forgive my shitty writing


Friendship between artists is essentially a series of passive aggressive compliments on each other’s art while not giving enough credit on their own.

Cryx art blog: @cryxdraws
(Check out their art blog, you won’t regret what you see and it’s gorgeous 👌👌👌👌)
My art blog: @malt-liquor-blues

Another excerpt from a book I’ll never finish writing (by the way, forgive my shitty grammar. I was in a rush)

Height Intimidates Him (Thomas Jefferson x Reader)


othermia said:Hmmm… what about where the reader is tall? Most imagines has reader being on her tippy toes while kissing a character but what about the other readers that probably dont need to stand on their tippy toes? You can do it with any character. 😁😁

Word Count: 517

A/N: I love everything about this prompt, I was also super desperate to write this hehhee (also pls forgive my shitty titles i am working on that)

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Summary: Dan has fallen into a deep depression and has developed an eating disorder. Phil is painfully unaware until it’s too late.

Categories: Angst (but a semi-happy ending?), One-Shot

Word Count: 2,732

Warnings: Self-harm, established Phan, depression, eating disorder, character death, graphic depiction of suicide, swearing, and about a thousand extremely subtle MCR references.

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Jesus saves him from The Saviours compound, but even after they make it back to Hilltop, Daryl can’t seem to leave the cell.

He keeps himself in check during the day, he keeps busy, does as much as his arm allows. He’s slowly breaking, and nobody seems to notice.

He makes it to the room hes been assigned in Barrington house in the evening and tries to fall asleep. He lays down in the dark and shuts his eyes, but he’s back in the cell. The few hours of sleep he does get are riddled with nightmares. He can never stay in the room after that.

He gets up and walks around the perimeter of Hilltop. He always ends up sitting in the guard tower watching the night, the stars are the same as when he was a boy. He could read them, they guided him when he was lost. They comforted him then and they still do now.

Jesus always comes up the tower shortly after Daryl arrives. Sometimes he brings Daryl cigarettes. They sit in the darkness and Daryl smokes while they talk quietly. For all the energy he exudes during the day, Paul is calm and grounding at night. Daryl realizes he’s started calling him “Paul” in his head.

Paul starts to comfort him as much as the stars do. So much so that after multiple nights of insomnia, He drifts to sleep against Paul’s shoulder, the soothing sound of Paul’s voice lulling him. It’s a dreamless sleep. Daryl wakes up a few hours later as dawn is breaking. They stand up, and Daryl mumbles “m'sorry’. Paul smiles as he squeezes Daryl’s shoulder. The only time he sleeps is in the tower with Paul.

Daryl starts spending his days with Paul as well as his nights. They go on runs as a team, and they do well. They go over plans with the group.They communicate without talking. They look for each other first when entering a room. It’s like gravity pulls them into orbit around each other.

One night after most of Hilltop is asleep, Paul follows Daryl to his room and says goodnight like always. Daryl find himself stumbling through asking Paul if he wants to stay. Cut out the bullshit of waiting to meet at the guard tower. That night they just sleep.

The thing is Daryl knows what this looks like. He’s not as sure what it feels like, he’s never felt this way about anyone before. He thinks he’s in love but he has no previous experience to say for sure. He thinks that if all he gets in his life is Paul’s friendship, than that’s more than he deserves. He never plans on saying anything about feelings.

One day they’re not just friends anymore. As Paul walks up the stairs to Barrington house to find Daryl, Daryl walks out. Paul tells him Maggie’s waiting at the gate and needs his opinion on something. As Daryl affirms plans to go meet her, Paul leans forward and chastely kisses him on the lips. Paul turns to walk away and when Daryl doesn’t follow he turns around and hold out his hand. Daryl touches his lips and starts to ask what it means. Paul laughs and says it’s love. Daryl grabs his outstretched hand and doesn’t ask anymore questions.

The first time they make love, they’re on the guard tower. Daryl isn’t looking at the stars, hes looking at Paul. The stars haven’t been guiding him for awhile now, Paul is the one saving him from being lost.

Daryl doesn’t feel trapped in a cell anymore. Loving Paul feels like freedom.


Forgive my shitty writing attempts. I don’t really write, is just that Daryl and Jesus won’t leave me alone! They just won’t quit.
Please be gentle with me.
I have the anger of fallen angels in the back of my mind, carefully tucked away behind the memories I’d like to forget.
Hush, don’t yell at me.
I am quiet but so is the sea before a hurricane and
I am feeling like a category 4 today.
If you are reckless, please beware
I am a red button, accidentally pressed, morphing into a nuclear war.
Be soft, be tame, be tender with me.
I am coffee stains on a favorite wooden table that refuse to come out.
So please:
be gentle.
Because I am everything but.
—  B. Damani || If Humans Came With Ratings, You Would Need To Show ID For Me 

captainjackoblades  asked:

Yang and Blake waking up in the morning, cludding and being cute together.

Both Yang and Blake are still sleeping; wraped around eachother close, this was their 3th year of marriage, and they coldn’t be happier, just the two of them hugged together, enjoying eachother warmth.
Yang is the first one wake up, seeing her “kitty cat” wrapped around her with her face on her bosom “Aww she is so cute when she is asleep”, yang begins to pet Blake cat ears, something that the faunus girl always loved, in fact at feeling the warm hands of her wife on her ears Blake begins to purr in her sleep huggung yang even closer
Yang places a kiss on her left ear and says “time to wake up kitten, we have a lot of stuff to do today!”, the black haired girl just shates a little before replying “five minutes…maybe ten” before buryng again her face on her wife chest, “as much as I love you being there we have to get up sleeping beauty”.
Yang tries to get up only to find this impossible because of blake’s grip,” come on Blake I just want to make breakfast!”
 “no you are too warm and comfy” she cuddles close to the blonds hair of her lover, and planting a series of kisses on Yang’s neck
“Mhh… you know how much I love this and you but we have to get up!” Yang tries to move, but finds it impossible, Blake’s grip is just too strong
“ok fine, five more minutes won’t hurt, expecialy with my pretty kitty!”
“I’m not a kitty!!”
“you say so, but look at you” at this she begins to rub the faunus belly, causing her to realise a small mew sound
“……that wasn’t what it seemed”
“yes it was 〜” but Yang still hasn’t finished teasing her wife, and begins to tickle her on her belly and hips
“you are too cute for me to stop!” she continue sto tickle her until Blake is complitely exausted and out of breath
“Ready to get up now? :3″
“ awww don’t worry I’ll carry you” she picks up the black haired girl bridal style with all the covers
“thank you.” Blake places her head on Yang’s shoulder taking again a little nap
“you sure are tired love” the Blode begins to place kissis on top of the had of her love, some even on the little fluffly ears
“and you are realy a kitty Blake, my kitty”

uhf.. this is my first time trying to write something in this way, forgiv my shitty grammar and wording, I’m italian

Ivory and Iron...

Snow White and the Huntsman AU RP between Sabrajay and myself.


Colour had ceased. In a moment, an instant, there was nothing but grey and black. Grief was like that. A foul taste in one’s mouth and emptiness in one’s chest. A stabbing dagger in the heart that never quite kills. It will turn a good man to the drink. Turn a weaker man to the end of his own blade. At least with the bottle there was a glimmer of hope to see what one has lost at the bottom of it. There is no taste to it, though and the burning has long since subsided. Yet every scrap of coin or keep will be lost to wine or swill…because that little hope will forever be there. It was liken to being underwater, however. Movements slow, senses dull turning even skilled warriors to clumsy fools with the stubbornness a mule.

Not all leave such men to their drink. With false promises, truly one could lead a man from the bottle. Offerings of what was lost is enough to move a man to enter even the most dreaded of domains all the hope of seeing love lost once more. But lies are lies. Sooner or later the truth comes to light, souring a deal. Like that between a witch queen and a huntsman. With a cruel smile she had promised him his dead wife. She had whispered of breathing life into his love once more for bringing back an item from a wretched forest. It was a grimoire. Just a book. Something small for a reward so great. With an expression grim like death, he accepted his task, taking up his axe. Though the Dark Forest was known to be crafty and dangerous like the queen, to have his wife in his arms again was all he needed to set him on the dark path. And so, with several of the queen’s men following his lead, the huntsman entered the forest.

A terrible place; the Dark Forest. It feeds of the fear of men, making every shadow and every sound a cause for panic. Horses dare not tread in it. No, the only way is on foot. Even then, the paths and trails are obscured and made to confuse. Thicket wraps around one’s limbs like snakes and mud holds a man’s boots like the ground wills to pull one under. The wind whispers through the trees like curses from a witch’s lips. Just illusions and tricks of the mind, but still enough to frighten some into panic. Yet the huntsman never faltered in his quest, his feet easily carrying him down the right trails. Some of the queen’s men were not so lucky in where they tread. They were claimed by the hungry earth and driven mad by toxins of mushrooms along the trail and those who were left still turned their swords on the huntsman when he found what the queen had requested. They had the gullet to laugh at him for his naive hope. He had the gullet to leave them at the mercy of the Dark Forest as he fled deeper with the queen’s prized grimoire.

She would have his head.

He would have her heart for lying.

But it was not to be so soon. For a single man cannot fell an army. Certainly not the likes of the queen’s. His spite lead him further into the forest instead. She was not to get her prize if he could help it, even if it meant the earth claiming him too.


The path ahead was lurid, but the looming shadows behind left no room for retreat. Branches reached out like talons, making to ensnare and maim, and the horrid trees of the Dark Forest did not permit even the slightest glance of the sky above. Past and present resembled shackles in nature, weighing a body and soul with proverbial ball and chain. Each step seemed harder than the last, yet the stubbornness of the mind beared forth movement, leaving no rest for a weighted man. Had it been days? Had the moon become full and waxing many times over? To a weary huntsman it blurred. His drink had run out long ago, taking his last comfort with it. How far he had gone was beyond him. He had never trekked this far within the Dark Forest. It seemed endless. The thought brought a new wave of fatigue to the huntsman’s slouching form. His bleary blue eyes stared into the darkness seeking an end to this death march. Just beyond the blanched trees and black soil, he saw a clearing…a small stone bridge. What last of his strength he had, it was used to cross the arch.

What lay ahead mystified the worn traveler. It was a green expanse, filled with life and light. The colours were so vibrant it was blinding. Yet they began to dull in his vision and fatigue gripped him, dragging him to the ground without mercy. The grass beneath him was softer than any bed he had slept in of late, comforting and welcoming. The warm wind caressed his face, lolling him to sleep. And as his heavy lids made to close he saw a vision of white and gold…