i spent like 20 minutes trying to arrange these in a way i liked

Stay With Me // Jay Park

Originally posted by clubeskimo

Pairing: Jay x Reader

Genre: Fluff, slight angst, mentions of smut.

Summary//Request: Based on Jay Park’s lyrics from his song ‘Stay With Me’. Jay thinks you deserve more than him after he’s forced to cancel spending time with you on your birthday. But, you show him that none of that matters to you - that you’ll always stay with him, no matter what.

Note; not rated M for mature, but includes some suggestive scenes.

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The Final Countdown

Request: Hi!! I was wondering if you could do one with either Dan + Reader or Phil + Reader about that story that goes around tumblr about how you have timers on yourself (I think your wrist?) that count down the months, days, hours, and seconds until you meet your soulmate, maybe when they meet at a meet and greet?? Thanks!! :D 

Pairing: Dan x Reader (I might do a Phil one in the future based of this sort of request, but I’m already working on one for him so I figured I’d write one for Dan too :)

Warnings: Literally none, other than the fact that this is probably terrible writing. 

Fic:

47 days, 12 hours, 5 minutes, and 26 seconds. The arrangement of numbers blinked back at you from their place on your wrist. They were supposedly there to tell you how long it will be until you meet your soulmate, but in all honesty they were just stressing you out more than anything right then.

You pulled a baggy sweater on over your head, watching as the fabric ate away the little blinking numbers. And then you were just Y/N. Awkward, socially stunted, nerdy Y/N, minus all that soul mate business. Funny how a little chip of metal could start to alter all of that. 

You pushed a bagel down into the toaster, making a mental note to yourself to actually pull it out before it ended up burning like the last few ties. And then  moved on to your coffee, realizing way too late that you had ever so conveniently forgotten to pick up coffee rounds at the store (again) and were stuck with one of the little packs of instant coffee that you had saved specifically for this sort of occasion. You pulled your mug, the white one with little cat whiskers at the top of it, from the cupboard. 

After filling it with water and sticking it in the microwave for the right amount of time, you did what a good Samaritan, such as yourself, should have done and started to respond to emails- that is until a little notification popped up saying that Danisnotonfire had uploaded a new video. 

It’s not like you could actually be expected to do something productive when there was a brand new YouTube video to watch. And so that’s how you spent the next four minutes of your life (and also how you managed to burn your third bagel that week).

                                                          ~

10 days, 1 hours, 52 minutes, and 8 seconds. Over-sized hoodies, sweatshirts, and really just anything with long sleeves became your go-to outfits of choice . Your timer had gotten you panicked over the past few days, the continuously dropping numbers starting to make your anxiety rear its ugly head. 

You were grabbing groceries, your earbuds loudly playing Fall Out Boy as you went along, throwing bread, eggs, and Oreos in to your cart. on second thought you tossed in a pack of Mac N’ Cheese too. A dinner for champions, really. 

                                                           ~

5 days, 6 hours, 12 minutes, and 26 seconds. You’ve never been this stressed. Not even when you had to do speeches back in secondary school. Your fingers curled and uncurled around your mug of tea. It was probably cold now at that point, as it had been sitting on the table for a good twenty minutes, but you drank it anyhow. The TV played an old rerun of Friends, a marathon most likely, and you took a few deep breaths, trying to focus on the show.

                                                            ~

1 day, 4 hours, 20 minutes, 14 seconds. You were ecstatic, you had actually managed to briefly push the thought of soulmates out of your mind. You were meeting Dan and Phil tomorrow. The Dan and Phil. 

You quickly poured food in to your cat’s bowl, sitting down on the floor next to her as she ate. 

“It’s freaking tomorrow. Holy crap. I’m so nervous,” You said aloud to yourself. “Or maybe I’m excited. I have no idea.”

You purposely kept your wrist down, averting your eyes from the numbers. The last thing you needed was more reason to be anxious. 

                                                              ~

0 days, 0 hours, 10 minutes, 51 seconds. You were there. You were actually there. In the same building as Dan and Phil, surrounded by some of the most wonderful people you’d ever met. The entire idea of timers and soulmates was wiped from your head, and you let yourself laugh with the others in your group as a sweet girl named Eden made a joke. 

“What do you think they’re like? Dan and Phil I mean,”Kathrine, the girl standing next to you asked to no one in particular, looking around as she spoke. 

“Tall,” Another girl answered with a laugh, and a few others agreed. 

“Nerdy,” Someone from the back of the group quipped. 

“Nice, I’m sure,”Added the boy to your right, whom you’d helped draw whiskers on earlier. You nodded in agreement. They would be overly nice, surely.

                                                                ~

0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 40 seconds. Dan and Phil gave you a matching a set of grins, and you smiled back so hard it hurt. You gave Phil a hug first. And told him you were doing very well when he asked you how you were. 

You gave Dan a hug next and before you could stress out about the fact that you were nearly crying on your favorite Youtubers, you heard a soft beeping and felt a strange tingling sensation in your wrist. 

He must’ve heard it too as he pulled away quickly, staring down at you with wide brown eyes as he gently pulled up his sleeve, his timer blinking up at the two of you. His blank timer blinking up at the two of you. 

You mirrored his actions, tugging your sleeve up far too slowly before coming coming face-to-face with dashes rather than numbers. Your heart beat ten times faster than normal and your stomach was filled with butterflies as you looked back up to him. 

“It’s you,” He said, a massive grin on his face.

The Great Outdoors

A/N: My first AU! This was written for @tatortot2701 ‘s AU challenge and it was a lot of fun. It was supposed to be a short little thing, but it turns out I am one wordy son of a gun and it kind of got away from me. Oh, well. I hope you enjoy it! If you notice any errors or have any comments, don’t hesitate to let me know!  

Summary: You and the gang go camping. Could this be the weekend you finally make a move on Steve? Mostly fluff.

 Warnings: Language and drinking

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“So, how do you know each other again?” asked Yukako.

I held my water glass against my lips for a second longer, looking over at Alejandro, buying time. He looked back at me. We locked eyes.

What were we supposed to say in a situation like this?

But to properly tell this story, I need to back up a few days.

I was in Shizuoka, about an hour ride out of Tokyo, Japan. My goals were simple: visit the Magic Grand Prix tournament in Shizuoka, and then spend the next week seeing Magic stores and trying to explore a side of Japan I had not yet seen.

It was the last day of the Grand Prix.  The world is slowly crumbling around 2,700 players, as the delicately placed banners and colorfully shaped signage are being stripped down and removed.

This is the saddest part of any Magic tournament: when it ends.

It’s when the convention center hall stops being a living, breathing embodiment of Magic, with a pulse that sounds like the slapping of cardboard and a heartbeat that echoes with shuffling. When this marvelous world goes back to being a white-walled building that will be used to host dance recitals, or cheerleading rallies, or car shows.

But there was a brief moment left. A flicker of life, minutes, maybe, before the convention center passed the threshold of no return and reverted to its blank state.

And that’s when I had the fortunate happenstance of being introduced to Ryan.

Blonde hair. A slight grin at the corners of his mouth. A full backpack. The discerning gaze of a Magic player. He introduced himself: a local player, formerly from the States, who now lived in Japan.

“I had heard from Helene   you were staying around in Japan for a little longer, and I know it’s out of your way, and it’s probably a long shot, but I live in Nagoya, and it has a great Magic scene, and plenty of people who would love to meet you, and I know you like food and I would show you great food, and some of the sights, and we can play some games of Magic, and once again, I really know there’s probably a low chance, but if there is any possible way you could briefly come visit Nagoya during your stay, I’d be happy to show you around.”

“Okay, sure.”

“Wait… Really?”

“Yeah, sure. See you tomorrow?”

And that, ladies and gentlemen and those who identify as neither of the crowd, is how I travel.

I got Ryan’s information. And true to my word, the very next day, I found myself on a train, bound for Nagoya.

And so the tour began.

Delicacies, with a mix of known and unknown and unwanted-to-be-known contents, were consumed. A smorgasbord of 7 Magic shops were visited, showcasing so many shapes and sizes and colors that Doctor Seuss would have had a field day describing them all. Games were had. Stories were told.

We ended up by visiting one final game store: Mishimaya. A small family run shop, with that lovely musty smell that reminded me of childhood. And there we met a group of other local players.

And, well… It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a group of Magic players, in possession of decks, must be in want of a game.

Rajib. Kevin. Daniel. All from far-flung corners of the English-speaking world, we slammed down our cards. We ran Goblins into Angels. We laughed. We bantered. We talked about life in Japan. I took a picture of us. Put it on Instagram. We went out to dinner. Menus were attempted to be navigated.

It was a good time. We parted ways.

I hopped on a train, headed elsewhere, redrawing up new plans to account for the change of plans. And that was that.

Or so I thought.

Still riding the train back, something else unexpected happened. A notification popped up on Instagram from someone I had never spoke with. His name was Alejandro.

It read as follows: “You should take the [train] to Fukuoka. I still have an original Conspiracy box in Japanese to open and draft :)”

I looked it up on a map. Fukuoka was basically on the entire other side of Japan. My brain’s impulse was immediately to say no. I mean, it was a long way out of my way, I hadn’t planned on going there, time in Japan was precious, I didn’t know this person at all. It didn’t make sense, right?

Right?

…Right?

Well, it’s a good thing that Japan has all these bullet trains.

I arranged to visit in a few days. Alejandro writes to me, “Just so you know, it’s actually quite a bit west of Fukuoka and a bit rural…”

Perfect. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I took the bullet train to a station. From that station, I took a subway train to a tinier station. From there, I took yet another train. Out the window, I watched the metal buildings turn into brick buildings, the brick buildings turn into blossoming trees, the blossoming trees turn into rice fields. For the first time during my stay in Japan, signs begin to look run down. Roads begin to look bumpy. The passengers on the train were no longer mostly in suits.

The train spit me out at my stop, and it was immediately clear I had walked into a Miyazaki movie. Little statues sat in the streets. I spotted farmers in the distance. The buildings all had wooden sliding door entrances.

This – this was the Japan I grew up thinking about.

I’m swept up from the subway station by a car full of strangers. Alejandro has rounded up five others – three local Magic players, whom he had taught himself, one of their wives, and her young daughter – to come meet me. 

I’m taken to a restaurant, in an old wooden building, that has had many lives and seen many owners. There is a small museum in the front of the restaurant showcasing its history. People are sitting on pillows and tatami mats, eating from small tables.

The five of us sat down. I took a sip of my water.

“So, how do you know each other again?” asked Yukako.

That is the question, isn’t it? How do you answer that? How do you even begin to summarize it all into a short paragraph, or sentence, or word?

Let’s just back up for a second and review the facts.

I had traveled to Japan to visit a card game tournament as part of my job at Wizards of the Coast. I then met a local player, who showed me around his city for the day and introduced me to a number of players. They gave me a bunch of advice for my travels. I posted this on Instagram, of all places.

Someone on the other side of Japan whom I had never even talked to saw this, asked if I wanted to visit, I replied saying yes, and traveled 5 hours by train to get there. Once I arrived into Chikuzen-Fukae – the middle of nowhere in Japan – I met five total strangers, and was now sitting in a traditional Japanese restaurant, speaking with these people like they were family. Combined, we heralded from Spain, The USA, Japan, Nigeria, and London.

Pause for a moment. Cue, eyes widening. Cue, flashbacks to the many other times similar things have happened to me or other Magic players. Cue, the sudden realization that this is actually an extremely abnormal event.

Cue the realization that this is family.

I love Magic. It is the greatest game in the world. But even more powerful than the game, even more meaningful than the hours spent smiling and learning, are those people you spend those hours smiling and learning with.

It is a community of immediate friendship. A game which is a blacksmith that forges “Hello and Good Luck” into stories, stories into friendship, and friendship into family. A game which will always direct you to your long-lost cousin or your mystery aunt in every town, in every city. Time and time again, I have found there is always a family member there for you. There’s always someone from the family of Magic.

And there is nothing else like it. Not in the whole world. And I find it hard to imagine anything – truly anything – that could properly describe this series of events other than one word. So it’s what I said:

“We’re… family.”

I elaborated more, but that’s really the only way I can best explain it. We laugh. We eat our meal. We learn about each other’s lives. I make goofy faces at the young daughter like any cousin would. And, in that short window of a single meal, we become a family.

That day, this family of Magic visited sites in this tiny town. We climbed the muddy path up a mountain and watched a waterfall in the forest. We visited an Island temple, wind biting at our noses. We dropped by the restaurants – which my new family knows the owners of – to see if they will open just for us. It is a neighborhood where you actually know your neighbors.

And, eventually, we drove back to Alejandro’s place, with sliding doors and tatami floors, short ceilings that hit my head and tall tales that hit my heart, and we sat at the wooden, engraved kitchen table. We smile and, knowingly, reach for our Magic decks.

That afternoon, my family drives together, an hour, to play in a tiny store for the local Magic tournament.

That night, I sleep on a rolled out bed, in a room kept warm by a kerosene heater. Like an uncle, Alejandro lights the heater for me. And, like a nephew, I wish him sweet dreams.

When I wake up, there are trains to catch. Things to do. New places in Japan to see. I bid my farewells.

My adopted uncle walks me to the train station. He gets on the train, going part of the way there with me. Like any family member, he gives me a long list of directions, trying to be careful I don’t lose my way back.

The train goes for about 20 minutes. Alejandro stood up to get off. He looked back at me. We had known each other in person for less than 24 hours, and yet, I already felt a bit emotional.

I nodded. He nodded. We may never see each other again.

But that’s okay. We both knew it would be far from the last time we saw      our everlasting, evergrowing, evergracious family: our family of Magic.

3

For: @iwillnotshineyourshoe

Imagine: Being forced to share a room with Eric.

“I’m horribly sorry for the inconvenience, but we only have three extra rooms available for your stay here in our faction.” Johanna, the leader of Amity, tells your small group of Dauntless. You, alongside, Tris, Four, Zeke, Shauna, and the worst of the worst, Eric, were sent out to Amity due to a factionless attack. You arrived this morning, and would be staying until tomorrow evening. As Johanna said this, Tris shyly smiled at Four, who smiled right back, while Shauna winked at Zeke and Zeke playfully elbowed her in the side. You look back and forth between the couples and realization struck you, three rooms, six people, and you and Eric were the only ones left. Oh no, oh hell fucking no.

“Johanna, are you sure there isn’t a single other room?” You say abruptly, and everyone turns to you.

“Were you listening?” Eric asks sarcastically. Aside from Four, you were one of Eric’s least favourite people, so he was not excited to share a room with you, even if it was for a day. However, do to strict orders from Max; Eric was forced to agree to whatever Johanna said without argument.

You roll your eyes at him and turn back to Johanna, with a pleading look in your eyes, “Sorry sweetheart, I barely managed to arrange for the rooms you already have, there’s nothing I can do. So now, you can go set your stuff down, before doing your patrolling.”

With this, said Johanna left. Tris walks up to you, and whispers, “Sorry Y/N, I’d share a room with you, but I’m sure, if Eric and Four are put in a room together, one of them will die, and we can’t have that happening, especially not in Amity.”

You sigh, and look towards Zeke and Shauna, hoping for some sympathy, but the two of them are already making their way towards one of the rooms. Ugh, fuck.

Eric’s already in the room as you walk in, you notice a pillow and blanket placed on the ground, “Aww have you finally decided to be a gentleman Eric?”

He lets out a low laugh, “Sorry muffin, but I thought, that we’d get some things sorted out.”

You cringe at the nickname he calls you, you don’t really know how the nickname came about, however it was mostly because he had seen you as a weakling during initiation. You narrow your eyes at him, and he continues pointing at the bed, “This is mine, I’m a leader, and there is no way in hell that I’m sleeping next to you. So I decided to set this up for you.”

He gestures towards the crumpled up blanket and pillow on the ground. You scoff, “Seriously Eric, it’s only a few hours, can you not be a little bit considerate for one day?”

“Ha. As you said sweetheart, it’s only a few hours, I’m sure you can get through one night on the ground.”

You groan internally, place your backpack and few other belongings aside, and leave the room.

You meet the others outside and you get ready for your patrol.

Soon, night falls, and after joining the Amity for dinner, you make your way back to the room. Eric is already there, he stands without a shirt, and you can’t help but gasp at the sight. Your cheeks go bright red as he hears you and turns around smirking, “You like what you see muffin?”

“Don’t call me that!” You say curtly, still unable to take your eyes off him. With one last smirk, he puts a loose t-shirt on, prepared for bed. Now, it was your turn.

“Aren’t you gonna change?” He asks slyly, you narrow your eyes at him, before pulling out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from your backpack. Eric carefully watches you.

“Eric! Either leave the room or turn around, I need to change!” He chuckles.

“You’re acting as if I’ve never seen a girl without clothes on.”

“Eric!” You say, your voice getting higher, “Seriously, turn around!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll turn around,” He turns his back towards you, and starts tapping on his phone.

You begin stripping out of your patrol clothes, and changing into your shorts and shirt. Once you’re done, you turn to face Eric, and see that he’s already watching you.

“Eric!” You squeal, “I told you to turn around!”

“Yeah, but you never said that I couldn’t turn back around,” He says. You give him the finger and he narrows his eyes at you, all signs of playfulness are gone, “Don’t forget who I am.”

You shake your head slowly, and begin fixing your blanket and pillow on the hard floor. You see no point in arguing with him, because it just won’t work. Eric settles into the bed, and you turn the lights off before trying to get comfortable on the ground. The next 15-20 minutes are spent rolling around on the floor trying to find the position that would hurt the least, nothing seems to be working.

“Can you stop moving around?! Some of us are trying to fucking sleep!” Eric growls from the bed.

“Well maybe some of us are being forced to sleep on a hard-ass floor,” You hiss back at him. Though you can’t see him, you can sense that he’s rolling his eyes.

You finally get into a semi-comfortable position. You’re finally about to fall asleep when you see it, a giant-ass spider crawling towards you. You have very few fears, but spiders topped most of them. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was coming at you, fast. You jumped up as fast as you could and let out a little scream. Eric quickly got up in bed, startled.

“What’s wrong?!” He’s instantly by your side and for once you see something other than anger or amusement on his face, he almost looks worried, “What is it Y/N?”

Wow, did he actually call me by my name?! Your cheeks go red as you point at the spider, he squints to look where you’re pointing, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Can you just get rid of it,” You complain, he walk over and picks it up, he pretend to throw it at you and you scream, “ERIC!”

He groans and chucks it out the window, “You seriously disrupted my sleep because of a spider?”

“Says the guy who’s afraid of birds!” His jaw drops.

“How do you know that?!” He hisses.

“Don’t think I didn’t see during our patrol today,” You say raising your eyebrows.

“Bitch,” He mutters under his breath, and you roll your eyes, “Alright, listen, will you shut the fuck up if I let you sleep in the bed?”

“Yes. Yes I will Eric.”

“Fine get in,” He says, laying down on one side and lifting the blanket for you. You lie down next to Eric, “Goodnight muffin.”

You give him the finger, before turning around and falling asleep.

Part 2 and Part 3

A/N: I actually really enjoyed writing this, so I hope you like it!

Masterlist // Rules List // To-Do List

Sinners Never Sleep

Summary: Its simple. You train, you plan, you attack, you disarm, and you get out alive… So, if you knew what you were doing, then why was it so hard to get your assassin boyfriend Jungkook to meet your mafia parents- the head of the mafia?
Oh right, Rule 1: Never fall in love…especially with another gang member…

Preface/Preview Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10 - Finale

‘We need to leave.’

Jungkook doesn’t waste any time before bending down to hoist the man (whose name you remember as Namjoon) up to his feet, counting on Taehyung to help him as Jin and Jimin quickly run to Yoongi who was pulling what looked like fully loaded backpacks and various weapons out of a storage closet.

‘How far away are they?’ Jungkook asks Hoseok- the one who had burst through the doorway initially.

‘They were preparing vans when I left, but Shinwoon seemed to be hurrying…he, uh….-‘

‘What?’ Jungkook asks quickly, his voice and expression tense as he looks over at the older boy, as he himself worked on propping Namjoon against the sofa so that he could get his breath back.

‘I think he knows-‘

‘You think?-‘

‘He knows that you’ve got Y/N.’ Hoseok hurriedly amends, his eyes flicking worriedly to you before you feel a hand on your elbow, and you snap round to see Jungkook beside you, his sudden appearance making you realize you’d been stood staring at Hoseok for a solid minute.

‘We’ve got somewhere we can go- its okay.’ He murmurs quietly, making sure you knew he was only addressing you as his hand comes up to gently hold your cheek, his eyes intent on your own as you nod your head in understanding, feeling a jolt of minor shock run through you when his lips suddenly touch gently against yours, and its like the electricity reignites your brain and you can finally let go of the numbness that you’d been wrapped up in all evening.

‘Okay…what do you need me to do?’

His eyes seem to bore into yours as he watches you, his thumb smoothing over your cheek repetitively until your hand comes up to grasp at his wrist lightly, lifting your chin slightly so that your lips brush ghostingly across his as you watch him.

What do we do?’ you ask again, more insistently this time, holding his arm a little tighter as you say the words, and feeling the gentle wind of his sigh brush against your lips as his eyes tighten at the edges.

‘We run-‘ he mutters, quickly leaning in for another chaste kiss, before he lets you go, with the promise of two last words;

‘…for now.’

Keep reading

the first lines of my last 20 fics

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 fics (or however many you have altogether) see if there are any patterns. Then, tag some of your fav authors.

I was tagged by @lunariagold, thank you! ^.^ With my WIPs I have exactly 20 so you guys get some previews.

So after pasting all my opening lines in I’m seeing that I like to start a story with a simple sentence, often as its own paragraph, then follow up with elaboration.

Tagging @darklittlestories @philosopherking1887 @illwynd @fourletterwordsstartingwithl @satanssyn-n-things @chrisshemsworth

One Drink
The night air on Thor’s face felt blessedly cool after the warmth of the council chamber. He’d been there the better part of the afternoon, listening to angry old men funnel complaints into his head until it felt like to burst with the pressure. Odin had borne it with a stoic graciousness that Thor envied but could not emulate, and when Odin had finally signaled the meeting over Thor had all but fled.

Catch Me When I Fall
After Loki fell, Thor mourned.

The Midgardians had taught him a bit about perspective and humility and self-sacrifice, and for that he was grateful, but they could never have prepared him for the monstrous tragedy that he had come home to. “I’m not your brother, I never was.” Loki’s words echoed in his head. They had been nonsense at the time, madness. But after Loki fell and Thor returned to the palace, dull and numb, his mother had pulled him gently into her arms and told him everything. Each word had fallen from her lips like a stone into the well of his grief. He had thanked her politely, then locked the door to his chambers and destroyed every single piece of furniture in them.

Baby It’s Cold Outside
Loki looked up from his phone to the flight board and sighed. His flight had just gotten pushed back yet again. Snow was still steadily falling outside and, if weather reports were to be believed, it was going to snow straight through Christmas Eve and into the morning. He’d already been stuck at this godforsaken gate for the last five hours as his flight got pushed back 45 minutes at a time, with his ass falling asleep wedged into the crappy upholstery and his mood rapidly deteriorating. Now it was looking more and more like he wasn’t going to make it home for Christmas at all. He was really starting to regret his last minute decision to try and surprise By and Hel.

Auld Lang Syne
Loki checked his phone. 3:02 pm. No messages. He jiggled his leg nervously.

He’d already spent over an hour trying to pick an outfit that looked like he hadn’t spent any time trying to pick out an outfit…you know, artfully casual, sexy, not fussy, “oh I just threw this on.” He’d straightened his hair and brushed his teeth twice. “Which one of these colognes says “fuck me” to you?” he’d asked Amora. “Flowery or citrusy?” He’d vacuumed the shitty carpet, made the bed, done all the dishes, shoved all the dirty laundry in the closet.
There was literally nothing else left to do but sit here stewing in his increasingly fidgety juices and trying not to bolt in sheer fucking panic.

Thor was on his way here.

Oh brother, my brother
“How long have they been out for?”

“An hour? Hard to say, they were both already unconscious when Steve found them.”

“Are we sure it’s a good idea to keep them in the same room?”

“Oh it’s a pretty terrible idea, but it’s the only biohazard containment room we have that’s also capable of holding pissed off Asgardians for any length of time. So until we find out exactly what that weird alien plant sprayed them with and if it’s contagious or not, sleeping beauties here get to nap together.”

“Do you think they’re ok?”

“I think we’ll find out soon.”

Five Times Thor Comforted Loki and One Time Loki Comforted Thor
Loki was crying again, great squalling screams that seemed too big to be produced by his tiny body.

“Mama, what’s wrong with Loki?” Thor asked.

“I’m not sure, my darling,” Frigga said, rocking Loki and making soft shhh noises. “Sometimes babies just cry.”

Sentimental Fools
“Long day?” Thor said, shutting the door behind him and lowering the bar across it with a small thunk.

Loki looked up from from where he had been sitting slump shouldered at the desk, gazing sightlessly at the flickering oil lamp. Exhaustion was written in every line of his face. Thor knew he had been working himself to the bone; that Loki had stayed awake until he came in pulled tenderly at his heart.

“Thor,” Loki said, eyes softening. “Gods, yes.”

Twisting the Knife
Thor was tired.

The physical exhaustion was the easy part, the most bearable. His body was accustomed to the strain and the glory of battle. He was no stranger to the aching muscles, the bone deep weariness, even the wound now stitched carefully shut in his side. The battle with the Chitauri had been well fought by both he and his Midgardian companions and in truth his blood sang at the memory even now. They had made a good team.

And at last, summer
It’s 7:03 on a Tuesday morning the summer he turns 17 when Loki realizes he’s in love with his brother. They’re getting breakfast ready. Thor is scrambling eggs and Loki is setting the plates on the table, when he looks up to see Thor standing at the stove burner, stirring gently as the eggs turn from translucent to opaque, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his hair a messy golden cloud, and it’s a sight Loki has seen a thousand times before but this time he is completely struck dumb.

Lie Back and Think of Asgard
“Who is it?” Loki said peevishly. This was the third time this morning he’d sat down for breakfast, the first two times being interrupted by one of his experiments bubbling over on his workbench and a particularly enthusiastic crow on his windowsill respectively. In fact he had only a moment ago finished chasing the crow away and had finally arranged himself at the table again, cutlery positioned just so, napkin lined up precisely along his lap, mug turned so the handle faced outward at exactly the right angle for his reaching palm, and he was juuust about to inhale the lovely scent of the sugared violet tart in front of him when he was rudely interrupted by a loud banging on his chamber door.

Thrilled
Thor found Loki in the library. It had been a week since they had seen each other, a week since the ceremony where Mjolnir had chosen Thor, a week in which Loki had hidden himself away to pick and worry at his jealousy and anger and sadness (and pride in his brother, even if he didn’t want to admit it). Loki was in the furthest darkest corner of the library today, curled up behind piles of books, the stacks offering a physical shield as much a mental escape.

Possession
Thor stormed into the basement, shoving his way through a wall of people and noise until he spotted Loki at the back of the room. He was bent over the pool table, lining up a shot, his ass barely covered in skin tight jeans and stuck up in the air a lot higher than it needed to be. Tony was behind him, leaning over the long line of Loki’s back, guiding his hands and breathing into his ear.

Room to Flower
Loki met his husband only twice before their wedding.

The first time they met was at the formal reception where the court at Asgard welcomed the court of Jotunheim as freshly minted friends and allies. The old war was newly ended and both sides still eyed each other with distaste and distrust. Loki, raised on tales of Aesir barbary and treachery, scarcely dared to look upon their faces. He kept his eyes fixed to the floor, his hands twisted into the cloth of his tunic. They had stuck him in Aesir clothing in an effort to appeal to his betrothed; the yards of foreign fabric only added to his discomfort. Loki doubted that a tunic would make the Aesir prince love him any more than he would otherwise but he knew better than to voice his opinions in the presence of his father. The fact was that Loki had no more say in his clothing than he did in any other aspect of his life and it was something he had long since resigned himself to.

Untitled gladiator Thor ficlet
Loki’s face showed no expression when they sheared Thor’s hair. Inside, his anger ran cold. They were gods, not children, and the pettiness rankled. The Grandmaster had them both in chains right now, Loki’s no less real though they were invisible, but the fool had no idea what he was up against.

That night, Loki cast a seeming of himself through the fire to visit Thor in his cell.

No sooner looked but they loved
Laufey’s court arrived in Asgard with all the pomp and circumstance befitting a foreign king. The Allfather and his household waited to greet them at the mouth of the rainbow bridge, so it was there in its sparkling iridescence that Thor first beheld his betrothed.

Ragnarok vignettes
The crack of the Bifrost was Thor’s only warning before Odin appeared in front of him. Thor was badly startled and had just opened his mouth to speak when he registered the wild-eyed look of desperation in his father’s eyes and he snapped his mouth shut with an audible click.

To Err is Divine
The sea air left the taste of salt on Thor’s lips and his face and hair feeling like they were coated in a film. It wasn’t entirely pleasant, but it did nothing to dampen his good spirits this afternoon.

He looked over at Loki and grinned. They had been adventuring for days, just the two of them. The widening trajectories of their lives rarely allowed them time alone together anymore and it felt so good to reconnect like this, hunting and exploring through the backwoods, seeing what mischief they could get up to with no company to check their more impulsive urges, laughing like children again.

Loki looked back at him and rolled his eyes.

*****

And now some WIPs!

untitled human AU geology camp thing I’m not sure if I’m going to continue working on
The sign indicating where to turn off the main road to get to the campground Thor was looking for was tucked behind a log and hidden by an overhanging tree branch, so it took him three passes to find it. In retrospect it was easy to see how he had missed it; the road itself was little more than a dirt track and looked more like a game trail than something you could drive a car up. 

untitled thundershield/thorki prompt fill
“I need a fucking drink,” Stark announced when they got back to the tower. “We all need fucking drinks.”

Thor looked on his companions with amusement. They all looked ready to drop from exhaustion. True, the engagement they had just fought had been hard won, but did it not stir the blood? Invigorate the senses? Thor always came back from battle ready to fight, eat, drink, and fuck, in no particular order, but it appeared his frailer human friends harbored no such energies.

untitled fairy tale AU
Loki picked his way cautiously through the undergrowth. It was quiet here in the woods. Trees towered above him, oak and maple and ash, twining their branches into a leafy canopy that made the sky all but invisible. The space beneath was as reverent and hushed as any cathedral, only this one was of nature and to nature. The energy thrummed around him, verdant and expansive, the banked sleepy consciousness of old growth that had existed since long before he was born and would continue existing long after he had returned to the ground, and he imagined it growing into his chest the way roots grew, twisting and pushing deep into the fertile soil of him, claiming him as part of the forest.

My thoughts on SISTAR

SISTAR disbanding kills me. I saw their debut stage and every single comeback! I love and will always have a special place just for my four Queens in the part of my heart that is reserved for music. They are hands down amazing performers and highly talented and classy ladies.

Everyone keeps saying that their company isn’t/wasn’t treating them right and that they don’t get prioritized and what not. But think really hard about their disbandment before you just bash Starship.

Rookie groups promote singles more often to try and standout and gain an audience. They work hard, often not sleeping enough and practicing to achieve a dream. They are constantly on radio shows, tv shows, variety shows and holding impromptu concerts to gain a following.

After idols shed the rookie title and become Sunbaes, or more experienced, if they are popular, they slow down on comebacks and albums because they can easily sell more albums with less output.

Let’s keep in mind that albums have sometimes hundreds of people that put effort into the making of just one album. Songs have to be produced and not just the 6-12 songs we see on the completed album, but sometimes as many as 20 songs have to be recorded by our idols, and arranged with the possibility of being a hit. Then there’s the concept, costumes, hair, wardrobe, and other stuff that goes into everything.

Along with a MV filming, choreography that has to be learned in sometimes as little as a month or even a week until the live comeback on a music show, and then of course 4-8 weeks, give or take, of performing on more often that not live music shows. The music shows are killers. Some idols hate that they are REQUIRED to be at the stations daily for long hours and at multiple stations throughout the week for their comebacks even if their performance is going to be prerecorded.

The pressure to make the money that was spent on everything is on the idols mind and there is hope that a surplus is made to avoid digging them selves into holes. The groups also have a predebut cost. Like SM reportedly puts a million dollars into each trainee. This includes housing, meals, training in dance, singing, acting, learning foreign languages, being coached for hosting skills and talking skills, plastic surgery and so on. This sum of money also accumulates after the idol debuts as well. The group members are expected to pay this money back. This is why idols don’t usually just walk out of groups. I think this is why Jessica was able to leave SNSD the way she did. As a 7 year trainee, she would have a large price on her along with everything after debut. I believe that SNSD have fully paid back SM for their training and all comebacks and whatever else is put into their sum of money owed. ( I forgot what the actual term is, if I find it I’ll edit this.)

Then you have the TV shows we all love to watch. The recordings for these shows can be as long as 2-3 hours so that they can edit it down to a good 30-60 minutes of great viewing pleasure. Sometimes these shows are recorded at the most inconvenient of times. Early mornings, Late nights. And they are expected to be balls of joy the whole time.

Now along with the fact that none of these idols are living their lives on a daily aspect of getting to just walk to a coffee shop for coffee, or going out for a quick dinner without being recognized. Everything they do is also scrutinized. Think back to Ariana Grande licking the donut and placing it back on the shelf. Extremely gross and no I don’t condone that behavior, but it’s a young mentality to do silly things and not weigh the effect of what could happen. They are kind of forced to be mature before their time. How many of your favorite idols have debuted under 18. Not even adults but expected to act like one, and while some people are more mature than others, it can be hard for some people to adjust.

Dating, AT THE PRIME AGES OF DATING, is usually banned for idols. While it’s gotten so much better and a little more accepted, most idols are still reluctant to divulge their personal lives, since a lot of their time is spent in front of a camera or in the public eye.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, they knew what they were getting into. But no one really does know. Everyone experiences fame differently. If Hyorin wasn’t the amazing vocalist she is would she be accepted? Bora gets so much hate for being a Rapper that can’t rap, according to haters and Dasom gets hate and is called the visual with no talent.

Do you really think our girls want to continue living with these stigmas, standards and constant hate?

SISTAR gained attention with their first song! They had an altogether amazing debut. Killer song, amazing vocals, and while I don’t agree, according to Koreans they are more average looking, so they really stood out as a group.

But I think my girls deserve to move on. They spent SEVEN years together and busting their asses to make an amazing group. I think they need to pursue their own dreams now. Live their lives and not have to rely or fall back on the group.

My babies need a break. Honestly, if I gave SEVEN years of life to a fulfilling and extremely successful career in music, I would feel accomplished. My girls obviously want this and there seems to be no hard feelings.

Remember it was the girls decision to not sign the contracts and it could be that they just want something new out of life. I respect SISTAR and Their decision to move on from their group. I also respect Starship for giving us these four amazing and talented beauties that have graced Kpop.

SISTAR, I Love You~!

He Was My Yesterday, You’re My Today [Takashi Ninigawa X Reader]

When you had first told him about your upcoming school reunion, he hadn’t been particularly bothered by you attending, he felt no need to worry, you had finished writing the lyrics for his current composition and were in need of a break, plus you had seemed so excited about it, there was no way he could ask you not to go. You had asked him to come along with you, but he had declined, he was a member of Revance, there was no way he wouldn’t be recognised. You were obviously disappointed, but you still smiled at him, understanding as always, as you told him it would be the coming Friday, at the same place the college choir had performed. You had left the room to contact your old friend to let them know, and he had gone back to composing, not thinking much of it.

It wasn’t until the Thursday evening he had begun to worry. He had come up to your room to ask whether or not you were hungry, but you had been in your own little world writing what he assumed were more lyrics, on the phone to the same friend you had spent the last few days in nearly constant contact with, phone on speaker as you focused on the paper in front of you.
“So [Y/N], do you want me to arrange a taxi to come and pick you up?”
“Oh, no don’t worry about me Yuki! I’m staying not too far from the venue as it is, I’ll just walk there!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure!”

The conversation continued for a few minutes, discussing old memories, he was about to leave when he heard your friend say something that caught his attention.
“Oh, did I tell you Len will be coming, [Y/N]?”

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Sleep Sound 5

Synopsis: Pharah and Mercy have trouble sleeping. A series of chance encounters prove that the solution might be each other.

Pairing: Rocket Angel (Fareeha “Pharah” Amari/Angela “Mercy” Ziegler)

So began a clandestine arrangement. Whenever one or the other had trouble sleeping, or woke in the middle of the night, plagued by nightmares, the other had a standing open-door policy.

Neither had ever been so well-rested in their adult lives.

Some nights, even the presence of the other couldn’t prevent the nightmares or insomnia, but the comfort – the sense of safety the other provided — what else could they ask for?


Fareeha plucked the glasses from Angela’s face, folding them and placing them within arm’s reach on the bedside table. She had fallen asleep reading a book while Fareeha disassembled, maintained, and polished the twin Beretta 92s she kept as sidearms. Old-fashioned, perhaps, but they hadn’t failed her yet. With finesse, she was able to lift Angela from the armchair she’d dozed off in without waking the doctor. She laid her gently in the bed, earning a flutter of eyelashes and a mumble.

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To Artists Who’ve Ever Had a Bad Con [Geekonomicon 2015]

It’s Saturday at comic con. Friday didn’t go as well as you imagined. You got up this morning believing that today would be better. It has to be, right? You’ve heard good things about this con. You want to be excited, you want to make people smile. You want to meet cosplayers and talk to people about your work and sell some things. 

You have it in your head that you’d at least like to break even, but hey; profit would be even better. 

But as each person passes your table pretending to be on their phone, or giving the all-important second-long glance without slowing down, or not looking at you at all. You’re invisible. The hours grow long and silent, and you wonder: what’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with my work? Am I really that bad? 

I’ve been at my table before, holding back tears and doubting I’ll ever be a real artist. Who am I kidding, right? After all, if my work was worth anything, surely people who actually stop and look.

Here’s a truth, artist: it’s not you. Sometimes it’s the con.

I spent my weekend feeling utterly miserable about myself and my artwork. And Saturday night I realized something. It wasn’t me. It was the con. Now, I don’t know the full behind-the-scenes story. But I do know my subjective experience at Geekonomicon 2015 was the worst I’ve ever had at any comic convention. 

I don’t say that lightly, to smear anyone, or to complain for the sake of complaining.

I feel like not saying anything about this experience would be a disservice to my fellow artists and creators. Hopefully something positive can be gleaned from it this note.

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fallout

so like…hi. new year new jeannie except not really and you have no idea wHO THE HELL I AM thats ok

i didn’t want to post fics on my main blog so here i am wowie anyways.

summary: dan breaks off his “thing” with phil and literally regrets it 2 seconds later.
song!fic sorta following the lyrics of fallout by marianas trench oops.

i can’t do summaries.

warnings: swearing??? i guess. also my AMERICANNESS so sorry. and a random OC boyf who literally has no description i just needed a dude’s name sorry. 

-

an empty room, i’m empty too
and everything reminds me of you

-

Keep reading

First Catfish&The Bottlemen Concert

(This story is a bit long, but I want everyone to read it x Thank you)

Hello everyone, first of all I want to apologize for all my grammar and spelling mistakes, my English isn’t perfect.

I’ve been a fan of Catfish&The Bottlemen since January, 2015 and I’ve always wanted to see them live after that moment. I thought it was impossible because I live in Turkey, (Turkey is a beautiful country but not many bands or singers come here and give concerts.. Only most popular ones? Justin Bieber etc.) and I also had my university exam this year so I couldn’t even think about a concert.

My dad was thinking about sending me to London for 4 weeks for an English course. (From 16th August so I could be 18 :D) So when June came, after my university exam passed I started checking concerts in London. I actually found NOTHING. I was very pissed off because like, we’re talking about London… There was only festivals like Reading&Leeds and V but they were so far and so expensive for me. (1 pound=5 Turkish liras) I found 1 or 2 concerts of my fave bands (especially The Kooks) but it was in Liverpool(i’m not sure). So I just ended up with nothing again.

I went to London and spent 2 amazing weeks. But after 2 weeks almost all of my friends went back to their countries. It started being boring without my friends and I started going nowhere, just stayed with my host family for 2 days. But on 30th of August(I guess?) I saw Catfish&The Bottlemen’s post on Facebook and totally freaked out because it was saying “LONDON”. I checked it out and tried to do everything to get tickets. There was a competition for free tickets. I wasn’t expecting to get free tickets but I tried my chance. And the site said, “Sorry, this competition is now closed.” or something like this. 

I didn’t give up, I found the company’s email address and mailed them. Told them that I was actually living in Turkey and it was my only chance but the competition was closed. And he said just “There’s nothing you can do but you can join the other competition. Good luck.” So I checked the other one. It was for 6 free tickets including the soundcheck and meet&greet. 3 tickets for La Roux, 3 tickets for Catfish&The Bottlemen. And all I had to do was comment on that post. I did. I wrote a huge comment explaining my situation. But then, another email came up and said, “Winners will be chosen at random.” 

I WAS DESPERATE AGAIN.

As you can all imagine, I couldn’t win. It was 2nd of September and the concert was on the next day. 

Then I checked the Facebook group I joined few days before that day named Catfish&The Bottlemen’s Pacifiers and I saw a post from a girl with a beautiful soul named Nikoleta. Her post was about tickets for that show. I started shaking and immediately followed that girl who was selling tickets on Instagram. But there was a bad thing for me. She wanted 40 pounds for 1 ticket. And I was already broke because I had already spent a lot of money in London. So I explained the situation to her, and she increased the price. I’m not saying she did wrong, she just wanted to cover up her money she spent on hotel and train. So we were okay for 2 tickets for 20 pounds. 

I was about to ask my parents for the concert&price because it was like so much happening in a very short period. But then, she texted me and said “Anyways, I’m giving them to you FOR FREE.” 

Yes, you didn’t read it wrong. I started shouting and jumping at the same time, I made my host family wake up, I told my friends and yes, I was SO HAPPY and it was the best thing someone has done for me.

She emailed me the tickets and the next day, I printed them out at the school. I also printed out the explanation she wrote in the email, in case there would be a problem. 

After my classes and lunch, I asked almost EVERYONE to come to the concert with me. I emphasised the ROCK concert and FREE tickets but yeah, no one said okay. I guess Camden Town or Tower Bridge were more important than a once-in-a-lifetime experience? (I’m not sure if I used the right phrase omg don’t hate me I hope you got what I’m trying to say) So I took the underground and passed 2 stations. Hopefully, the place wasn’t far from my school and it has Victoria Line which was my lifesaver(the last destination of Victoria Line was my neighborhood(idk if it’s a neighborhood)) I was alone with my prettiest outfit, ripped black pants, white blouse and black hat, and a bag looking like a luggage, inside my bag there were my Hard Rock Cafe tshirt, a notebook and the photo of Van McCann&Luke Pritchard which I always carry with me because I think it brings me luck? I was carrying all those stuff because I thought that I could meet with them. But that was nothing, there were a lot of girls prepared well for the concert. 

As I came to outside of the door, there was a queue. But at first, I didn’t think that it was a queue. I immediately met with a beautiful girl named Emma. I was so excited and still shaking, but she was the SAME! We talked about a lot of things and after 5 or 10 minutes, two pretty girls came to the queue too and we met with them too. Ellen and Moira, they were literally amazing! It was really cold and we waited for like 4 hours. But we had so much fun, we talked a lot and had a chance to know each other. They were really nice and I am so happy that I met with all of them. 

There were about 15 people in front of us, so when they opened the doors, we directly went to the concert hall ( I can’t remember, we went to the toilet maybe?) And… There were no people at all! We went to the front row and I could still not believe in all of this. I WAS IN THE FRONT ROW.

Anyways, I started checking the place out, it was quite small and I was the youngest in the building. It was a strange feeling like I just turned 18 and I went to a +18 concert. Huh! After 30 minutes, first band, La Roux came to the stage. I wasn’t a fan of them so I just enjoyed myself but I also took photos and videos. Vocalist was so close to me, and she was AMAZING. Actually, whole band was amazing! 

After La Roux, the technicians came to the stage and started setting the stage for Catfish&The Bottlemen. I knew none of them so I just waited and drank water because I needed to prepare myself to scream and sing at the same time. But then, a familiar face showed up from a room next to the stage. Larry!

I was the first one who saw him so I just shouted,“Hey Larry!”. He turned around and smiled then went to another room(?). And he came to the stage again and arranged somethings. I took photos and videos of him while he was working. Yeah, I know it’s kinda creepy but I just love him? He put a setlist on the floor and after I saw that, I told my friends that I was going to take it.

After 30 minutes or something, the boys came to the stage. They started the concert with Rango and I was ready with my heart, soul and the shitty camera of my phone. I took a lot of videos and tried to take some photos (Of course I couldn’t manage taking them PERFECTLY because they were always moving and my camera is so stupid that you can only take photos of non moving things! WHAAAT?) They gave several breaks and during those times, I tried to shout like “I CAME FROM TURKEY” but no one noticed? I only could hear Van giggled and some people behind me started to whisper to each other like “What? She said Turkey?”. (Can ya believe it?????) (stop.)

Concert was literally AMAZING. I don’t know… Maybe that wasn’t their BEST performance but since it was my FIRST, it was perfect for me :’) By the way, during the concert some people behind me  (Shoutout to them because they were SO DRUNK that they couldn’t even understand me well) poured/spitted/sloshed???(I JUST COULDN’T FIND THE RIGHT VERB I hope you know what I mean haha) beer at me! My clothes and my hair were full of beer! Ew. But this couldn’t make my night bad.

After the concert, I was shocked by all of this and I was a bit upset because I was thinking that I could meet with them but unfortunately, tickets didn’t include meet&greet. (IT’s FINE, F*CKING FINE but it would be nice tho.) Almost all people left the place but we stayed. Then, Larry showed up. He was collecting the cables (I guess) and he ripped the setlist. There were 5 or 6 people near me, wanting the setlist but I shouted “I want it, please!”. He couldn’t know what to do and just threw the setlist away. (Really, Larry?) Setlist fell down in front of my bag and he leaned & took it from the ground. (as I can remember) aND HE GAVE THE SETLIST TO ME. Yes, I started jumping and screaming.

Few minutes later, he took a guitar pick from the ground and gAVE IT TO ME TOO. I was about to faint because like, it was TOO MUCH. But no, we’re just starting..

I got the yellow guitar pick but few minutes later, a guy came to the stage and found another guitar pick which was black, and gave it to me too. But I wanted to give the other one to Moira. But then she told me that her favourite color was yellow, it was fine because mine is black! :D

Later, Larry showed up again some guys wanted to shake hands with him. They did, and I wanted to do that too. But I was trying to reach him with my wrong hand. I stared at him for a few seconds because my other and was full and I was running out of time, I thought he wouldn’t do that becasue his other hand was full too! But yeah, he was so sweet that he moved the things to his other hand and shook my hand!

Suddenly, an idea came up to my head! It was like now or never moment. So I asked him as he was going further. I asked, “LARRY; CAN WE TAKE A SELFIE?” He scowled(?) and asked, “Selfie?” and I said, “Yeah,” with an energic voice. So he came closer and posed weirdly but he was SO CUTE. And I think he wanted me to make the same pose but I was too happy that notice his pose. So I just smiled with my whole teeth. 

Then I thanked to him and started finding my notebook to get an autograph from him but I couldn’t find it because of the things in my bag! And when I found it, he has already gone..

After a few minutes, we decided to go outside. 3 of us needed to catch the underground because if we miss the underground, we needed to use the buses and they were being TOO crowded at those times, at least that’s what they told me. So we had like 30 minutes. There were 20 people or less in front of the door which they’re going to show up. We waited for 30 minutes and said goodbye to Emma. And wished her luck! 

I went to home singing Tyrants in my head and they were looking at me weirdly, I was like drunk but THAT WAS SO AMAZING.

The next day (I think) I saw the photos of Emma, SHE MET WITH THEM. I was so happy for her because it was her first concert! And she met with the guys, that’s amazing! I’m a bit upset because the underground separated us and I could meet with them but it is totally okay. I already had the best moments in my life.

I talked too much about this concert on social media, like it can be boring or makes no sense for some people, but it is very important for me. Just few weeks ago, I was crying over that I will never be able to see my favorite bands, but now, I can proudly say that I SAW ONE OF MY FAVORITE BANDS IN THE FRONT ROW. 

Now, I just want to thank to all my friends who supported me, to my family who wasn’t mad at me because I told them about the concert on the concert day, TO NIAMH, THAT ANGEL WHO GAVE ME THE TICKETS (shoutout to Niamh, @/catmanandthebottlefish on Instagram) YOU ARE THE BEST, THANK YOU AGAIN, to Emma, Ellen and Moira, my three sweet friends who made my day AWESOME, to Nikoleta of course, you are great Nikoleta! And everyone, who listened this story over million times and haven’t been fed up yet! 

I just shared my story with you guys to make you believe in your dreams, your goals. Life is full of miracles. And, in life, you have the keys to your dreams. YOU can change somethings, YOU can make your life better. YOU can do EVERYTHING. Don’t give up.


(It took over 1 hour to write this, SO I HOPE I CHANGED SOME THINGS IN YOUR HEART OR YOUR THOUGHTS. I hope everything will be great in your lives. I love you.) 

When Ingrid Outed Hangrid, Pt.2

                                     When Ingrid Outed Hangrid, Pt. 2


A/N: Here it is everyone, the second and final installment of this fic! I hope you all enjoyed this, and if you like my writing, keep your eye out for the beginning of a hangrid series that is currently in the works! Please like, comment, and share if you enjoyed, and make sure to read part one if you haven’t yet, It’s on my fanfiction page!

Hangrid fluff/humor, Part 2/2

Approx. 1600 words

Synopsis: After Ingrid drunkenly reveals her relationship with Hannah at a late night Vidcon party, they have to face the music and figure out the plan of action, with help from Grace and Mamrie.

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     It was 9:35am on the second morning of Vidcon, and Hannah was perched on the bed that she was sharing with Ingrid for the weekend in the hotel, scrolling through the Hangrid tag on Tumblr. As would be expected, the internet absolutely exploded after the Hangrid outing last night, by none other than her own drunk girlfriend, and Hannah was trying to get a gauge on what to expect  and how to best move forward, without suffocating the new relationship to death.

Ingrid woke with a start.

     Her head was pounding and her throat felt like cotton, but she could feel the warm presence of her girlfriend beside her, and knew she would be well taken care of through her hangover, which was sure to be a pain in the ass.

“Hannah,” Ingrid started, “… What happened last night?”

     Hannah looked down at Ingrid with a cheeky grin. Her hair was mussed on the pillow and she had a line of drool still on her face, but in Hannah’s eyes, she was as adorable as ever.

     “Babe, a lot of stuff happened last night that I’m sure you don’t remember, and it may mortify you a little bit, but I just want you to keep in mind that I love you no matter what, and that even the most sensational stories on the internet are usually forgotten within a week…”

     Ingrid had an unreadable expression on her face, a combination over her confusion from Hannah’s words, and her sudden realization that she needs to find a glass of water ASAP.

     Hannah was mentally preparing herself to dive into the events of last night, when all of a sudden both girls were startled by a sudden and persistent banging on their hotel rooms front door.

     “OPEN UP BITCHES, WE’RE HERE FOR DAMAGE CONTROL!” Mamrie yelled from the other side of the door, as Grace pounded on it with all the strength that her slim frame could muster.

     “I’m coming, I’m coming, stop with the banging, you’ll make Ingrid cry from her headache!” Hannah yelled, as she shuffled over to undo the deadlock that she fastened before tucking in her sloppily affectionate girlfriend into bed last night.

     The two girls pushed past Hannah and made their way into the suite, unceremoniously tossing their bodies on the other bed in the room that wasn’t occupied by Ingrid, who was hiding under the covers from the sudden noise and insanity.

     “Alright, so now that the cat, or should I say pussy, is out of the bag, what’s the next move bitch?” Mamrie asked, pointing at Hannah, who was busy brushing the hair out of Ingrid’s eyes and placing a reassuring kiss on her forehead.

     “Okay wait, before this gets any further, will somebody please fill me in on what exactly has been let out of what bag?”

     Hannah sighed and looked at Grace and Mamrie, who shrugged their shoulders and gestured for Hannah to spill the beans. So she told Ingrid exactly what happened, how she lost sight of her for about 20 minutes, and within those 20 minutes Ingrid got drunk enough to think it was time to let the world know that her and Hannah are madly in love and dating. Hannah left out the details such as the sloppy kiss and assgrab for now, because Ingrid already looked like she was about to faint, and Hannah knew that she would see it all over social media soon anyway.

     Ingrid just sat there with her mouth half open, as Hannah reassuringly rubbed her thumbs over Ingrid’s hands, trying to ignore the two other women in the room who were trying the hardest to suppress their laughter and keep their shit together without falling off the bed.

     “I’m so sorry baby,” Ingrid said, looking into Hannah’s eyes with her own tearful ones, “I feel so embarrassed about how much I had to drink and how far I let everything go… I wanted to make it special, the time we finally decided to let the world know… But now I’ve ruined everything.”

     Hannah shot Grace and Mamrie a look that said it’s time for them to leave, and as they slinked out of the room, Hannah wrapped a tearful Ingrid into her strong arms.

     “Don’t say those things baby girl, I’m not mad or upset with you at all. I just want to make sure you’re okay and that we’re both on the same page with how we plan on moving forward, that’s all. Okay love?” Hannah wiped away the last few tears on Ingrid’s face, and then slowly tipped her chin up to press their lips together in a soft, tender kiss, hoping to communicate how much love she felt for the girl in that moment.

     After Ingrid rehydrated herself and popped some ibuprofen into her system, both girls showered, got dressed, and headed down into the lobby. Ingrid spent some time on her laptop while Hannah was getting ready, and watched many videos, saw many gifs, and even skimmed a few fanfictions about the show she put on last night. Having a better understanding of exactly what happened, both girls agreed that the best way to handle the situation would be to just unapologetically confirm their relationship on twitter, and get through the rest of vidcon without being mauled by the ravenous hangrid shippers.

     They met Grace and Mamrie in the lobby, both girls giving Ingrid a reassuring hug. They caught a cab and made their way to Vidcon, mentally preparing for the chaos that will surely ensue when Hannah and Ingrid enter the main hall hand in hand. Hannah looked over at Ingrid, who was staring out the window, and tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her ear as Ingrid turned to her with a subtle smile.

“Everything is going to be okay, right Hannah?”

“I promise babe, I won’t let anything bad happen to you or this relationship.”

     Hannah kissed Ingrid on the forehead softly, as Ingrid closed her eyes from the gentle contact and snuggled closer into Hannah’s side, under her protective arm.

     “Will you two stop it? I’m starting to baby barf my beef wellington from last night, and that shit was already nasty the first time around.” Mamrie chided at them as Grace cackled in the front seat. Hannah stuck her tongue out teasingly at the redhead as she gently flicked Grace in the ear, who was sitting in front of her.

     “Cut it out guys,” Hannah said, “We’re about to get enough shit from the rest of our viewers in a few minutes, the least you could do is be nice for ten seconds.” Mamrie scrunched up her nose at this as they pulled up to the main hall.

When Hannah and Ingrid walked in, shit got real.

     Everywhere they could see, there were screaming fangirls calling for their attention. Hannah spotted at least a dozen heart sign poster’s with “Hangrid” painted on them, and Ingrid even pointed out a poster that had their faces photoshopped on Nugget and Ollie’s bodies. It was flattering but overwhelming, especially for Hannah, who has done her best to keep her personal life as personal as possible throughout her youtube career.

     The girl pushed their way through the crowd until they finally made it to a private area where the rest of their creator friends were waiting. Before they could take two steps into the space, Tyler came shooting towards them with an excited “SQUEEEEE!” and a bear hug for the both of them. Jenna kept yelling “OTP! OTP!”, Lilly was going on about how they’re the new internet celesbian power couple, and Flula brought an edible arrangement.

     Overwhelmed by the excitement and stimulation around them, the girls thanked their friends for the support, took their fruitful gift off of Flula’s hands, and set off to find a private room where they could just sit and take a breather.

     “I don’t even know what to think of all that,” Ingrid said with a soft laugh, “It’s amazing how much support we have, and I’m glad people like us together, I’m just scared that we’re never going to be able to be a real couple, without all the pictures documenting every interaction and the screaming shippers everywhere we go.” Ingrid continued.

     “I know baby, it’s a lot to digest right now,” Hannah said, looking into Ingrid’s chestnut eyes, “But if I know anything about the internet, it’s that this all will calm down in due time. Yes, there will always be shippers, but most of them are respectful of our privacy and just genuinely want us to be happy. Before you know it, a new power couple will come out, and they’ll become the talk of the town while we just sit back and remember the madness that happened when we were in their position. I put my money on Dan and Phil.” Hannah winked.

     “You’re right Hannah, I know we’ll be okay in the long run,” Ingrid smiled. “But until then, how about we take advantage of the alone time we have now, before we have to go back and face all that madness, yeah?” Ingrid teased with a glint in her eye. Hannah put her hands on Ingrid’s slim hips, and quirked the corner of her mouth into a dimpled grin.

“Now that is something I can get on board with.”


                                                         THE END.


A/N: Hope you liked it! Please like, comment, and share!

Sexperiment Part 3-Calum Hood AU (Series)

Thank you all for such incredible feedback,  I love y'all so much :)

Parts 1 and 2 are here!

~~~~~~~~~~

Rating: PG-13

Smut: Not full blown, but getting there

Summary:  Calum wonders what he did to make Sarah leave the other day while Sarah remains insecure and scared of the arrangement.

I stare blankly at my wall, trying to gain the courage to face the day.  I was planning on lying outside today, reading a book, relaxing, cleansing my mind, but a weight in my heart chains me to my bed.  All I did yesterday was watch the entire first season of One Tree Hill for the third time to try to distract myself from the total embarrassment I felt.  I don’t know why I put myself in this situation in the first place.  I’m using him for sex and it’s so wrong.  What’s worse is he was letting me.  I’ve spent so long trying to decipher if he likes me or is just a horny teenager.  I hope for the latter, that way he isn’t as hurt as me.

I just don’t think I’m cut out for a no strings relationship.  It feels so wrong to give myself to someone who doesn’t love me.  I know he loves me as a friend but I’m not sure that’s enough.  I clutch my stomach as I flip over onto my back.  I’m not totally fit, my love handles curl over the waistband of my pajama shorts.  My legs jiggle when I walk and I know it’s natural, but I also know of girls whose legs don’t.  My boobs are my biggest—or I guess, smallest—insecurity.  I’m an A cup and always have been and the girls Calum usually dates can barely see past their chests.  I’m not his type and I’m delirious to think I was.

I did love how he touched me though.  I loved the way his lips felt against my skin.  even his teeth that left his mark on me.  I reach up and touch the tethered skin that’s still healing from a few days ago that I’ve kept concealed form everyone.  I can still feel the smoothness of his back on my fingertips.  God, I can’t shake him.  I just need to meet his expectations.

I roll myself out of bed and take off my shirt, slipping on a random pink bra and pulling the same shirt over my head again.  I then fire up my laptop and phone, sitting down at my desk.  My phone reads 10:30am and my parents are definitely working so I have to house to myself today.My laptop comes to life and I go to Google, searching for workouts that will tone my stomach and increase boob size.  I scroll through countless articles form fashion magazines and self-help newspapers, bookmarking as I go.  I also mark some recipes to try to “burn belly fat in 2 weeks!”.  I need anything, any confidence I can get before getting in bed with a guy ever again.

Nearly 20 minutes pass and my phone begins to ring.  The name on the Caller ID washes the blood from my face and steals the air form my lungs.  Of course he decides to call me.  Fuck him for being a good guy.  I reach out and answer the phone before I can second guess myself, “Hello.”

“Sarah, are you home?” Calum asks quickly.

“Um, yeah why?”  I say.

“I’m at your door,” he answers.

“What?”  He’s here?  I immediately spring from my chair and look for some perfume.

“Can I come in?”  He asks calmly.

“Um,” I ponder, as I put some deodorant on both of my armpits, balancing my phone between my ear and my shoulder.

“Too late, I’m already in,” he says, hanging up before I can argue.  I screech as I throw my phone onto my bed and search for some Tic-Tacs in my bag.  I eat a few in record time then reach for my perfume and spritz it all over myself.  I don’t have time to brush my hair so I comb my fingers through it a couple of times and wipe under my eyes for any smudged make up from yesterday that could still be lingering.

I just place my perfume bottle on the table when Calum opens the door to my room.  We look at each other for a moment, his chest is moving up and down like he just ran up here.  I feel like a deer in headlights and I can’t find the strength to move out of the way.  “Hi,” he finally speaks.

“Hey,” I choke out, leaning my butt against the desk trying to look casual.

“Sarah,” he breathes, taking a step into my room.  I look down at the ground as he walks closer to me.  “What did I do?”  He asks me softly, still about ten feet away.

I open my mouth to speak but wonder what can I say?  What explanation is good enough? The truth will make me embarrassed and ashamed, but a lie could ruin us.  “It’s not you,” I say, covering myself with my arms.  I wish I had put pants on so that he couldn’t see my knees knocking together.

“I didn’t mean to take it too far-“ he starts, his legs bringing him closer to me.

“You didn’t,” I stop him.  My eyes catch a glimpse of his black converse that are inches away from my bare feet.

“Then tell me what happened,” he demands.  I’m frozen in front of him.  I want to grab him and kiss him.  My desire for his touch is burning in me and I can’t do anything about it.  “What’s that?” He asks, I see his feet shuffle to my left.  I look up to see him peering at the computer.  Confusion washes over his face and I realize the articles must still be up.  I immediately close the top and step in front of him, our eyes finally meeting.  

“Nothing,” I answer sternly despite the blushing in my cheeks.

“Is that why?”  He asks.

“Calum, just forget about it,” I try.

“No,” he steps so our chests are brushing.  I can hear his heartbeat.  His chin could easily rest on the top of my head now but instead he’s peering down at me.  I want to meet his eyes but I’m afraid of what it could do to me.  I don’t want to cry even though that seems appropriate.  I shouldn’t kiss him, but I want to.  He steps back a bit and I breathe deeply, looking at him now that there’s more distance between us.  His hands are balled in fists and his brows are knit together.  I want to kiss every crease in his forehead, I want to relax him.  “Take off your shirt,” he barely mutters.

My eyes widen at the request, and I raise my eyebrows to confirm his words.  He nods and crosses his arms, looking scarily attractive.  I don’t know what he’s trying to do, or what he could do, but his words are moving my hands the the hem of my shirt.  I keep our eyes locked as I pull the material over my tangled hair and toss it down at his feet.  I cross my arms in defiance.

Then the realization hits me that I’m living out my fear.  I’m bare in front of him, my boobs are covered but still on display for him, and the only thing covering my stomach is my arms.  And the scary part is, I’m comfortable.  I’m not ashamed of my body.  The way his eyes lust for me, I would be courageous enough to tear off all my clothes if I had the experience.

He’s walking close to me again, his hands reaching out and forcing my arms to my side.  I rest my hands on the desk behind me to stop from falling over.  His eyes look from my eyes down my chest, drinking in my sight all the way down to my toes. “You’re beautiful, do you know that?”  He asks in a whisper.  A chill runs down my spine as his fingertips draw patterns along my arms. 

“Only when you say it,” I admit, our faces so close together.  The world escapes us as his face inches closer to mine, his breath hitting my eager lips.  He never kisses me though, instead his mouth presses against the front of my neck.  His lips trail down the base of my neck, down to my chest into the valley between my breasts.  I look down at him without moving a single muscle.  Something ignites in me as I watch him take me.  His mouth is like a feather lightly brushing every part of my body as his hands hold my hips steady.  His hot breath hits my bare stomach, his tongue slightly darting into my belly button as he continues his trail of kisses down to the waistband of my pants.  The wetness my friends alway talks about is forming in my shorts, and my mouth stands agape as I wait for him to do or say something.  All I know is I don’t want it to stop.

He looks up at me in my flushed and awaiting state before returning to his tall position above me.  “You don’t have to change for me,” he says, tucking a piece of unruly hair behind my ear.  “Why did you run out the other day?”

I take a deep breath before spitting out the truth, “I didn’t know if I was what you wanted.”

My cheeks return to their normal color as I look into his eyes, determined to get something out of him. Thoughts of us run through my mind as I just simply wait for something to happen.  His hands are still on my waist and mine are still rating on the desk behind me, holding my body upright because of my untrustworthy legs.  His hands begin to move up and down the curves I was so worried about.  “Baby, you’re all I want,” he sighs, his face remaining sexily serious.

This is like some crazy sex dream, there’s not a chance this is real.  I reach out and touch him, his warm cheek spreading lust throughout my body.  I crave for him.  “Can I touch you?”  He asks.

My eyes go wide as I eagerly nod.  “Please,” I beg but his lips are already pressed tightly against my own.  My back hits the edge of the desk as my hands move to his flexing biceps.  HIs hands are all over my back, the tips of my hair being tugged by him.  The thought of him wanting him as much as I want him is driving me crazy and making me lose all thoughts of clarity.

My stomach is greeted with butterflies and the soft feeling of his shirt.  His arms wrap around me and lift me slightly off the ground, my toes trying to match his steps as we make our way over to my messy bed.  Our lips are still moving perfectly as he falls on top of me.  He’s a crushing weight but the closeness of our bodies distracts me.  One of his hands glides up my stomach like before and I kiss him to distract myself.  It’s okay this time.

HIs large hand roughly grabs my full breast and I gasp.  “Are you okay?”  He asks me, his hand frozen in place.

“Yes,” I nod, bringing his neck to my own lips.  My lips roll over his adams apple before his face fixes into the crook of my neck.  His hand moves my breast up, and down, gently massaging and making me throw my head back in pleasure.  My lips work on his neck again before hearing a sigh come from his mouth.  I bite this part and keep sucking on it, mimicking his process from the other day.  His moans encourage me as he continues to massage me.

“Wait,” he stops me, my neck detaching from his neck as his hands rest on my stomach. I take this time to catch my breath as my chest move up and down drastically.  He sits back on my thighs as I watch him in amazement.  He takes his shirt and pulls it over his head, revealing each ripple in his torso as he tosses the shirt on the other side of the mattress.  His stomach does not cease to amaze me, everything is so toned and tight and tanned and just everything.

“I wanted to do that,” I whine, teasing him as I trail my fingertips along his six pack.

“Well, I could put it back on,” he teases right back.

“Absolutely not,” I say, reaching for his neck and pulling him close to me.  I don’t kiss him though, I decide to tease him for a bit.  I lightly kiss his nose before resting my head back on the mattress again. He leans forward trying to kiss my lips, but I turn my head so he hits my cheek instead.

“Two can play at this game, babe,” he says leaning up again.  He reaches for his shirt that’s on my mattress and the weight removed from my body makes me want to roll over and cry some more.

“I was kidding,” I try as I watch him dress himself again.  “Stop,” I try, pulling at his shirt.  I realize how clingy and needy I must seem and I wish I could shut off my subconscious.  I wish I could want something without being insecure about it.

“I have to go anyways Sarah, I have work,” he says, kissing the corner of my mouth softly before standing up.

“So you knew you were going to have to leave?  And you still kissed me?”  I whine.  He laughs as I stand shirtless in front of him.

“Like I said,” he leans in close to my ear, his breath tickling the sore spots of my neck.  “Two can play at this game babe.”

I push his chest jokingly and smirk up at him as he walks out the door, his angelic presence escaping the plain walls of my room.  The loss I feel is immediate and I know I’m getting dependent on him, but I can’t help it.  He’s just so damn good but in the absolute worst way.  “When’s our next session?”  I call after him.

He reappears in my doorway with his golden smile, “I’ll think about it.”

~~~~~~~~~

Sorry I’m shit at endings.  Hopefully the next part will be up this weekend! Thanks for reading, please give me feedback, the good and the bad :)  I love you guys so much for reading this, you truly are the best xoxo

Human Resources: Chapter One

Fic Request: A Stydia AU that has them in a similar position to the movie The Proposal (with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds)? Doesn’t have to be as extensive as the movie or anything, just with Lydia as the ‘mean’ boss and Stiles knowing her better than she realizes and them falling slowly in love when they have to pretend to be romantically involved for a few days for some reason

Rating: T

Genre: Comedy, Romance

Author: Cinemariel

Author’s Note: Funny, I was just telling our lovely Admin that I wouldn’t be doing another multi-chapter story any time soon, but then I fell in love with this prompt and couldn’t fit it all in one chapter. Hope you enjoy it. 

Keep reading

The Vault

Inspired by a post by nitavonteese, noting that when Robin went to Regina. and they spent the night together in the vault, it didn’t seem like the first time he’d been there. And she wondered about the first time he was at the vault.

Also, please don’t judge this by its title–I’ve been trying to think of something for a solid 20 minutes and if I keep at it, it’ll have taken longer to write a title than it too me to write the story. Sigh…


A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth when her fingers curl down around his, as she leads him off the main road and deeper into the woods behind the cemetery. Though it’s dark, he can see that there’s a narrow path—a path meant for one— leading toward the stone mausoleum that’s nestled at the back of the woods, hiding a hidden space that few have ever been trusted enough to see.

They’d stood at the edge of the road, where their paths would diverge—he would go back to the Merry Men’s camp and she would go…wherever it was that she went when they weren’t together. Sometimes that meant home, sometimes it meant back to her office, and other times it was her vault, tucked away at the back of the woods—so close to where he was, yet so far away.

It was meant to be a kiss goodnight, but he found himself unable to let her go, even after the kiss had ended. He’d rested his forehead against hers, watching as their breath clouded between them, wanting to hold her for just a little while longer.

“I’m not ready to say goodnight,” he murmured, leaning in and closing the small gap between them. She’d kissed him back so fervently, telling him without words that she wasn’t ready for the night to end either, because it wasn’t a kiss that said goodbye. He’d smiled against her mouth, drawing her closer as his hand tangled in her hair—the realization settling upon him that he was falling in love. He’d pulled back and their eyes met; through dark he could see her blush, almost girlishly as she looked away from him—suspecting that she, too, might be falling in love.

He’d kissed her cheek as he released her and she’d smile as a sort of sadness settled in her eyes. He always hates this part of saying goodnight to her. He hates to think of her alone—alone with her thoughts and the painful memories of a son who no longer remembers her. He thinks of her locking the doors and ascending up the stairs of a house that’s too quiet, passing by Henry’s bedroom and lingering at a door that will never open, unless she opens it and if she does, how the loss of him will consume her; he thinks of emptiness that he knows she feels, and he hates that when she climbs into bed at night, he’s not there to hold her and help her through the pain.

And so when she told him that she had to go, he wasn’t ready to let her; when she told him that she would spend the night working on a spell that would keep Mary-Margaret and her unborn child safe, he’d asked her if she wanted company. She’d smiled tentatively and asked if he was sure, and he told her that he was.

Her pace slows and she leads him inside the mausoleum. It’s completely dark and he can’t see a thing, but she continues onward, leading the way on a path she memorized long ago. And he follows blindly, trusting her to lead him—trusting her so completely.

He feels her grip tighten on his hand as they start down wide-set stairs. “Robin,” she begins, stopping mid-way. He rubs his thumb over her wrist. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” he murmurs. He steps closer to her. He can feel her hesitate and though he can’t see her, he knows that her eyes are filled with fear—worried that if she reveals too much of herself to him, he’ll back away.  “That is, if you want me to.”

“I do,” she admits in a small voice, as she takes a step forward.

A moment later the room is aglow with candles. His eyes search the room—the cool gray stone looks so cozy and warm in the candlelight; books and glass jars line shelves, and trunks and magical relics make him smile, reminding him of a world he’s left behind. Somehow, he’d expected the lair of the Evil Queen to look a bit more menacing and less like a cross between a library and an apothecary.  

His eyes settle on her and he smiles, “So, what can I do to help?”

Her eyebrow arches and she laughs a little. “Well,” she begins, turning her back to him as she examines the contents of a shelf, carefully reading labels and extracting the bottles she wants. She arranges them on a tray carefully, then bends to open a cabinet—he watches as a she selects a clear jar before mulling through the contents of a drawer.

His eyes trail away from her, a soft red glow catching his eye. He turns toward it, taking a few steps in its direction. He looks back at Regina, smiling as she examines two droppers. He reaches out and pulls back the curtain and the red glow brightens. His lips purse a little as he looks at rows upon rows of glowing boxes—hearts, he quickly realizes—the remnants of the lives she’d ripped apart.

“All you have to do is…” He turns at the sound of her voice. “Oh…”

“I was curious,” he tells her with a guilty smile, watching as she looks past him, watching as her eyes settle on the hearts behind him. He hates that he’s forced her to reveal something about herself that she wasn’t quite yet ready to reveal. “Regina…I’m sorry.”

Her eyes dart back to him, “You’re apologizing?”

He nods, “I shouldn’t have pulled back that curtain. It was obviously drawn for a reason.”

She nods and takes a breath, “I knew what you’d find if I brought you here.”  Her eyes fall away from him and he watches as she grimaces, and for a moment, the guilt consumes her, and his heart aches. Looking back at the glowing boxes, he pulls back the curtain, and again, they’re hidden from sight. “I’m sure knowing what I did is different than actually seeing the proof of it with your own eyes.”

He stares at her for a moment, taken aback by the realization that she thinks his feelings for her could change that quickly, that easily. And then it occurs to him that, for her, it wouldn’t be the first time. He moves toward her and loops his arm around her waist, pressing his lips against her hair. “This doesn’t change a thing.” She turns to face him. “Besides, there’s more blood on my hands than you know.” Again he presses his lips to her hair, letting them linger for a moment as he whispers, “But that’s in the past—my sins are my past, as are yours.”

Her eyes meet his and he smiles—he was wrong before. He’s not falling in love with her. No, he’s already fallen—helplessly, madly, completely. He’s in love with her.

Again, he feels her fingers curl around his. “So, you still want to help?”

He nods, letting her lead him once more. He listens to her instructions—what to mix first, how much to mix of this, and what to keep away from that. He listens, finding himself thinking that there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her, nothing that couldn’t forgive.

He loves her—and when he catches her watching him, catching the way she looks at him as he follows her instructions, catching the way she smiles—he can’t help but wonder, if she’s in love with him, too.

anonymous asked:

I'm just throwing this out there, but your prices are WAY too high for your lack of artistic talent. You're decent at best, sorry.

normally I would cave and just say sorry, and honestly I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’m starting to believe that I don’t deserve to be judged by someone that can’t come up to me in person.

So I’m gonna lay down some facts. I took this and that from an old post because I’ve said this before.

So, allow me, my dear followers, to educate this anon. And while it may or may not be directed at you(I have no idea who sent this, obviously, so I’m assuming someone who follows me and knows enough about me and my work), maybe you can learn something from a different perspective.

SO THEN, LETS GET STARTED, SHALL WE.

“Decent, at best” I may be, I still have the right to choose my prices. Just as every artist does. I need the money for funds to move out of this toxic home with an abusive family. Everything I make isn’t spent on anything except emergencies, otherwise it’s being saved up so I can get the fuck out of this hellhole and try to live a normal life.

Personal life aside, let me remind you that people are paying for a service that they can’t do themselves. That’s how business works. And, if they like what they get or just want to support something they like, they have the right to do it. After all, if people are willing to pay a lot more money for a pair of Beatz(that are shitty headphones already) instead of a good, cheap headphones, then they are willing to pay a little more to help a struggling artist instead of going to someone “cheaper”, then they will. I’m not that great of an artist in my opinion but I’ve been told otherwise by numerous people, including my commissioners. I believe that’s part of the Customer/Brand Loyalty idea? Idunno, I don’t know much about economics.

I have been working with art for years. YEARS. I probably would have had a shorter, and easier, time, if I actually took art classes instead of being self taught. Art takes time. Art takes effort. Art takes a special kind of patience, to put up with the frustrations that comes with art: Such as making/fixing art mistakes; learning how to draw something new; finding appreciation for our creations(i dare you to find four artists that are confident in their ability); and dealing with people that don’t properly understand and appreciate the work we do.

AKA, pricks like you.

I think I speak for a lot of artists when I say this stuff. Sorry if you get offended.

Moving on. You know how minimum wage works, yes?

Lets go on my experience for a moment, shall we? I drew my character, Aillan Ajjaya, the other day. It was a Waist-Up, full color and shaded picture; It was during a livestream and I worked throughout it all, breakless. It’s all recorded. Before I began, I spent about 20 minutes on the initial sketch, making sure the anatomy and proportions were correct. And then I spent 10 minutes in a join.me, before I booted up Livestream because join.me wasn’t what I needed at the time.

From the start of the stream to the very end, it took about six and a half hours. With the prep sketch, drawing this character took roughly 7 hours. This project took a little less than a 9am-5pm workday,

  • The lowest legal Minimum Wage state offers about $6.15 per hour, while the current highest Minimum Wage is $10.74
  • A Waist-Up, full color and shaded picture is $20 for me according to my commissions list

If I were being paid to draw Aillan by normal standards I would have made from $43.05 to $75.18 as opposed to making $20, assuming I don’t get any kind of bonus.

To a person trying to get into college, that’s a good chunk of change to make in a day’s work.

But do you see me charging that much? No, I don’t. I talked over my prices with friends and professionals for a good few days before I even announced my situation. I even had them look at my template design to make sure that it looked acceptable.

So, taking all that into perspective, how do you think I feel when I see people trying to guilt people into making their work cheaper, trying to just outright tell them that they’re too pricey, or even worse, trying/pretending to be friends with artists to get free/cheaper stuff? Especially considering how much cheaper they’re already making it than going on an hourly wage??

How do you think ANYONE feels when other people act like they’re just not good enough for the prices they choose, even though it’s not already much less than they deserve?

Shame on you, anon. Shame on you for trying to make me feel bad for making prices for a skill I’ve worked hard to hone. Shame on you for trying to make me feel guilty that I can do something for a price I choose. Shame on you and anyone else to criticize an artist for their prices being “too high” and actively try to make them reconsider their prices just because YOU think they lack “the artistic talent”.

Honestly, I would have taken you more seriously if you approached me in person. I would have tried to see if we can work out an arrangement because I know times are tough and I want to come to a compromise that makes everyone happy. But you’re just putting on a grey mask and just deciding that I’m charging too much for my “lack of artistic talent”. That’s really fucking cowardly and puts me on the spot to either crumble like a bitch or be cold like a jackass in front of my followers. Yeahhhh that’s totally cool man do that to everyone why don’t ya?

I know a few artists that would LOVE to get a message like this. Especially from an anon that’s scared of being attacked for something that they believe in so PASSIONATELY that they just HAVE to slap someone in the face.

Artists get enough criticism from their families about their choices. We don’t need more from people that don’t even have the guts to show themselves and stand up for what they think.

I’m done. I’m going to sit down and relax cause I’m not breathing well right now.

Chapter 12/? of Order Up, Cupcake
Rating: teen and up
Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4 | Ch.5 | Ch.6 | Ch.7 | Ch.8 | Ch.9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 |
can also be read on AO3.

For as long as Carmilla could remember, she had kept a diary.

It started off when she was just a kid, when she wouldn’t have anyone to talk to, so she wouldwrite down everything that happened to her that day and read it over and over again, as if maybe it would sound like she was talking to someone else. Ever since then, it’s just been habit. She has about twelve of them, if she bothered counting, and most of the pages were full of uninteresting garbage, seeing as “I went to school”, and “I ate a poptart” were the most prevalent phrases inside books 1-5. Book thirteen, though… Book thirteen was something else entirely.

There’s this girl named Laura” was written a little over a year ago, and Carmilla’s sure that the name Laura has occupied every page since.

Today was no different.

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