In a hopeful attempt to make my Christmas deadline, I’m going to aim for a Sunday check-in every week, even if it’s not very exciting or substantial, with a word count for the week if relevant and not too embarrassing.
Word count for this week’s work: 2414 (including the translation of “Alle meine Entchen,” since I did have to do some creative/sleuthing work to piece that together.) :D
thought you were going to save me for later, greedy gosling,” he chides
breathlessly. “I need these fingers for your after-supper surprise.”
an after-supper surprise?” I chirp, tipping my head back to gaze up at him. “In
addition to the cuddle-nest or in place of?”
laughs heartily. “In addition, greedy thing, but you have to give me a story or
a song to get the cuddle-nest. The surprise comes free of charge.”
squeal with delight and dive into our plate with gusto. “What if I give you
both?” I ask through a mouthful of tangy wild rice. “A story and a song – can I have an extra treat?”
He dips his face into the curve of my neck, leaving a damp and sticky kiss
behind. “You can have whatever you want,” he replies, quite seriously. “Money,
jewels, an extra dessert prepared on command, half my kingdom and a throne to
rule it from…”
grin, never mind he can’t see it, and think of songs and stories and wishes.
Granny Ashpet’s father left us one additional song; another silly children’s
piece, sung to his daughter from birth, the lyrics to which are particularly
appropriate today, but to win a wish, the story needs to be exceptional,
especially in light of the breathtaking hours-long tale Peeta spun for me last
night, and I don’t dare attempt to return to this morning’s spur-of-the-moment
“folktale” of the gander and vixen.
I can’t quite resist a different tale that relates delicately to both of us and
gives us a glorious ending together where, of course, none will ever be. “I
have both,” I inform him triumphantly. “Let me know when you’d like me to remit
each one and I’ll start working on my wish.”
chuckles softly. “Well, eager thing, if you sing to me now we could move
directly to the cuddle-nest as soon as supper is cleaned up and I lay out the
coverlets,” he replies, and I drum my spoon against the plate edge for
like this idea immensely,” I tell him, and set aside our nearly empty plate to
take his hands in mine. This is, after all, a children’s song, which is best
accompanied by merry clapping, and I tap out a soft steady rhythm with his big
hands as I sing…
surrounded the early morning, light peeking from the curtains, shadows playing
tricks on walls, white sheets mustered messily on the mattress, and two people so
terribly engulfed in the shine of each other’s eyes.
The woman slept
soundly, hugging a body pillow, bare naked, breathing evenly as her legs
tangled possessively around the cotton. Her beautiful, smooth skin was painted
with purple and blue, patches of rough love showing proudly as if they were her
The man was
sitting up, back facing her and his feet touching the cold wood, fingers
cascading through his ruffled strands as his ribs rattled with shaky breaths.
His face was contorted with thought, polished with a lovely pink and dark
circles of sleep deprivation. Had he slept a wink, he did not know.
But he sat there
with his lovely, pale skin, contemplating about something one would think silly
to do so, but still he thought.
And then, he
rubbed his face in utter frustration, slapping his cheeks as if to ready
himself, and then faced you, hands lingering above your rising back. And he
spoke quietly, carefully, but oh so lovingly.
His breath tingled
your cheek, his raspy voice tainted with early morning haze automatically made
you smile. You stirred from your slumber slowly, fingers readily reaching
for his that were gently touching your skin. Your eyes cracked open when you
mustered enough energy to do so, lazily staying still and breathing for a few
seconds before rising, blanket covering your body strategically.
He waited in
adoration as you closed your eyes again, sitting there with your head down and
your hair splaying all over your face. You rubbed your face whilst sighing,
curling your legs before moving your head side-to-side, the cracking sounds of
your bones filling the air.
And then you faced
him with a smile, momentarily adjusting your eyes to the sight of him sitting
there in front of you, bare chested and smiling thinly, hands curled and expression
You gave him a
questioning look before reaching to unravel his fingers, slipping yours into his
comfortably before your voice, a ringing fairy bell, pulled him back into
earth, away from the clouds of his wandering mind.
Granted, it wasn’t
perfect. Your voice was a bit raspy but Yoongi loved every pitch, tone, accent
your throat had devoted itself to making. Because ultimately it was yours.
He trembled at
your touch, trying to breathe as evenly as he could, staring at your knuckles
and playing with your joints.
“So I’ve been
You gave a little
whisper of oh no, automatically making him chuckle and you quickly delivering a
grin. “Go on.”
He cleared his
throat, licking his lips tentatively before rushing up to face you.
“I love you.”
knitted in confusion, silence stretching out longer than Yoongi had hoped for.
started out slowly, still a little taken aback, “That’s great, Yoongi, but why
tell me at… four in the morning?”
You wanted to
laugh at the absurdity of this man, but you could tell he had spent time going
over this in his head, again and again and again.
“No, no, no,” He
rushed, shaking his head as his eyes widened, “I love you.”
He had gotten
closer to you, stressing this fact, holding onto you with heightened strength.
And you stared back, mouth slightly agape and eyes blinking in surprise before
your lips cracked into a lovely smile. You slipped your hands slowly to shape
his face, thumb rubbing over his cheeks with soft care, moving his fringe from
his eyes that had watered down its intensity.
“What exactly were
you thinking about, hm?” You hummed softly, moving to tap your forehead to his.
He breathed refreshingly,
closing his eyes momentarily as you went to slide onto his lap, kissing the
crown of his head as you stroked his noir strands.
“I was thinking
about how,” He inhaled, fluttering his eyelashes against your skin, “How
beautiful you are.”
You pulled back to
give him an amused smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“I thought about
how, the expanse of your skin is the only place I find comfort in.” He said
this before kissing your neck, a slow, adoring peck.
“I thought about
how kind you are to me, how supportive and encouraging you’ve always been, even
on the nights I don’t come home.” He whispered sadly, mindlessly messing with a
strand of your hair.
understanding, and caring, and even though sometimes you throw a fit, you admit
the wrongdoings you’ve done. You’re a good person, a lovely one, someone who
has easily become such an important part of my life, I…can’t explain how much
you truly mean to me.”
You sat there in
silence, gazing at his lips that uttered poetry, before kissing him sweetly.
understand why he was praising you so highly, but it didn’t hurt to hear once
in a while. Your heart had done cartwheels and your mind exploded with
fireworks. Yoongi was never one to openly express how he felt, so when he began
with a love confession, even as you were filled with confusion, you fell in
love with him all over again.
He returned the
kiss softly, touching the small of your back to move you in closer before
breaking it, the faint sound of your lips separating made his heart ache, because
even then he had already missed it. You gave him an amorous smile, giggling
before kissing his nose.
began, raking your fingers through his tresses, “I love you too.”
He sighed, it being
filled with so much pure ecstasy and infatuation, you couldn’t explain the
Yoongi sat there regrettably
as you kissed him again, arms wrapped around his pale body, that wasn’t shaking
with anxiety, but with adoration and admiration.
He regretted not
being able to tell you how your eyes resembled gems in the sky, twinkling
always. How your skin was never cold, how your hair always smelled like morning
dew, how the way you sang in the shower always reminded him of joyous children,
how the way you loved was so sincere and affectionate he would never get tired
He regretted not
being able to tell you how your texts still give him butterflies, how your
tears (though rare) always rained down on him with piles of guilt, because such
an angel as you need not to cry, need not to feel sad.
But he can tell
you all of this soon, and he will, but maybe next time, a ring will be hidden
in a bouquet of roses along with the future of what’s to come.
I love fall and those lovely colours always make me happy. I had just started writing and this was my fourth poem and I really wished to write about Autumn. So I began but there’s this thing with me, my poems never really end the way I initially thought they would and so is the case with this one. I wanted to write about a beautiful Autumn day but then I didn’t know how to give it a proper ending and I continued with whatever this silly mind of mine led me into and this poem turned out something completely different than what I was hoping.This happens with me all the time.
ahahahahaha im going to be busting my ass to catch up holy crap
anyway i know i said this wouldn’t be a chapter thing but the idea of these days not being completely independent of each other made me like. suuuper uncomfortable so i’m not going to do that. and then the idea of not having 31 fics made me uncomfortable so technically i’ll be posting one for yesterday as well as this. but i’m already behind so—inspiration better hit me like lightning this weekend.
@itsnotyou-itsmimi on tumblr asked for adrien being in the snow for the first time in x amount of time and somehow i got to this fic i was just too slow to write it all in one day. i kind of completely failed on this prompt but i tried my best and also don’t own any cats/have seen any cats in the snow/know what i’m doing so if you ever give me another prompt mimi i promise i’ll try and do better <3 <3
Nathalie stops Adrien on the stairs. “Where are you going?”
Adrien tenses and gives her a nervous smile. “To school?”
She raises a single eyebrow, the rest of her face blank. “This early?”
“Um, yeah? Nino said it’s a thing him and Marinette do after the first snow.” They both glance to the window. The snow is falling lightly now, simply being more picturesque than actually accumulating much on the roads. “If…that’s okay?”
“It’s not,” she says sharply.
Adrien winces. He knew this was a possibility, he just ignored it. He does have a backup plan that involves him sneaking out his window in a very Chat Noir way. Just minus the enhanced agility and ability to fall long distances without getting injured. He’s lept from his climbing wall to the couch plenty of times, he’ll be fine.
super angsty fic idea that i can’t write myself bc it should b super long and super sad and super heartbreaking and i have too much commitment issues for that and i also write too slow for such a fic so someone write it for me pls
ok so i wrote most of this to a friend at like 3 in the morning a few months ago (and some more stuff when i talked about this w @sirius-orion-lupin ) so here it is (and sorry this is a mess i honestly just copy and pasted our texts)
Ok so what if throughout the entire series, Draco was in love with harry.
He grew up listening to stories about The Boy Who Lived, all wizarding kids must’ve. And Draco tries to befriend Harry when they’re getting their robes fitted (Draco recognized that famous scar) and tries to impress harry like his dad would have; hes going on and on about how great and rich he is etc., but he just comes off as arrogant and dudley-like to harry and he rejects dracos hand in friendship. and it breaks him, but he has too much Malfoy pride to say sorry for being a prat and to start over
And so their infamous rivalry and hate arise, and Draco is trying to win Harry over (still friendship-wise at this point) by acting like that schoolboy that has a crush on that girl in class (calling her names, pulling her pigtails, etc), trying to make harry pay attention to him (which technically is canon)
He’s always observing and thinking about harry; trying to come up with The Plan that will make Harry Potter his friend (or just like him, really), and he notices small details and little quirks harry has
Like how harry likes his tea, his favorite dessert, etc
And Draco realizes at one point (prob around 3rd year) that oh shit. he’s actually in love with Harry Potter. It’s not just his looks or his reputation. He’s in love with the way Harry’s tongue sticks out a little when he’s concentrating, the way he walks (slouching a little, but big steps. Semi-confident, as if he’s trying to act like he’s confident, though he’s p insecure. Draco has no idea where he got that description), the way Harry laughs or grips his quill, and how harry hugs his friends.
He continues to try and get harry to like him, but now romantically, and is heartbroken every time when Harry spits insults at him and storms away after Draco pretends to be a dementor, climbs a tree to jump off to taunt harry, etc
And then 6th year rolls along and dracos so broken and stressed out that he doesn’t have the energy to do that to harry anymore, not to mention the sneers and insults he’s sure to get from harry, and Draco doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle living if those were added to his shoulders
And then 7th year, draco was cried when he was by himself after finding out that Harry wouldn’t be at school. the only comfort in the storm of his life wasnt there to keep him grounded. And whend he’s taken out of school, dracos dying with voldemort living in his house, and he thinks about harry whenever he feels like he’s gonna break, and when the trio is at the manor, his heart drops bc the guy he’s loved for the past 4+ years is here and his life depends on dracos words (and draco doesn’t identify him, obv)
And harry saves him from the fiendfyre, and Draco is thankful and so /hopeful/, maybe, finally, harry will want to start over
But his heart breaks again at his trials when Harry testifies for him, and finds out that he only saved draco bc he thought that he didn’t deserve to die, and bc they were both kids in the midst of a war they wanted no part of
And after the trials, Draco asks why harry testified for him, and harry says to repay the life debt that he owed draco for not identifying him in the manor and also bc he thought draco deserved a second chance
Draco doesn’t have enough nerves or guts to ask if he could have a second chance with harry. hes too scared of being actually rejected. hes too scared of his nightmares becoming a reality
They don’t speak after the trials, only keeping up with each other’s lives through common acquaintances and the Prophet
(Fuxk i forgot this) Draco’s boggart turned into harry telling him ‘I should have left you in that fire’ (post creds to @drarry-ponderings)
Anyway, it’s a stab in the gut for draco whenever he sees an article abt harry in the Prophet (which is often, to nobody’s surprise) about potter and the weaslette dating and getting married, the birth of their children, and seeing harrys happy smiles in every article makes draco cry while he holds the papers tight in his arms, because harry is so happy without draco, while he’s depressed out of his wits
And Lucius can’t handle this anymorw, and arranges a marriage, and Draco ends up marrying a pure blood girl to continue the Malfoy line
And when they finally meet at Platform 9 and ¾ after /years/, Draco is so heartbroken at the sight of Harry and his weaslette (shes potter now, but draco cant face that truth) wife sending their kids off to hogwarts. Even more so when after all these years, all draco gets from harry is just a polite nod
Switching pov - harry
Harry never saw draco romantically, and treated and thought of draco the same way as in the books
Hated him down to his bones
And was genuinely happy and in love with ginny
And never sought out a friendship with draco malfoy after he rejected his hand back in first year
And the final stab: draco knows all of this. He knows that harry hates him, and that he probably never will. But he still cries when he thinks of how much he is in love with harry and how he’ll never know Dracos feeling for him, and that he’ll never feel the same way – ever.
Scorpius writes often to draco, and draco finds or that his son has become best friends with albus potter
Every letter, Draco is rly happy to hear from his son, but his vision blurs and his heart wrenches when scorpius writes about albus and how hogwarts is so fun with him, because it always reminds him of what he could have had with harry
(pls read more under the cut.. i cut it off bc i felt bad it was kinda long but i promise its good)
fluff with akaashi and his s/o? i need more fluff in my life omg
One very long order of fluff coming right up! Fluff is an essential. Kind of a first-date-at-the-amusement-park scenario!
7:59. Akaashi woke up before his alarm went off–precisely one minute beforehand. He hadn’t been able to sleep soundly the night before, waking up every few hours and having twenty different dreams in between.
9:00. He was out of the house, dressed in casual clothes and a hastily inhaled breakfast jostling around in his stomach. He tried keeping his pace relaxed and nonchalant, and yet for some reason by the time he reached the bus station, he was a little out of breath. Just a little.
9:30. Akaashi saw them before they called out his name.
It took a lot to get Akaashi excited or flustered, but somehow that all flew out the window when it came to his partner. They walked toward him, their hand raised in a wave.
So this is the Cinderella!au I’ve been thinking about. It’s a mix of the movie and some of the original writings. It’s not the best and there are probably numerous mistakes which I apologize for.
I decided to break it up into parts so hopefully I can work on the other parts soon and get those up.
So I hope you like it and that it’s not too bad.
Once, there was a small boy with a loving family. Hester’s father and mother adored him, teaching him to be kind and only to love. The boy was close with his parents, but sadly there had been an accident and his father had died. Hester had lost his left foot. His mother was heartbroken and with little money after the funeral, was forced into a marriage with an older man. Pitch Black was a tall, gray-faced man with two daughters—twins—Heather and Holly. They were mean-spirited and treated Hester badly behind his mother’s back. Unfortunately, his mother’s health began to decline and she was bedridden.
Hester was at her side every day, holding her warm hand in his as she regaled him with stories of wishes coming true. Pitch Black did nothing to save his ailing wife and soon she passed away, hand still clutched tightly by her son. The funeral was quick and Hester was forced into being a servant for his stepfather and stepsisters. They called him Hiccup because he was a mistake in their lives. Hiccup had forgotten his old name as the years went by.
But no matter how harshly they treated him, Hiccup grew into a lovely young man with large green eyes and freckled skin. His companions were the mice that littered the mansion, each one having their own personality. The large greyhound, Toothless, also kept Hiccup company in his tower. Almost all the animals within the mansion were friends with Hiccup, all but Pitch’s cat, Drago. He was an old cat with scars and gnarled teeth. He liked to chase the mice around for fun, watching them cower in fear while he licked his lips. Hiccup tried to treat him kindly, but the old cat didn’t seem to care for friendship.
And so Hiccup went about his younger years working for his stepfather. He never knew life outside the mansion, but it didn’t stop him from dreaming of a day where he could be free to wander out into the world.
i have always moved too slow,
i can never get out of bed
when i am supposed to
i always forget everything i learned
the day before in school
when I had done so well in class
i uninvite myself from parties
before the person
even gets the chance to ask
but it is unlikely that
they would have anyways
i bite my tongue too much
and the words take too long
to leave my mouth
that even when one asks me
how i am doing
i stutter and clench my teeth
i put too much sugar in my coffee
but it doesn’t keep me awake
i reply too late to the messages
on my phone
and i often leave them unread
but i swear i don’t have any grudges
against those who have sent them
so please, forgive me
because i have always moved too slow
for my legs are long
but my body is heavy.
Yet I have alway moved too fast,
at folding myself into quarter-halves
I fold my black wings like pocket-knives
when entering a bright room
or even a dark one
at the smallest command
I analyze a situation
like the codes of a computer
before I even know the full story
I claw at my palms
when the one I love looks at me
because he is too pretty
and I am feign
I apologize like a broken record
for faults that aren’t mine
and for fools who are not kind
I write poetry at two in the morning
and when I hear a drunk pass by
I write about the cause of his high
I try to grab on to things
when they are thousands of miles apart
But I swear I wouldn’t if I couldn’t
and if I had learned to accept
so please, forgive me
because I have always thought too fast
for my mind is big
but my heart is heavy.
A/N: My blog deleted because I am just ??? So I am re-uploading my scenario. I will be making YouTuber AU’s for the rest of the members too. I’m just kinda slow at writing.. Enjoy!
“What’s up, guys? It’s me, Y/n!” I exclaimed, doing my signature hand motion. Yoongi snickered from his spot out of camera range. “Shut up.” I laughed.
I turned my attention back the the camera in front of me. “I thought that maybe I should do a Tumblr-tag video..but then I got thinking. Why would you guys want to watch me scroll through Tumblr and see what you weirdos do like I usually do?” I asked, raising an eyebrow to the camera, “So I thought, why not bring a Tumblr noob in here and scroll through their tag to see if I break them! So here is the guest I’m gonna corrupt!” I waved Yoongi over and he used his wheeled office chair to roll into the camera range.
“Hey, Lets pour some suga on it, huh?” Yoongi said his intro with his ‘classic’ handguns towards the camera.
“Lame.” I coughed and he shot me a glare, “Yes, guys! It’s Yoongi from ‘Letspoursomesugaonit’!”
“Y/n said she’s going to take me on a tour of…tumble-er?” Yoongi stated, voice raising at the end like a question, “Can you explain what it is to me?” He turned his head towards me.
I smirked. “Tumblr is a blogging website where people go to share feelings, pictures, fandoms and such to each other.” I explained, “It’s a dark and dangerous journey. Once you go in, you don’t come out the same. Lets get started, yeah?”
“Ah..I’ve heard there’s lots of strange stuff on this website. Should I be worried?” He asked, looking between the camera and I.
I only smirked a little bit while typing his channel name into the search bar of Tumblr. “Ready?” I asked, finger ready to press the ‘return’ key.