attempt from memory

Missing You ( Drake x MC)

[A little note: Just something small.]

Originally posted by enjoy-the-life-baby

Missing you came often.

It came during the wee hours of the day, when dusk turns into dawn and light strikes for the first time – peeking through my windows, before I’m able to blink. 

And for those first couple seconds, all I expect to see is you - staring up at me with a smile, the only sunshine I’ve been able to linger on without feeling lost, without feeling less of who I am. 

It came as I shake off remnants of my hazy dream that had long since blurred into a nightmare, and gulp fistfuls of fresh air to calm the unsteadiness of my heart at waking alone again. And as I try to untangle myself through messy sheets; threading my fingers through its fine texture – flashes of your own dark hair framed around you like a halo manages to funnel through. It slips through the cracks of my armor before I can shove it away.

Your skin against my skin.

Your breath by my ear.

The drunken desire in every touch, in every kiss.

The moment you’ve come undone beneath me.

Until I’ve finally managed to wrench myself away; recoiling from memories that feel too painful now that you’re gone. And it isn’t till I’ve brought my toothbrush to my lips that I remember your lips – how they always seem to fit perfectly against mine, and how despite the rougher edges of my own - they have been the only lips I have ever wanted.

Then I’ve gotten no choice but to escape, to drop my toothbrush and pad quickly against hardwood floors in an attempt to flee from my own thoughts. 

My feet lead me to the kitchen – where you are the least present. Where I have always felt more at home, and yet as I stare across half empty cupboards, I can almost hear it. The echoes of your laughter when I have often pressed you against the counters. The cry of surprise before I’ve slipped my arms beneath you; only to hoist your tiny frame on-top. And my quiet grin as I listen to those sounds of laughter become moans of pleasure, and murmurs of encouragement for more. These are memories I can’t quite shake.

I can almost picture the half-eaten cereal you frequently left by the sink, as I draw up short into the kitchen. Cupboards that have barely anything in them since you’ve left and as I sift through for a nutrition bar, I stop once I’ve heard the echoes of our past selves reverberating inside my head again.

I love you. I love you too. Show me how much you love me.

Words that I had once longed to hear, causes sharp disarray inside of me now. A sharp cry escapes my throat before I can stop myself, and my heart feels as if it’s imploding; collapsing inwards in it’s frantic attempt to claw free from memories that refuse to disappear. My hands shake, until the bar drops into the sink – staring down at me with two bottles of empty whiskey for company.

I refuse to look for a long; I hate knowing that this is what I’ve become without you.

 As I hastily turn around, intent on finding my jacket – the words play on repeat. 

I can’t force them back like the images of you. They don’t remain there. Instead they whisper to me - caresses me like your gentle touch; before your hands clasp mine and memories flash of the hours we spent staring up at stars that have always been free. I flinch knowing that we used to stare up them in envy now than instead of wonder. 

Remembering hurts - I tell myself they are just words but they feel more like dreams and less than reality.

When my jacket’s found, I yank it on with burning impatience and my nerves are on edge as I grab my shoes – everything inside of me is desperate, frantic to escape. From you. From us. From the moments in between.

As my hand grabs the doorknob, I deliberate for a moment – inhaling deeply before closing the door harshly behind me.

Yes, missing you came often.


“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.”
~ Edgar Allan Poe

well, chat noir was supposed to be shirtless in this scene, but I just had to do this drawing I did about a year ago for my fic. I decided to try out a little bit of @illustraice  ‘s style since today was such an amazing day for me because of her. Ignore Chat Noir… lol igNOIR Chat Noir… because I was attempting her style from memory instead of with a reference and then i remembered it looked nothing like her art. Marinette - particularly her head - was done with one of illustraice’s works as a reference. I also tried putting @lyosphe ‘s style hair w/o reference but that didn’t work either so I’ll try again leter with an actual reference. I totally did not care about their bodies or the background, I was focused on face and hair. 

Anyway, it goes without saying that this method of art is a lot more relaxing than what I was doing before. I think I might try using it with my own art style. 

“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.” - Edgar Allan Poe (died: 7 October 1849)

I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.
—  Edgar Allan Poe

Idea taken from this meme


Beau didn’t know how much time had passed. Since his capture or since his captors had started using dark magic to chip away at his resistance. He didn’t know what had happened to the rest of his squad. Whether they were dead or alive. Whether any of them had managed to return to MACUSA or if they were all in similar positions as he. They’d been lured into an ambush with a falsified account of accidental magic use. It hadn’t been accidental.

Beau’s world had shrunk to a haze of pain and bouts of blessed oblivion. His wrists were bound with enchanted shackles, and they’d put a collar on his neck, suppressing his magic until he couldn’t feel even the slightest spark of it. At some point, maybe days ago, maybe only brief hours, they’d started using the Cruciatus curse on him. Nothing else. No attempts to steal memories from his mind, no spoken demands for information. Just that curse repeatedly. Like they were causing him pain just for the sake of amusement.

When it finally stopped, Beau couldn’t tell. The absence of that specific agony left him numb and exhausted, his senses fuzzed over as if with a thick layer of wool. Even the sound of running footsteps and voices drawing near, or the sensation of being freed of shackles and collar and pulled into someone’s arms, barely penetrated the fog in his head. A fog that soon once again became the blessed release of pure oblivion.

Creative Studying

(Requested anonymously. Sorry this took a while, I’ve been really busy. But I hope you enjoy all the fluff nonetheless!)

I nibbled on the end of my pencil as I hunched over my thick textbook, trying to stay focused on the diagram. I really needed to make an A on this test in my anatomy class.

I sighed. Nursing school is hard.

Studying in my usual way wasn’t working. I had sketched out several of my own little posterior and anterior diagrams, labeled each muscle group I needed to know, and repeatedly attempted to do this from memory, but no matter what I tried, I could never remember enough. It felt hopeless.

I buried my head in my hands in frustration. Maybe I should just take a break.

I rose from my desk and padded over to the fridge to grab a drink. When I lifted the milk carton off the shelf, I realized that it was completely empty. Fucking Calvin.

Finishing an item and leaving it in its place was my messy roommate’s specialty, and at first it didn’t bother me, but it was becoming the bane of my existence. I rinsed out the carton and set it in our recycling bin under the sink, and proceeded to knock on the door of Calvin’s room.

“Yeah,” He called, the bass in his voice prominent.

I swung open his door and sat down on his bed and watched as he edited a video for his YouTube channel. “Quit leaving empty shit in the fridge,” I growled, half joking.

He rolled his eyes and turned away from the computer. “But (Y/N), I really just love disappointing you,” He sarcastically lamented. I flipped him off, but I couldn’t help but smile. His irony always made me laugh.

I watched the tendons in his neck tense and relax as his head turned back to the computer monitor. Usually, watching Calvin move was a comforting pasttime, but it only reminded me of the amount of studying I had to accomplish that night.

Pushing the thought out of my mind, I rested my elbows on my knees and propped my head up on my fists. My eyes followed Calvin’s hand as it moved the mouse swiftly across the screen, expertly shifting images and cutting clips. He made it look so easy, but I knew it wasn’t always. I wished my work could be as simply done as Calvin’s nimble hand made his seem.

My mind kept gravitating back to my studying. I had to figure something helpful out soon. I closed my eyes, brainstorming ways that would help me memorize the diagram.

“Calvin,” I peeped suddenly, a questionable but desparate idea washing over me. “Do you think you could do me a huge, weird favor?”

“Uh, yeah. I could take a quick break here.”

I rubbed my fingers together nervously.

“Well, you’re gonna think I’m a perv or something, which I’m totally not, but like, I have an idea of how I can, like, study for my muscles test and actually remember stuff for it.” I hesitated and watched his reaction.

He knitted his brow in curiosity, but gave me a reassuring nod when I paused.

“Well, I was wondering if I could, uh, label your body with the names of the muscles I have to know,” I stammered and grimaced at myself.

Calvin’s face broke into a goofy smile that always accompanied his adorable high-pitched giggle. “Well damn, that sounds like fun,” He said. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

I grinned back at him, relieved. “Thank you so much. You’re such a good friend.”

He saved his work on his computer while I retrieved my textbook and a pile of sticky notes.

I pushed back through the door into Calvin’s room with my materials. “You’re gonna need to–” I stopped dead when I spotted him, already shirtless and removing his sweatpants. “…take off your clothes.”

He stood in front of me in only his boxers, a sight that always took me pleasantly by shock, even in regular roommate circumstances. My face heated up, and I desperately tried to hide it by opening up my textbook and writing down muscle names on the sticky notes.

“Do I have to get completely naked?” He questioned, without a hint of discomfort.

I shook my head.

“So I’ll just stand like this while you do it?”

“Yeah,” I replied.

I scribbled “biceps brachii” on two notes and carefully stuck them onto his arm, taking the time to smooth them out. Calvin’s arms felt toned beneath my hand.

As time progressed, I became more comfortable with touching him, and honestly, I was enjoying it much more than I should have. I tried not to seem too eager, despite the massive amount of attraction I was feeling toward my roommate.

Eventually, Calvin began looking pretty silly with all these sticky notes all over him. I even had little ones stuck onto his face muscles, requiring him to hold his face very still, minimizing conversation.

The whole operation took about ten minutes. After I applied the last note, I stepped back to admire my work.

“I’m gonna take a picture of your anterior and posterior, if you don’t mind,” I said, pulling up the camera function on my phone.

“Just don’t use them as blackmail, alright?”

“Alright,” I chuckled. “As long as you help me get these off when I’m done.”

We removed them together, but about halfway through, I noticed that Calvin had stopped. I curiously peered up at his face. He was just beaming at me.

“What?” I said, a little flustered at the attention.

“I just–” Redness crept into his cheeks and his eyes avoided mine. “I just like it when you touch me.”

My breath hitched. “Well, I like touching you.”

He shot me an fleeting, shy smile and flicked his gaze to the floor.

“Calvin,” I whispered. He finally locked eyes with me.

Dropping the sticky notes, I rose up to my tiptoes and pressed my lips onto his, draping my arms over his bare shoulders.

He kissed me back with passion in his movements, placing his hands on my hips and leaning in. He pulled my body up against his and nearly lifted me off of the floor.

It felt like flying.

I smiled against the kiss when I noticed the rustle of leftover sticky notes on his legs. We broke apart, and the moment came to a close, but the passion remained in the air between us.

He was smiling uncontrollably, a little out of breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” He murmured, the excitement apparent in his tone.

“Me too.”

There was a brief silence as we just eagerly smiled at each other, drunk from the moment.

“So, do you think this’ll help you on your test?” He teased, as he crouched down to remove the labels from his legs.

“God, I hope so. But even if it doesn’t, it wasn’t a waste of time in the fucking least.”

“You’re goddamn right.”

On the day of the test, I ended up with a perfect score, a newfound fondness for the human muscular system, and a new boyfriend, which was certainly my favorite part.