huge, huge thank you to by beta best friend for reading this, encouraging me to write more and actually post some of it; and of course @roxanncweasley and @jiilys, my writing idols, for unconciously inspiring me with their own fantastic work;
He’s all you
notice at this point.
when your not long ago ‘best friend’ shots a parky comment at him. He wants to
talk back, you can see it. He wants to, he needs
to defend himself, his friends, those like
you. He can’t stand him, it’s clear as day. That vein on his neck is
pulsing like crazy. His hands are fists now. He picks his head up and you gasp
at the rage in his stare. You sees his eyes shot fast in your direction and in
a second they’re soft again and it’s like he suddenly acknowledges he’s in a
classroom with twenty other students, all watching him, all expecting the
fight. He slowly unscrews his hands and flats them on the desk; they’re
trembling. You sigh. His head is lowered again, Remus wispering something
rapidly in his ear. He nods in approval, the corners of his mouth twitch. Mr
Binns goes on. A few minutes later you catch his eye and, he smiles.
library, on a table in the opposite corner of the room, where they’re sitting,
trying to dull their laughs as Madam Pince walks by, all staring at a piece of
pegament. You can’t really tell from here but it seem like whatever’s on it is
moving. Remus is extending a hand and shaking his with a tempered smile that
reaches his eyes. Pettigrew is clapping him on the back, grin splattered all
over his features. Black grabs his face and mockingly tries to kiss him. He
laughs and pushes him away, a sly smile on his lips and she can almost hear him
say ‘not here pads, there are people
watching! I know I’m so charmingly handsome, but please contain your urges!’.
His smile is bigger than his face as he shrugs and explains something to the
rest, hands gesticulating as he speaks. There’s so much pride in his eyes he
looks like he might just explode. He gases at you and stops talking what looks
like midsentence. The others turn around to look at you; Remus waves, Black
winks playfully and Pettigrew just shakes his head. His smile doesn’t leave his
face as he takes one of Remus’s chocolate bars and throws it at you. You catch
it the last second, look at him and smile back. As he returns his attention to
the pergament you can swear you see reddness creeping its way towards his face.
pitch on a sunny Friday afternoon right after classes while he’s loosening his
tie as the eight of you sit on the freshly cut grass, Marlene in Black’s, Sirius’s, he demands, lap. Dorcas pulls
out two bottles of vodka her sister mailed her and takes a bold sip from one,
trowing the other at Peter. Screw dinner, you
think. Screw the rules. Soon everyone
is laying in a big mess of tangled legs and arms and hair, laughing at
everything and nothing at all, forgetting for a moment. The late april wind
blows in his hair, making it even messier than it is, making it look like he’d
just shagged, making you want to shag
him but really you’re just drunk, you tell yourself.
His glasses are crooked and dirty but his eyes are sparkling and his smile is
lopsided and he looks like he’s drunk on pure liquid joy, no diluent. You look at
his long delicate fingers, knuckles bloody from Tuesday when the Blacks’ family
owl delivered Sirius a letter and his fist almost made a hole in the commor
room wall. You look at his sneakers, covered in mud as if he’s been running in
the Forbidden Forest for two nights straight. You look at his muscles under the
rolled sleeves of his shirt, his tan skin, the purple and blue veins underneath.
You look at his eyes. They’re looking too. Shit,
you think, but his eyes don’t tear from yours and you can’t make yourself look
away. He’s all you can see and you both don’t notice that Marlene and Sirius
are long gone, probably in the now empty boy dorm doing Merlin knows what or
that Mary and Dorcas are kissing and giggling unnoticed a few meters away or
that Remus and Peter are now walking around the pitch trying to clear their
heads and be at least a little bit responsible. No, all you notice is each
other and the stars in his eyes and the flowers in you hair and your love. And
sure, it is a little reckless and a little dangerous, and there really isn’t anything, but it’s okay cause you won’t remember
it tomorrow morning, right? All of a sudden something bubles inside of you and
your smile turns into laughter because
how could i be so oblivious and there’s
clearly something, there’s everything and you realise why your stomach is
always in knots when he’s around and why your troat tightens when he gives you
one of his shit eating grins and of
course. Of course I’m in love! He’s starts laughing next to you on the hard
ground too and your eyes fill themselves with tears as the sunset sky opens and
swallows you both.
common room, in the little hours, when even the wind is silent, the fireplace
is long cold and you’re sitting alone in the armchair next to the window,
trembling, thinking how fucked up the world truly is. You hear his tiptoes on
the old stone stairs of his dormitory carrying the history of so many other
lives before yours. He yawns and stretches his lean arms over his head, but
you don’t turn around. You hope he won’t notice you there, that he’ll simply
get his forgotten charms essay from the table near the fireplace and go back to
bed. ‘Lily!’ you hear him inhale
shortly and then… he’s gone. You want him to be but you can’t help feel a
little dissapointed after all. You’ve told yourself so many times not to think
abot him that way, to accept it’s pointless, that he doesn’t love you anymore,
and even if he did what’s the point, it would never work out, not now. But it’s still
hard and you know it will always be. You feel a blanket around your shoulders and you abruptly turn around to face him. He’s looking down at you with worry
in his eyes and a line between furrowed brows. You open your mouth to say
something, anything. ‘Don’t.’ He’s wispering. ‘You don’t have to explain. I know.’ He
sighs and sits on the armrest, looking out of the window. You turn back towards
it and lean your head on his arm. ‘When
did everything become so complicated.’ It’s not a question. More of a
statement, an unheard plead for things to go back the way they were, to normal.
He signs again, harder this time, louder. He seeks your green, green eyes,
stares deep into them, almost like he’s at loss of words. Almost like he’s lost
himself in them.
Neil could handle Kevin’s condescending
critiques toward his exy’s performance. He could stomach Aaron’s
resentful glares and could even deal with hates and sneers from public. But he
couldn’t stand anyone shit talked on Andrew. Especially when it was Jack.
Jack had been in the
foxes’ team for months. Most of the foxes could barely stand the sight of him.
Jack’s first day being recruited and he already rude to the original foxes.
He said “I’m not a
fag” to Nicky when Nicky greeted him and killed his enthusiastic smile
"Women should not be
the lead of a group. They should stay quietly behind.“ Such an insolent
remark almost earned him a backhand from Allison but Renee stepped in front of
her just in time. He even dared a daring once-over to Andrew which Neil thought
was stupid and brave both at the same time. Thanked to Andrew’s indifferent
manner, he didn’t give a shit about it.
And Neil, too, had gotten
low blows from Jack. He and Sheena, another exy player of Palmetto State
University with vulgar mouth, always sneered whenever Neil opened his mouth and
snickered at Neil during scrimmages. He snapped at some point but he would calm
But that didn’t happen on
one Thursday afternoon when Jack had gone beyond the
parce que j’habite au Canada et le Français est la deuxième langue ici!! je l’ai appris quand j’étais dans l’école jusqu'à la dixième année… donc je connais les bases de la langue et je le comprends quand je l’entends… alors, je pense si je connais quelque de la langue, je devrais continuer avec mon apprentissage et devenir tres bon au parler et comprendre Français!!
can we stop trashing enjolras in e/r i’m all for monstrous enjolras characterization, but more along the lines of ‘this bar is now only serving molotov cocktails’ instead of being written as verbally abusive
i know the ‘incapable of thought belief life death etc etc’ section is maddening my first thought was ‘mon ange you shot a man like three chapters ago but that will not deter me from punching you in the face’ but people use that scene to justify cruel, horrible enjolras when the context is grantaire harrassing and bullying a waitress on a battlefield completely wasted while the rest of them prepare for war. it’s not as pointlessly harsh as people make it out to be, it’s the last fucking straw. the revolution is what enjolras has been working towards his whole life, why do people take this line and act like it’s a regular occurrence?
he’s disdainful, and (ironically h a ha) skeptical of grantaire, and hugo lets us know he’s rebuffed him many times but I don’t see a basis for interpreting him as the kind of guy who delivers an Ego Eviscerating speech for anything less than ‘I’m literally preparing to fight and die while you’re being a useless dick’ hugo says he felt ‘lofty pity’ not ‘you’re the worst and i fucking hate you’
i think it’s pretty obvious from hugo’s earlier drafts that enjolras didn’t expect OFPD (his ’thank you’ holds so much surprise & gratitude) i don’t think enjolras knew and understood the extent of grantaire’s loyalty (i don’t think grantaire did either: ‘without being clearly aware of it, and without any notion of explaining it to himself, he was spellbound––’)
yes, several passages talk about how “sweet” and “tender” he was but that tenderness is also accompanied by sass, bullshit, and melodrama, would you expect sincerity from someone who follows you around saying shit like ‘what marmoreal magnificence?’ unreal
i would think they’re fucking with me, not ‘maybe we’ll die holding hands’ and grantaire offering to help with your revolution when he goes around whistling monarchy tunes to piss you off is like a troll blog offering to help you with your latest politically progressive news article, you’re gonna sideeye the fuck out of it. why people think enjolras knows how grantaire feels about him when he ‘barely perceived roses, he was oblivious of spring, he did not hear birds sing, etc etc’ and would go out of his way to be cruel even knowing that is beyond me
ok so hear me out. What if one day Kuroo, a fighter under the shogun, stumbles upon a shrine nearly in ruins and prays for guidance because he’s so fucking lost in the woods and accidentally summons Kenma, the spirit of the forest??????
A/N: uhm i haven’t written anything in a while so im so sorry if this sucks i tried pls dont slander me ok i will get better this is so dumb i uh i gtg
“No, Mark, I’m fine”, you said as you tried to stifle a
cough, “There’s no need for you to come over.”
“Y/N, I can hear how sick you are through the phone. Seriously, it sounds like you’re about to cough up a lung.”
He was right. Your head was pounding, each cough feeling like it was inching you towards your death.
“It’s just a little cold, you don’t have to worry! Plus you have prac-”, you coughed so heavily, it actually startled you a little bit. Calming down a bit, you tried to finish your sentence, only to be interrupted by another cough.
“Seriously, I’m coming over.” He hung up.
You felt about him coming to take care of you. He was always so busy, practicing, putting his best into all his work. It broke your heart to seem him so tired all the time and you never wanted to be a part of the reason for his tiredness. Damn this cold, you thought. If it weren’t for this cold, he could focus on doing other things or even resting, but instead he was downstairs figuring out how to heat up a can of soup.
You heard the soft tread of his feet heading to your room. “Mark, you don’t have to check on me every time I-”, more coughing, “-cough.”
He stepped into your room, a concerned look on his face. You sighed out of exasperation, throwing your head back onto your pillow.
“Actually, yes I do, but we have a slight problem, Y/N”. His voice was serious as he scratched the back of his neck, brows furrowed.
You looked up at him, worried about what he was going to say, signaling for him to continue.
“I, uh, well, I burnt the soup.”
You couldn’t believe how concerned he had been about burning the soup, you erupted into a laugh that resonated throughout the room. You sat up to try to stop laughing, only to fall back onto your bed in a fit of laughter. Attempting to calm yourself down, you looked back at him, “Mark Lee, how do you burn soup?”
His eyes began to scrunch up, the ends of his mouth curling upwards, and a giggle erupted from his mouth. He sat down on the bed and began to laugh along with you. The situation in all honesty, wasn’t that funny but neither of you could bring yourself to stop laughing. Finally, you began to sit up, and looked at him, still laughing slightly.
“I can’t believe you. Only you.”
“Only me,” he repeated, pulling you closer and placing his lips to your forehead.
send me why you love your biass and i’ll write you a short scenario about them
- All to call mine. OK I DID NOT KNOW HOW I MISSED THIS FIC IN THE SKK TAG BUT BOI IT WAS HOT I GOTTA TAKE LIKE 3 SHOWERS A+++.
- La vie en rose. Idk what to say abt this fic tbh it’s so…beautiful? The writing is absolutely breathtaking and I was like damn how did you do it. ALSO PLS UPDATE I WOULD SELL MY SOUL I WOULD SELL MY EVERYTHING JUST UPDATE OH MY GO
- Ah… I Think We’re In What They Call A Hate/Love Relationship. So yeah Dazai and Chuuya share a room. Dazai realizes how perfect Chuuya is as he god damn should and it’s cute and it has Tachihara in it so hell yeah. But at this point I’d just recommend checking the author’s profile in general tbh I rec-ed her twice before.
- Even god was in tears. Rip Chuuya you can never escape from Dazai tbh but it’s ok that’s how I want it to be BUT PLEASE UPDATE WHY WOULD YOU END IT LIKE THAT RIGHT BEFORE I MAYBE POSSIBLY GET THE R18 I DESERVE.