i made this instead of do the thousand other things i should be doing. oh well

What we really need is an adaptation of the original 1740 The Beauty and the Beast

So were you aware that the The Beauty and the Beast story we all know is a heavily abridged and rewritten version of a much longer novella by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve?  And that a lot of the plot holes existing in the current versions exist because the 1756 rewrite cut out the second half of the novella, which consisted entirely of the elaborate backstory that explains all the weird shit that happened before?  And that the elaborate backstory is presented in a way that’s kind of boring because the novel had only just been invented in 1740 and no one knew how they worked yet, but contains a bazillion awesome ideas that beg for a modern retelling?  And that you are probably not aware that the modern world needs this story like air but the modern world absolutely needs this story like air?  Allow me to explain:

The totally awesome elaborate backstory that explains Beauty and the Beast

  • Once upon a time there was a king, a queen, and their only son
  • But while the prince was still in his infancy, in a neat reversal of how these fairy tales usually go, the king tragically died, leaving his wife to act as Regent until their son reaches maturity
  • Unfortunately, the rulers of all the lands surrounding them go, “Hmm, the kingdom is ruled by a woman now, it must be weak, time for an invasion!”
  • And the Queen goes, “Well, if I let some general fight all these battles for me, he’ll totally amass enough fame and power to make a bid for the throne; if I want to protect my son’s crown, I have no choice but to take up arms and lead the troops myself!
  • (Btw, I want to stress that this woman is not Eowyn or Boudica and nothing in the way her story is presented suggests that she had any interest martial exploits before or in any way came to enjoy them during these battles.  This is a perfectly ordinary court lady who would much rather be embroidering altar covers for the royal chapel and playing with her child until necessity made her go, “Oh no, this sucks, I guess I have to become a Warrior Queen now” and she just happened to kick ass at it anyway.)
  • And the Queen totally kicked ass, but the whole “twice as good for half the credit” thing meant that no matter how many battles she won, potential enemies refused to take her and her army seriously until she had defeated them so no sooner would she fend off one invasion than another one would pop up on a different border.
  • So she spent the majority of her young son’s life away from the castle leading armies, but it was OK because she left him in the care of her two best friends, who just happen to be fairies!  This was an awesome idea because a) fairies have magic, and therefore are like the best people to protect the prince from any threats and b) fairies consider themselves to be so above humanity that the lowest fairy outranks the highest mortal, so they’d have no interest in taking a human throne.  Good thing they were both good fairies instead of one good and one evil one!
  • (Spoiler:  they were not both good fairies.)
  • So the two fairies basically take turns raising the prince until he’s old enough to rule.  And on the eve of his twenty-first birthday, the evil older one comes into the prince’s bedroom.
  • “So listen, kid.  You’re about to become king, your mother’s on her way home from the war to see you crowned, and I have a third piece of good news for you!  You see, I’ve actually been spending so much time here lately because Fairyland’s become a bit too hot to hold me for reasons totally not related to me being secretly evil.  And if I have to hang in the human world, I might as well reside in the upper echelons of it, so even though as a powerful fairy I completely eclipse your puny human status in a staggeringly unimaginable way, since you’re about to be king and since my premonition that I should stick this whole guardianship thing out because you would be hot one day has totally proved accurate (go me), I will graciously lower myself to allowing you to marry me.  Please feel free to grovel at my feet in gratitude.  (Btw, we can totally start the wedding night now, we’ll tell your mother about it when she arrives tomorrow.)”

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anonymous asked:

Maybe Dark!Annabeth fighting a child of the big three and she knows that defeating them with physical, raw power isn't possible, so she attacks mentally. She defeats them with words, something Annabeth constantly does throughout the books to her enemies. Making them so angry, distracted, and/or sad that they lose focus and she easily takes the victory.

Annabeth feels him coming before she sees him.

There’s a charge in the air. A gathering static that threatens to strike with every movement she makes, but never quite gets the guts to do so.

That’s Jason Grace for you. Son of Jupiter, chosen of Juno, and just a touch too soft to do what needs to be done. Oh sure, he’ll kill monsters if he needs to, but when the monsters are gods, his solution is to become a priest.

It’s about finding a compromise, he’d said. And making sure that we’re heard.

Annabeth’s finding there are better ways of making noise.

“You got here faster than I expected,” she remarks as he touches down in front of her. She’s perched on the crumbling remnants of a wall that’s thousands of years old. Some small, distant part of her regrets what is about to happen here, but not enough to change course.

“Your pattern’s getting old,” he says. His gladius is out and he holds it warily between them. Annabeth keeps her drakonbone sword at her side. “The others can hold Percy off long enough for me to stop what you’re doing.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You’re the only one coming?”

He tries to hide his grimace, but that’s the danger with fighting your friends. They can read you too well, and a smile curls over Annabeth’s mouth at the confirmation. She hops off the wall, landing lightly on the dirt.

“What made you think I’d be at Pompeii?”

Lightning crackles in the sky overhead, raising the small hairs at the back of her neck. He nods at the scaffolding in the distance, empty of workers this early in the morning. It’s a grim dawn, about to get darker.

“No tourists today. You might’ve turned against the gods, Annabeth, but you’re not a murderer.”

Isn’t she? Annabeth has lost count of the number of monsters she’s put in the ground (under the ground). How many demigods died in the war with Kronos? They bleed red the same as mortals, and her hands are as stained as anyone’s.

So are Jason’s, and irritation pricks at her face. She smooths it away with a cool smile, carefully tracking him as he starts to circle her. She has a certain amount of faith in Jason’s willingness to ‘save’ his friends, but she’s not an idiot.

“So I should start picking locations with people if I don’t want you to interfere, is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s obviously not what I’m saying.” His gaze flickers over the ruins stretching behind her. “So this is all rigged to blow, huh?”

“Leo does good work.”

He winces. He can play on whatever friendship the two of them might have had all he likes, but that betrayal is the real knife in the guts and they both know it. Annabeth coerces her expression into concern, the cogs of her brain turning the right muscles to give it the realism it needs. She takes a half step forward, and Jason doesn’t step away.

“He misses you, you know.” Her voice is a soft thing. Caring. “Misses both of you.”

“If he misses us so bad, he should come and see us.”

“You really think we’re going to be welcome at Camp after all this?

“You haven’t killed anyone.”

The yet sits between us, and it doesn’t matter anyway. The gods would be more likely to forgive her if she had killed someone. They could have murdered thousands of mortals and not been struck down, if they’d just done it far away from the last vestiges of godly power in this world.

Gaea had plotted to bring down Mt Olympus, and that’s definitely on Annabeth’s list. But she’s always been a methodical sort of girl, and divine power runs deep. Best to stamp out all traces of it, one relic at a time.

She sighs. “We don’t plan to. You know that.”

“You’re trying to kill the gods!” Lightning cracks again, closer now. It takes more strength than Annabeth wants to admit to to avoid reaching for her weapon.

“And how many times have they tried to kill us? At best they don’t give a shit, Jason, you know that.”

But he’s shaking his head. They’ve had this fight before, all of them, enough times that she could probably just record it for him to save energy. He’s long since stopped listening to sense, and she doesn’t bother with more than a cursory attempt to convince him.

“You’re too late for this one,” she says. “I’m proud of you for getting here before it blows, but you were right. It’s ready to go.”

His grip shifts on his sword. And - there’s something in his expression that prompts her to brace for an attack, because it’s not defeat. This time, she thinks. This time might be the one where I push too far.

It’s sad, sort of, but relief swamps that soon enough. It’s not that she wants to fight old friends, but it would make everything a lot simpler. To just be able to fight, without caring what happens to them anymore. To draw battlelines instead of blurring them

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growls. “But even if the rest of your team is ready to destroy this place, they’ll stop once you’re a hostage.”

Annabeth laughs. It’s a miscalculation, but she can’t help herself. “The others might. But hell itself couldn’t keep Percy Jackson from me, Jason, and you’re no Tartarus.”

“I can deal with Percy.”

He can’t. She wonders idly if he knows that. Everyone’s aware of Percy’s power these days, but that’s what he’s like with her at his side. Jason, she suspects, still has a little too much optimism left about what Percy’s self control would be like without her. What it would be like if he even thought she was in danger.

“Right, well, that’ll be your mistake to live with.” She squints up at the sky, trying to judge her next play. Being a hostage would accelerate certain things that she’s not ready to set into motion just yet. Most of all, she doesn’t think that Percy is quite as ready to fight the others as she is.

Not yet.

“You made a miscalculation,” she said finally. “You always want to go for the biggest player, Jason. It’s one of your biggest weaknesses.”

“You can’t talk your way out of this, Annabeth.” His body moves, and she can almost trace the lines in the air, the familiar forms he’s about to slide into. “You’re coming back to Camp wth me.”

He lifts his blade, wreathed in lightning. She smells ozone on the air, the threat of violence wafting in behind it. She clasps her hands behind her back, and lays down her hand.

“Where’s Piper, Jason?”

Everything stops. Nature itself holds its breath as those too-blue eyes widen in sheer panic, before narrowing at her.

“Piper’s your friend. You wouldn’t hurt her.”

Annabeth waits. She doesn’t need to say anything. The silence between them does it for her. The even sound of her breathing. The shroud of absolute confidence holding her shoulders straight.

You are not going to take me, her body says, like it’s all a foregone conclusion.

“She can handle herself,” he tries again, and there’s the edge of desperation that she’s been waiting for. Enough to cloud his thinking. He might not think she’s a murderer, but there are other atrocities. Things she hasn’t held back from in the opening numbers of this new war.

“Against Percy?”

That’s a risk. Because they both know that Percy isn’t steady, isn’t stable, that his relationship with Piper had been tenuous at best and that without Annabeth there, his temper might just get away with him. Piper has her Charmspeak, but there are ways around everything if you have enough power.

It’s a risk, because Jason’s anger could always outweigh his fear. He could always take it out on her rather than fly off for Piper. Annabeth is confident in her ability to take him with a sword, but Jason comes with all those bonus add-ons that children of Athena just aren’t privy to.

So she gives him one last push. Just to make sure.

“Tartarus has so many doors,” she says softly. That same quiet concern from before, turned deadly now. “You know we found all of them, right Jason?”

He spits a curse, something in Latin about the gods and what he hopes they’ll do to her. She watches him leap into the sky, shading her eyes against the rising sun until he’s no more than a dot in the distance.

“You say that like they haven’t already done their worst,” she murmurs, before turning back to the ruins.

There’s work to be done.

Sarah knocked on the door of room 107 and then wondered if the girls inside knew what a knock meant. Or if she could even call the things inside the room girls. Probably not, all things considered.

But one of them shouted “Come in!” and so Sarah did.

After a second, she managed to say, “I like what you’ve done to the place.”

Here was the thing about changelings: one of them alone would usually try very hard to mimic the person they’d replaced. Two of them apparently didn’t give a collective fuck. When the banshee of Kappa Alpha Omega had begun screaming the Wednesday before last, the sorority had gotten together to say the customary uncertain goodbyes. But no one had expected Tiffany and Payback to disappear. Their replacements had apparently made the most of the shared room.

One bed had been lofted almost to the ceiling. Sarah could see Not-Tiffany’s pretty pale face peering curiously down from the six inches between the mattress and the ceiling. The other bed had been raised just high enough to create a cave of sorts below it, brightly-patterned blankets draped over the sides to protect the inhabitant from the light. Several hundred small, jewel-like birds whirled around the room and settled again like leaves in a draft. The window was wide open, but despite the snow outside, the room held a baking reptilian heat that smelled papery and ancient. Pink ivy bloomed from the beige plaster of the walls. In the center of the room, the solid school desks had been overturned and stacked on top of the wardrobes, creating a hazardous wooden tower stuffed with what looked like about three hundred jumbo bags of Skittles.

In comparison, the floor was a glossy unmarred ivory, with the exception of one corner. Sarah could make out two expensive laptops, a tangle of miscellaneous electronics, a stack of notebooks, and a pair of sad mittens, one of which had the thumb chewed mostly off.

Not-Tiffany didn’t move or blink as Sarah gingerly shut the door behind her, but the blanket cave rustled, and then Not-Payback crawled out.

Tiffany, as far as Sarah could tell, still appeared mostly human. Not-Payback, on the other hand, wasn’t making an effort at all. Her cheekbones, her pelvis, and her shoulder blades all stretched winglike and obscene, pulling the salon-tanned skin taut. Payback’s hair had been painstakingly straightened and just brushing her shoulders; Not-Payback was hallowed by a wild, tangled mess that would have reached her knees if she straightened to her full, considerable height. Each of her eight fingers seemed to have several knuckles too many. Sara dug her hand into her pocket to grab her lucky Eiffel tower keychain and hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

“Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah,” Not-Payback chanted. She seemed prepared to continue indefinitely, but Not-Tiffany broke in with, “What do you seek?”

“I wanted to ask if you needed me to type for you,” Sarah said. The last time a KAO changeling had touched a laptop with bare hands, it had shorted out the changeling’s glamour for a few terrible, eyeball-filled seconds. The laptop had no longer needed a power source, but it had also replaced every instance of the letter ‘a’ with ‘YOUR TRUE LOVE IS ALREADY DEAD’. Sweetheart had taken a lifting weight to it on day three. Sarah continued, “If you wrote out your assignments on paper, I could transcribe them for you onto the computer and email them where you need me to.”

Not-Payback stilled, candy-colored birds settling in her hair like flower petals. Not-Tiffany’s head asked, “Freely given?”

Sarah smiled, and then hoped that was the right thing to do. “Of course not.”

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Originally posted by lokitty

Prompt: Loki tries to talk down to the reader, needless to say, it doesn’t turn out very well.
Fandom: Marvel
Note: This, like everything I write, is an AU of sorts. That being said, this is taking place under the assumption that CW never happened.

You took a deep breath, holding your head as the team faced you with reality. Loki was staying with the team, as ordered by Odin. It made sense, if it made Thor a better person, it should do the same with Loki. The only problem was that he was driving you insane. While many people were willing to bow to him and serve him, you were different. You were an Avenger, and the only time you took orders is when you were either on a mission or going on one.

Loki always acted as if he was better than everyone else, and it got under your skin more than everything else. While he was better than most people of Earth when talking about his skill in magic, he wasn’t the only one with the ability. You’ve met others who share the ability to use magic, or cast illusions, and you’ve battled people a thousand times more frightening than he is. While he does get on everyone’s nerves, Nat, Bucky and Tony are really the only one to say anything.

“He’s going to be here for a while, you might as well just ignore him.” Steve said and you sighed.

“The duration of his stay does not change his treatment of others.” You defended.

“No, but-” Nat began.

“What are you mortals talking about?” Loki asked, entering the room, “Trying to wrap your small mortal mind around something, Y/N.”

“Go away.” You demanded.

“Is the poor child upset?” Loki taunted.

“This is your last warning.” You spoke in a low tone.

“What are you going to do?” Loki questioned, “You’re just a puny human girl who-”

“That’s it!” You yelled abruptly.

You stood up, and took a few steps back so you could give yourself proper room. Loki was caught off guard for a moment, not sure what exactly you were doing. You whipped back around and glared at him as you took a running start. Once you were close enough you jumped up and used Loki’s body as a staircase. You gave a harsher kick once you reached his chest, and he flew back. You curled your body and did a backflip the rest of the way.

You landed in a crouch, and you looked up with your hand touching the floor to balance you. While you wouldn’t have acted this way with his usual comments, you drew the line at sexism. You knew plenty of women who could kick some major ass, just like you knew people who had powers similar to his. Black Widow was one of the badass females that you knew. Regardless of your connections, you didn’t tolerate sexism of any kind.

“Damn.” Natasha commented, and you turned your head.

“I think it would be best for you not to anger her again, Loki.” Thor warned, trying not to smile.

You slowly got up from your position and walked toward the god that was motionless on the floor. You stood above him, face hardening as you put your boot on his chest. He definitely looked shocked, above all things; but you also knew he wouldn’t be making his comments again. You cocked your head to the side and he raised a brow at you. There was something else in his eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Did a weak little girl just take you down?” You questioned in a dangerous tone.

“No,” You put more weight on the boot that was on his chest, “A woman just took me down.”

“Still going to make your comments?” You continued.

“No, I can assure you, I will not say anything like that again.” He promised.

“I tolerate a lot, sexism is not one of those things.” You clarified, and he nodded.

“My apologies.” He spoke.

You stood there for another moment before taking your boot off of his chest. You offered him your hand as he got up, and he cautiously took it. Tony was the first to start chuckling, which led to the rest of the team laughing. All at Loki’s experiences too, so that’s a plus. You decided that he had learned his lesson about not just insulting you, but being a closed minded moron in general. As he stood on his own feet, Thor spoke up again.

“Loki probably will be harboring hate for you for some time, but I assure you it’s not personal, it’s just Loki.” Thor spoke.

“On the contrary, I quite like her.” Loki confessed, looking at you with a smile.

“Like? What do you-oh my god.” You rolled your eyes.

Well, you had managed to both kick Loki’s ass, and get him to have a crush on you, all in one day. You took a deep breath before coming to a conclusion: at least he wasn’t going to be making those comments anytime soon. Instead, you might have a whole new set of comments to deal with. 

Judgey and English

Originally posted by alinok

A/N: Okay this one is reeeeally long but i got carried away and I didn’t want any part of the request to get missed out because I tried to squish it into less than 2000 words

Request:  could I maybe request an imagine where the reader is new and she moves to riverdale from England and she starts off as a waitress at pops and befriends Jughead because she’s all little and sassy and sarcastic. Then maybe she could become a river vixen and reggie and the football team all take an interest and juggy gets all jelly because he’s developed a subconscious crush on her 

Word Count: 3,249 (god.damn.)

Warnings: Bad pick up lines, some brief angst

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Hey, all!  Amy here and feel free to skip this, but I noticed a huge thing going around with fanfiction writers and fanfiction readers. Kinda throwing arrows at one another over mistakes and how they should be addressed.

Okay, first off: stop.  Ew.  It’s gross. Y’all are big boys and girls and y’all can act like it.  You don’t need to attack each other at the knees behind the safety of your screens.

Secondly:  there are points on both sides.  People who write have a right to be proud of their work and can choose not to accept criticism.  On the other hand, people who read and absorb the work have the right as well to point out mistakes they noticed if it’s meant to be helpful.

So how can people interact civilly when it comes to fanfiction and it’s accompanying critiques? By following a few internet rules, plain and simple.  No, I’m not gonna tell you to forgive and forget or just roll over and let the other person have their way.  That’s not what you do IRL and that’s not what you do online either.  Instead, both persons have a series of rules to follow in order to try and make the most of their experience.

Originally posted by m-blunicorn

FOR THE WRITERS:

I start with you because you’re the ones who have poured your heart and soul into this baby. And I get it, I do.  When you spend hours and hours slaving over your baby, going over the idea thousands of times in your head, trying to get the idea on paper, and trying to make it look good, then oh heck to the yes it’s your baby and you’re gonna defend it to the death.  I expect that and that’s okay.  What’s not okay is when it interferes with your ability to check in with the situation and see if they actually meant harm, so here are a few rules I’ve started to use over my years of fanfiction writing:

  1. Read the entire comment for content.  This is a bitter pill to take, especially if they sound condescending or snarky.  I’ve run into a few of them, and they’re never pleasant to deal with, but some of them have good ideas.  Try to filter out the junk of the comment and get to the meat of it all.  (I’ll get to what to do if there’s no meat later)
  2. Take a break from the comment when you get angry. And chances are that if it’s an unsolicited comment, you’re going to get angry.  This is your baby and you’ve worked hard on it.  If the crtiquer isn’t at least taking that into account, you may even get furious.  Get up and walk away.  They do not deserve your wrath.
  3. Decide for yourself if they have a point. Most critiquers tend to leave their comments because they’re trying to help in their own (somewhat obnoxious) way. If they’ve got a point, thank them, but also try to express if the critique was delivered well.  If it was, tell them so they can help more people. If not, tell them so they can work on it.  IF THEY DO NOT HAVE ANY POINT AT ALL AND ARE JUST BEING RUDE, get rid of it.  They’re not worth your time.
  4. Respond or toss.  This is up to you.  If they had content that was actually useful, then they were being helpful like they were trying to be.  If they had content and it wasn’t useful, it’s up to you what to do.  If they had zero content in their critique or it wasn’t relevant at all, skip it.  They’re not worth your time.

I actually formed these rules after an encounter with a critiquer who was completely neutral in tone, blurted my mistakes for the world to see, and essentially made me feel like the absolute worst writer in the world.  They weren’t harsh, but their critique did hurt me, especially because I’d still just been starting out.

The first thing that happened was I got angry.  I was livid, furious.  Like, how dare they?  Couldn’t they just sit back and enjoy the story?  I spent a good week or so avoiding my fanfiction account just because I was so pissed off.  I ended up talking to my mom and she asked me if they had any points.  I think she was going for “if they don’t, then they’re not worth your time”, but they did. After that, I went back and tried to see it from their point of view.

Originally posted by geekylaugifs

Didn’t mean I suddenly wasn’t mad at them.  I was mad, but I also realized that they, in their own roundabout and hurtful (to me, who reads inflection into typed words and winces at every loud noise and criticism) way, were trying to help me.

I worked on it, and I don’t think they ever commented on my stuff again, but the people who already loved my stuff?  The people who said that my stuff was ‘cute’ or ‘genius’?  They loved it all the more!  The critiquer may not have stuck around, but those who did benefited.

(It really took me a long time to stop being angry at them.  Now I just kind of take a lesson from them.  As a fanfiction writer, and as a critiquer myself.)

Originally posted by trendinggifs

FOR THE CRITIQUER:

I’m saying this as someone who has pretty high standards for what I read.  I look into formatting, tenses, plot, characterization, spelling, and even comma usage!  These little things do actually bug me, and sometimes enough to the point of wanting to comment, but I’ve been on the other side of it and remember the frustration and the anger that can come from a wrongly worded comment, so there are a few rules that I’ve formulated in order to be the best critiquer I can be and help as many people as possible get as amazing as they can as a writer!

Note:  These rules are for critiquers who actually do want to help writers get better and improve the overall quality of internet written works. If you’re here because of some superiority complex, these rules may be difficult for you to follow.  I, however, encourage you to do your best and perhaps one day you’ll be a good critiquer.  *^_^*

  1. Find a way to figure out if the author even wants your critique.  One way to do this is to respectfully ask them.  Always open with a positive.  Something like “Hey, I liked ___ about your story, but I noticed something was a bit off. Can I give you a constructive critique?” Typically, an author would be happy to know you cared about their opinion, so this will go either one of two ways.  They will either (A) allow the critique and actually listen to what you have to say or (B) politely decline the offer.  This means they have made up their mind and you are to let it go.  The back button is a wonderful friend at this point.
  2. Follow the sandwich format.  This is a tried and true method for getting people to actually listen.  If you start in with the critique, the author will feel attacked and immediately get defensive.  Instead of wondering if you’ve got any point, they will find ways to contradict you and argue.  Instead, open with something you liked about the story.  There was a reason you read it all to the end, wasn’t there?  Mention that first (AND BE HONEST!  NO ONE LIKES SOMEONE WHO GIVES OUT FALSE COMPLIMENTS), and then get to the critique, or ‘meat’, of your critique.  When that’s done, exit with a thank-you for being willing to listen to your comments.  It takes a lot for a creator to listen to someone point out the flaws in their baby, even if they’re trying to learn.  Remember that you want this to be a positive interaction, not a demolition derby.
  3. No insults or other derogatory comments. Unless explicitly stated otherwise, the writer is trying their best.  Insulting them makes them less willing to hear you out, much less accept your comments and get better.
  4. No elevating yourself over them.  It’s a no-brainer.  You’re not there to school them, you’re there to help them.  Helping requires a serving mind, which puts their needs before your ego.
  5. Do not hound the author.  If they listen but don’t take your comments, you’re not allowed to harass them.  Most likely, they don’t see a point in your comment and have elected to ignore it. And that’s fine.  The point is that you managed to bring it to their attention once.  Maybe they’ll come back to it later, maybe not.  Either way, once your critique is given, it’s done.  Unless they come to you asking about it, your job is to pack up and vamoose, or simply to sit back and enjoy watching the rest of the story unfold.
  6. Make sure your comments are objective.  Like, if there’s a comma problem, tell them about it. If there’s verb tenses being messed up, inform them politely.  If person A didn’t get with person B, then you’re not critiquing.  That’s a matter of opinion and doesn’t belong in the critiquing category.
  7. Be respectful.  They’re going on a limb and listening to you, and it’s the author’s choice whether or not to continue the correspondence. You don’t have to ‘kiss up to them’ or ‘serve them’, but you have to make sure you’re not being a jerk and that all your comments are warranted.

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

I know there are a lot of rules, but critiquing is hard, especially with how a lot of people view them.  But you, the critiquer, ARE NOT EVIL.  You’re not the bad guy.  You’re not messed up.  You’re not ‘sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong’.  You’re human and you’re trying to be helpful.  These are just tips and tricks on how to go about it the right way and maximize your helpfulness.

Originally posted by hippie-janessa

FOR EVERYONE!!

The last thing I’ll say is that not everyone will follow these rules.  They will think they’re stupid or pandering or all-around dumb. Some people who claim to critique will continue to slander our good name by acting like holier-than-thou snits. Some people who write will continue to get outrageously angry for persons daring to say something went wrong.

Originally posted by blisteredblue

Here’s how to deal with them:

  1. Leave the computer.  Or the website, just for a bit.  Enjoy the sunshine, take a walk, talk with your best friend, eat some ice cream, go play.  See if it just blows over.  They don’t get to take away your happiness because they’re angry.
  2. Delete the hate.  When you’re good and happy, you can delete the hate mail, or maybe grab a friend to laugh at it.  But don’t respond to hate with anger.  As my good friend Warlord Okeer said, you shall inflict “the greatest insult an enemy can suffer. To be ignored.”
  3. If they chase you down in anger, block them. This is okay to do.  For fanfiction writers:  if they continue to pester you with their comments after you say ‘no thanks’, block their tails.  For fanfiction critiquers:  if they got angry over a critique you gave, provided that they said okay and provided that you followed the rules of critiquing, you’re allowed to block them. You did it right.  Don’t even stress.

And then there are the times where we forget to follow the rules and insult someone on accident. It happens.  If you realize you’re in the wrong, it’s just one rule.

  1. Apologize.  No, you don’t have to grovel for forgiveness, but understand that your actions may have hurt someone else and react accordingly.  If they won’t take it, at least make the promise to yourself to be better in the future.

And that’s it.  I know it seems like a lot to swallow, but it all boils down to making sure your words are respectful, kind, and true.

Originally posted by fandomdeluxe

Tl;dr:  MAKE SURE YOUR WORDS ARE RESPECTFUL, KIND, AND TRUE!!

Goodbye - Harry Hook X Reader

Originally posted by malviex


Words: 5,930 (Geez this was longer than I expected)

Requested: Yes!

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Blood and all that jazz

Prompt: “Oh I’m sorry, I forgot I wasn’t good enough for you”


“Harold fucking Hook! You have got to be kidding me!”

Princes and Princess’ alike glared with a mixture of disgust and curiosity as you silenced the bustling crowd, flinging open the doors to the cafeteria and storming inside. It seemed as though the entirety of Auradon was sat in that lunch hall, whispering snide comments under their breath as you searched for your boyfriend.

To say you were pissed was an understatement.

You scanned the alarmed faces of the crowd for traces of smeared eyeliner or a signature smirk, with a glare that could have frozen the Pacific. He would be in here, you knew it, you would just have to find him. You slammed your fists on to a table belonging to a few of the newer VK’s, demanding to know where the pirate you were supposedly in love with was.

“Cut the bullshit Uma, where’s your first mate?” Your tone was steady enough to be considered rational but there was no denying the malice that laced your voice.

Uma nodded but rolled her eyes at you. The two of you were similar than you wanted to admit, being civilized to each other when you needed to but nothing much beyond that. You yourself so no issue with the pirate Captain and in a way kind of admired her strong leadership skills and her ridiculously determined attitude (although it could easily be mistook for stubbornness) but Uma hadn’t exactly wanted to be friends with you when she arrived, going to great lengths to try and keep Harry away from you at first. Perhaps it was your parents. You kind of got the hint being the daughter of her mother’s sworn enemy, Ariel, was slightly hard to overlook. Still, things worked out okay; you only tried to kill each other once a week now.

“I’d turn around if I was you” Uma said calmly, although a slight smile was pressed to her lips.

You guessed she liked drama just as much as any Auradon kid, it may have been the only thing she would ever have in common with Audrey or Chad.

Silently, as though the boiling frustration was seeping out of you, you spun around on your heels. Stood in front of you, arms open wide, grinning like an idiot and waving a metallic hook around in front of him before curtseying, was the Neanderthal you currently called your boyfriend. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, a mischievous reckless gleam in his eyes as he stared you up and down.

“Wipe that smug little look off of your face right now Har or I think I might just explode” You hissed, trying not to make a scene.

Your jaw had set into place and as much as you loved the pirate stood in front of you, you couldn’t help but to scowl at him.

“Y/N sweetheart, why’d ye look so… what’s the word I’m looking for here …” The corners of his mouth pulled up into another smirk and  you took a deep breath, dangerously close to losing your cool. And he fucking knew it. “…un-amused?”

You stepped towards him, folding your hands over your chest for a brief moment and staring him set in the eye.

“You set a kid on fire Harry! AGAIN!” You screamed, gaining the attention of various groups in the cafeteria, eager to know what the newest wave of gossip was bound to be. What was it with Auradon and un-necessary drama?

Harry chuckled a little before pressing his body against yours, his hook resting on the edge of your nose as he lowered his head towards your ear.

“Oh relax princess, ye know he deserved it” Harry made sure brush his lips against the sides of your neck, grinning as you shuddered at his touch.

You shoved him backwards.

The pirate grunted.

“ I hear him scream! The kid’s probably traumatized Harry and you don’t even care? Do you know how bad that is? You set a poor boy on fire and then you swan back over here, to stuff your face with, what even is that?” You glanced at the random food in his free hand “Turkey bacon? With turkey bacon for fuck sake!”

You could feel your face flushing more and more red and you were pretty sure Harry was becoming just as irritable as his expression began to harden

“Hold on a second,” Harry said bitterly, pulling you down into a seat at a free table before sitting opposite you. “Who said it was just some poor defenseless kid?”

“What are you saying Harry?” you hissed, hardly daring to raise your voice above a whisper, people where very obviously staring at you now.

“Well ye making it sound like I went and poured a gallon of gasoline over someone like Dizzy but I just got Uma to put a flame hex on Ben, they weren’t even real so ye can sto-“

“YOU SET THE KING ON FIRE?”

Yep, people were defiantly staring at you now. You sprung up from the seat and flung your arms in the air.

“Yeh not listening to me Y/N I told ye that-“ The pirates voice was slowly rising, an edge of frustration creeping into it.

“ARE YOU COMPLETELY CRAZY? BEN? YOU WANTED TO SET BEN ON FIRE! HARRY HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, THEY’LL SEND YOU BACK”

“Do ye even want to know why I set him on fire or are you just going to scream at me?“

Harry was defiantly mad now, his eyes ablaze with an undeniable spark of madness.

“No I fucking don’t! Do you care about anything; anything at all because everything you do is impulsive. It’s as though you don’t even think Harry! ”

“Oh because I’m clearly the bad guy here”

His voice was quiet and anything but calm. It was the kind of tone that scared you, the kind of Harry that scared you. His temper was like dynamite, once he was mad things happened fast, stupidly fast and there was little time to duck and take cover. You knew full well that you should have stayed quiet and wait for the rage to subside, but you couldn’t help sparring with him. You circled each other like trained boxers, trading slur for slur, insult for insult, dig for dig.  But he took it too far, Harry always did.

He got all up in your face, his breath hot and warm against your cheek. You had the sudden urge to smack him down, you were certainly strong enough, but you knew that if you did he would be gone, lost, hurting. Instead you gulped loudly and suppressed your violent impulses.

“People think you’re a monster Har,” you whispered, motioning to the crowd of people who were trying to divert their eyes from your little scene.

He shook his head before cocking it to the side to look at you differently.

“Do ye think I’m a monster Y/N? Do ye?”

He was goading you and you knew it, but a part of you picked up on the vulnerability of the statement and the way he retracted his hands from your shoulder, the way he took a step back. He thought you were afraid of him.

“Don’t be stupid Harry. You know I don’t”

“Then why do ye care eh? Why do ye care what they think? They’re only ever going to see me as the delinquent pirate from the Isle, I can deal with that, but if ye think I’m twisted then-“

“I don’t know why I care what they think okay, I just do. Because they say things about you, about me and I’m tired of listening to rumor after rumor. I don’t want to find out that you tried to hook a first year from Jane in chemistry! I don’t want Evie to tell me that you made some kid cry when they asked you for directions! You’re making me go crazy! It’s like you don’t even try Harry”

Those sat around us with common sense fled the dining hall, only a few stragglers left embroiled in our conversation. You had the feeling it was going to get ugly.

Instead of looking at you, the pirate glanced down at the ground, chuckling to himself coldly.

“Oh I’m sorry Y/N, I forgot I wasn’t good enough for you” Harry spat when he finally met your eye.

You jerked upwards, furrowing your eyebrows to question him.

“Har that’s bullshit! How can you even think like that?”

He wasn’t listening to you, you could tell; the madness was already behind his eyes. You’d pushed him too far and there was no coming back now until he had got it all out of his system.

“And I’m sorry I’m never going to be the cookie cutter boyfriend for your perfect little life”

Harry was pacing around in circles now and you shot the last remaining people a look so dirty it sent them scrambling towards the door. Even Uma had left leaving the two of you alone, bordering on a screaming match.

“You know better than anyone my life is far from perfect”

Your voice was hushed as though an open wound had been exposed. It was true, you were far from the stereotypical perfect depiction of a princess, even if your mother was Queen of the sea, and Harry knew that.

He scoffed.

“Ye know what I’m done with this”

He headed for the door, ignoring your calls for him as he trudged away.

“What? Done with what? Come back Harry I’m serious, don’t you dare walk away from me!”

Your empathy was replaced entirely with anger and you screamed at him harsher than you had meant to. It was a bad move on your part.

“I’m done with arguing, done with trying. I’m done with you”

He was gone, replaced with a bitter emotionless version of himself that he tried so hard to lock away. But he couldn’t, how could he possibly hide the Isle in him?

“Harry you’re not making any sense. What happens when you get sent back to the Isle huh? What happens to us then?”

Then Harry did something that stunned you. He turned, looked you in the eye and took the final blow that knocked you out for good.

“Ye know honestly, right now Y/N, I don’t care. I’d rather be back there with my crew, the ones that precious King of yers left behind, than anywhere with ye”

He would never harm a single hair on your head with his fists but Harry’s words packed the power of a thousand punches. You stumbled backwards a little. Carefully spoken, without hesitation, his words had an air of finality to them. It wasn’t until he was too far away to hear you that you actually responded, only just coming to your senses.

I’m done with you

I don’t care

I’m sorry

Fragments of his conversations unfortunately began to make sense.

“Is this… was that a goodbye?”

You were awoken the next morning to the aggressive sound of rapping at your dorm room door. Slowly but surely you prized your eyes open, squinting at the early morning light streaming in through the window. You glanced around your dorm trying to shake the sleepy daze fogging your vision; your roommate Lonnie was still fast asleep oblivious to your early morning visitor. Eventually your eyes settled on an alarm clock and your brows furrowed.

“Who the hell’s knocking at my door at half four in the morning?” you whispered to yourself as you hauled your body out of the comfortable warmth of your bed covers.

The knocking only became more vigorous as your feet hit the cold wooden floor; the person waiting for you to answer was clearly not the most patient. Then it hit you, just as you went to open the door, you realized you recognized the rhythmic tapping.

It was the knock of a pirate.

Just not the one you wanted to see.

“Uma?”

As the door swung open you were met with a disheveled version of the pirate captain a worried frown etched into her eyebrows.

“Get changed we’re going right now” She demanded, pushing you back into your bedroom towards your closet hurriedly, her scowl only intensified when you stopped dead, turning to her in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s right princess,” she hissed rolling her eyes “Get changed”

She threw a pair of jeans and a random top from your floor in your general direction as she began to pace around your room. You threw them straight back at her.

“Do you care to explain what exactly is going on here?” You asked pointedly, a hint of sarcasm coating your voice.

Uma only huffed in annoyance before charging up to and standing millimeter from your face.

“We, are going to the Isle” she snapped before continuing when she saw you open your mouth to object “Harry’s gone and it’s the only place I haven’t checked, he never came home last night. Unless, that is, he’s hiding in your broom cupboard”

You gulped.

“H-he’s gone?” You asked shaking your head, overcome with a feeling of denial

“That’s what I said fish features and if you aren’t coming I’ll go get him on my own”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” You interjected “Who said anything about me not coming?”

Uma looked up at you hopefully.

“What?” you said to her dreadfully quietly “I love him”

You had never really understood just how much you took for granted in Auradon until you stood on the docks on the Isle. Sure, you kind of got the gist that it wasn’t the friendliest of places and that generally it wasn’t the happy-clappy princess land that you called home; but you hadn’t expected it to be that bad.

You were wrong. So very, very wrong.

As you made your way to the docks where Uma had presumed your boyfriend would be, you passed at least a dozen half starved looking children prowling the streets even in the early morning. You were alarmed by their faces worn and weathered, caked in a thick layer of filth. The entire island was, tarnished with a black dirt that never seemed to leave the place, the lingering smell of fish guts making you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

“What’s up with you, your royal highness? Not what you expected?” Uma laughed, poking fun at your clearly bewildered first impression.

“No, it’s just that it a little…”  You struggled to find the right word to say until your eyes settled on a man tearing an apple from a small boys hand “…alarming”

Uma snorted like you’d said something funny.

Your furrowed your brows at her but you both shrugged it off as you stopped in front of the towering ship where you guessed Harry and Uma must have lived before coming to Auradon. You smiled fondly, the ship was impressive after all, but you couldn’t help wondering how Uma had acquired it.

A question for another time, you told yourself as you focused your ears, just able to make out a thick Scottish accent barking order from the deck.

Uma nudged your shoulder.

“Hurry up princess, by the sounds of it, that boyfriend of your has taken over my crew”

Uma dragged you onto the deck as she charged around the ship to find her first mate. It was in that moment you realized just how different you were, a small huddle of pirates circling you thoughtfully, intrigued yet somehow threatened by your presence, by the strikingly obvious differences in character. Suddenly you realized how hard Harry must have found fitting in at Auradon; how could he have possibly felt normal with people staring and whispering about him constantly? You felt a guilty knot form in your stomach, silently cursing yourself for not listening to Harry when he tried so hard to explain.

He was trying to tell you something. You told yourself. And all you did was shoot him down.

“WHAT THE HELL DID YE BRING HERE FOR!” You heard Harry yell from the bow of the ship. You glanced over to see Uma staring at him, arms folded, foot tapping on the floor.

Harry met your gaze, his eyes softening for a moment but hardening again once he saw the crew members staring at you like a piece of meat.

“AWAY FROM HER ALL OF YE, BEFORE I COME OVER THERE AND MAKE YOU”.

Sure enough they all scarpered, running away from the seemingly enraged pirate with an unreadable expression on his face. You knew for certain it wasn’t anger, so you took your chances, running up to Harry and flinging your arms around him, hoping he would reciprocate. You exhaled a breath you didn’t even know you were holding when he hugged you back, holding you up as he spun you round, careful not to catch you will his hook.

“I’m sorry, ye know for yesterday” Harry muzzled into your neck “In fact scratch that, ye know I’m sorry for everything”

“I know,” you whispered “But I’m sorry too. We’re both idiots”

Just like that, in that split second everything went back to normal, he was your crazy impulsive pirate and you were his stubborn over-eager princess.

“Ye shouldn’t be here Y/n” he said eventually pulling you away from him.

“Yes, well neither should you” you giggled, jabbing him playfully in the chest.

“No Y/N, you don’t get it. The Isle, its not safe for people like you”

You scoffed and chuckled a little.

“What you think that just because I’m a princess I can’t handle a li-“

You never got to finish your sentence because as you stopped for a breath, the filthy rugged body of an unfamiliar pirate dropped from the rope above the ship.

A body fell from the sky.

“INTRUDERS!” Was all that could be heard amongst the ship as more and more villains dropped from ropes onto the deck. They were armed, heavily, heaving swords and daggers as they began to plunder.

“DON’T LET THEM TAKE A THING!” You heard Uma yell as she drew her own sword from its sheath and cornered a few of the unwelcome guests against a railing, pushing them into the sea.

You glanced at Harry, who threw a sword in your direction. Catching it with one hand, you nodded at him.

“Get bellow deck” Harry said before rolling his eyes “This is exactly why I didn’t want ye here”

You kissed his cheek before sprinting in the opposite direction, heading for a hidden alcove whilst Harry took on an opponent.

“Don’t scare ye?” you heard him tease the seemingly tough villain he had pinned down on the floor as you moved away “Well that’s my specialty”

Gripping the cool handle of your weapon a little tighter you made your way across the ship, attracting as little attention to yourself as possible. Almost every pirate had a partner, each pair locked in a strenuous sword battle, swearing and sweat dripping from them as they attempted to hack the other into two. You were only a few feet away from your hiding spot when, momentarily distracted, you walked straight into one of the intruders, his unsettling smile laced with malicious intent.

Wordlessly, he raised his sword above his head, grinning as his weapon flew down with great force. You had never fought in your life; hell, you had never even held a weapon before, yet somehow you knew exactly what to do, exactly how to dodge, exactly how to fight back.

Crash! The swords slammed together, clattering with an enormous racket. Impressive displays of swiping and slashing flew about, still painfully aware of the glinting silver tip of the sword. You jumped, then ducked avoiding each lunged attack the villain attempted. You grabbed his sword, pulling it from his grasp and kicked it away, sending it skidding out of reach. Pinning him against a sail mast, you held your own sword to his throat, scowling at him, his eyes blazing.

“Don’t you ever come near me and my friends again, you understand?” You yelled in his face, despite the fact you hadn’t even talked to the majority of the crew. For some reason, the intruder wouldn’t drop the uncomfortable smirk.

You leaned forwards.

“I said do you underst-ah–”

You stumbled backwards in pain and watched the fugitive slip away as you vision blurred. Confused and dazed you looked down, your red shirt slowly spreading with fresh blood, the maroon colour deepening. There was a dagger protruding from your abdomen.

There was a dagger protruding from you abdomen.

It took only a few seconds for you to react; only a few more to panic. You had been stabbed, and badly; things weren’t looking good. The colour drained from your face as you scrambled desperately bellow deck, watching the battle continue, trying to distract yourself from the pain.

You didn’t know how deep your wound was but you knew better than to try and remove the dagger.

“If I leave it there I’ll be fine,” you told yourself “When they get me back to Auradon they can use magic or fairy dust or some other shit and I’ll be fine”

You had to think rationally, it was your only choice, so you sprawled yourself out across the floor watching your boyfriend take on more and more intruders. You weren’t bleeding too badly then, but you knew the moment you took the dagger out, it would be a blood bath. Harry was in full swing, kicking the attackers overboard and slashing at their legs with swords as you lay there, eyes brimming with tears as you tried not to cry. You had to stay quiet until the battle was over, so no enemy would find you and decide to finish you off. So you stayed there, biting your lip in pain, trying desperately not to scream.

But your whole tactic changed when you saw them. You knew you couldn’t just lie silently anymore. Harry was preoccupied dueling with a particularly advanced intruder that he didn’t notice them, trying to push him over the railings into the sea bellow. He didn’t see the new batch of villains crawling on the riggings above him, slowly inching their way towards him, their piggy eyes glinting with mischief. You knew exactly what they were going to do, he wouldn’t stand a chance, four against the one of him. They were only feet from him now, dangling their swords dangerously close to his head. He was blissfully unaware, swinging his sword so it clashed and clattered with his opponent’s, pushing him further and further away.

You contemplated calling out to him, warning him, but you knew you couldn’t risk it. If he didn’t hear you he would be done for and you would only draw attention to yourself, getting yourself killed in the process. No, you couldn’t call out to him. You had one option, one grim saddening option that would save the pirate you loved.  They were stalking him now, as if they were hunting him, and you couldn’t stay quiet any longer. You couldn’t watch him die.

So you stood up; before you could stop yourself you pulled out the dagger, ran towards Harry and threw yourself in front of him.

“HARRY GET IN THE WATER!” You screamed as you dived between him and the new posse of intruders.

He was stunned, clocking the red blood that now spurted from your chest furiously and grabbed hold of you.

“Y/N! What have you d-“

“GET IN THE WATER!”

You pushed him backwards, sending him flying overboard and watched him fall in the water. You know he could swim, he was the best in Auradon, so you knew that was the best place he could be.

Your knees buckled beneath you.

The new intruders spent no time inspecting you, noting the puddle of red blood oozing from your abdomen and turning away, clearly knowing that you wouldn’t be fighting back. They charged to another part of the ship.

As soon he was overboard you felt the first tinge of pain. You let out a muffled shriek of desperation as he sailed over the decking, throwing things brutally back into perspective. You probably won’t see Harry again.

And it killed you.

You tried to stumble your way to a mast to try and prop yourself up or at least out of sight while the commotion continued. You croaked and stuttered and hissed as you pressed your hand to your abdomen, coating it in sticky vermillion. You knew it was bad.  

“I’m not going to die” You whispered gritting your teeth in determination, refusing to give up.

You continued to pull your body towards safety, dodging rogue intruders as you tried to head bellow deck, each step draining you of more and more energy. The whole ship started to spin like a teacup ride, dizziness taking the ground from beneath you. With one more agonizing jolt of pain you collapsed to floor

It was too late. You knew it was coming and your muscles tense up as much as they can. Once you hit the deck, you knew it would be all over. You knew it would quick, painful yes but quick at the least. You didn’t want to die, you didn’t want to leave them but you knew there wasn’t a single chance for you. The knowing didn’t soften the blow.

You couldn’t even scream.

Black started filling the edges of your vision, dark red blood oozing from the space between your fingers as you cover your wound with a shaky hand. Everything hurt, a dull gnawing pain erupting from your spleen. Your body was one big mess, bathed in a puddle of your own blood, dragging yourself across the floor as you tried to scramble to safety. A body shouldn’t have been able to move in this position, warped and twisted with nobody to help you. You pulled yourself into a shadowed crevice of the ship where you were hidden from view, trying to distract yourself from the pain

You let out a small agonizing groan, talking to yourself, trying to reason with yourself until Uma or Harry or some other member of the pirate crew noticed you were gone, trying to remind yourself that they would find you.

“I’m not dead yet?” you whispered to yourself, a question more than a statement “HOW THE FUCK AM I NOT DEAD YET?”

You bit your lip; tears escaping from the corners of your eyes as you looked upwards, begging yourself not to cry. It was too much. Far too much

“It hurts! It hurts so much! Please make it stop, it hurts so much! I..I can’t make it stop! There’s too much blood, I can feel everything, EVERYTHING!. My whole body’s screaming and it hurts so much, please make it stop please!”

Of course nobody could hear you, you could barely croak and with the commotion on the main ship it was all too distracting for anybody to sit and listen for desperate cries of pain.

You knew then that nobody was coming to save you.

So you decided you would have to save yourself.

“I can’t die okay body? You can’t give up on me. I can’t die, You can’t put them through this, not Harry, not your parents, not Uma. Come on Y/N focus. I can make it out of this mess. I know I can, come on stupid body move, stop being so weak. I can make it, we can make it just stop being so weak”

You took your shirt off, choking with every movement and with shaky fingers tied it around your waist, as tight as you possible could to try and stop the bleeding. There was a scary amount of blood. A scary amount, and it took everything you had not to listen to little voice at the back of your head saying you were already dead.

Your breathing came in raged shallow gasps.

“Come on body, you can do this MOVE! Where’s Harry? He knows I’m injured. Why isn’t he helping me? Oh god what if he’s dead”

You pulled yourself upwards trying to get a view of the main deck. You had to know he was alive even if it was the last thing you did. You had to know. Just as you saw the familiar scarlet flash of his coat, you fell to the floor again.

You felt your organs shut down one by one.

“I hope I’m not forgotten. People are still looking for me right? It hasn’t been long, surely there are still people looking for me.”

You were chuntering to yourself, babbling as if talking would keep you alive.

Someone will find me soon; I just need to hang in there for a little while longer. Oh god, please somebody find me. HARRY! UMA! GIL! You were screaming in your head, you couldn’t speak however hard you tried; your mouth just kept opening and shutting, trembling in a pool of your own blood.

I’m going to die. I don’t want to die alone, don’t leave me here. Somebody find me please, I know I will die now, so be it, just don’t let me die all alone. Somebody please hurry up and find me!

The voice in your head was getting quieter and quieter, fading further and further away.

I can’t ignore the pain, it’s unbearable, and maybe it would be better, to just die. NO! Shut the fuck up Y/N, pull through, and stop being such a coward. I’m so exhausted; I just want to close my eyes and sleep. NO! No, if I sleep that means the end. I mustn’t sleep. I can’t think anymore. Your eyelids were drooping and you couldn’t force them open anymore. The only thing keeping you awake was the horrified look on his face as you threw him off that ship.

“I promise you I won’t die Harry, I promise.”

You didn’t know he caught your eye, you didn’t see his face flicker with terror as he dropped everything he was doing and ran towards you, tugging Uma with him.

I don’t want it to end like this. What are you doing? Why, why is everything turning black? Oh god! Oh god no please! PLEASE! WHERE IS THE FUCKING CREW. I DON’T WANT TO DI…

He got to you too late.

A fraction, a second, a heartbeat too late.

Harry dropped everything when he saw you there, a crumpled bloodied mess in a heap, charging towards you with panic in his eyes.

“Y/N? Y/N! SHIT! Y/N!”

He scooped you up, pressing you against him, trying to shake you awake.

“Y/N! CAN YE HEAR ME! Y/N!” His eyes prickled with tears as he shook you harder and harder refusing to believe what he already knew was true.

“Yer okay princess, listen to me yer okay. Don’t ye dare leave me Y/N”

He pushed on your abdomen, trying to stop the bleeding but faltered when he saw just how much you had lost.

“SHIT! UMA! Hey princess its okay its okay” He alternated between screaming gently caressing your cheek with his thumb, in a panicked confused frenzy ”UMA! PLEASE HELP ME!”

The pirate captain was beside him in no time her eyes widening with fear and she too ducked down beside you, her hands covered in your blood as she pressed her hand to your wrist.

She checked for a pulse.

And then again. And then again and again and again until she stopped to wipe a tear away.

There wasn’t one.

“Harry she’s go-“

“SHE’S NOT! SHE’S GOING TO BE FINE! YE KNOW THAT UMA! SHE’S GOING TO BE PERFECTLY FUCKING FINE”
“Harry,” Uma began, her voice saddened and small “She’s gone, I’m so sorry Harry, she’s gone”

He howled.

He kicked and screamed and swore and cursed. He cried until his throat was hoarse.

And the pirate boy sobbed into your blood caked hair, clinging onto you as he shook, refusing to let you go.

The battle continued around him, Uma’s crew eventually beating them, the intruders fleeing, but he didn’t move, he clung to you limp lifeless body and howled like a wounded dog.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

—————

 For more imagines have a little mosey on down to my Masterlist

Zimbits -  Ego Boost

(Alright, I have to hold up my end now – @awfulruby made this because of reasons. Money Money Money Money Money –]

Summary: It shouldn’t turn him on. There’s no acceptable excuse for why he’s wired this way. 



It’s been a difficult week. A difficult month. If the Falcs make the playoffs it’ll be a miracle.

And still, Bitty’s wearing a Zimmermann jersey. His jersey. Not just one from the team shop, the one Jack wore in his first playoff series against the Islanders. With a little tear on the shoulder from a rough hit and a few spots of faded brown from the resulting punch that succeeded in busting his lip.

Jack, without hesitation, thinks, ‘Mine’.

“Oh, honey,” Bitty strokes the crest of his cheek with his thumb. “Do you need a little ego boost? Want me to tell you how amazing you are?”

“No,” Jack growls, getting an arm around Bittle’s torso to flip him onto the couch. “Tell me the real reason you’re with me.”

Bitty makes a soft ‘oof’ of surprise and blinks up at Jack with darkening eyes. “Oh, so it’s one of those nights, is it?”

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Space Cowboys and Walkmans (StarkQuill)

“So look, if you push this button here, it locks your screen so you dont accidentally hit anything while you’re out doing… whatever it is you do.”

“While I’m out guarding the galaxy.”

Tony’s lips twitched into a smile. “Sure, Star Lord. While you are out guarding the galaxy.”

“Do I detect some jealousy?”

“Definitely.” Tony shook his head with a little smile. “Space terrifies me. Want to be a spaceman, stuck on earth being a cowboy.

“Cowboys are cool.” Peter shrugged. “Besides, no need to worry about space when I’ll keep you warm and safe.” Peter winked at him and Tony looked away, flushing a little.

“Anyway, this little button here will keep your song playing steadily no matter what you’re doing.”

“You know, my Walkman did that too? No fancy technology required.” Peter argued, then he looked sad. “Miss my Walkman.”

Tony stared at him for a full minute. “So you aren’t grateful for this insanely expensive Stark Phone that I personally loaded over a thousand songs that I thought you would enjoy onto it? Is that what I’m hearing right now?”

“No.” Peter tried not to laugh at the horribly offended look on Tony’s face. “No. I appreciate it. It’s amazing.”

“But you miss your piece of shit Walkman.”

“Nostalgia man!” Peter argued. “Aren’t you nostalgic about anything?”

“Suck it, Space man.” Tony huffed and gathered up everything he’d brought to show off and turned and stomped out of the room.

“Nice goin.” Rocket snarked, baring his pointy teeth in a little smile. “Richest, most powerful guy on earth and you insult him when he gives you a present. Smart, StarTwat. Smart.”

“It is not Peter’s fault he is so foolishly attached to items from his childhood that he pushes away all attempts from the Iron Man to give him new things.” Drax interjected. “Just because it is stupid does not mean he doesn’t have the right to be nostalgic.”

“Um, thanks.” Peter sent Drax a look, knowing the guy was just trying to be comforting in that awkward, over literal, blunt way of his.

“I think you should stop flirting with him, and just get our gear fixed so we can leave.” Gamora said shortly, barely looking up from her book.

“I am Groot?”

“Tell me about it.” Rocket narrowed his eyes at the green woman. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Gamora. We all saw you flirting with that scary redhead. Don’t be mad at Peter for chasing some tail.”

“I am Groot.”

“No. No that’s not what chasing tail– I don’t mean Peter literally has a tail to chase.”

“I am–”

“That’s enough.” Peter sighed and ran his hands through his hair miserably. “I hope Stark isn’t too upset. We were having a good time.”

“And you think he is attractive and want to see him naked.” Drax pointed out.

“Thanks buddy.”

“As long as he keeps fixing our gear, I don’t care what you and he do. Just don’t do it here.”

“Thanks for that Gamora. You know, there are two types of people in this world. People who–”

The woman got up and walked out of the room and Peter stared after her.

“That was rude. Wasn’t that rude?”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, I’m tired of hearing him bitch too. Let’s go twig.” The rest of the team filed out, leaving Peter alone on the couch, kicking himself for driving the brilliant hottie known as Tony Stark away.

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anonymous asked:

I had the worst day at work today, bartending for some CREEPS, ugh. What about some Cute Bartender!Tony dealing with assholes whilst Steve stands all smitten in the background, I'd really love that right now.

I’m really sorry you had to deal with that bullshit, my friend. But here- I hope this helps!



“Steve, if you keep starin’ at him any longer, he’s gonna call the cops.”


The sound was barely visible over the noise in the club, but Steve turned anyway, shooting Bucky a dirty look as the man simply grinned over to him and shrugged.

“Just say hi,” Sam encouraged, nudging his arm, “he seems nice. From what I can tell from the one drink he served me forty minutes ago, anyway.”

Steve blushed, turning to fiddle with the rim of his Pina Colada and cursing himself. He knew he should. He knew that’s what everyone said he should do, anyway- but the man was like… a whole other level.
There was attractive, and there there was that guy.

Dark hair, tanned skin, a smile to die for. Every line and curve of his body was physically perfect. Steve had studied all about it in art school- Da Vinci’s Golden ratio and the divine proportion, all that stuff. He couldn’t say he’d ever really believed it himself, but Jesus- looking at that man, he guessed that that was what Leo had been banging on about all those years back.

-Aaaaand he was staring again.

Dammit.

(read more, mobile users!)

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Allergic Interaction

Inspired by @edorazzi‘s BEAUTIFUL little OCs Amun and Carter and all of their antics, Miraculous’ titular character Chat Noir AKA Adrien and his affliction with feathers, and my recent jackpot of allergies. Enjoy!

Also found on AO3.


           Amun would say his luck with the accursed food was dismal at best.

           Hazelnuts, as he learned since his revival, were not, in fact, cursed but some sort of chemical thing, as Angelo put it, caused him to have a reaction in his immune system. Since his internal organs had recently been re-growing, that meant that former hives evolved into far worse reactions when exposed to the fatal nut.

           His luck was dismal because, even after learning of this and learning enough English reading to avoid it, they were in France, and, therefore, French was written everywhere. Amun hadn’t even thought to ask someone to read it to him - he knew the language of French but not how to read it - when he’d eaten that chocolate bar offered to him by one of the clerks at the museum.

           If not for Angelo’s quick grab for the Epinephrine pen upon seeing Amun go red and begin to wobble from dizziness, this might have been his second death.

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The Turning of the Stars

Castiel is a wishing star and Dean has the one wish he can’t seem to get right.

~1.9k

AO3 Link

This had been a particularly rough year for Castiel.

Well, “year” was relative, as he didn’t exactly experience “years” like most planets did while hanging aloof in the cosmos. Time ceased to be in his little galaxy where he did his work; it washed over him like a gentle breeze trying to bend a mountain.

That being said, it had been a particularly rough recent period of existence for Castiel, and it was all because of one completely insignificant human.

“Castiel” was, of course, the name he gave himself and not the name he was known by to the humans of earth. He was called Alpha Aquarrii to the more scientific of their world, or Sadalmelik - the second-brightest star in the Aquarius constellation.

He was, first and foremost, a wishing star.

Castiel was proud of his track record with granting wishes. Making a wish come true while working within the bounds of Earth’s physics and probabilities was no easy task for a star, but Castiel was billions of years old by now and had practice with millions of different worlds - and the art of bringing to pass a desire that had been given to him was something that he’d mastered. He was well familiar with the feeling that let him know the wish had successfully taken effect. It was like a spark of lightning coursed through his form; igniting the stardust he housed inside.

Some of the newer stars had to intervene more… personally, but that wasn’t an approach Castiel had needed to take in nearly half a millennia.

Naturally, he’d been absolutely confident when one Dean Winchester had made a wish that Castiel had granted tens of thousands of times. It was one of the simplest of wishes, even.

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I respect the opinion of my elders, but just an open query about the charges brought against my generation:

For not working hard enough: where is the evidence. When we were younger you told us you started from a small job and climbed your way to the top. When we are flipping burgers it’s because we didn’t apply ourselves. When you did it, it was shouldering the future by suffering in the present. When we ask for the money to buy bread, it is shameful. When others went on strike in the name of labor conditions, it was heroic. When we ask for more, we never deserve it. So how did you get here? Did you never sit up and demand the world give you what was rightfully yours? How hard working is hard enough?

We are illerate, use slang instead of language, shun poetry: did I just imagine the “rad” bloom of the 70’s? Is it because you can’t catch our tongues in your hands? Is it because our poetry is now published beyond books, beyond the control of one voice, beyond you? That our language doesn’t need your approval to evolve? When you drew political pictures of us asking how to turn a book on, you laughed at our ignorance. When the tables turned, when we were shown to be the most literate and well-read generation on record, you scratched the mirror. You said it was our lazy nature. A body rotting. Because we read trash, or we read into things, or we write loudly and it bothers you. Why does it bother you?

School is too easy: What was it like going to school without being worried about a shooting? Did you ever cower like we have, like I did, like our friends, crying muffled in your hands because you love your parents and now have no time to tell them? What was it like, dear, in a world where my standardized testing scores would have broken your curve and I didn’t even get perfect. What part is the easy part. Is it the highest recorded level of anxiety? Is it the rising teenage suicide rates? Is it the eating disorders, body dismorphia, self harm, self destruction? Tell me, have you seen - there’s a show called “Are you Smarter Than A 5th Grader.” It’s very funny. In it, bright young kids show adults that what we’re learning didn’t even exist in common knowledge while they were in school. Tell me. If you were up against our 5th grade curriculum, who would win? No, I’m sure you’re fine. You learned it all in high school.

We want too many free things: What was it like to want for nothing? What was it like to have a certainty that hard work leads to a bright future. What was it like imagining being rich instead of imagining just being rich enough to eat good food. What was it like, not being worried that a broken leg would cost you an entire apartment? Do you know they hate us so much they would rather see us die than bring down the price of an EpiPen. And since I know you love the idea of us abusing the system, tell me, where do I go to expose the lie about my life-threatening allergy? How do I fake it, because I’d like to opt out of it, and while I’m at it my mental illness, and while I’m at it can you take my chronic pain please. And since I know that the answer is to go to school and get a degree so I can be worthy of not dying, just another question: are you aware fifty thousand dollars a year is equivalent to a house. I could buy a house instead of going to college. Since you’re good at this, while we’re talking, I have two siblings. Which of the three of us gets the money? Go on. Look at us. Choose. Who goes hungry?

We’re entitled: yes, please, give me a deed, give me land, give me better than winning the lottery. What I’m entitled to is life, liberty and the pursuit of profit, am I not? So where are any of the above? Where did the jobs go? Why do you jail people for small crimes but free the criminals? And my life? This life? I end where my body begins, I am cut off from the nation’s decisions about what I can put in or take out of me. And me? I’m safe because I’m white-passing. Don’t the bodies pile up? Aren’t we entitled to justice? Aren’t we entitled to an answer? A response from the government? More than just speeches about how riots won’t solve things? Aren’t we entitled to a fair trial? To freedom of speech? Was it not our common fathers who fought for these things?

We’re lazy: Where? Who has the money? I’ve been working since I was 12, am I just an anomaly? Or do you just ignore those who don’t fit your story? All those student-run engineering projects that are changing history. All those protests. The art world, shifting. All these adults who demand more - do they count as lazy or as entitled? What were you doing at our age? Did it really look all that different?

We don’t listen to real music, don’t like real art, are loud, are too busy partying: We changed and you didn’t keep up. Is that’s what’s so startling?

We are sucked up into the Internet, wouldn’t drop the phone if the apocalypse was happening: my phone has my family on the other end of it. Do you not save pictures from a burning building? Do you really care so little for others you’d stick to the old ways entirely instead of texting? Oh sure, yes, a letter is pretty, I love them. But just asking for a friend: What do I do in an emergency with only a pencil. And I don’t mean to downsize the problem because I mean it’s not like you took Polaroids of your friends at sunset - right? - and it’s definitely wrong of us to want memories of a really nice night, but, just curious, did you post that opinion on the Internet? Was seeing others on the Web what made you upset? Maybe - this is just a crazy idea that popped up into my head - you should go take a walk, go outside, disconnect.

We do everything different: Yes. Because we were raised on the cusp of the next great Renaissance. We are in somewhere new, a galaxy of expansion that doesn’t rely on you. That knows more than you do. That doesn’t function the way you expect it to. How rose-colored is the past to you? The place where you erase AIDS and drug abuse in an effort to tell us we are a terrible youth. Where you don’t talk about the marches that happened around you. How painted do you picture it, simply because you had to physically look in a book to learn something new? How do you turn your eyes to a world where war sits on our necks, our earth melts, our populations swell, our people starve, and we are powerless in it all - and say, “It’s your fault.”

It’s our fault. The housing market, somehow related to our obsessive need for safe spaces, I’m sure, because our dreams no longer lie in yards but rather something big enough for at least a bed, and hopefully with tasteful curtains, and you have no idea what a safe space is. The certain failure of the two-party political system, maybe somehow due to our political correctness - we are, after all, rude enough to never open doors for old ladies or just let you be racist - how we controlled the media, how our desires drove this. Our request for trigger warnings and correct pronouns is a burden, and I see that now, because our special snowflake syndrome really does hurt you as a person; while your ongoing use of torture in corrective therapy is only a problem if you’re actually looking. You’re so right about so many things. When you beat us to correct us, it’s your child and it’s your right; when it’s our bodies we ask to have rights over - well, what did we expect? It’s our fault. The crushing debt, the companies that own our government, the privatization of prisons, the unrightful searches, the human trafficking and abuse of sex workers, the gun violence, the pharmaceutical industries which control our doctor’s choices, the climate change you only just started to admit is happening, the extinction of species worldwide - we are responsible for both pollution and poaching, the lead in our water, the death in our streets. So what do you get from it? From dismissing us? From quitting on us before the race begins? From forgetting who exactly raised us kids?

Now, I was told that the problem is that we too often point to bigotry. That we hide behind pointing out your sexist comments instead of realizing the truth your words wrought. I was told we are so focused on our victories, of a world that rallied for marriage equality, for gender expression, for the safety of survivors, for a healing nation - we call out instead of calling on. So I’m calling on you, Generation X kids. Here’s your free one. No bigotry spoken of. So speak. Explain what exactly you mean.

I get it. We asked for a country. The land is borrowed from your children, they tell me.

Now why are you so afraid when we show up and start collecting?

maxcaulficlds  asked:

punk richie and soft pastel eddie in high school for the writing thing!! just some Uhh cute stuff

I hope you like it, enjoy 😊

•Not letting go this time•

Pairing: punk!Richie x pastel!Eddie highschool AU
Warnings: strong language/ slight violence

Richie was leaning against his locker, not waiting for anything in particular when he spotted a certain someone in the crowd. For a few moments his heart skipped a beat and a strange sense of nostalgia settled in.
He hadn’t really talked to Eddie for the last couple of years. Since the whole Pennywise -thing went down they all went their separate ways. It was kind of like promising you would keep in touch with each other over the summer but then you never actually get the chance to hang out.
And Richie was truly sorry for that.

When they were younger, he didn’t realise what it was that he felt for Eddie, for him it was just a strong friendship, right? But as the years passed and Richie changed, he was more and more certain that what he felt for his old friend was not just fraternal love.

But by the time he got to accept his feelings for Eddie it was already too late. They had grown apart and Richie was forced to admire the now slender but somehow athletic boy from the distance.

Although Richie was anything but the shy type, there was one thing he couldn’t do and that was walking up to Eddie Kaspbrak and just talk to him. Richie had done a lot of shit in the last couple of years. He had gotten into unnecessary fights because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, vandalized almost every building in Derry with obscene graffiti (a form of art, like he called it, he had discovered back in 7th grade) and transformed into the textbook definition of a rebel.
Richie didn’t give a fuck what people thought about him, but that was the thing, Eddie wasn’t “people”.

Sometimes Richie would wait just a bit longer on the hallway, just to see Eddie walking from one classroom to another or getting his books for the next period from his locker.

Right now Eddie was talking to someone from his volleyball team (it was a miracle that he had been able to convince his mother to let him join the team) and Richie just stood there, not paying any attention to the words that came out of Eddie’s mouth but instead focusing on how his hand moved while he explained some strategy to the other guy, how his face lit up and how an enthusiastic smile grew bigger and bigger on his face.

He felt a stinging sensation as jealousy started to run through Richie’s veins like poison. In that exact moment Eddie looked across the hallway and for a split second met Richie’s eyes. The moment seemed to last forever but then Eddie turned back again to the guy he was talking to and Richie kept standing there, a thousand questions in his head. Should he go talk to Eddie? Would Eddie even enjoy talking to him? Wouldn’t it be weird? But he had to, he had to talk to Eddie, he just missed his old friend so much, not to mention those other new feelings that were starting to grow inside of him.

Richie had just mustered up the courage to cross the hallway and actually speak to him when the bell rang and Eddie disappeared in some classroom, leaving a frustrated and lovesick Richie behind.

Richie decided that that day was already fucked, so why even bother going to class. He spent the rest of the day in the park, smoking one cigarette after another (Eddie never liked it when he smoked around him, it made him cough) and carving little drawings into the wooden bench he sat on.

Maybe it had been fate that had made Richie sit in that park. It was already dark outside when he heard two voices arguing.
“…– just leave me alone, asshole!”
“I don’t think so, pretty boy, you’re all alone out here and I’m bored, why don’t you keep me company?”
“Because I have standards so fuck off already!”
“God you’re such a fucking tease pretty boy…”
The next thing Richie heard was a muffled sound like someone trying to break free. Richie was already on his feet, he had recognised one of the voices immediately. He made his way through some bushes and when he finally got to the scene he could see Eddie struggling to get away from a guy who probably hadn’t seen a shower in weeks and was clearly drunk.

“I said get the fuck away from me!” Eddie finally managed to push the guy away, only for him to grab Eddies arm and yank him back in his direction.

“Hey!” Richie took a step forward “He told you to leave!” When Eddie’s eyes met Richies for the second time today, they were filled with relief and gratitude.
“Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, four-eyes?” the guy let go of Eddie and approached his new target. “We can share the cutie if you want to.” He let out a disgusting giggle. That was enough for Richie. He didn’t even realise that he threw the first punch. Blood was dripping down his fist. Richie didn’t think the guy would be in the condition to fight back and so the second punch came by surprise. His glasses shattered and left a few small cuts. After that the whole fight was just a blur. It took Eddie nearly 10 minutes to drag Richie away. The guy quickly made his way out of the park.

“Oh god, you’re bleeding! I need to get you a band aid or something we have to go to the pharmacy, we – ” Richie could see the shock in Eddies face and he let out a small laugh.
“So you’re still playing nurse?”
“That’s not funny, Richie!”
“I’m fine, I’ve had worse…”
Eddie just ignored that last remark and began to inspect the small cuts on Richie’s face. His fingers caressed Richie’s cheeks and slowly but surely they found their way into his wild hair.
After a while Eddie muttered “Thanks by the way. I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t here.”
“Let’s not think about that. Also, how are you going to reward your hero, Eds?” He grinned suggestively and pressed Eddie’s hand more firmly against his face. It felt warm and comforting.
Eddie didn’t even respond to that joke, he was too surprised by the use of that nickname, that he hadn’t heard in years, to have any reaction at all.

Here he was standing right in front of him; Richie Tozier with his black, slightly curly hair, broken glasses, to many ear piercings to count, already sticking a cigarette between his lips.
“You know I hate when you do that…”
“Oh shit, sorry” he put the cigarette back in the pack, not realising that Eddie was talking about the nickname.
“That’s not what I mean – “
“Eddie can I ask you something?”
“Well you just did, smartass.”
Richie was too nervous to roll his eyes at Eddie. This was his one and only chance.
“Can I do something? I wanted to try something for a long time now…”

Eddie felt how his heartbeat began to accelerate. Richie had always had that effect on him. It was his bad boy charm that made Eddies knees weak. The fact that Richie always looked too cool to even be alive when he was standing there in the hallway, casually leaning against the lockers.
They had belonged in different worlds, Eddie with his light pastel look, having a sense for the delicate things in life and Richie with his messy hair, dark cloths and fuck-you-all-attitude.

But now he was standing right in front of Eddie in the dark, asking for the permission to do something. Eddies imagination was running wild and then suddenly the only thing on his mind was Richie leaning in and closing the space between their faces. Eddie was blushing furiously and was about to have a heart attack when Richie stopped just when their noses were about to touch.
“So, it’s ok if I take my reward then?”

Eddie just stared at Richie, nodding slightly. Although he was pretty sure of what was going to happen, when Richie’s lips touched his, he wasn’t ready for the intense heat wave that went through his body and the tingling sensation that began to take over. It was only a short, innocent kiss but it was enough for Eddie to finally realise his intense attraction to the punk in front of him.
Richie pulled back.
“S-so how was it?” Eddie questioned without really thinking about what he just said.
“Pretty damn nice, I hope I can save you again sometime soon, I’d like to get used to this.” Richie smirked.
“Well I don’t want to have to put myself in danger every five seconds for you to kiss me!” Eddie finally managed to say.
“So you liked it too.” Richie’s grin grew into a wide smile. The whole thing went better than he had ever imagined.
“Well if you’re so into me, maybe later we could go to my place and try something else, I know some – “
“Beep-beep Richie!”
Both started to laugh as they started to walk out of the park and Eddie shyly grabbed Richie’s hand. This time he wouldn’t let go of Richie that easy.

The Temptation of Voices

Originally posted by thespoilerwitchblog

A/N: Bucky Voices Soulmate au

Part 1

Part 2

You were so nervous for this coffee date. It was a date. Though it pained you to admit it, through all of the apprehension, you were kind of looking forward to it. The voice that had scared you for years with it’s comfort and reassuring words was waiting just a few hundred feet in front of you.

The fact was you were curious. Meeting him had been terrifying but a great relief at the same time because you’d been dreading it for years. Part of you had expected a giant piano to fall out of the sky and crush him the moment he said hi but funnily enough that didn’t happen. Now that you’d actually had chance to think about it he was probably the best soulmate you could hope for because, although he was reputed to be in constant danger, he was also probably the most dangerous individual you’d ever know. You’d read up on him and he was a fighter down to the bones. Not much was known about the last seventy years but he’d been in the howling commandos and his best friend was famous for punching hitler.

You were torn between the good and the bad and the only thing keeping you moving forward was the fact that you’d told him you’d come.

Stopping outside the looming revolving doors, you took a deep breath and walked in. James was stood a few feet to the left of the doors leaning casually against the wall and holding two drinks. “I got you coffee.” He smiled pushing off and sauntering towards you.

“Coffee before coffee, how gracious.” You tentatively smiled, tilting your head back as he got closer. Wow, he was really tall. James grinned amused and almost relaxed as he caught your thought. His eyes then darted behind you and you saw the amusement fade. You turned to look but all you saw were people going about the business in the huge lobby. You turned back to see him glaring at the distance so you slipped into his thoughts and almost choked on your drink. You downed at as quickly as you could while you processed what you’d just seen.

Captain America was sat at a Starbucks with sunglasses and baseball cap on, somehow managing to make reading a newspaper suspicious. On the same table there was a woman with bright red hair and a man whose shirt looked like its sleeves had been torn off staring resolutely away from you. You caught James’s thought of those fuckers before you were back in your own head, dumping his and your empty cups in the trash and grabbing his hand. You practically frog marched him out of the doors in the hurry to ask him what was going on.

“They’re my teammates and to say they defend the world they’re pretty fucking gossipy.” He emphasized the last bit, glaring into a security camera on the corner of the building. Not even a second later his phone beeped and he glanced at it and scowled. He then picked up a rock, turned back towards the camera and threw it so hard the the device scrunched backwards a good few inches into the brick. It now resembled a mashed potato in a pothole. You just looked at him incredulously. Was that meant to be a faux casual show of strength or did he just genuinely damage property when he received unsavory messages?

“Only when I’m being watched and mocked on a date with a pretty dame.” He flirted kissing the back of your hand. You hadn’t even noticed he was still holding it. You blushed then cringed in slight horror. Since when were you the type to blush at such a cheesy action? To your surprise you weren’t embarrassed by him, just your own reaction. Where had all of your previous confidence gone? “The same place mine probably went the first time I laid eyes on you.” His smooth reply to your errant seemed to bring it right back.

“You know it’s kinda rude to reply to my inner monologue.” He threw his head back and laughed. Holy shit, even his throat was hot, how in the fuck was that a thing. His thumb affectionately rubbed the back of your hand as if in responce.

“You know my friend Bruce says soulmates exist in a state of shared consciousness so your inner monologue is technically mine too.” He waggled his eyebrows and you snorted.

“Are you implying I’m not capable of independent thought James?” He swallowed thickly, gaze turning heated. You caught his thought of I love it when she says my name like that and found yourself thrown completely off-kilter, tripping over your own feet and watching the curb come up to meet you. Just as you closed your eyes in preparation for impact, an arm wrapped solidly around your waist and swung you up. You opened your eyes cautiously in disorientation only to find a pair of familiar baby blues staring at you. You were leaned back with one foot in the air, the only thing keeping you from hitting the ground was his arm.

“You know I usually take a dame dancing before I dip her.” He didn’t move; just watched you as if in challenge.

“I usually get through a first date before I let a guy put his arm around my waist, so I guess we’re both going against the norm.” You reached a hand up to touch his face and he brought you back to your feet. You cupped his face with one hand and he leaned in, but just before your lips brushed you grabbed his hand and spun around pulling him along behind you. He didn’t quite stumble but you found yourself hyper aware of his irregular breathing.

You tried to ease the tension commenting flippantly “You never really told me where you were taking me. There are thousands of coffee shops in New York.”

“Yeah…It’s uh…just over here.” He moved in front of you and you let him pull you along, thankful that he’d left the moment and your reaction alone.

You were so distracted by your own thoughts that you crashed into him when you stopped. His lips quirked as he looked down at you then he motioned to the building in front of him. You turned to look at it and immediately lost it. First it was just uncontrollable giggle but it soon progressed when you saw him looking slightly affronted. Then you laughed so hard you had tears running down your face and were choking on your breaths. When you finally got yourself under control you looked up at him again, his expression had changed to neutral but you could fee his confusion but vague amusement at your reaction. “What’s so funny doll?” You just grinned at him, truly at ease for the first time since you’d met him. Fate was definitely fucking with you and at this point you were just fine with that.

“I own this place.” He gaped at you then looked between you and your shop.

“You’re joking.” He looked oddly delighted. Makes sense I that was drawn to it.

“You’ve never even been here before.” You stated plainly.He raised a brow at you. Now who’s listening to internal monologues?

“I come here every Sunday lunch with Steve.” He said Steve’s name fondly belying his affection for the other man.

Of course he would come on the only day you took off. He’d been so close this whole time. You really were destined to meet him. Looks like it was only a matter of time anyway. “Still want a coffee? I can get us the owner’s discount.” You teased with a shake of your head and a grin.

He nodded and let you lead him inside to your favorite little booth in the corner. You sat him down then stood back doing your best impression of the flirty waitress. “Hello sir, what can I do for you today?” He leaned his head in his hand and smiled crookedly.

“Whatever you think I’ll like doll.” I’m sure no matter what you give me it’ll taste great, just knowing you crafted it will give me a rush. To your chagrin you blushed again.

You turned in an effort to hide it and virtually ran to the counter throwing a careless “Of course sir” over your shoulder. You went straight for your employee Liz, who you knew worked the Sunday lunch rush. “Hey Liz, you see that guy in the back over there.” You started pointing vaguely over your shoulder. “Well apparently he’s a regular and I forgot to ask his order. You wouldn’t happen to remember it would you?” She glanced up then gasped and giggled.

“Oh my God! It’s Lush Locks!” She squealed grabbing your shoulders as she jumped in excitement. She dragged you behind the snack stand then stood at stared at him from behind a carrot cake.

You furrowed your brow and took a slight step back “What?”

“Oh wow, I forgot. You’ve never even seen him.” She was aghast at the very thought. “That man and his friend” she abruptly tilted her head in thought “or lover, come here every Sunday and order the same two drinks using a different name every time. We don’t know what to call them so we made up our own names: Lush Locks and Jaw Line. Everyone flirts with them but they never flirt back. Jenny’s convinced they’re together but I swear on my life I’ve seen Jaw Line check me out. They’re so hot, like some of the girls even unbutton their blouses and roll up their skirts before waiting on their table.” She paused again then cleared her throat as she realized she was talking to her boss. “But I would never do that because that would be extremely unprofessional.” She tried to smile demurely but as soon as her gaze strayed back to James a dreamy look overcame her. At least it was good to know you hadn’t turn into a bumbling idiot because you’d met your soulmate. No it was just because he was insanely hot.

You tried to refocus yourself instead of checking out his thighs with Liz. Damn they were some good thighs, especially in those oh so tight jeans. Your mouth watered slightly and you shook yourself out of it. It suddenly hit you how much your mind had changed since you met him. You shouldn’t been flirting with him. You should be telling him why he couldn’t be with you but you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop this. You’d only known him a day yet you felt like you were already tied to him.

Oh no, you promised yourself you’d never do this, you swore. You started to panic and set off towards your office. You didn’t want anyone to see you fall apart. As soon as you were inside you slammed the door and slid down to the floor behind your desk. You were already falling for him. It was impossible and ridiculous but somehow true. You’d barely known him twenty-four hours but you felt like you’d known him your entire life. In a way you had. He’d always been a presence in the back of your mind, not always speaking but always there. You’d never been alone and you hadn’t even realized it. It was too late.

Suddenly the door banged opened and James was somehow in front of you. He brushed the hair out of your face and cupped your cheek with a gentleness you didn’t think possible for someone who seemed so immense. “Calm down doll, it’s all gonna be okay.” You tried but you just couldn’t control your erratic breathing, it was happening again. He bit his lip as he looked you over. You could feel the concern and sorrow shifting through him. In a split second decision you jumped into his arms and to your utter relief he caught you. I’ll always catch you doll.

He sat down and placed you in his lap wrapping his arms around you from behind. Breathe with me. He pressed you against him tightly so you could feel every rise and fall of his chest and you followed it with your own. Within minutes you had calmed and let yourself lean into him.

“Are you gonna tell me what that was about Y/N?” He whispered into your ear. His arms crossed your chest banding you to him, his fingers massaging your sides with calculated ease.

“Did you not hear?” You asked in a low voice, turning to rest your head on his shoulder.

“No. I only felt a rush of panic and terror, but I have a feeling it’s connected to your freak out last night.” He didn’t look at you but his arms tightened further and he moved to rest his chin on your head.

You shut your eyes and wound your arms into his. He curled his legs into yours and kissed your forehead. You’d never felt as safe in your life. You began to tell him your story. Of your mother and father and the fear that instilled in you from an early age. Of your best friend’s loss that only fueled that fear, and the constant dread you felt before meeting him that had morphed into an awful feeling of panic whenever you thought too much about him. He listened in still silence for what must have been hours. After you’d finally told him everything you felt simultaneously drained and relieved.

You felt his mind and knew you weren’t the only one with things to get off your chest. “For almost seventy years I was alone. I never noticed because I was constantly around people but it was just me. Everyone had someone else’s thoughts running through their heads at all times for better or worse but I was the odd one out. Everyone just assumed my soulmate had died before I was born but I could never accept that. I always held out a hope, well at least until I was captured.” You turned sharply trying to catch his eye but he looked away. “I’ll tell you that story another time doll. The point is at my darkest time you appeared. At first you were just a tiny bubble of wonder and fun but every time I came back you were slightly different, slightly older. You were the one constant that always brought me back to myself, which I needed.” His voice cracked on the words. “I really needed that, doll.In fact I think I fell in love with you the first time you told me to fuck off. You felt so much and it bled into me. You never knew it but you were everything I needed.”

By the time he finished his smile looked a bit watery and you choked up. Tears started to slip down your face and you buried your face in his chest. He whispered sweet nothings into your head and you replied with everything you liked about him, that drew him to you. It was soon dark and you were drowsy. Neither of you had moved in hours and you had started to fall asleep against his chest. You’d known him for years. You trusted him implicitly. Vaguely you heard him make a phone call then you were in his arms and moving. You thought you heard him speak to Liz but you weren’t really paying attention. Soon you were in a car and he was talking in a low voice to another man.

You faded in and out of consciousness for a while after but you distinctly remember being laid gently down on a bed. The warmth of the arms that had carried you tried to move away  but you couldn’t accept that. You grabbed an cool weird feeling hand and pulled it towards you. The warmth laid beside you and you cuddled up, content at least for the night.

Part 4

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turn it off || stiles stilinski

word count: 4309

warnings: none?

prompt: based on 4x09

author’s note: i’ve had this idea in my head for a while, but i finally wrote it so here it is! Y/G/N = Your Grandmother’s Name

masterlist

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anonymous asked:

Karkat trying his damndest to bake dave a apple pie and Dave literally crying when he receives said pie. He doesn't even taste it at first, just cries cause no ones ever baked him something before and-"Oh god Karkat I love you marry me and have my babies"

“You know,” Jake said, as though his input was at all invited or even slightly welcome, “Watching that thing in there is most definitely not going to finish it any faster.” 

“Funny how I don’t remember asking you,” Karkat ground out through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes defiantly on the innards of the electric baking device. 

“I know you’re trying your absolute hardest,” Jake went on, blithely, “But I figure when your books talk about melting glares and looks that could melt steel and all that they’re not being precisely literal.” 

“I am not –” Karkat cut himself off, straightened up and growled low in his throat. He refused to turn around. “Fuck off!” 

“I admit I question the purity of his motivations,” a new voice chimed in, and Karkat groaned, helplessly, resting his forehead against the wide handle of the device. It was almost too warm for comfort. “But Jake is right, Karkat. A watched pot never boils, you know.” 

“I am not watching a pot,” Karkat said, speaking slowly, enunciating every word as clearly and kindly as possible given the situation, because he had to admit, he wouldn’t have made it half this far without Jane’s help in the first place. Human cuisine was far too fucking complicated. “Neither am I waiting for water to boil, so thank you, Jane, I’ll file that tidbit away for the future, when it might be even slightly relevant.” 

He heard Jake snort and Jane sigh, and god, the seconds were taking fucking hours to pass, and still the crust of his stupid pie remained woefully pale. It was like, six thousands fucking degrees in there, how could it take so long to cook? 

“Have it your way,” Jane said, and Karkat did steal a look over then, a momentary panic blasting through him. 

“Wait, are you leaving? What if something goes wrong? What if –” 

She laughed at him, and he snapped his mouth shut immediately, telltale heat climbing up his traitorous cheeks. “You’ll be fine, Karkat,” Jane assured him. She had her eyebrows up at him and was wiping her hands absently on her apron, smiling faintly. “All that’s left is to let the darn thing finish! You’re managing to make even me nervous, just standing there waiting impatiently like that.” 

“See?” Jake said, nudging his chin in Jane’s direction. “She knows her stuff. You’d best follow her advice. You wouldn’t want to go serving a certain someone a defective pie, would you?” 

“Oh, stop teasing him,” Jane said, but there was absolutely no vigor in it. She was practically laughing at him.

“Never,” Jake said, solemnly, and Jane whipped at him with her apron tassels. Jake crossed his arms and stood fast against this fabricated assault, and in response, Jane picked up a rolling pin and brandished it at him threateningly. This received the expected response – Jake immediately turned tail with a half-sincere yelp, and they both went scampering out the back door one after the other, letting it slam behind them. 

Which left Karkat alone with his fledgling attempt at human baking and an entirely too enormous surplus of time, most of which he spent fidgeting aimlessly and feeling like an idiot, because Dave was going to laugh his guts out at this ridiculous gesture even if the thing didn’t turn out – well, defective. 

An hour later, he was fully armed and loaded with a frankly absurdly hot fruity human confection… and he very nearly meekly deposited it in the garbage before he could go embarrass himself by actually presenting it to its intended recipient. But, no. Dave loved apples, and he loved pies, and Karkat was absolutely sure on at least several separate occasions he had tried unsuccessfully to charm Jane into combining the concepts for him exactly like this. 

He’d like it. 

Probably. 

Jane had told him to let it set for a few hours before taking it off the rack, but the thought of doing so made him want to die, so here he was, buried in baking mitts up to the elbows, carrying out a steaming platter to find his frankly undeserving boyfriend before he lost his nerve. 

Said nerve ebbed slightly with every step, and truth be told, he almost didn’t find him in time, after all. 

And when he did, he didn’t know what exactly to say or do. There was no occasion to hide behind. No excuse to hold up like a shield and pretend had forced him to do this extremely stupid thing. Dave looked up from a desk covered in eye-searingly shitty scribbles and Karkat could see his brows hunch together even behind the idiotic shades. 

“What the fuck?” Dave said, and Karkat nearly, so fucking nearly just chucked at him and ran. 

Instead, he ground his teeth and held it out, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I got tired of you constantly debasing yourself in front of John’s mother,” he said, deciding on the angle on the fly, “so I thought I’d spare you at least some measure of future humiliation by putting together a… um,” he stumbled a bit, fuck, he was losing his conviction fast, “Hopefully… acceptable substitute, for you know, it’s not going to be nearly as good as the shit she puts out, but it’s my first try, and I probably should have left it on the fucking rack like she told me to but you know what, fuck that, what kind of precious fucking nourishment needs to set for twice as long as it needs to fucking cook?” 

He stopped. Swallowed. Dave was just looking at him, head titled slightly. 

“Fuck,” Karkat muttered. “I’m picking up all your shitty ramble habits.” 

Dave stood up, and he was frowning, and Karkat’s stomach dropped straight to the floor, but he just kept standing there holding the stupid thing because what else was he supposed to do? 

“You, like, made that? Yourself?” 

“Uh, yeah. I just fucking said that, didn’t I?!” 

“For me?” 

“Jesus Christ, Dave, I’m not repeating every god damn word I just projectile vomited all over the space between us! Please just take this stupid shitty thing and do whatever you want with it, okay? Toss it out, for all I care! Just take it!” He held it out, insistently, and then his eyes widened and he snatched it back, half turning away. “Actually, don’t do that, you’ll burn the shit out of yourself. Let me just –” Fuck, this was going so much worse than he’d imagined it would. “I’ll just put it here,” he mumbled, stepping fast around Dave and setting it on the desk atop a discarded set of shitty, shitty drawings. He pulled the gloves off and threw those down, too, and then turned to flee – and ran right back into Dave, who had somehow silently moved directly behind him. 

“Fuck,” Karkat complained, “Move your ass, I need to go crawl into a hole and never come out, now.” 

“Why?” Dave demanded, and Karkat winced back with a panicked shrug. 

“Because I’m fucking embarrassed, okay? I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea! Can you please just let me retreat with some modicum of dignity intact, please?” 

“No, I –” Dave’s expression darkened even further, and Karkat narrowed his eyes at him, glaring. “I just mean, I don’t get…” Dave looked from him, to the table, and back again. “Never mind,” he said. And he just stood there. Karkat shuffled his feet, uncertain. 

“I can take it away,” he said. 

“Nah,” Dave replied, but he still didn’t move. He was standing, in fact, very, very still. Karkat studied him, brows knitting, watching his lips flatten and the muscles in his throat spasm suspiciously. 

Oh. 

He felt himself deflate. Not with disappointment or shame or anything, just – relief, almost? Okay. He understood this, he thought, although Dave probably didn’t want to hear it. He crossed his arms. He stared at the floor, because Dave probably didn’t want him watching, well, him. 

“It’s funny, right?” Dave said, finally, a few minutes later, and there was no sign anything had happened at all except his voice was a little off, maybe. Karkat envied him that. His face always got all puffy and wet and frankly disgusting when he cried. “It’s just a fucking pie. Not that, uh. I mean. I don’t mean –” 

“I get it,” Karkat said, quietly. 

“Thanks,” Dave said, and Karkat nodded. 

“You’re welcome, idiot. But please remember, it’s probably really fucking bad. Defective, really.” 

“I don’t give a shit what it is,” Dave said. “It’s goddamn perfect, whether we have to eat it ourselves, or trick John into eating it instead.” 

Karkat laughed. “Yeah, okay,” he said, warmth spreading all through him, along with the vague notion that maybe this hadn’t been a completely idiotic idea after all. “Excellent point.” 

i’m in love with the shape of you.
  • Summary: “It had been easy, for the first two or three weeks, to take things slow like they had agreed to when they started dating. (…) Now the problem was that even though Kara believed she had a good sense of self control, whenever Lena was around her, it seemed to run short.” Inspired by this tweet.
  • Pairing: Kara/Lena.
  • Rating: STRAIGHT UP SIN. +18
  • Beta’d by: Bia, who by the way forced me to write this. (@kinkylena)

It had been easy, for the first two or three weeks, to take things slow like they had agreed to when they started dating. Lena was chivalrous, gentle, sweet. All Kara could’ve wanted for in a partner. Most of their time together was spent in late night dates, drinking expensive wine and chinese takeout, maybe watching a bad movie, maybe playing chess (Lena insisted she wasn’t letting Kara win, that she had just improved but Kara didn’t believe a word she said), maybe just cuddling under a fuzzy blanket telling each other about their days. And of course, kissing. Now the problem was that even though Kara believed she had a good sense of self control, whenever Lena was around her, it seemed to run short.

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Fun fair with the Family - Batmom x Batfam (REPOST please READ the explanation right under the summary :-( )

Summary : Batmom decides to take her family to the fun fair…She quickly realizes it might not be her best idea ever.

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

Repost because, and this time I really don’t know how, the original post got erased…BUT I had it backed up for once. So here. FUCK. Hum. Sorry. But it had almost 100 notes, and comment people left I didn’t even had time to read because the story simply disappeared…I’m a bit bummed out right now…Is it too much to ask if you could like, reblog and comment again ? I kinda feel bad, it’s not my style to ask those things…I’m so sorry for that, but it’s a bit discouraging, to write something, and to see that apparently it was liked, but to not know who liked it, what were the comments etc etc, especially since this time, I didn’t do anything, the story simply disappeared…Anyway, hope you’ll enjoy, and re-enjoy if you already read it :’-(

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Not even an hour in, and you know you made a huge mistake bringing them here. All at the same time. They were going to be the death of you, so much energy…But it was just so rare that you all had some free times at once…You just wanted to spend some time with them.

It all started so well though.

*******************

You woke up in the best way possible : with your Bruce’s lips trailing kisses on your neck, shoulders and back, his arms wrapped around you. You shifted around, and before you could say anything, he kissed your temple, the corner of your mouth, slowly putting butterfly kisses on your face, to finally kiss you on the lips.

You melted in the kiss, and squeezed his large frame against you, your arms struggling to wrap around him. Damn that man was big. When he pulls away, you can’t help but grin at him, and he gives you the smile he only reserved to you. A real, pure smile. You nuzzle his neck, and he let out a contended sigh.

-You’re alright ?

-More than alright my love, as always when you’re here.

-My sweet Broosh. You know what I mean.

-I am alright. Not even a single bruise or scratch. The boys are too. Calm night.

-I like those.

-I like you.

-I love you.

-Oh yeah, that too. I love you (Y/N).

-Well, here’s for our morning’s cheesy ritual…We probably should get up.

-I have the entire day off.

-Oh ? Well then, what’s the hurry right ?

He smiles once more at you, and you crash your lips on his, climbing on him to straddle him. One of his hand tangles itself in your (H/L) (H/C) hair, the other goes to your waist and his grip is almost bruising. He cannot stop himself, you always had a strong and immediate effect on him…He rolls on top of you, and you wrap your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist.

-What’s the hurry indeed.

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Gearheads pt.3

Pairing: ReaderxSweetPea

Warning: Angst feat. Lots of Swearing, reckless driving written by someone who is yet to learn how to drive

A/N: You guys make me laugh so hard, this was meant to end at part. 2 but lots of you were messsenging me saying you couldn’t wait for part 3 and I had not planned for one, you all just decided amougst yourselves that it was 😂 if the fic after the next isnt a Legacy installment someone come scream at me.

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Sweet Pea POV 4 months later.

The drill sound met the bolt with a deafening whirl. Yn fixed the wheel into the car. I was busy almost electrocuting myself and Fangs flicked through his phone on his chair. She spent more time around here than she did in her own home and I loved it. YN avoided Chris at all costs and besides the odd passing in the hall, he had completely fallen out of her life and I loved it. She had kept me grounded for the past 4 months, didn’t feel like flying off the handle as much. I just felt calm and comfortable around her, I never felt the need to hide who I was, what I was.

“Mrs SP do you need a ride home?”

“No thanks Fangs, I’m going to stay a bit longer” Mrs.SP, I do not hate the sound of that Fangs, not a bit. I think she could tell as well because she smirked back at me. Fangs grabbed his keys, saluted us and then slipped out into the brisk night air. The minute the sliding shed door clicked yn and I were all over each other.

I pushed her back against the car, my hands roaming her body feverishly. She bit my bottom lip before connecting herself to my neck and marking there. I pressed her against the car, forcing her head back so I could decorate her instead. She grabbed my leather jacket and pulled me in closer while I held her head in my hands, biting down as harshly as I could without hurting her. She moaned softly in my ear which I round more than slightly encouraging.

I broke from her suddenly. Something isn’t right.

“What’s wrong?” She pushed my hair back slightly.

“Something is different…if you’re quick you’ll catch Fangs and he’ll drop you home…”

“Sweet Pea you’re scaring me…” she quickly grabbed her bags

“Don’t be scared, I’ll be fine, quick go to Fangs”

“It’s probably nothing…”

“No no there’s something after changing…” I pulled out my switch blade and Yn kissed my cheek before flying out the sliding

“Hello Sp” Oh fuck. There the man I hated to love but needed to hate.

“Hi Dad"

“Few rumors have been circulating that you’ve been helping around here” he stood in the doorway of the office, must have come in the side door.

“Yeah Dad"

“Another rumor is that you’ve been kicking around with a Northside girl…” he stood in front of me. He was a little bit taller than me with a superiority complex a thousand times worse than mine.

“I don’t need to tell you this sweet pea but we don’t associate in that way with Northsiders”

“And I don’t need to tell you that it’s nothing to do with you” he just grinned in return.

“Oh son” he put a gnarled hand on my shoulder.

“But it has everything to do with me, you carry a family name and with it a family reputation, we don’t need bad press”

“We’re in a gang that seems like bad press to me”

“See she’s already made you think the Serpents are bad”

“Except she hasn’t!” My voice came stronger then. He patted me face patronizingly.

“Get back in line son, you’re not too old for a smack” he turned from me, hands behind his back and strolled around the garage. He made me so intensely uncomfortable. The man only comes into my life when it’s convenient for him and terrible timing for me.

“I don’t wanna hear anymore about you and this girl”

“Everyone here likes her so I don’t see the problem” I stepped forward, trying not to follow him.

“Trust me there is one, you’ll give others ideas and before you know it we have a snitch or a dying gang cause their partners won’t let them be in it”

“Yn wouldn’t do that” fuck fuck fuck

“Yn is it? hmm I do know a man with a daughter names yn on the Northside, interesting”

“Stay away from them, they’re nice people” I bit. I had met YNs family soon after we got together and while at first they weren’t thrilled they slowly began to accept me and now I was welcomed openly. It was different but I suppose so was yn.

“Stay away from her and we’ll see” his grin was nothing but wicked.

“See ya later son” he patted my shoulder, grin still painted on his face. I want to punch it off. He went out the door that only minutes ago yn ran out. The second the door clicked I banged my fists off the roof of the car.

“FUCK!” I continued banging the roof. Fuck fuck fuck! I slid down the side of the car and just sat on the concrete. What the fuck am I going to do?



I hated this already. I know she knows there’s something wrong. I just have to cut her off completely and she’ll give up like everyone else and go away. This is best for her.  

~

I didn’t text or call yn for the next two weeks. I would hide out in the office when shed come to the garage. People started noticing. Jughead was especially icy towards me about how I was ignoring her and she was really worried. I hate myself. I went back to my old ways in a sense, reckless and angry…lonely, it’s how I should be.

“So are you and Yn over orrr”

“Yeah”

“Does she know that?”

“She’ll take the hint Fangs”

“You can’t do that to her! Are you insane?! She’s the best thing that ever happened to you, best thing that ever happened to the garage! The amount of Serpents who have come in looking for her to help them is starting to dent my ego…I don’t get it SP, last time I saw you guys, ye were happy?”

“Things change”

“Did she cheat?”

“No. I can’t get this fucking thing to start” I slammed down the hood of the camero, giving the bumper a swift kick.

“Did you cheat?”

“Of course not” I rummaged around my tool box.

“You can tell me”

“NO I DIDN’T!”

“Woah okay Nancy, calm yourself.” He put his hands up in surrender and I exhaled loudly, running my hand through my hair.

“Seriously dude, what happened? Was it because you’re a Serpent?” I opened the bonnet again, bury myself in work.

“No, she didn’t care about that. Nothing, it’s nothing. It’s better if we’re not together”

“better for her yeah maybe but not for you” he laughed standing by my side to look into the engine.

“Those shouldn’t be connected” he pointed to the same wires I always cross wrong.

“Your Gearhead Girlfriend wouldn’t have gotten that wrong”

“Don’t call her that.”

“Gearhead?” He crouched for the pliers.

“My girlfriend” I slammed the bonnet closed again.

“Are you trying to take it off the hinges?!” He called after me as I walked out into the air.

I hopped into Sal, the first car yn and I had fixed and began speeding through the streets. Nought to 60, barreling down the road towards the windy country roads. Adrenaline pumping. 80 and climbing. I hit the menders harder than the straights. 100. Clutch. Turn. 110. I was shouting in the car, releasing the pent up emotion. 120. Clutch. Turn. Darkness.

———————————

Much love Xx

Tag: @sunshine51879 @deanilostmyshoe

@goshdarnitthatsalongname and there are like two other people that I forgot to write down their name before I opened the post I’m sorry, I’ll tag you in the comments.