelings about calgary and how leon could perceive that as matthew's feelings about him (because they haven't talked about anything they're doing!) and how it could lead to this rupture between them that neither of them really know how to bridge. that is, until the plant life of florida gets involved.

also i really like the imagery in this sequence! the use of lighting and shadow, how the last time they were together they didn't even need to look at each other. i find the kind of familiarity you can have, to be able to know each others bodies so well that you don't even need the lights on, to be really compelling. and, of course, leon almost staying the night the last time, before the trade, and then deciding in this moment that he is going to stay the night even if it hurts :)

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

i started writing as a little tween obsessed with x-men comics and bad shounen manga and didn't know how to stop! i've always told a lot of stories and been a voracious reader and as soon as i had regular access to a semi-private way to get on the internet i found ff.net and had to read more stories, and then learned i could write those stories. the amount i write has ebbed and flowed a lot, including a long, long down stretch in my late twenties, but i've been really happy coming back to writing in the past two years. i forgot how much i really loved it and it's been so fun stretching myself and figuring out how to sustain a story arc and set up subplots and foreshadowing and all that jazz! my hopes for this year are to keep going, but at a pace that is sustainable for me, and that is coming from a place of joy and excitement. and to FINALLY write a fucking slow burn.

#ask meme

[electricpez]

i will say. that having a tfa shockwave fictive in our system has honestly kind of skewed the way i enjoy the fictional character.

i think people think having an introject of your favorite character is a cool and lucky thing to have but tbh it's not much different from any other alter. they aren't equivalent to their source, but he feels close enough that it becomes... uncomfortable and sad? sometimes?

rambling ahead

idk i feel like i still love shockwave (the character) but our fictive's issues with identity and discomfort with fandom portrayal and the idea of roleplay causes us to keep more of a distance from the fandom than before. i haven't read any fanfiction for almost a year, i don't really talk to other people much about transformers. at most, i'm like "yaaay yippee!!" and its genuine but i can't express anything much deeper without starting to feel guarded.

and, i am not really attracted to tfa shockwave anymore. there is still a sexual component due to our sw fictive being a protector as well as a "sexual" alter (not towards me). he is still handsome to me of course, but when we see art of him, our alter sees himself. and he does enjoy fanart when he deems it "accurate". is this egotistical? or is it because he will never see himself in the mirror? because the reality is, he will never be "Shockwave", our body is his body for as long as we live. no matter how much he looks up at the stars, he won't see Hadean. there is no Cybertron for him to return to. no megatron for him to serve under. it's not real. all he can do is adapt to living life alongside me and the rest of our system, on earth, facing the reality of what "IS" instead of his perceived "WAS".

He struggled at first to come to terms with it. it was sad to feel him mourning his "past life", and for him to finally acknowledge that he would never be able to go "home". He's doing well, now. i guess i shouldn't be surprised. After all, there is nothing logical about denying our reality. He was never the real shockwave, there is no "real" shockwave. he was born in our brain.

when it comes to fandom stuff, his standards and my standards for what qualify as "acceptable and enjoyable" are not always the same thing.

like. i dislike shockblurr. I won't unfollow people for shipping it. a lot of cool artists like shockblurr and it's a popular ship. but I don't really *get* it and i don't really like seeing it.

shockwave(alter) doesn't mind shockblurr at all. he's never once thought of blurr or frankly any autobot that way (ultra magnus, of all bots, comes close? in a hate-fuck sort of way. i don't get it tbh. dude likes old men like himself ig), but he finds it strangely fascinating and somewhat...entertaining? humorous? as long as he is portrayed "accurately" (not accurate to canon necessarily, but accurate to how he sees himself), he does not care. but still there's a level of uncanniness.

imagine reading fan content strangers made about you?? most stuff would probably be "i would not fucking say that", but occasionally you might have one that's like, "wow, that's interesting. this is exactly how i would respond in real life! that's kind of scary."

uhhh idk where i was going with this. i just felt like i wanted to say something.

anyway. my headmate shockwave and the character shockwave are like two different people to me. i love them both but in different ways. and since we can't completely separate him from source, it feels odd sometimes when our view of the character and our view of him kind of overlap.

#system stuff #rambling #osdd #personal #we're not used to sharing so much OSDD system stuff. we are cringing for lack of a better word #maybe i should delete this #altertag:shocky #fictive

[roseonne]

pillars made of stars

The GOD-za trio ponders on a whimsical, hypothetical motif for their fabulous troupe.

happy 7th a3!nniversary ! ( ao3 link )

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚

And thus comes nightfall.

The entirety of Veludo Way lights up in a wink, making sure that all life shall keep moving even through the sun's temporary absence.

The star-filled expanse of the evening skies seem to invite those who happen to look up to witness its beauty from their homes to come out and admire it some more. The moon's gentle rays add the perfect touch to invoking senses of introspection and gratitude meant for such a special night like this.

Within the safety, comfort, and warmth of being indoors, Shift is quietly glued to a corner, just right by the window.

Haruto notices. The top actor's been watching the outside world go by since the moment he stepped inside his senior's apartment; with Madoka tagging along, of course.

"Wow..." Shift mumbles softly to himself, but clear enough for Haruto to perceive.

Is there something out there that he likes? If so, what is it? Could he perhaps be eyeing a little trinket being sold just across the street that he's too embarrassed to ask about? Odd. The word 'embarrassed' isn't normally partnered with Shift's name.

"Hey," Haruto speaks at last, after coming from the kitchen and helping himself onto the couch, "what's wrong? You're being too quiet, it's quite alarming."

Shift merely lets out a stifled laugh. "Don't worry Haruto-san, it's nothing," he assures his senior with a raised thumb.

"Maybe you're just hungry?" Madoka too must have heard and hence he asks; a phone remains in his hand as he returns from receiving a quick call. "The food's on its way, I think."

"Nah, I'm alright!" Shift insists, beaming with his signature smile. "Really, I am."

Haruto grunts, not so much as satisfied with Shift's minimal responses. But, regardless of how curiousーno, he's not worriedーhe is, he won't pry. This kid doesn't get a lot of chances to act his actual age in the first place. So as his respectable senior, Haruto will no longer criticize him for how he chooses to behave. (He mentally wishes for Shift to take it easy, though.) "Fine, if you say so. Just tell us immediately if you need anything, ya hear?"

"Ayeeee, sir!" The easygoing cheer in Shift's voice that Haruto and Madoka are used to hearing is now back in full effect. Finally. The two consider it a relief. (A big one, at that.)

"Uhm... If you don't mind me asking though, what exactly were you looking at?" The playwright bashfully asks. He walks over to where Shift is seated, and crouches down to his knees beside him.

Curiosity may not have overcome Haruto, but it evidently got the better of Madoka. Oh well. The youngest gladly points to the sky anyway, poking at the little twinkling lights scattered all over it.

"I see." Haruto proceeds as well to stand alongside his juniors, an arm proudly resting on his hip. "Fabulous, aren't they?"

One may think, stargazing is a common recreational activity that families and friends enjoy together on lovely, starry evenings. And it certainly is; until the 'families and friends' in question is GOD-za's famously inseparable trio. With how busy these three are individually and collectively, any supposed time to spare for leisure is rather spent either addressing matters of urgent concern and/or perfecting themselves for the utmost performances to ever grace theater's centerstage. So brief moments like this when the spinning of their worlds slow down a notch (or two), truly equates to a breath of fresh air that each of them hasn't fully realized they all needed at this point.

"Ah!" Madoka suddenly springs to his feet. As if having remembered, he hands the phone he used earlier back to Haruto. "Thank you very much."

"Anytime." He graciously accepts it. "Were you able to contact who you were planning to?"

Madoka politely nods. "I just ordered flowers for my brother."

"Oh, from the flower shop I know of?"

"That's the one!" A chuckle escapes the youngest Ikaruga sibling's lips. "I figured my brother would probably like his motif flowers as a present... Erーaside from onigiris, of course."

"Probably?" Haruto raises an eyebrow. "Madoka, he'll love anything as long as they're from you."

With a remark as such, Haruto could almost see for himself just how heartwarming this brotherly interaction will turn out when it does actually happen. The wishful smile on Madoka's face screams years and years of yearning for a family's love; something he's ever wanted, deserved, and will from now on have to get used to living with for the rest of his life. Good for him.

"Hm... Motif flowers? Mankai Company has them, right?" Shift recalls out loud, breaking the silence that once filled the room (and the mood). "If I remember correctly I think Azami has one assigned to him too!"

"All of them each have their own distinct flower. Although it also depends on the troupe they belong to, I believe." Haruto explains, as a-matter-of-fact-ly; while reclaiming his seat on the sofa. How did he know all this? Let's just say he's that keen as an observant of important details.

"Whoa!" Shift also scoots over to the center table only a couple inches away from him. "We should have flowers for us too!"

"HAH!?"

"Flowers, huh? Well, it does suit their aesthetic." Madoka considers, clutching his chin in thought. "But I'm not really sure if it's in line with GOD-za..."

"Exactly!" Haruto demands, hysterical in both word and deed. "If we're to set a motif for ourselves then it has to reflect GOD-za as a theater company. It has to accurately capture the essence of each member, not only as an employee but also as a person. It should also... And with a... But it must not..."

Amidst the pink-haired's nearly endless rattling, it's as though a lightbulb has been lit that Shift and Madoka come to what appears to be a telepathic agreement between them.

"Whimsically," Shift begins.

"Hypothetically," Madoka adds.

"Haruto-san. If you had to choose something to represent us, GOD-za, what would it be?"

Taking a sip from the cup of tea he brought with him from the kitchen a while ago, Haruto lets out a snarky sigh. "That's easy. We all know the answer to that."

"Uhm... Birthstones?" Madoka attempts a guess, despite hesitating. 

"Eh. Not bad. But too predictable."

"How about our favorite food, then?" Shift also tries swinging his take around. Anyone who knows him likewise knows that he's thinking about just one type of food to assign himself to.

Haruto smacks a palm onto his forehead. "What are we, a restaurant?"

Guiding his juniors onto the same page as he is, is proving to be a much harder task than he expected. But they ought to step up their game; for Haruto's just about to show them what it looks like to be inside the realm of someone already treading the path of eternal beauty.

In one, quick swoop of his round lilac eyes towards the window, Haruto urges them to see once more, what's lies ahead from there. He witnesses a familiar fire light up in both Shift's and Madoka's gazes as they follow through not long later.

The three all share a knowing, insightful look. And without saying anything else, they all turn their heads to the sky; the fabulous answer they so seek, now presents itself gloriously before them.

"The stars!" Madoka exclaims, clearly convinced.

"OHHH!" Shift adjusts himself to view the heavens again, rightfully intrigued.

"Constellations," Haruto repeats, raising his arms up and lacing his fingers together at the back of his head, utterly fulfilled, "there is no other match."

Indeed. The evening has progressed nicely into a darker shade of the night; the moon reigning high up on her throne. And just as the stars seem to sparkle more than they ever have so far, but way before any of them could even recognize the various patterns these glistening lights form into, the food they ordered for dinner that Madoka referred to arrives at long last; pausing any and all sorts of discussion the trio's in the middle of tackling.

Haruto fills in the duty of accepting its delivery and providing payment for such. While he's away, however, mischievous Shift has a secret plan up his sleeve.

Suspiciously crawling his way towards Madoka, he whispers to him with a hoarse voice, "do you think we can talk Reni-san into this?"

"Into having our own motifs!?" Madoka's eyes turn as round as donuts in surprise. "But I thought this was only a hypotheticalー"

"Oh, c'mon. Let's try it! Just once, I promise!" Shift clasps his hands in plea. He doesn't look nor sound like he's backing down from this one any time soon.

Causing Madoka to find himself in a tight pinch. "Well... Maybe we could, butー"

"Great!!" Shift rapidly rubs his palms together. "Let's surprise Haruto-san!!"

Madoka scrambles forth into a panic. "W-Wait! I think we should talk everything out to everyone first..."

"Talk about what?"

Hearing Haruto's stern, regal presence all of a sudden leaves their insides tingling with either anxiety or excitement. Well. Actually, maybe both.

"Haruto-saaaaan!" Shift rushes to his fellow actor in a swift, carefree sprint. "We'll live up to all your expectations, just you wait and seeeee!"

Madoka scurries close after him, desperately hoping to stop him in his tracks on time. "Shift-san, noooo!"

"Haaah!?"

And thus is how the dearly adored GOD-za trio concludes their 27th of January. Loud, but fun. Unironically usual, and perfectly on brand.

Their not-so whimsical, hypothetical zodiac-based motif proposal must still undergo a rather tedious evaluation by the higher-ups, unfortunately; but in hindsight, doesn't it make total sense?

Madoka as Pisces; creative, gentle, and kind.

Haruto as Virgo; hardworking, loyal, and sympathetic.

Shift as Libra; charming, friendly, and acts as a bridge between people.

Whether or not GOD-za approves of such a gig, no thing nor person can ever take away the fact that these three are ultimately meant to be the pillars of the most fabulous theater troupe in Veludo Way.

#a3! #godza #god-za trio #haruto asuka #shift arakawa #madoka ikaruga #inside seonne's head

[itgirlification]

supermodel | jjk

the last three months have been hell for you, but Jungkook seemed to be living his best life.

pairing: ex-bf!jk x thick!reader

warnings: explicit mentions of body image and insecurities, infidelity, anal sex, oral (male receive), foul language (kinda), etc.

now playing: supermodel by sza

part two part three

Exactly three months ago, your and Jungkook’s 2 years relationship officially ended. Unofficially, it ended about 5 months ago. And for about one month now, Jungkook’s been seeing someone else.

Your heart and mind told you not to do it but you couldn’t help calculating. Three months ago, you were still dating, two months later, he started dating someone else. That must mean he’s known her for a while. Did he cheat on you with her? Well, it’s not like it matters now anyway, does it?

Her name was Yuki, an undeniable Japanese beauty. You were still in college, studying music and she was a famous model who appeared in internationally known magazines. You assumed she met Jungkook during a photoshoot since he was a professional photographer who often worked for companies like Vogue and Playboy. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to her.

It wasn’t the fact that he moved on so quickly that hurt you the most. It was the fact that he knew all about your low self-esteem and how you lack confidence. Especially about your body. And he still went and dated a model, of all professions in the world. He was definitely over you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he did it on purpose. But thankfully, you knew better, he looked too happy for that to be even considered. He forgot about you.

You’re making yourself sadder by remembering all the times he assured you you were beautiful and your body was nothing to be ashamed of. The times he let his fingertips run over the lines of your stretch marks, whispering in your ear how much he loved them and how they reminded him of Tiger stripes. The times he caressed your jiggly thighs and told you how sexy he thought they were.

Then your mind would drift back to the phone in your hand, the Instagram page of Yuki Sakurai opened, careful not to accidentally like anything and expose yourself. Not that she’d notice anyway, she had 3.7 million followers, while you had a private one with 500 followers and no posts, and she gets around 300 to 700 thousand likes on each post, depending on whether she posts random photos or pretty pictures of herself. Or newly, your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Oh, how crazy everybody goes whenever she posts him. People love them together. You couldn’t blame them. Two attractive people? Of course, they’re gonna look great together.

Fucking great.

That the end of your relationship with Jungkook would look like this was semi-predictable from the beginning. He did admit to you that he never thought he’d date someone that looked like you when you first dated. And your heart broke a little. But he also made up for it in those two years, it was a beautiful relationship nonetheless.

While you weren’t exactly his ‘ideal’ type, he was definitely yours. You always heard from other women ‘when in a relationship, the man always has to love the woman more than she loves him. Otherwise, it won’t work.’ You never really got the saying until your breakup with Jungkook happened. It was the fact that you clearly loved Jungkook more than he loved you that lead to this.

“Oh my goodness!”, your roommate, Jane, dramatically exclaimed. “Will you stop feeling bad for yourself and do something? That’s not what hot girls do, sis.”

Jane was a lovely girl with a not so lovely temper. She always means well and you got along perfectly as soon as you met. Which was around 3 and a half years ago.

She looked over your shoulder to see what you were looking at. You obviously didn’t want her to see you snooping around your ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s Instagram but it was too late.

“Seriously, yn?”, she took your phone in her hand and threw it on the bed. “Let’s go somewhere, you can’t do this to yourself anymore. I’m not letting you.”

Jane was clearly worried about you at this point. The only thing you did these last few weeks was eating, shower, cry, sleep and miss a whole bunch of classes. This wasn’t good at all.

“Where?”, your question was short.

“To the mall? Or the nail studio? Anything that’ll get you out of this fucking dormitory.”, Jane sighed, pulling the blanket off of you, making you whine a little. “C’mon, go put on some cute outfit and we’ll go.”

You felt bad since she was trying hard to make you feel better. But it didn’t really work.

You nodded, standing up from the bed, nonetheless. You picked out a cute two-piece dress, that brought back blurred memories of the time you went on a date with Jungkook, wearing the same two-piece. Bet Yuki would look cuter in this...

‘Shut your petty ass up, yn. It’s embarrassing, the way you’re stuck on a taken guy who wants nothing to do with you’

You wish you could change the way you think, even if it’s just for an hour or two. You wish you would stop imagining Jungkook judging you when he saw you naked or when you told him that you wished you could cut off some of your fat with a pair of scissors.

You were beyond ashamed of yourself. Why wasn’t it easy for you to just stay by yourself? why were you so desperately in need of Jungkook by your side to the point where you’d lock yourself in your room for a month just because he isn’t there?

You needed Jungkook. You became so attached to him in those two years, because you always saw him as a permanent, a forever. Not just a temporary, not just a distant memory. You already saw him as the father of your children, as the man you’re gonna marry.

You were so blinded by the fact that you had him, that you forgot you could lose him anytime.

“I’m done, let’s go.”, unenthusiastically, you announced to Jane, who was already waiting for you.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here!”, In contrast to your spirit, hers seemed to be all roses and daisies. “Lord knows you need it...”

__________

“Look at this cute ass skirt, girl”, Jane pointed at a chic, wine mini skirt she was holding. “You know, when I saw it back there I wanted to have it, but it’d look so much better on you”

You took a few seconds to admire Jane’s beauty. She was about 3 cm taller than you, had a great posture, and almond, dark brown eyes that suited her dark skin tone perfectly. Her body leaned more towards the slimmer side.

“Shut up! No, it would not”, you let out a small giggle. “It would look gorgeous on you, buy it.”

She smiled a little at your laughs. She was happy to see you at least a little cheerful again. “Yeah, but I think it’d look better on you. I’m entitled to my own opinion, am I not?”

You knew this debate was gonna go back and forth, because of her stubbornness. “Let’s both buy the skirt.”

You ended up doing so, added by a bunch of bags full of clothing. This may’ve turned into your new coping mechanism. Who needed therapy when you can go on a shopping spree?

Two hours were spent in boutiques and clothing stores and Jane decided she was tired, wanting to visit the local spa.

“No, seriously, these Riverdale seasons just keep on getting worse and worse. Netflix needs to step up their game ASAP”, Jane ranted, making you laugh at how serious she takes it. “It’s getting embarrassing. I’m being for real.”

The two of you were sitting in the whirlpool at the spa, relaxing your whole bodies a little.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I don’t watch these new Netflix shows anyways. Been stuck on the vampire diaries for the last 7 years”, you chuckled, knowing you hated trying new things. “Can you pass me one of those magazines?”

Jane nodded, grabbing a random one from the table next to her and handed it to you, without looking at it.

The cover of it caught your eyes immediately. How could it not, when your ex’s new girl looks absolutely dazzling on the front page of it.

‘Supermodel Yuki Sakurai talks summer fashion tips, struggle with self-love and most importantly, her hot, new boyfriend the media is going crazy over’ was the headline of the Harper’s Bazaar Magazine cover.

You felt your stomach getting sick and your breath getting heavier, but you still flipped the pages until you found the one with her interview. You began reading it, skipping the boring parts.

‘Int: so, we see you have a new boyfriend. Tell us, how did you guys meet?

Yuki: Yeah, he’s an amazing guy. We actually met about six or five months ago at one of my photoshoots, since he’s a photographer and we exchanged numbers and stuff, and then we made it official mid last month.’

About six or five months ago? You were with him back then, but her answer was too unclear to find out if he cheated or not.

“Woah, yn, you okay?”

You entirely forgot about the fact that you were with Jane, let alone somewhere other than your bed.

Before you could react, Jane snatched the magazine out of your hand.

“You really can’t escape them, huh?”, She sighs, taking you in her arm. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. In a few months, you’re gonna look back to this and think wow I really was stuck on a guy who’s scared of microwaves and cried like a bitch when Iron Man died.”

You laughed, punching her arm playfully. “You know, I actually love these things about him. Shows his sensitivity and the way he perceives things.”

Jane looked at you as if she didn’t believe you were actually saying that stuff. “Girl, you’re overanalyzing this. Let’s just throw this shit in the trash, okay?”

She put the magazine aside.

“I just don't know what I did wrong.”, You murmured. “I know we weren't the best, but we didn't even fight that much. We could’ve talked it through.”

Jane pursed her lips and cooed. “You know, relationships are complicated sometimes. The reason why he broke up, to begin with, is probably not your fault.”

“Well, what if it is? I mean what if I was too fat or too ugly for him?”, you asked. “If he wanted a skinny girl so bad, I could’ve lost weight for him, I don’t get it.”

Jane looked at you like you lost your mind entirely. “I can’t believe you just said that! Even if that was the reason, which it wasn’t, you shouldn’t make yourself suffer because of it. That’s his loss. You’re beyond gorgeous and you have an amazing body.”

“You’re just saying that.”, tears slowly started coming up in your eyes. “But the thing is Jungkook knows all about my insecurities. Why would he do that to me? I know he knows that I’m still not over him.”

You usually didn’t like crying in front of other people, but you didn’t really care at the moment, besides that was Jane. You trusted her with your life.

“Girl, men are trash, I can’t believe you’re crying over one right now, seriously.”, she wiped your tears and held your face between her hands. “You know, honestly, I’ve read so many articles about how models actually hate themselves and have like the lowest self-esteem so in conclusion, no matter how miserable you are, his new girl is even more miserable.”

You knew Jane didn’t mean it in a harmful way, but it sounded harsher than needed. “I don’t hate her, she probably doesn’t even know about me. I’m just really insecure. He upgraded from me. He’s dating a whole model now.”

The situation just felt like a deja vu of these last few weeks laying in your bed, even though you were at the spa with your friend. You were supposed to have fun, yet you didn’t feel like having any.

“Why would you feel insecure when all you’ve seen of her are Instagram posts and red carpet pictures? She’s supposed to look beautiful, it’s her job.”

To a certain extent, Jane was right, but that didn’t really help your situation, you still felt bad about yourself. You stayed silent.

“C’mon, this isn’t fun anymore. Let’s leave.”, Jane mumbled.

_______

it’s been two days since the incident at the spa and you felt a little bit better now.

Those days were spent reading the same three book series you’ve read your entire life, overthinking, hot Cheetos, Indian takeout, and Netflix. It really wasn’t as miserable as it sounded.

You were just taking a little rest before term break ends and you have to go back to the shithole college again.

Jane was using the time until college starts again, but in different ways than you were. She was planning on going to some frat party in an hour and forget about the world’ for a minute. Or till 4 in the morning, where she will most likely drunk call you and ask you for a ride back to the dorms, because the friends she went to the party with were shit-faced as well and were in no way capable of driving anywhere without the cops stopping them.

Going out partying on a Friday night was a Jane tradition. In the past, you’d sometimes go with her, but you mostly spent your time out with Jungkook doing something more fun than partying could ever be. Now you can’t do that anymore, but laying in bed is more ideal than a party for you at the moment.

“How do I look?”, Jane twirled around to show off her black cocktail dress. She looked beautiful.

“You look beautiful.”, you responded to her question. “Are you leaving now?”

“Hm”, she said, to which you nodded. “You sure you don’t wanna come with me? It’s gonna be really fun.”

You shook your head no.

“Alright”, she shrugged, making her way out of your bedroom. “But I told you, it’s gonna be fun.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “I’ll stay here, I have shit to do.”

“Yeah, right, like binge-watching the vampire diaries and taking 5-hour naps”, she said in a sarcastic tone. “Anyway, bye-bye, Vic’s already waiting for me in the car.”

Victoria was perhaps one of the most obnoxious people you know, yet she was too much of a nice person for you to talk shit about her. The voice of your intrusive thoughts couldn’t help but to, though.

“Alright, bye, take care and say hi to Vic from me.”

After Jane left, an hour went by like it was just a couple of minutes. You were starting to get real bored and decided to watch some regular tv in hopes to find something you enjoy. You ended up not finding anything fun, but you still watched it, because you didn’t have anything else to do.

A few moments later, the doorbell rang and you were suddenly worried. Either this is a serial killer or Jane forgot something.

But to your surprise, it was neither, but it was none other than

“Jungkook?”, truly, those were the only words you were able to mutter out at your shocked state. “What are you do-“

At the speed of light, you were interrupted by your ex-boyfriend pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t say a word.

You weren’t expecting him. Not knowing how you were supposed to feel at the moment, you just let it happen. You were sure your mental state couldn’t get any worse than that, no matter how this will affect you in the end.

“Is Jane home?”, for the first time in 3 months, you’re hearing his silky voice again.

Jungkook knew Jane always had some type of special hatred for him with her killing stares and her bitter comments. You didn’t notice either though.

He also knew she must hate him even more after your breakup. Or maybe she liked him more now since she was able to get rid of him without killing anyone.

“No”, your answer was short and it made a weight fall from Jungkook’s shoulders before he continued kissing you.

It wasn’t anything you haven’t done before, yet it felt like it’s been ages since it last happened. Your mind drifted to the thought of Jungkook and his model girlfriend. You were asking yourself what their sex life was like, if she was tighter than you or if she had stretch marks and scars.

Jungkook’s lips were moving south, giving your neck wet kisses, while you were wondering why he broke up with his model girlfriend. Or if he even did. You felt selfish for not caring.

Removing your clothes one by one, you were left in your underwear, while Jungkook only had his boxers on.

This body was yours. You knew it inside out. Where he liked to get touched and where he preferred not to. You knew him better than anyone else. You were sure.

You already moved to your bedroom, since Jungkook effortlessly carried you there. You were sat on his lap, facing him and your hands were in his messy hair. His hands were around your waist, he was slightly smiling into the kiss, as you started grinding on him. He loved how easy it was for him to turn you on. You were still his.

Cutting off the kiss, he looked you in the eyes, while his hand was on your cheek. “Say aah.”, he said.

You widened your mouth obediently, which was followed by him collecting as much saliva as he could in his mouth and spitting it into your mouth.

“Swallow.”, demanding, he spit on your face, his eyes become darker with every passing moment. You did as he said.

You looked at him with big eyes. He knew you loved it. You’ve always had a thing for him degrading and humiliating you during sex.

He started grinding on you almost desperately. You knew exactly what he wanted.

Getting out of his grip, you dropped to your knees and freed his hard dick from his drawers. You reached for it and started pumping it, and licking it. Your spit was leaking down his dick as you used it for lubrication. Then you started sucking on it, just the way you used to.

Jungkook’s groans and satisfied sighs were enough to make you even wetter than before. You enjoyed giving more than receiving.

Your mouth was wet and warm around him, giving him a feeling of familiarity. You lick over the tip a few times, then proceed to fully take him into your mouth.

The bulge in your throat could be seen and the way your eyes were tearing up a little wasn’t bothering you at all. You loved giving.

Jungkook started thrusting in and out of your warm, welcoming mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat multiple times.

“Fuck”, a throaty moan left Jungkook’s mouth, giving you hints that he was about to cum. And he did, releasing in your mouth before you swallowed it. “Shit, baby, that was so good.”

You felt your face heat up and a sheepish smile made its way to your face. Your throat was sore.

The two of you were on the bed again. To you, it felt like it was the times before your breakup again, when you’d purposely start an argument just for the makeup sex because Jungkook wasn’t giving you any anymore. It was like sex was the only thing to look forward to.

You felt attached to Jungkook to a point where it was dangerous. You weren’t okay when he wasn’t around. He affected every part of your life and God knew it wasn’t always a positive thing. Maybe it was the fact that he took your virginity. Maybe because he was your first boyfriend, the first guy that made you believe you were worthy of love and that someone was actually capable of loving you. One thing you knew was Jungkook had an expansive influence on your life.

While you were practically drowning in your own thoughts, Jungkook was busy taking off your underwear.

“You okay?”, Jungkook calmly asked you, looking at your riddled face.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay.”, you sounded distracted, Jungkook wasn’t sure about asking you what it is though. He didn’t feel like getting personal.

So he shrugged it off and started kissing you again, his dick was unsurprisingly hard again as he played with your tits. He drew lines over the stretch marks of your thighs and kissed them.

“Can I fuck your ass?”, Jungkook’s raspy, tired-sounding voice casually asked, to which you quickly nodded, knowing that Jungkook’s favorite position had always been anal. He was massaging and gripping your ass firmly.

“This is gonna hurt at first, but I promise it gets better.”, He warned calmly into your ear, while putting some lube on his dick and just went right into your ass, slowly thrusting so you don’t feel as much pain.

He was right, it did hurt a lot when he first put it in, but the pain just changed into pleasure in a matter of time and his slow-paced thrusts helped with the adjustment.

“Fuck, I missed this ass”, he practically growled into your ear, as he kept on thrusting in and out, steadily gripping your wide hips with his big, veiny hands. “It just doesn’t feel right when I’m inside her ass.”

You knew your confidence shouldn’t rely on Jungkook bringing his girlfriend down, but you couldn’t help but feel good about your body when he said that. It’s been a while since you felt even a tiny spark of confidence. You weren’t so fond of him mentioning her while he was inside of you.

Your soft moans rang through the whole room like sirens, while he watched your ass jiggle against his pelvis, thrusting in and out faster every second. He missed this.

You had always thought you were indecisive, but you knew exactly what you wanted. You just couldn’t have that, so you’d eventually have to settle for less.

Jungkook wasn’t to blame for it, you just couldn’t concede your shortcomings. The movie’s villain wasn’t always the real villain.

Your hands traveled to your pussy to make sure you’d orgasm as well, when you heard Jungkook’s breathing getting heavier and his thrusts getting gentler than before, indicating that he was gonna cum soon. You were certain he could make you cum with just anal, but you wanted to cum with him.

With furrowed eyebrows and drops of sweat dripping down his body, Jungkook looked down at your arched back. The whole scene was sticky, especially when Jungkook presses his upper body to your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and kissing the spot.

It was kinda odd, having sex with your ex-boyfriend you were crying over just a day ago. There was a certain intensity to it though. Like your long-lasting nostalgia was finally fulfilled.

You’ve realized you couldn’t imagine yourself being intimate with anybody else. Jungkook already knew your body, how it looked without the material protecting it, the strawberry skin, the slightly sagging breasts you swore you’d surgically remove once you had the chance to but didn’t. He knew where you liked being touched, he was the first one to even touch you in those places.

You were unsure what you’d do with yourself when he leaves.

Jungkook’s thrusts slowly started stopping and you too felt the familiar sensation in your stomach.

Suddenly, you two were nothing but desire, fear, and pleasure. And faster than you could process, you came together.

For minutes after your orgasm, you were just laying on the bed, thoughtless. Maybe a little regretful. Not you, but him.

You weren’t facing each other, but you could hear each other’s breathing. Your stomach was filled with something you��d describe as post-sex melancholia.

All of a sudden, Jungkook stood up from the bed, startling your resting self a little, but you decided to keep quiet, wanting to see what he was going to do.

He made his way to the door to leave what he thought was your sleeping body laying there. You couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“Where are you going?”, your soft voice suddenly rang in his ears. “Don’t you wanna stay?”

He didn’t know how exactly to tell you. You’ve always been a gullible little girl, you were the type of girl to think fucking equals love. Little did you know that wasn’t the case at all.

“Yn.... you know I can’t”, Jungkook responded, you knew it wasn’t gonna be good when he said your name like that. “I got a girl at home and I don’t wanna mess shit up with her.”

There it was. Your suspicion was corroborated. He was still going out with the model and you were a certified home wrecker. Great.

You physically felt your heart breaking. “Bu- but why are you here then?”

You were incapable of being mad at him at the moment. It was your fault for letting him in, again. After breaking your trust and your heart.

“This was a mistake”, he declared, not looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry, yn...”

He’s moved past your room now, already at the exit of your dormitory. He was about to leave.

“You already ruined shit with her when you came here and fucked me.”, your voice was small, but your words were heard.

Without looking back, he left.

And you went back to your room, standing in the middle of it for a minute in silence before your brain fully processed what had happened and your tears started pouring.

#jungkook #jungkook smut #bts #bts fic #bangtan smut #bts smut #jk smut #jk imagine #jeongguk #jeongguk imagine #jeongguk smut #jeongguk fanfiction #taehyung smut #jimin smut #hoseok smut #yoongi smut #seokjin smut #namjoon smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #thick thighs save lives

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime — Ten // Wanda Maximoff

chapter nine | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter eleven

author’s note: okay so this was supposed to be published yesterday but (if anyone cares lol), basically, i finished my last year of uni two days ago and so yesterday was the first official day i had that i didn’t have to do work, so i spent the whole day playing video games 😂 but it’s here now, so i hope you liked it!

Approaching Y/B/N's study, my annoyance returned when I remembered how he acted only an hour before. I didn't bother knocking as I let myself in, seeing him loosening his bow tie and looking out the window.

"What the hell was that?" I snapped instantly.

He sighed, yanking his bow tie off and throwing it to his desk. "What was what?"

I crossed my arms to contain my frustration. "You know what, Y/B/N." He continued to play dumb, so I watched him with a frown. "Why are you so against me getting published? I thought– I thought you'd be proud of me. It's all I've ever wanted."

With a scowl, he looked the other way. "I'm the writer, Y/N, not you."

His words created an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. Jealousy was a disgusting look on him, one I never wanted to see.

"No," I said, uncrossing my arms and staring daggers at him. "You're not the writer. I am. You only got noticed because of me!"

"Shut up!" he shouted, finally meeting my eyes. "You don't get to do this! It's not about you!"

"Yes, it is!" I shouted right back. "For once, it is about me, Y/B/N! Because this is my chance to do something I love."

He rolled his eyes, getting riled up all over again. "And that's another thing. Why the hell are you putting silly ideas into my fiancé's head about making money? Are you trying to make me a fool in front of my in-laws?"

I squeezed my fists together, narrowing my eyes. "They aren't your in-laws."

"Oh, you know what I mean!"

He didn't deserve Wanda. He couldn't. She was too good for him.

"Sorry that your masculinity is so fragile that you can't let your fiancé do something she's passionate about," I said through gritted teeth.

He glowered down at me. "You need to butt out."

I smiled bitterly. "Maybe if you didn't start on Pietro for no reason, I would."

He scoffed. "Please. That man is only trying to get into your pants."

I don't think I'd ever wanted to strangle my brother as much as I did right now. Did he really not believe in me? He couldn't accept that maybe I'd earned this on my own accord? Thankfully, unlike him, I could contain my emotions and managed to swallow down my anger.

"You know that's not the case," I said with a dangerously calm voice. "You should talk about your soon-to-be brother-in-law with some respect."

Y/B/N sighed, moving to sit at his desk. I followed him with my eyes, unable to recognise who he was. I hadn't dubbed him for the insecure type, but I was being proven wrong many times tonight.

"I don't want to do this right now," he said quietly, sinking his head into his hands.

I uncurled my fists, fed up. "It's already been done."

He looked up, but I didn't wait to see his face. Maybe he wasn't the brother I thought he was.

—

"Honest opinion," Wanda said, before revealing herself from behind the curtain. "Nice or ugly?"

"Nice."

She smiled brightly, twirling around in the dress she was trying on, before going back behind the curtain to change into another one. She'd invited me over to hers to hang out, which meant watching her try on a bunch of new dresses and getting excited over each one. I wasn't complaining.

"So, that first book," she picked up from our previous conversation as she changed. She was referring to Y/B/N's first published book. "That was really you?"

"Yep." I pulled my legs up onto the lounge sofa and leaned on my hand, elbow propped on the back of the seat. "I mean, it got edited of course, but the initial manuscript was mine."

"Wow," she commented. "That must have really sucked to hear everybody praise it when it was actually yours."

"It did indeed."

She came out from the curtain wearing a dress that wasn't particularly nice looking. It had a baggy torso and slim legs, making Wanda look very unflattering. And that was saying something – she could pull off anything.

"Nice or ugly?" she asked, hands on her hips.

I squinted, tilting my head and trying to think if I should lie or not. Her blue eyes peered down at me intimidatingly and I knew I couldn't find it in myself to lie to her.

After a moment, I released a breath. "I'm sorry, love, but it's kind of ugly."

She chuckled, giving me a knowing smile. "Good. This was a test. Means you're paying attention."

"Wow. You think I'm just sat here for fun?"

She didn't respond, but an amused smile was on her lips as she headed behind the curtain to change yet again. It was quiet as she was changing, before she spoke up again.

"You know when we first met? And you showed me around your room?"

"How can I forget? You thought I was jealous of my brother," I quipped with a smile.

I could imagine the eye roll she was giving me. "That was before I knew you wrote half his stuff."

Stifling a laugh, I nodded even though she couldn't see me. "Okay, go on."

She sighed. "I told you how I fell in love with that first book. How I fell in love with the words. And the person who wrote those words.”

"I remember."

She reappeared from behind the curtain, this time wearing a stunning floral blue sundress. It fell off her shoulders, revealing cream-coloured skin and a well-defined collarbone. I smiled softly, overwhelmed with admiration for the beautiful woman before me.

"I'm glad it was you," she said, and I suddenly remembered we were in the middle of a conversation.

Her eyes sparkled brightly as she smiled my way, and then her words sank in and my heart fluttered with adoration.

"Me, too," I breathed out.

She held my gaze for a second longer before looking down at her dress, pressing her hands over it. "So. What do you think? Nice or ugly?"

I raised my eyebrows with astonishment. "Wanda, you look absolutely beautiful."

Her shoulders relaxed as her eyes flickered to mine. "So, I should keep it?"

I spluttered, "Duh!"

She laughed, before approaching me and sitting beside me. Leaning her head on my shoulder, she pulled her legs onto the sofa and sighed contently. I wrapped an arm around her, resting my cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you'll finally get the recognition you deserve, milaya (darling)," she said, lifting her hand to intertwine it with mine over her shoulder.

With an entertained smile, I held her hand firmly. "Maybe, love. I haven't said yes."

"Oh, you'll say yes."

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, revelling in the warmth her body created as it pressed to mine. We had no concerns that somebody would catch us since nobody was home and the servants knew not to bother us.

"So, what was the book actually about?" she asked, playing with my fingers.

"Huh?"

"The book," she repeated. "I've heard Y/B/N's take on it, but what about yours?"

At the mention of my brother, I rolled my eyes. We still hadn't spoken since our argument and I wasn't exactly in the best place with him right now.

"It doesn't matter," I mumbled into her hair.

She used her elbow to nudge me gently in the stomach before grabbing my other hand and wrapping it around her waist.

"I like hearing you speak," she said softly. "And I love the way your mind works."

My cheeks flushed at the compliment, but I appreciated her words. She always had such an effect on me and I'd come to only care about one opinion nowadays – hers.

"Okay, I guess..." I sighed, subconsciously pressing my fingertips to hers. "The book is about a man who loses his wife to his own ignorance, right?" She hummed in agreement, so I continued. "Y/B/N always talks about how it's about a man failing to appreciate his wife, but that's not how I intended for it to be perceived."

Interest piqued, she sat up straight and turned around to face me, leaning her head on my chest and looking up with curious eyes. I smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to her nose, making her scrunch it up adorably.

"It's supposed to be about the wife discovering that she's her own woman and that she doesn't need her husband to be okay," I continued, holding her gaze. "It was her own self-discovery that pushed them apart, as well her husband's stupidity."

Wanda's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I like that interpretation a lot better than his."

Licking my lips, I breathed out through a smile. "You're biased, dear."

Her eyes flickered to my lips. "Maybe."

I chuckled before closing the gap between us, connecting our lips in a short, sweet kiss. She relaxed against me before smiling as we pulled away.

"Ya lyublyu vas (I love you)," she whispered.

I always loved when she spoke in her native tongue. She sounded so at peace when she did and it warmed my insides.

"I love you, too," I whispered right back.

She grinned, carefree, before turning to lean on my shoulder again. I held her, enjoying the silence that formed between us. Her presence was always enough and I never wanted anything more. But I knew Wanda and I knew that she couldn't stay quiet for too long, so something was definitely up.

"What are you thinking?" I asked quietly, not wanting to startle her in case she was too deep into her thoughts.

She sighed. "It's stupid."

I smiled. "I doubt that."

It went quiet and I assumed she didn't want to share, but then she played with my fingers again as she spoke.

"I was wondering what it would be like if we were able to get married," she murmured. "With the dresses and walking down the aisle and the rings."

I laced my fingers through hers, the thoughts having crossed my mind at times, too. It was nice to think 'what if', but it was also a dangerous game.

"The wedding cake would have to be chocolate," I played along, not wanting her to think she couldn't talk about it.

She snickered, loosening up in my arms. "Of course. And the colour scheme would have to be red."

"Definitely," I agreed, knowing she wouldn't have it any other way, "...it could be somewhere small but comfortable. Surrounded by nature, maybe."

"Yes. With flowers all around us and the sound of birds tweeting in the trees."

A comforting smile crept on my lips as I closed my eyes, imagining it in my mind. What a beautiful day it would be.

"I'd force Pietro to be the ring bearer," she added as an afterthought, and I laughed, chest moving up and down with her on it.

"He'd hate that," I pointed out.

"Exactly," she said with a mischievous hum.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "What about afterwards? Where would you want to live?"

She scrunched her face up before settling with, "Somewhere remote. Away from people. Maybe a nice cottage somewhere."

Nodding in agreement, I said, "We could have a beautiful garden in the back. I'd do my very best to make it perfect for you. And you could paint whatever you wanted there."

A considerate smile tugged at her lips at the thought. "Yes! And we could get a pet. I've always wanted a pet."

"I guess we could... what pet do you want?"

With no hesitation, she said, "Chickens."

I looked down at her, quirking a brow. "Chickens?"

Looking up at me, she stared like it was self-explanatory. "They're cute and they lay eggs. Think about it. Fresh eggs for breakfast every morning."

God, she was so cute. I smiled, squeezing her hand. "Chickens it is, love."

She got excited as she tugged on my hand. "You can finally get a study of your own!"

"And you can get your own studio," I added, making her grin.

"And I'd keep it sparkling clean."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Don't lie, Wanda."

She rolled her eyes, though wore a humoured expression. "Okay, maybe not..."

"You can keep it as messy as you want," I promised her, as if it was actually going to happen and we'd get what we wanted.

The dream was so vivid in my mind that it could have been a memory. Wanda and I living together, peacefully and without hiding... if only we weren't in the wrong lifetime.

"I like to pretend that you gave this to me," she said after an unsettling silence fell upon us, raising her left hand for me to see. She wiggled her ring finger, the silver band and emerald gem glinting in the light. "It makes me feel better."

I swallowed hard and forced a smile, intertwining my fingers in hers and bringing them to my lips to kiss gently.

"Technically I picked it," I reminded her to lighten the mood, but it didn't work.

A sad smile appeared on her face. "Maybe in another lifetime, we could have met in a world that allowed this."

My smile faded into a frown at her words. Like I said, considering the 'what if's' was a dangerous game, and we'd already played too much of it.

"You're going to marry my brother soon," I said quietly, the realisation hitting me. "This– us, will have to stop."

She sat up and turned to face me, eyes looking between mine as she shook her head. "It doesn't have to."

I rested a hand on her cheek and she leaned into it, kissing my palm. I savoured the feeling of her lips against my skin.

"What we're doing isn't fair on either of us," I said reluctantly, afraid to say what we'd avoided for as long as our relationship lasted.

She frowned. "I'd rather have you like this than not at all."

My heart ached because I knew she was being genuine, and the truth is, I felt the same. But that brought me to our next dilemma.

"It's not fair on Y/B/N either."

She tensed her jaw. "The world doesn't want us together, Y/N. They're the ones who forced us to be like this."

"Like what?" I asked with knowing eyes. "Cheaters?"

Her eyes glossed over and it broke me to see her so hurt.

"Is it really cheating if I never wanted to be with him?" she asked with a shaky voice. "If I'm only acting out of duty? If I never loved him?"

Realising I'd saddened her, I moved forward and pulled her in for a hug, running my hand down her hair and to her back. "Sorry... I didn't mean to make you upset."

She sniffled and I felt her tears soaking my shirt. "Don't talk like that... I don't want to lose you."

I swallowed hard, nodding into her shoulder. "I don't want to lose you either, Wanda."

But I knew that deep down, we couldn't hold onto everything we wanted to in life. Deep down, she must have known that, too.

—

"...and this is where we write up the contracts. It's where we'd write up yours if you say yes."

Pietro grinned cheekily as I gave him a knowing look. He was showing me around the publishing house – a proper tour, not just me lurking around on the few visits I'd been here for Y/B/N – with hopes of convincing me to sign a contract with him.

"Pietro, you said you wouldn't be biased," Wanda warned, and I gave her a grateful smile as Pietro chuckled.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," he apologised, though he definitely didn't mean it. "I just really think you'd be a great fit here, Y/N. I already have editors willing to work with you based on the few pages they've seen of your work."

I raised my eyebrows, startled. "Wow, seriously?"

He nodded. "Most definitely. As I told you the other night, you're talented. And with my help, you can be successful, too."

A smile fell on my lips uncontrollably. A real editor wanted to work with me. Woah.

"I'm gonna get some coffee," Wanda said, squeezing my shoulder. "I'll get you both some, too." She wagged a finger towards her brother. "Don't pressure her whilst I'm gone."

He raised his hands in defence. "Okay, calm down, sestra (sister). I'll be fair."

She lowered her finger, shot him a final look, then smiled at me before leaving for the café next door. I chuckled at how cute she was and how much she cared before returning my attention to Pietro.

"I won't pressure you," he said to me, perching on the edge of an empty desk. "I just want you to know that you'd be well looked after here. I wouldn't let anyone talk down to you, nor treat you with disrespect because you're a woman. I don't condone that here."

I relaxed at his words, offering him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Pietro. That really means a lot."

He returned the smile before his gaze moved over my shoulder. Smile fading, he cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away. I turned around, curious to what had caught his attention, and then I saw Y/B/N standing in the doorway, looking around for something. His eyes eventually fell on me and he perked up before heading our way.

I hadn't spoken to him since two nights ago after dinner. He'd actively avoided me, too and I wasn't complaining, having still harboured an unexplainable anger for him. What was he doing here?

"Y/N, hey," he said awkwardly, stopping before Pietro and I. His eyes flickered to Pietro before he asked me, "Can I speak with you?"

Instinctively, my jaw clenched and he seemed to notice as he shook his head quickly.

"Not to argue," he clarified. "Just to talk."

His eyes were pleading and I couldn't find it in myself to deny him. He was my brother after all, we couldn't argue forever. Nodding wordlessly, I smiled apologetically to Pietro before following Y/B/N to a quiet side of the room. My eyes ran along the many employees working away at their desks before falling to my brother before me.

"What is it?" I asked, maybe a little too harshly, but there was no going back now.

He frowned, eyes flittering around nervously. "I want to apologise for my behaviour the other night. I shouldn't have acted how I did."

I hugged myself as I shifted my weight between my feet. "Okay."

"You were right," he continued, finally meeting my eyes. "You deserve this. You've always been there for me, helping me with my writing when I needed it. I should have reacted better, but I let my jealousy get the better of me."

My mouth opened, surprised at his apology.

He offered me a sad smile. "The truth is, Y/N, we both know you'll be the more successful of us both. And you'll be so preoccupied with your own writing that you won't be able to help me anymore. And it was selfish of me to think that first, but I did. And I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I'm your big brother and I should've been better."

Chewing on my lip, I let go of waist and straightened up, nodding slightly. "I– thanks. Thank you. For telling me that."

His shoulders relaxed as he nodded. "Also, you were right about what you said about Wanda. And I'm going to apologise to her first thing."

My expression softened at the mention of the girl who'd only ever been good to us. "She's seriously talented, Y/B/N."

"I know."

I nodded, stepping forward and resting a hand on his shoulder. Looking between his eyes, I only saw regret and I knew he was being genuine with his apology.

"You're forgiven," I told him with a small smile, before pulling him in for a quick hug.

He returned it and I felt relieved to know he was supportive. I didn't see a reason to not accept Pietro's deal now... everybody I cared about was okay with it.

"Wanda is here by the way," I told Y/B/N when we pulled apart. "She's just getting some coffee for us."

He nodded and we returned to Pietro, who gave me a concerned look. I smiled reassuringly and he relaxed before looking to my brother with a smile.

"Hey, Pietro, sorry for what I said last night," Y/B/N was quick to say. "It wasn't cool. I know you're not like that and I shouldn't have even thought it, let alone said it."

Pietro was one of the chillest people I'd met as he offered his hand out to my brother. "No worries, mate. Bygones."

They exchanged a handshake before my brother glanced to me.

"She's really good," he said to Pietro. "You'd be lucky to have her here."

My face heated up as Pietro nodded in agreement. The two of them looked to me with proud smiles and as uncomfortable as I felt with the attention, I was grateful to have their support.

"I know," Pietro said. "All she's got to do is say yes."

"You haven't said yes yet?" my brother asked with disbelief, before slapping me on the arm playfully. "Y/N! This is your chance!"

"And it's a big decision!" I reminded him.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but then I caught sight of Wanda over his shoulder and perked up. She smiled my way but then noticed Y/B/N's presence and proceeded with caution.

"Hey, I got you both a coffee," she said, giving Pietro his and handing me mine, but her eyes were searching mine with worry.

My hand brushed hers as I accepted my coffee and I squeezed it reassuringly. She seemed to believe me as her lips twitched into a small smile before looking to Y/B/N.

"Hey," she said to him quietly, biting her lip.

He glanced to me for encouragement and I gave him a subtle thumbs up. This seemed to help as he wiped his hands on his trousers before looking to Wanda hopefully.

"Hey," he finally spoke. "Please can we talk in private for a moment?"

She nodded, humming in response, and followed him to talk.

"Match made in heaven those two," Pietro said sarcastically, and I tried not to laugh, but damn was it funny.

"Look, I think I've made a decision," I said after a moment, feeling my heart speed up at the realisation of my next words.

"Oh? And what is it? Will you let me publish you?" Pietro asked, quirking a brow and watching me with an excited smile.

Well, there was only the future to look forward to now.

I grinned. "Yes."

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #marvel #mcu

[laf-outloud]

Ok, as someone who watches an unhealthy amount of CW shows, genuinely I don't understand people who hate on Jensen, Jared, or Misha for being bad actors. Because they are ALL bad actors, THAT'S why they're on a CW show. I love Supernatural, I love all three of them, but their acting skills are mediocre at best. And that's okay! I enjoy watching CW shows because they're melodramatic and fun without taking themselves too seriously. CW shows are like higher budget soap operas, you know exactly what caliber of acting and writing you're getting. I've just been thinking about this for awhile and wanted to ask fans and antis from all sides about this. While in anon, of course, because I DO NOT need this fandom coming for me. But I looked through your blog and you seemed nice and respectful enough. So, why do you see Misha as a bad actor compared to Jensen and Jared? And let me be clear, I don't hate Jensen, Jared, or Misha. I love all three of them and want them all to have successful careers post-SPN. So this isn't me attacking you for being anti-Misha. You just seemed like someone who might have a polite response to this question.

First off, watching tv is only unhealthy if it interferes with your daily life! LOL! (And thank you for thinking I'm nice and respectful - I try - most days).

In regards to bad acting, I'm no expert (my acting experience consists of business voice-overs and one line in my Junior High Christmas play), so what I share will be based on how I perceive things, certainly not from how an acting coach or director would see things.

I have to disagree with calling television actors/soap actors straight up bad. I think acting is relative and quality can be based on our expectations. I don't expect network tv actors to wow me like movie actors, but I do expect them to tell me a story without pulling me out of it by bad acting. What do I mean by this? If I'm watching a scene for the first time and an actor does something that makes me think, "Ouch, that line fell flat," or "What kind of acting decision was that?" then I'm no longer thinking about the scene or the character, I'm thinking about the actor instead. That's what I think of as bad acting.

As for J2M - I've put that below the break.

Speaking of noticing acting choices in a scene, the reason I refer to Misha as a bad actor is because he's the one on SPN that pulled me out of the story the most, and it didn't happen right away. I feel like he did a goo job with Castiel S4-6 as well as Castiel's return to form in S14's Lebanon when he had to play S4 Castiel again. I especially appreciated his nuance when he started to understand humanity and felt more like a fish out of water. It's his acting in the later seasons, particularly when he would play a separate character that I would full on cringe while watching it.

Bad examples include Casifer, The Empty, and AU German Nazi Cas. With Casifer, he actually practiced doing Mark P.'s version of Lucifer, except he was basing it off of Hallucifer, which was Sam's mind's interpretation. The real Lucifer was much more subtle and felt like a truly powerful being. In fact, Jared's Lucifer in 5.04 and at the end of S5 (and S15 dream sequences) was understated. I could feel the malevolence behind this all-powerful being. Casifer came off as a parody of what Lucifer should be, simply because Misha tried too hard. He lost the subtlety required to create that commanding presence. I was no longer watching Sam and Lucifer, I was watching Sam and Misha playing Lucifer.

His other characters, mentioned above, also felt like over-the-top caricatures. Jared and Jensen have proven with Lucifer, Michael, Gadreel, Demon Dean, etc. that you don't need to ham it up to inhabit a different character.

As for Nazi Cas? That was just an offensive choice by Misha that the directors let him get away with. There was no reason for Cas, the angel, who only showed up in recent years for the apocalypse to be German. It perpetuated the stereotype all Germans are Nazis, and therefore the villains.

And finally, Castiel's goodbye scene. I understand it was Misha's last scene, and there's certain to be some character bleed, but there was so much bleeding, I thought he was going to need a transplant. Cas' voice was gone, his stoicism, his posture, Cas just disappeared, and in his place was the actor.

I know those are the extreme examples from Misha, and I think he did fine with his other scenes later in the series, but he certainly wasn't helped by writers who didn't know what to do with him and had him standing around a lot of the time.

Anyway, I hope what I've said made some sense. I appreciate that your willing to seek out different opinions. If you get responses from other fans, I'd be interested to see how we differ.

P.S. If it helps, I also don't like Jared's acting choice in Walker when Cordell gets nervous. He's getting better about it, but his speech pattern takes on a staccato style, which can be annoying once you notice it.

#anti misha #misha's bad acting #jared critical #jensen critical #due to ask #anti casifer #anti au cas #cw critical due to ask #ask box #long post

[askfallenroyalty]

I don't think you did anything wrong. When a story is being written, there are a lot of different ways to adress and express something and maybe that's why you're being misunderstood. I think there are just too many things to adress in this story that maybe some people will get when these things are implicitly implied and some people will not. So when a breaking point comes, they'd think it came out of nowhere. You can see this with the amount of asks you receive asking you often the same thing.

Does that mean it's wrong? Ofc not! I myself was a little bit confused with Frisk's reactions and conduct in general until you explained it in your recent asks, and I thought man, that was what I was missing!

Now, yes I believe some parts of the story could have been explained in a different way, because in my opinion there's a lot to read between the lines. If you don't try to understand the characters, you'll clearly be confused as hell. But that's why I love this story! As you said before, there's nothing meant to be black/white coded, and I really appreciate the world and the character's complexity in general. You don't have some of the answers in hand, an that's when you have to analize! (At least that's what I do haha)

I also really felt like telling you something I've been relating to, so I'm putting the respectives tw if someone doesn't want to keep reading (TW: Suicide mention).

In the DW Arc, when the Christmas and Feylow stuff happened, I realised through Chara that I was doing the exact same thing with a friend of mine. He was going through a lot of stuff, and tried to commit suicide multiple times. I was focusing a huge amount of energy on him because I was afraid to lose him, and when he suddenly stopped talking to me so he could take a break, I felt really lost. Because he was the person I talked with the most, one of my dearest friends, and the idea of losing him and not being there to stop it made me insanely anxious, because that used to be the situation most of the times. Now it's been a year since he's stopped talking to me, and I don't exactly know the reason. But I couldn't keep running behind someone who didn't seem to keep wanting me around. And if it wasn't for you, I couldn't have realized how much this was hurting me.

And now, as much as it hurts me to see him acting this distant and cold with me, I'm okay with it. I really am. Because I now have the tranquility to see him continue, even when things are not okay. I can't force a friendship and I really needed to understand that back then. I trust him as much as he trusts me.

I really wanted to thank you for writing this story because it has helped me in a way I didn't expect, and I'm sure it will help a lot of people too! I'm even learning from your way of taking and discussing things haha.

I just wanted you to have this tranquility I have with this story because I trust it'll work out and explain itself once it's finished. And I just can't express how thankful I am to be reading your story.

Thank you again,

I'm looking forward to more of your work and please, take care! Don't stop doing what you enjoy! 🦋

putting it under a readmore because of how long the ask/response is, sorry!

i’m at a loss of words because wow, this ask really hit in a way i’ve never really could of anticipated. when writing AFR, i write a story about things I felt. I’ve been Chara, I’ve been Asriel and Frisk at points in my life. I write because I need to tell their stories and make it real, specifically for my own sake of getting through my own pain and to tell the world this is who i am and that I will be ok, there is hope in this world. It’s a selfish desire for me, but ultimately that’s what art is i feel. I couldn’t draw this much and put so much time and effort into something without it being meaningful or personal.

but art is communication, and when I write to be seen and to be heard, I know there’s others who are reading and are connecting with the work. (otherwise, I wouldn’t be getting asks right? its a lonely process, i forget there’s the second half of the equation -you guys) and i’ll do my best to make sure people are accommodated and can experience this story without hurting in a way that’s past enjoying a emotionally gripping piece of media. i don’t want people to be upset or hurt for my work, and I want to ensure I can make this without hurting others.

I try to leave a lot of ambiguity and room for people to interpret stories and I don’t mind people missing the point or interpreting things vastly differently than what I intended. that’s fine, that’s what art is all about. i don’t want to hold people’s hands and tell them what’s happening or what they should feel -i want them to choose and decipher and think things over. stories should be stimulating and thought provoking, and i can’t decide what those thoughts are. I wouldn’t want to. Personally, if it means people become more confused and lost over the story -well, that’s a trade off I have to take. if it means the story is more up-to-interpretation, than it’s worth it to me.

i do regret with how fast and punchy the arc ended up, and I feel my hints may have been too weak. asriel/flowey has been bluntly surprised/asking to be killed twice, he hasn’t felt like himself since dying and has lost his support systems ect. as a person who’s Been Through Shit, I thought it was as obvious as the sun what was to come but thinking on it now?

with how distance asriel is, how limited the perspective is to chara (who hasn’t known Asriel has been going thru the same depressive/suicidal thoughts as they have this whole time) it was a shock to the system. and in a way that’s fine in my eyes if the reader was completely shocked as you can emphasize more with chara that way... but in the same sense its horrifying for them, it must be for the reader as well.

and I do feel I should of thought of a way to handle the scenario to where it was less in your-face with Asriel’s decent into desperation and attempts. I don’t want to ever show it on screen, I don’t want to ever go into detail and make it any sort of fun for the viewer. it’s supposed to be disturbing and painful and I tried to show how greatly painful it was affecting both chara and frisk. Suicide victims are victims and everyone involved suffer from it. It’s ugly and never something one should be anything but ugly.

that is my intent for it be that, but as I’ve heard from people it’s still a shock and went too far. Authorial intent doesn’t matter when people react to your stories. yes, the context can be good to have, but people’s feelings and reactions mean the world more. I hope with the added context of the complete story that helps it in the long run, but as it is I’m very unhappy with how I tackled it and I don’t really have a good answer to how I should of gone about it. but at the end of the day that doesn’t matter as it happened and I can’t change it.

i’m sorry about your friend and i’m sorry for the pain you’ve experienced as well. it’s not easy being in that position (nor is it for ur friend as well of course) and it’s perfectly fine to feel hurt and to take time for yourself to address those feelings. You, as a person, matter and your feelings are justifiably important as well. nobody asks to be mentally ill and your friend’s choices aren’t fully theirs because of that, but it doesn’t change how it’s affected and hurt you. Losing someone’s friendship has always been a painful and inevitable experience people must go thru in life. I’m sorry that you’ve gone through that, but I’m glad -so happy that my story has helped you in any amount. I sincerely wish you both the best and to heal, I’m proud of you anon for getting through this.

I can’t really express how much it means as a writer to see how my work helped you. Like I mentioned before, I write and feel like it’s by myself that makes this work but it’s a 2 way street -you guys contribute to the story and the story only exists and is perceived by you. without an audience, it really truly is just me here. what you gain and experience within a story is just as important as the writing of the work itself and I often forget that.

Thank you. This was a really nice and eye opening ask and it’s going to be on my mind for a while, haha. I hope once the story is done and I can post-correct how I handle the story, people can learn and gain meaning to it like you have. Sorry if this was a bit rambly, I’m very thankful for your response (as well as everyone else who’s messaged!) and I’m very happy and excited to continue and to do my best. Thank you all so much.

#ooc #tbd #not art #suicide #ask to tag #also sorry i do not mean to get so parasocial here! is it parasocial in this instance? #i'm not fully sure but regardless #i do want my readers to be ok and I hope its not out of line to respond like this #maybe i'm overthinking things im sorry asdfkljasd #Anonymous

[musicallisto]

without fail tag

THE “WITHOUT FAIL” TAG — List five things that you, WITHOUT FAIL, weave into or explore in your stories, whether it be specific themes or tropes, character archetypes, allusions to other literary works, what have you! It really can be anything that you consistently include in your narratives for whatever reason. Then invite others to share theirs by tagging them!

I was tagged by @deadlymodern - thank you so much for tagging me, this tag is amazing and I loved reading your answers! I can tell you have a very thorough approach to your writing & themes, it’s so cool!

(tagging people at the bottom of the post if you want to skip)

1. flowers, skies & words

grouping them together since they're all related to a wider, general literary device: symbols and allegories in my stories. Without fail, I’ll always use flower symbolism to evoke certain themes, places, characters... withered petals for death, blossoms for youth, you name it, it’s probably been in one of my stories. just consider my main WIP’s title, The Grave of Roses (Le Tombeau des Roses). It’s a little basic, and has been used time and time before in literature, but I still love it.

Other elements that often make it into my stories as symbols are planes (because I love aviation obviously, but also as a symbol of breaking free, independence, of man’s domination on mortality, what with having tamed the skies, but also his frail condition and how everything hangs on a thread). Also, the sky is pretty.

And lastly, words, stories, novels always have their place in my stories, and more often than not one of my characters is a writer, or someone who uses words and stories as some kind of comfort, outlet, or a driving force.

At its [the tombstone] foot, below the name, red roses piled up, enough of them to cover ten graves. A single vermilion bud, a wind-swept poppy, clashed with the rest of the bouquet, and Samuel knew that it was William's children who had placed it there. Only they knew that he didn't even like roses anymore, and that he would come to lay poppies on his father's memorial every time he returned to London...

The tomb was both smaller and prettier than Samuel imagined, less opulent than England would have wanted to give its precious child. The morning sun, like a caress, illuminated the epitaph, a Latin verse that Samuel had known in the past. “Bury me southward,” he heard William say so clearly that he almost turned around, "so that I can look at England and France in the same breath." His name, however, was drenched in full light, facing east, and inexplicably this saddened Samuel.

“And there it is... it's pretty, don't you think? I don't know if he would have liked it... You probably know it better than I do...”

“And why do you care about that, huh? You don't even believe in God.” “He's a writer. He believes in symbols.” “He believes in vanity, alright.”

“I think he would have liked it anyway,” he nodded in agreement, his eyes glued to the lonely poppy. (Translation)

2. parental roughnesses

this was bound to come, because I feel like we were all pretty fucked up at some point in our lives from our upbringing. I didn’t go for straight up “parental issues” because I don’t deal with like, abusive or absent parents or anything, just complicated relationships between parents and their children, but who still love each other. Oftentimes it has to do with one of the children idealizing the heck out of their parent and slowly realizing that they make mistakes and are not a hero at all, and/or unmeetable expectations and parental pressure. but it’s not like I’m projecting or anything lol

“You never knew Father, William,” Grace stopped him immediately [...]. “Don't you dare pretend you know what it's like.”

“Growing up without a father is not necessarily better than losing him in childhood! Everyone here has suffered from his disappearance, Grace. You have no idea how much I miss him, despite never meeting him. But that's all in the past now. And there's no reason for there to be another war.”

“Of course there is!” she retorted ferociously, despite the tears spilling from her eyes. “Of course there is, and they're going to send you there like Father, and you'll want to play hero like Father, and then you'll get shot down like a dog! Where's it going to be this time, huh? Above Luxembourg, just like him, or maybe somewhere in your beloved France?” (Translation)

3. patriotism

One way or another, all my stories always deal with patriotism, nationalism, pride in one’s country and more broadly speaking one’s relationship to it. It questions what it means to belong to a country, to share one culture, one language; does it justify acting in the benefit of one’s country, and where do you draw the line before you intentionnally harm others’; what even is a country, a nationality, and it what sense do you belong to one, and what do you owe it, if you even owe it anything? Is it wrong or right to feel love and attachment to your place of origin? And what does it mean to fight for your country, for its values, for its people? & other things of the like. It probably stems from my own experience as a binational person; growing up, I was always asked stuff like “but who do you root for in a football game” “but are you like really French or not?” “if Spain and France got into a war what would you do?”, and this all lead me to question “am I more French or am I more Spanish - which one am I, and which one would others perceive me to be - do I need to pick a side? And how can I express my affection to these places that raised me both differently, without undermining the other - or others? can I still be proud of my heritage given the horrors my countries have committed in the past?”. I still haven’t found a definitive answer, so my writing is just me throwing trails out to the world and hoping I’ll figure it out someday. that’s why my stories often have a war setting; firstly I just love historical fiction, and secondly it’s the perfect backdrop for all these questions to unfold.

William laughed at the idea - he, a true Frenchman! It was a very silly thought. He may have loved what he had seen of Charlotte's country, but England was not to be ashamed of any other land, for it was the only one he would love until his last breath. (Translation.)

4. just a hint of supernatural

I love me a good ghost story, and I’m a fan of everything spooky, but what’s subtly spooky, and not the gory, in-your-face horror. This particular theme may have increased since I saw The Haunting of Hill House which completely OBLITERATED ME with how it uses the house and its ghosts to tell a story of family and trauma and memories... but I’ve loved ghost stories forever. Another piece that truly resonated with me was One Hundred Years of Solitude (Cien años de soledad) by Gabriel García Márquez. It was my first dive into the world of magical realism and I didn’t make it out of there the same person I was when I entered. This one is not necessarily included in every piece without fail, because some are just too anchored in reality, but if it’s not a straight-up spirit or an otherworldly creature, I’ll always find a way to include an aspect of superstition, a myth, a legend, a tale from faraway that is neither proved nor disproved throughout the story. It truly adds to the atmosphere of the world, even in a very realistic and gritty setting, I believe.

I hear murmurs of legends among the soldiers. [...] One of those stories caught my attention, I must admit... It is not very special, nothing more than a children's tale, but I thought it was beautiful enough to please your Romantic soul. Some pilots speak of a cemetery, somewhere in the countryside north of London, which has something mystical about it, lost in the flowers that sway as far as the eye can see, in the calm rhythm of the wind, wrapped in the heady scent of eternal spring, and where the bravest warriors would go to rest forever, tired of their exploits and the continual explosions. No one knows exactly where it is or what to do to be buried there, but this beautiful image simply floats like a dream in the minds of many and, I confess, in mine as well since I first heard about it.

It is said that there only flowers dare to disturb the heroes in their sleep... This fragment of silence is called the Grave of the Roses.

So if I were to leave you, if you were to hear that I am gone...

With a bit of luck, that is where you will find me.

5. love

this one is broader and less obvious than you might think. Of course, I’ll always, always implement an element of romance to my story (and more often than not it’s angsty with star-crossed lovers or insurmountable obstacles or forbidden romances and whatnot), but there’s more to it. I don’t think I have ever written a story that is entirely grim and bleak, simply because I do not believe the world is built like that. I’ve said time and time again that love is my favorite thing in the world, and I believe it is the force that drives us all forward and connects us all together; love is, to me, the truest power of humanity, and its inherent purpose. And love covers all subjects and all types of relationships, but my absolute favorite ways to explore and show love in my stories is through long-lasting, rock-solid friendships (because friendships are often overlooked both in fiction and real life), and just a grandiose love letter to humanity as a whole. I’m an optimist, and many people who have suffered more than I have would deem me naive for thinking this - and I cannot blame them -, but as Anne Frank put it more bravely than I ever could, “despite everything, I still think humans are good at heart”. My stories are always born out of love and made for love. For the love of humanity and kindness and literature and love of myself, too, because sometimes I just like rereading the words and thinking, “wow, I’ve made it this far. look at me go.” In a word, yes, I would say that is what it boils down to; my work, but also what I hope my entire life and being will be. An ode to love.

“He admired you and truly loved you, you know. You were a good leader, I'm sure, and a good friend, above all.”

He thought she was going to put her hand on his shoulder, and prepared to bend to avoid it, but instead she came to rest on the polished marble of the tomb, which was already beginning to erode at the corners. The soft light bathed her hand, and Samuel's on the other corner, still resting above William's surname, the only thing he had been proud of from beginning to end.

“And I loved him too. I loved them all. If you only knew...”

well, I got carried away, as I always do when talking about my writing, but it made me miss it so much. I haven’t worked on any of my projects since literally October and I’m feeling the void rn. anyway, thank you again for enabling me to ramble about what I love most, Thais! and I’m tagging @softeninglooks, @lxncelot, @myriadimagines​, @swanimagines & @randomfandomimagine + plus any writer who wants to talk about their marvelous work <3

#tag game #mywriting #long post #writing #ltdr

[normal-thoughts-official]

I remember reading a fic, it was bottom Alec admittedly, but one of the things that stuck with me was how it mentioned that he didn't bottom often because it was overwhelming. Which then got me thinking about autistic Alec and sensory overload and maybe that's a thing you'd find interesting and put your own spin on? I don't know.

jsbsisnsisnssjdn i love how u guys always come to me and talk about bottom alec like it's the greatest sin you've ever partaken in udbdudndudndid really its fine, i mean its not my preference or hc but to each their own

anyway! i did like this question a lot and i tried to think a little about how autism and kink might intersect for alec specifically

tbh idk if i can give a good take on that because- im a bottom, so jdndudbdidnd. i mean of course I've topped but i think it's fundamentally different to top when thats something that you actually enjoy. like not that i dread topping and just the thought of it makes me cry or something but the pleasure i derive from it is...... way less. and more focused on the other parts of it that arent the act of topping itself

so due to that, i dont really know how topping, like, feels? if it's something that actively gets u hot and that u find enjoyable. so idk if bottoming is truly more overwhelming than topping, like. one of my partners is a Top™ and i think he gets as lost in topping as i get in bottoming, its exciting for him, just thinking about it Does Things to him you know xD and admittedly this partner in particular is a very intense person, with everything, but either way he does seem to feel topping and sex as a top and the pleasure he gets from that very intensely, so idk if it would be accurate to say that bottoming is more overwhelming. i think it depends on a lot of things, including the kind of play ur into - like if ur into denial or overstimulation and the such, definitely, but u dont necessarily are into them just because ur a bottom or even a sub (which, u know, are different things)

and my partners who are verses/switches say that it's different but not really more or less intense. just different

but definitely as a dom you get more control of the sensations, at least touch-wise (not much you can really do about noise, smell etc) so there's that. i also think that for autistic ppl theres frequently that feeling of not having a lot of control over ur life and how ur perceived, understood, etc, so domming can get particularly interesting/pleasurable in that sense. on the other hand, there's also the relief of subbing and getting clear instructions and just completely focusing on the tasks u have. or maybe that's my sub agenda. idk

either way i think being autistic wouldnt really sway anyone in either direction (being kinky or not, top or bottom, sub or dom, being into specific kinks etc) but im not an expert, maybe im wrong lol

but well, if you wanna talk specifically about autistic alec who also happens to be a dom/top and how he experiences that, a few things i think could be interesting:

domspace and hyperfocus: like because everything is so intense, the two can feel kind of similar? you know you get into domspace and it’s like, everything is so centered in the moment, but in like the best way possible? i imagine that for him reaching domspace is kind of even more intense than usual (not in a like... Lost In The Sauce way, where he can’t be aware properly, but it’s just, it’s extra good and it makes him feel grounded and present and like the noise in his head shuts up? he’s just focused on pleasuring his sub everything else kind of melts away and it’s basically just that. great intense pleasure and almost calm feeling, you know? i mean again i’m not a dom but. it’s what i imagine/have heard it feels like i guess)

sensorial issues: adjacent to last one i guess but just like reaching domspace and domming and the pleasure he derives from it kind of muffles the sensorial issues? again because he’s so focused and like, immersed in the feeling it all kind of disappears. also i mean, sex includes a lot of movement so yay to that! especially as i dom i think, if bondage for example is involved. and even if there’s like, a lot of touch and noise and stuff (again, magnus Screams) he kinda has control (again, especially as a dom) of how much stimuli there is and he gets and the fact that he derives pleasure from the noises, touches, etc kind of helps muffle them, if that makes sense? because the inside feelings overpower the outside feelings lmao and it’s like that sensation of floating and domspace and shit makes the actual physical sensations less acute sometimes. at least as a sub i do feel that way sometimes, like the pleasure gets so psychological and great i can’t really feel sensations, just the pleasure itself? so it’s like, id have to focus to be able to tell where exactly my partner is touching me, all i know is that it Feels Very Good. idk if that makes sense, it’s hard to put in words 

feeling in control: i mean i feel like alec feels like he doesn’t have a lot of control over his life (look i know that he’s now in a position of power but even then, like, he’s always having to fight the people above them, you know? and he’s questioned at every damn minute because of his relationship. and for most of his life, he was trained to be a pawn, to the clave and to his parents, and hell, he couldn’t even control who he would marry. most of the time alec is fighting tooth and nail to be listened to, he doesn’t really get easy obedience and i definitely don’t think that he feels like he has a lot of control most of the time, which is why being a dom appeals to him, too. don’t get me wrong i’m not saying he isn’t damn competent and important because if he weren’t he wouldn’t have gotten where he is right now, but he’s not really in a position where everything is in his hands. especially with how much he has to endure and swallow up in his life. i see a lot of meta that’s like “alec’s a sub because he needs to let go of the control” and stuff, and while again, to each their own, i feel like this argument doesn’t really hold up when you look at how much he has to fight to be listened to, and that’s why it’s very appealing to have someone just, obey, and feel like the world is in the palm of his hands, not slipping away? that’s a very long parenthesis. and like not that you need to have a Very Deep Psychological Reason to be into kink but usually those things are linked in some sort of way). and the fact that he’s autistic plays into this, because so much of what he feels just has to be overlooked? he’s always having so suppress and/or deal with overload and the frustration of having to follow a bunch of random social rules and expectations and speak a thousand different languages into one (like body language, facial expressions, etc) and it’s like he always has to be grabbing everything by the seams. plus, obviously, he likes routine and method and predictability. so being a dom, being in control of what happens, being obeyed, knowing exactly what will happen during the scene, having the time to plan it and flesh it out, it just feels particularly good and grounding for him?

and like again im not saying that “wow autistic people are doms” or anything, just talking about how these things might intersect in his personal experience, considering his desires and the specifics of his life, his autism and etc

idk i feel like this answer wasn’t very coherent, or interesting, or good, but it’s what i have to offer fuahfiah thank you for this question tho, it was really nice for me to think about

#ask #anonymous #sh #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #dom alec lightwood #top alec lightwood #autistic alec lightwood #malec #dirty mention #dirty words #q

[howterrifying]

Hey! I don't know if you're still doing prompt fills or anything, but I was wondering if you could write a Sherlolly prompt based on the song, "Far Too Young to Die" by Panic! at the Disco? That's like my favorite song right now and I just kind of imagined Sherlock watching Molly walk towards him through a crowded room. Thank you!

Dear Anon, I am so sorry for making you wait years. :( Now that I have The Admirer out of the way, I can start working on these really old prompts. Please accept my sincere apologies!I can only hope that you find this story somehow. :( That said, thank you for your prompt. It’s a very beautiful and dark song and wow it could be used to tell so many stories. I decided to go with the times and so wrote a post-TFP story focusing of course on the aftermath of the ‘release code’ scene. I hope you’ll enjoy what I’ve done with it. xx

:: CONTAINS SERIES FOUR SPOILERS ::

::

Grounds  (also on FF.net)

I never so adored you
I’m twisting allegories now
I want to complicate you
Don’t let me do this to myself

For two people who were rather averse to crowds, itseemed an odd choice for a meeting place. Lights of different colours, pulsingat random speeds tinted the ocean of people between them. Still, in their ownpaths, they walked calmly through the bubbling crowd. There were men, therewere women and there were children. There were ice-creams, there was laughter,there were tears. Molly knew exactly where she was headed, for this was a spot in the fairgroundshe had been to since she was a child. This place had been the one exception inspite of her dislike for crowds. Even when her father had gotten ill and couldno longer walk, she would push him along in his wheelchair, both of themdetermined not to miss their yearly tradition of ice-cream by the ferris wheel.

It seemed strange that now, this spot had also become their spot eventhough they had met here only once before. It happened when Sherlock had caughther by surprise, confronting her about her imminent departure which he haddeduced. This was some time after the whole matter with Sherlock’s sister andtheir exchange over that most peculiarly orchestrated phone call. After that phone call, they had somehow naturally avoided each other. Mollyleft her god-motherly duties as often as she could to Mrs Hudson and made sureto take up more paperwork so as to keep herself at her little office deskinstead of the labs or the morgue. Even when her supervisor had pleaded withher to take on a case, saying, you’re the only who can handle him, shepolitely but firmly declined. Then came another phone call, a call from a former colleague, now overseas, whosought Molly’s advice on a piece of research. Eventually, the conversation ledto Molly taking up a temporary research position at said colleague’suniversity. It seemed the perfect opportunity at such opportune timing. On her last evening in London, Molly paid one last visit to the fairground ofher childhood. There was no carnival in operation at the time for the ferriswheel was not lit and the ice-cream stall, among others, was closed. Still,Molly took a slow walk through the grounds, finding a bench that faced the seaand sat herself there, grateful for the emptiness but wishing she could havehad one more ice-cream. It was then that Sherlock Holmes, after months of silence, appeared beside her,casting a shadow in spite of how dimly lit the place already was. He had askedpolitely if he could sit down, Molly replied by shifting to one side, makingroom for him beside her. Are you— okay? he had asked her. 
As okay as it gets, she hadreplied. And you?
I’m far too busy to notbe okay, he had joked, temporarily bringing small smiles to both theirfaces. That’s good to know, she had answered.What time is your flight?How did you know I was leaving? Sorry. Occupational hazard. I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me.So— you’re really leaving?It’s just three weeks.I see. Everything sorted?Mmhmm.Good.


To both their surprise, Sherlock had turned to kiss her gently on thecheek. How many times had he done this now? Molly remembered frantically tryingto recall the occasions he had done so; there was the Christmas apology, therewas the one wishing her well for her engagement by a stairway. This one? Shehad not been able to place. Are you saying sorry? Molly remembered asking.
No.Is this to say goodbye? she had asked again.No, he had repeated.What was that for then? Molly could see the ferris wheel nearing. She was almost there. She wondered ifhe had remembered their appointment. After all, it had been his suggestion. To be honest, Molly, I don’t know— Sherlock had said, after a longpause. Then you shouldn’t have done it, she had interjected.It’s not that— he had continued, almost a little anxiously, I know why— I just don’t know—what to say, howto say it.Well, when you’ve worked it out, let me know.There had been a pause before he turned to look at her. I will. Yes— I will. Same time, same place, next month, hehad replied, with a sudden streak of determination in his voice. You’ll beback by then, won’t you? Yes, I will be.Next month then. At the ice-cream stand by the ferris wheel.
How do you knowabout that spot? Molly had asked, amazed.You told me once.I did?Yes, he had said, with a furtive smile in her direction. So, you’ll bethere? I’ll be there.Here she was at last. Molly could not help but smile at the familiarblackboard display that had the day’s ice-cream flavours written in colouredchalk. She was glad it was open this evening. She could have that ice-cream atlast. “I’m partial to the vanilla,” came the voice she had been expecting.Molly turned round and could not help but smile when she saw Sherlock. It hadonly been three weeks that she was away from London but it had been even longerthat she had been away from him. “Really? Well, I can’t picture you eating an ice-cream anyway,” said Molly witha laugh. “Would you like one?” he asked, gesturing to the queue. “Not now,” said Molly, “Maybe we should take a walk.”“Agreed,” said Sherlock with a nod Offering his arm to her, Molly looped hers in his and together, they strolledthrough the same colourful, noisy throngs of people that had separated thembefore. The bench from where they had met a month ago was occupied, so theystrode off towards the long metal railing that separated the fairground fromthe beach below and stood there. Both of them leaned forward against the railing, resting their elbows on thesturdy metal and took a moment to enjoy what little they could see of the sea.“How— have you been?” asked Sherlock, trying to strike up conversation. “Good. The research thing went well.”“So I’d heard…”“Have you been spying on me?” asked Molly in amusement as she turned to facehim.“A little bit,” he answered, suppressing a smile as he continued to look ahead.The pair of them continued to stare out into the sea, enjoying the calmingsound of waves rushing to the shore then falling back into the water. “I owe you something, don’t I?” said Sherlock at last.“You don’t owe me anything, Sherlock,” Molly replied with a soft chuckle.“But I do have something to say, Molly,” he continued, “Will you listen to whatI have to say?”“Of course,” she replied softly, turning to face him. With a gentle smile, Sherlock leaned over to whisper in her ear. The words werenot new — for had he not said them before? Yet, they had new meaning since thefirst time they had been uttered. Now, under no duress, the words stood ontheir own, carrying the weight of their own truth.Molly turned to him, watching him watch her as she processed these old words innew context. It perplexed her that he had said them again; that he had chosento say them again. There was no perceivable motivation nor were there anygrounds for him to have elected to do this. “What was that for?” she found herself asking in an incredulous whisper. Sherlock smiled at her question, staring into her bewildered eyes with brighteyes of his own. “I don’t mean to plagiarise but—” he paused as he began recalling her words tohim that particular afternoon. It startled him how unadulterated hers had beenand it almost frightened him that they had been true. Now that he thought about it, however— it no longer frightened him. Notanymore. “Because it’s true, Molly Hooper,” said Sherlock at last. “It’s alwaysbeen true.”

Well I never really thought that you’d come tonight
When the crown hangs heavy on either side
Give me one last kiss while we’re far too young to die

END

#Sherlolly #Sherlolly prompts #Sherlolly shots #one shot by terrified #this literally took years #and I am so sorry! :((( #i have about 6 or 7 more to go! #gotta work hard for all these lovelies who've placed their trust in me! #頑張ろう!!