if i had my hands on that journal

the whole #outsider art thing makes me uncomfortable bc it feels just like an extension of the early 20th century primitive art thing, feels patronizing and dehumanizing in the same way the indigenous art in the natural history museum does…like it seems like the implicit message is “you, the outsider, don’t understand your own art as well as we, the critics, do.” and I know basquiat got lumped into the outsider art category a lot which is just so baldly racist. like me and phoebe went to that exhibit at the bklyn museum of basquiat’s journals and they had pages that were clearly just notes to himself, like a literal piece of paper with a phone number written on it, displayed next to his artwork and it’s like, do u think he wasn’t capable of distinguishing his art from his notes? just so insulting to like his intentionality as an artist. on the other hand my cousin nicole who’s autistic gets her work displayed at outsider art fairs and she’s really good and has made a good bit of money from her art so I guess in another sense it’s good that there’s like a “market” for the work of artists without formal training. I guess what it comes down to is that art is a servant of capital and the kinds of art that are allowed to exist and flourish are determined by the art market and as a result artists are never going to be given full agency over their work and how it’s received/distributed. I know there’s a lot of scholarship on the history of primitive/naive/outsider art so I guess I should read some of that 

4

08.04.2017

“The sky is already purple; the first few stars have appeared, suddenly, as if someone had thrown a handful of silver across the world.” 
- Alice Hoffman, Here on Earth

I must say that this is one of my favorite spreads so far! I wanted to experiment with watercolors and I’m just so in love with how it turned out~
It was so much fun working on this spread i even used a blowdryer to prevent the pages from getting too wet ahhh the struggle 

01.02.17 • 18:54PM last week in my bullet journal ~ tried my hand at drawing again, copied this from pinterest, I had fun (I take no credit for the design). I really need to carry on reading again!

I remember when we first met and you held my hand everywhere we went,
I knew it would hurt when you finally let go but not this much, not like this,
The thing is, you never really did let go,
You just loosened grip,
Just to make me want to hold you closer to make sure you could never leave,
You left me hanging by a last string,
You made me believe I had you but only just,
Maybe you were never the one who was suppose to let go,
Maybe it was me all along,
So I guess this is me,
Loosening my grip completely,
Letting you go.
—  Being the one who lets go doesn’t make it hurt any less.
In An Instant: Part Ten (END)

Summary: A romantic comedy about what happens when love literally falls through your window.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Ash (aka me), Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark

Warnings: Language, general gross cuteness, some angst, bad writing, bad storylines, possible cheating, but mostly major fluff and feels

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: I’m finally wrapping up this series. It didn’t quite go the way I had anticipated but I enjoyed it. Thank you to all of you extremely patient people who followed along with me. I’d love to hear what you thought of the series as a whole and what I should/shouldn’t do in future series. I love you all. Special thanks to my babe, @sebbytrash, for reading through this for me. I love you.

Catch up here!  **My Masterlist  ** Inspiration Fund

When you awoke that Saturday afternoon, a mere three weeks since you met the life ruiner, Bucky Barnes, your heart literally hurt. Who were you to stop a wedding? You barely knew this guy. There was nothing you could do.

Keep reading

“I sent for Albert; he came to the Closet where I was alone, and after a few minutes I said to him, that I thought he must be aware why I wished them to come here,- and that it would make me too happy if he would consent to what I wished (to marry me); we embraced each other over and over again, and he was so kind, so affectionate; oh! to feel I was, and am, loved by such an Angel as Albert, was too great delight to describe! he is perfection; perfection in every way,- in beauty - in everything! I told him I was quite unworthy of him and kissed his dear hand,- he said he would be very happy, “das Leben mit dir zu zubringen”, and was so kind, and seemed so happy, that I really felt it was the happiest brightest moment in my life, which made up for all that I had suffered and endured. Oh! how I adore and love him, I cannot say!”

- Tuesday 15th October 1839, Queen Victoria’s journal

The last time I wrote a poem that ended up being a song, I was writing in my journal and I was writing about something that had happened in my life - it was about a year ago - and I just wrote this really really short poem, it said “This love is good / this love is bad / this love is alive back from the dead / these hands had to let it go free / and this love came back to me” and I just wrote it down and closed the book and put it back on my night stand [and I was like] “meh that was fun, short little poem” and then all of a sudden in my head I just started hearing this melody happen and then I realised that it was going to be a song
—  Taylor Swift (x)
Violet

pls enjoy :)

~

She always had her journal and a pen latched in her hand as she walked in. My eyes always amazed on how someone is always at her beck and call, I mean look at her. The way her hair curls down her back, her hips sway as she avoids bumping into people in the hall, everything about her was so pure. The mix of innocence and sweetness excited me, like she has never heard of a bad word or even said one. She walked to her normal spot in Pius, seat just right to get the amount of sun and warmth, and shadow needed. I liked her from the moment I laid eyes on her. Her skirt rose more just because the way her hips were, and I am not complaining. 

The pen tapped her glossed lips as she thought on her new entry. I could smell her sweet Daisy perfume from across the room. She smiled at me when she saw me, like she knows exactly at this time I’m here, waiting for her. “Hi Calum.” She greeted in her soft voice setting the pen in-between the pages of her journal. “Hey, Violet.” I smiled back. “Out of all people, I never would’ve expected you to be this, fascinated in someone.” She giggled as if it were the funniest thing in the world. “I just like that you have such a desire to write, it is quite fascinating,” I winked causing a deep red to spread across her cheeks. She waved for me to come sit by her, and so I did.

“Since you’re so fascinated that I write, take a look.” She turned a few pages back, letting me read on whatever her mind pondered on.

February 23

I notice all your features. I notice how blue your eyes are, and when they become darker as you become frustrated. how your smile is bright and teeth are white. i notice the way your hands grab the pen you hold when you write and how concentrated you look when doing it. i notice everything it;s scary, and i hope you notice me

your mind is a storm. sometimes it’s dark and scary, the other times its light and beautiful. i wanna know what goes on inside there, what’s its like to think. you have never imagined how one word can mess me up. no matter if it’s an “insult,” or compliment. everything you say comes and stays in my mind and i can’t get rid of it. it burns in my brain and makes my head hurt. i never understand what you say if it’s true or just a joke. i just hope it’s out of care.

i cried over you again today. i cried over how much you hurt me. i cried over how much i wanna yell and scream at you. i cried over how much i want you to love me. i cried how i want you to give me answers on us. and it sucks because you talk to all these other girls yet I’m the one who you hurt the most because whatever you say I’m processing in so many ways and then you say I’m joking, i wanna yell because thats not what you made me feel 2 minutes ago…

She must of noticed on how I got caught up in this because she covered the rest of it with her hands. “That’s enough for today.” She said, her voice was full of sadness. “Violet, I never knew how deep you were.” I exhaled. She half smiled, “It’s a blessing and a curse.” I stood up, grabbing her hand. “C’mon I wanna take you some where I think you’ll like.” I laced my hand with hers, surprised she didn’t let go, but rather caress her fingers in mine. I led her to a spot behind the park that had a bench looking onto a lake. “I come here when I feel sad.” I let go of her hand, going to sit on the bench. She quickly followed me, sitting down clutching her journal with her. “It’s beautiful Calum,” She smiled up at me. 

I wrapped my arm around her as she nuzzled into my chest. “You always seem to fascinate me Violet, rather it be writing or sitting in Pius working on homework.” I spoke her. “I don’t understand why Calum, I’m just an ordinary girl.” She giggled. “You don’t seem normal to me Violet,” I took her chin in-between my fingers. Her eyes glazed over mine, flickering to my lips back to my eyes, mine did the same. I found myself leaning in to kiss her plump lips, and she did the same. Our lips intertwined with each others, and I could taste the peach gloss she always sported. We pulled back after a moment, “Who hurt you?” I asked. She sighed, “It’s a long story, I’m not sure you’d want to hear it.”

I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, “I have all the time.” She perked up a bit, “Well, my dad abandoned me when I was maybe 10. He left me for weeks with barely anything to eat or drink, so I mostly wandered the streets. I never met my mother, my dad told me she wanted nothing to do with me since I was born, and then my dad and I never grew found of each other. So, I live with my Aunt. She took me in after she saw what my father has been doing to me. I’ve always been scared to be loved or love anyone. Once I got to high school, I met this guy, Josh. I thought he was the one, and I liked him for so long that he eventually gave in and we dated. Once we got to graduation of Senior year, he told me the whole thing was a dare and that he would never love someone like me because we were too “different” and that really broke me. And those writings you read, were about him. It still hurts Calum.” Tears filled up her vision, and she looked down too scared to face me.

I wiped away the tears on her cheek, tilting her head up a bit, “No one should ever feel hurt like that, do you hear me? Violet, I’m so sorry.” She smiled. “It’s ok Calum, I’ve heard the pity and I don’t need anymore of it. Thank you for bringing me here, I needed someone like you.” She looked up at me. “This is why you fascinate me, I never knew.” I kissed her forehead. “It’s really fine. If you really want, we can go back to my place.” She offered. “You think I’m gonna let some pretty girl like you walk alone, you’re not getting rid of me.” I told her letting her stand. “You’re such a dork,” She smiled.

~

After watching four movies with Violet, I’ve learned a lot about her. Her music ranges from Blackbear to One Direction, her favorite color is white, her favorite book is Milk and Honey, and countless details that I’ve come to love. “I can’t thank you enough for actually spending time with me Calum, it means a lot.” She looked up at me. “You know I would love to do anything that involves you.” I smiled. Her room was more girly than I expected it to be. The walls were white, decorated with pictures of her and her friends. Her bed was white, and the duvet was grey with blue pillow accents. She had a full length mirror that had motivational quotes along the edges, along with her makeup vanity that held everything a girl could ever want. There was a white fuzzy rug that coated the wood floors. “Again, you fascinate me.” I said, pulling her into me. “Again, I don’t see why.” She giggled.

“Violet! Ven por favor!” Someone called from downstairs. “Oh, that’s my Tia. I’ll be right back.” She broke herself from my embrace. “Hola, Tia. Que tal tu día?” I heard her ask. “Ay, good. Quien esta arriba?” “Calum,” She replied. “Quien?” “Un momento.” I heard Violet walk up the stairs. “My Tia wants to see you.” She smiled. “I never knew you were Spanish.” I said, following her down the stairs. “There’s still a lot you have to learn about me Calum.” She winked. “Tia, esta es Calum.” Violet introduced me. “Hola, Calum!” Her Aunt greeted. “You can call me, Sarah.” I casually waved. “Preguntarle si quiere quedarse para la cena.” I find this fascinating. “Do you wanna stay for dinner?” Violet asked. “Sí gracias.” I said. Violet laughed at my basic Spanish skills.

We headed back up to her room. Violet sat on her clear chair with a white pillow that was set at her vanity as I sat across from her. “I never knew you were Spanish.” I said, again. “Yeah, my mom is from Spain, and my dad is from Chile, so I have some Spanish decent in me. I grew up speaking it, and my Tia goes back and forth speaking it, you’ll notice it.” She said. “So is Violet your real name?” I asked. She shook her head no, “It’s Francesca, but I didn’t like the idea of being called Fran, and Violet is what my Tia called me from when I was little because she didn’t think I looked like a Francesca.” She said. “Fascinating, again.” I said. She threw a pillow at me, “get a new word!” “Violeta, Calum cena está lista!” Sarah called. “Let’s go eat!” Violet got up and headed to the kitchen.

~

“Thanks for everything today Calum, I had a good time.” Violet broke the silence. “I’m never leaving you, I hope you know that.” I told her. I could feel her heart race when I said those words. “Is everything going to go back to normal tomorrow? Me sitting in Pius for hours and you being adored by everyone?” She asked. I sat up pulling her in between my legs, “Are you kidding me? Violet, the moment I saw you, I liked you. And why you fascinate me is because you’re so strong, you know what shit to get done, you’re everything a girl wants, and so much more to me.” I said. She smiled with small tears falling onto her cheeks, “I’ve never been told anything like that before.” I kissed her, making her feel wanted. Her dainty hands wrapped around my neck as I pulled her into my lap. My hands rested on the skin under her sweater. I felt Violets hands grip the fabric of my tee-shirt, my arms reach over to pull her hands away. I shake my head before speaking up, “No, don’t. Tonight is all about you.”

“Just tell me to stop if you want,” I assure her. She smiled, taking her sweater and pulling it over her head. Her breasts spilled out in her white lace bra. “God you’re beautiful.” I told her. “Have you ever been touched here?” I asked her sliding my hand between her legs running my fingers over her cotton panties. The touch was bold but I could tell she liked it by the way her eyes glazed over. She shook her head no. “I never knew how to ask.” My eyes feel to her bare neck that I could easily cover in purple marks. “Well that’s a shame.” I moved my hand back feeling the heat and the little wet spot forming. “I bet you’re sweet.” I whispered looking back up at her. “I guess you’ll have to find out.” She winked. Fucking hell this girl.

I began rubbing circles on her clit, “God I can feel your pussy getting wet.” “Oh my God Calum don’t say that.” She gasped covering my mouth. “That word is degrading.” She whispered. “Well from what I feel down here, it seems as though you like when I say pussy.” I added pressure to my fingers. She moaned at the contact. “What are you doing to me?” She moaned. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.” I whispered. To me her body was like a goddess, her hips nice and curvy, her breasts perky and big, and her ass god I can’t get enough of her. I tapped my fingers on her juicy bottom lip, “Suck.” I ordered. Violet gladly took my fingers in her mouth, coating them. She slid her panties down her legs, her wetness glistened. My finger curled inside her. “Do you think I can add another finger?” I cooed taking her bottom lip between my teeth. “Please.” She whispered before pressing her mouth to mine almost immediately running her tongue along my bottom lips to ask for entrance. She moaned hotly in my mouth when I pushed a second finger inside her. It was a tight fit, but I made it work. “That feels so good.” She moaned with a shaky breath before I sucked on her bottom lip. I quickly discovered my obsession with her mouth. It was just so tasty and pretty to look at.

“Calum, what are you doing to me?” She moaned. “You’re just about to orgasm babe.” I told her, sucking purple and black marks on her neck. “Oh my god, it feels so good.” Her sweet moans filled my ears. “C’mon girl, you can do it. Cum all over my fingers.” I said. Her body shook as her orgasm took over her beautiful body. Violet’s breath was heavy as she pulled up my shirt. “I’ve always found your tattoos attractive.” She said, tracing the inked skin. Her nails raked down my arms making me groan. She began undoing my belt buckle and unzipping my pants. “You’re gonna have to help me because I’ve never had a cock in my mouth before.” I moaned at the way the words came out of her mouth. She dropped to her knees, “It’s so hard.” She whispered struggling to get the zipper down. After she finally got it down, her warm hand dipped into my boxers firmly gripping my cock. Pre-cum was smeared all over the head. Without me saying a single word she swirled her tongue around the head of my cock licking it off.

“Fuck.” I swore throwing my head back. Her tongue ran down my length taking as much of it as she could. “Teach me.” She said, running her lips to the head of my cock. “You’re doing pretty good without me.” I said. She smirked a little to herself, taking my cock in her mouth again. Her hand came up and began stroking immediately. “Look at me.” I instructed. Her eyes looked up at me. She sucked hard starting to bob her head up and down starting to get the gist of giving head. She hummed around me keeping her tongue on the under side. She continued to suck on the tip and stroke the rest. “Shit Violet.” My hands ran through her hair, guiding her up and down my cock. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum Violet.” I moaned. Her actions sped up, her hands working with what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. “Such a good girl.” I said. I grab her chin, making her face my eyes.

Her eyes were locked on mine and I pulled her on the bed. “Now what can I do?” She asked, almost oblivious to what just happened. “You know what else you can do? You can come up here and let me feel that beautiful pussy around my cock.” I said, my voice filled with lust. “Good, ‘cause I want you like crazy.” She smiled before kissing me. Violet laid back on her bed, ready. I towered over her, drinking in her body. “You ready baby?” I said, positioning myself in front of her entrance. “Always.” She said. Her hips grinded with mine. “God, Calum.” She moaned. One of her hands held onto the head board as the other held onto my bicep. “Fuck Violet, you feel amazing.” I said picking up my speed. “Shit, whatever you keep hitting, feels really good.” Her mind was going into a frenzy. Her moans sounded like music to my ears. None of her quiet self, it was much more vocal. “Calum, I’m gonna cum.” She moaned, her back arching slightly as I continued to hit her g-spot. Her nails raked down my back, filling up with euphoria.

“Come on pretty girl, cum for me again. Cum all around my cock,” My words edged her on. “Oh my god, oh my god!” She yelped. “Atta girl.” I moaned, feeling her walls clench around me. The pleasure was too raw. “Fuck,” I moaned pulling out of her. “I didn’t expect that.” She giggled. My hands massaged her breasts, her humming. 

“You’re gonna be my favorite prized possession.”

Memories

*Philip Hamilton x Reader
*Modern
*Word count: 2121

Summary: You somehow find a diary/journal of your old self and read through the contents of how you met your soulmate centuries ago.

Request: SOULMATE AU WITH PHILIP PLSS - @pearltheartist

A/N: Okay I had so much fun writing this and I hope you guys enjoy reading it and please send in more requests because I’m sick and noT going to school today k bye

And anything that’s italicized is memories/journal entries

Warnings: EXTREME FLUFF (idk someone might not like that???)

~~~

“Nana, why do I have to go clean out your attic? Why can’t Liam do it?” You groaned, mentioning your brother as you climbed up the old stairs that led to your grandmother’s attic. “Because dear,” she called out, watching you climb up the stairs, “there may be some treasures up there that you might like.”

You looked down at her with furrowed brows, pursing your lips in question at her statement. She simply shrugged and wandered off, muttering something about making cookies for Liam and your grandfather.

Sighing, you opened the wooden door and pushed yourself up, letting out a low grunt as you did so. “I really need to start working out again,” you muttered, shaking your head as you looked around the old attic. The attic contained boxes upon boxes that probably contained items that hadn’t been used for years, along with piles of dust everywhere.

Running a hand through your hair, you nibbled on your bottom lip, not exactly sure where to start. “What on earth did nana think I’d find up here that I would love so much?” You wondered outloud to yourself, “all I see is boxes full of useless junk.”

“Stop complaining, Y/n.” You lectured, “nana sent you up here for a reason, obviously.”

When you finally decided to get to work, you grabbed the first box you saw, setting it down gently and opening the old box, coughing as dust flew everywhere, waving your hand in the air to blow it away. “Okay,” you breathed, beginning to rummage through the box and finding nothing of importance.

This continued for over an hour and you were to head back downstairs to complain to your grandmother, when something in the box you were currently looking through caught your eye. A black leather journal that looked like it was going to fall apart any minute now.

You slowly reached down to grab it, gently picking it up in fear that it would break if you tried to do anything else with it. Once you opened to a random page, your eyes narrowed as you recognized the familiar handwriting. It looked like your handwriting.

February third, 1795.
Dear diary,
Today me and my parents went to the Hamilton estate, something about me meeting my betrothed, which makes me uncomfortable at the mere thought of being forced to marry someone I didn’t love, especially if he wasn’t my soulmate. But, what can I do? I’m just a child, and a woman at that, I didn’t get any say in the matter at all. Mother didn’t look too happy either, muttering the entire way there about how “I shouldn’t be forced to live through what she did.” Whereas father was claiming it’d be good for both of our families if I married young Philip Hamilton when we were both eighteen years of age. I have indeed heard of the Hamilton’s before, but I have never met them. Mr. Hamilton was known for his over-the-top personality whereas Mrs. Hamilton was known for her soft and sweet nature. I knew nothing of Philip Hamilton, though. I do hope he is as great as my father says he is. We have arrived at their estate, I’ll update you later.
Sincerely,
Y/n Y/l/n

Your eyes widened, nibbling on your bottom lip as you reread the journal entry over and over again. What made you more suspicious was that this girl had the same name as you. You somehow found yourself wanting to know what happened next, so you kept on reading:

Dear diary,
We have just gotten home and I’m very tired, yet I remembered I promised to update you on everything that happened before I went to visit the Hamilton family. I’ll tell you everything from start to finish. First, we were greeted by a maid, she was a nice young lady, yet she looked to be around my age, which made me feel unpleasant at the thought of these people forcing young girls to work. But nevertheless, I didn’t complain and allowed the girl to lead me and my parents to the parlor, where she said the family awaited us. Once we reached the parlor, she simply announced our names and curtsied, leaving right after. I remember feeling nervous as I came to see Mr. Hamilton staring at me with a straight face, but Mrs. Hamilton’s sweet smile made me feel comfortable after. “Mr and Mrs. Hamilton, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I found myself saying, curtsying just like mother had taught me to do. “Please dear, call me Eliza.” I remember nodding, letting a short smile appear on my features before it disappeared right after. “Well, I suppose you must be here to meet our son. Philip, come here!” Mr. Hamilton called out, motioning for a young boy around my age to come downstairs. Once he did so, I felt my eyes widen as my mouth dropped into a slight ‘o’ at the sight of the boy. He was absolutely magnificent. I then remembered how unladylike my actions were and curtsied once more, “Y/n Y/l/n, pleasure to meet you.” I remember the boyish grin that appeared on his freckled face as he leaned down to kiss my hand gently. “Philip Hamilton, the pleasure is all mine, Ms. Y/n.” I don’t think anyone could ever understand how absolutely helpless I felt when he did that. I don’t think I can describe the smiles on our mother’s faces as they watched our actions. It was absolutely amazing. Well, I do fear that I’m starting to doze off… Until tomorrow
Sincerely,
Y/n y/f/n

You were definitely gaping at the old journal now, everything seemed so similar, from the handwriting down to your name. You had the exact same name. Now, you were never one to believe in soulmates or reincarnation like your nana did, but this had seemed very suspicious.

“Dear? Did you find anything?” You heard nana call out, making you shake yourself out of your trance and call back, “yes nana, I did. I’m coming down now.” You gripped the journal tightly as you walked down the old ladder, closing the attic door behind you as you turned to your grandmother. “Well?” She asked expectantly, making you smile and show her the journal. Your grandmother’s eyes brightened as she gently took the journal from your hands and admired it, “I… recognize this…” She whispered breathlessly as she took in the sight of the old journal.

“The lady has the same handwriting and name as me, nana. Isn’t that strange?” Your grandmother nodded slightly, a breathless smile appearing on her lips as she opened the pages and flipped through them, letting out a soft sigh at the sight of ripped pages.

She eventually handed the journal back to you, leading you towards grandfather’s study. “Dear, you do know about soulmates, correct?” You sighed, slowly nodding your head. “Nana, you know I don’t believe in-” Your grandmother shushed you, cradling you in her arms making you set the journal down on your grandfather’s messy desk.

“Just let me speak, dear.” She whispered, pulling away yet she still gripped your arms as she gave you a large smile. “You know of soulmates and reincarnation, right?” You nodded slowly, frowning in confusion as her smile grew.

“You know me and your grandfather are soul mates, yes?” You nodded, sighing softly. Your grandparents were one of the few people in the world who met each other long ago and were soulmates, reincarnating together every time they died. “Well… This young lady you are reading about, that’s you.”

Your eyes widened as you laughed, pulling away from your grandmother. “Yeah, right,” you snorted, “and Beyonce is my mom. Nana, just because you were lucky enough to meet grandpa years ago and reincarnate with him, doesn’t mean we were as well.”

Your nana rolled her eyes, scoffing. “When you were reading this journal, what entry did you read?” You frowned, “something about her meeting Philip Hamilton, I guess they were betrothed or something.” Your nana squealed softly, “and do you know anyone by the name of Philip now?”

You nodded slowly, “uh yeah, we have World History and Biology together… Oh shit.”

“Watch your language,” she lectured before shaking her head and smiling again, “dear, next time you see him, talk to him. You won’t regret it.”

Later that night, when everyone else was asleep, you found yourself reading this girl’s journal some more, reading every entry from the first page and so on until you reached the end of the journal, which came to stop in the middle of the diary. There was only one more journal entry after this one:

November twenty-third, 1801.
Dear diary,
I have never met a man more foolish than Philip Hamilton, not even his father could be more foolish than he. This man, my soulmate, my betrothed, has decided to challenge Mr. Eacker to a duel all because he insulted his father. Philip, has always been a man of honor, he was unlike any man I had ever met before. He was sweet and caring like his mother, yet would do anything to protect his father’s legacy. And to make things worse, his father encouraged it. If I weren’t a lady of high respect, I would’ve given them both a piece of my mind. Anyway, I must sleep now, I’ll write back tomorrow.
Sincerely,
Y/n Y/f/n

Your brows furrowed, your eyes were narrowed and you found yourself turning to the next page, desperately needing to know what happens next.

November twenty-fourth, 1801.
Dear diary,
Today, on the twenty-fourth, the love of my life has passed away at the hands of a dishonorable man. I watched as his mother and father screamed in aguish when he passed, I remember feeling his cold lips touch mine one more time before his closed his eyes, finally at rest. “I’ll come back for you,” I remember him promise, which had resulted in me crying, it hasn’t been the same anymore. He’s only been gone for a few hours yet for some reason, it feels like centuries. It feels like my whole entire world has turned upside down… Philip… He was my world. I couldn’t be more thankful for the six years we were able to spend together… The six years I was able to spend with my soulmate. I do hope I get to see him again soon, my heart cannot take this pain much longer.
I’m afraid this may be my last entry
Until next time,
Y/n Y/l/n

You felt tears form, wiping them away so they wouldn’t ruin the already thinning paper, and slowly closed the unfinished book, setting it down on your nightstand by your bed as you let out soft cries at the thought of never seeing him again.

Oh, I do hope I get to see him soon

~~

The next morning, the day you were set to leave and go back to the city, you wrapped your arms around your nana as you whispered, “I get it, nana. I’m going to get him back.”

You feel the warm smile slowly form on her features as she let you go and gave you a soft peck on the forehead, telling you to come visit again soon.

~~

The next day, you were back in school, desperately looking around for Philip with wide eyes and a journal clutched tightly between your hands. When you finally saw him, he was retrieving his books from his locker, running a hand through his curly locks as he whistled a soft tune under his breath.

“Philip!” You called, running to him and wrapping him in your arms, and to your surprise, he hugged you back. “Y/n,” he breathed, pulling away to look into your eyes with a soft smile, “I came back for you,” he smiled and looked down at the journal in your hands, taking it and flipping to the last page, his smile fading a bit as he read what you had wrote all those years ago.

“It’s good to see you again, my love.”

Originally posted by steveetrevor

Prompt:  Imagine McCoy discovery that the reader self harms ( if you are uncomfortable with it switch “suffer of anxiety or panic attacks ” ) and offers the them his help and show he cares ( sorry I need something amgsty and hurt/confort at the moment )
Word Count: 616
Warnings: Depression, suicide attempt, guilt, angst….
Author’s Note: Please read the warnings

Keep reading

A Little Bit Longer

Write-A-Thon: AU Day (1)

pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda x reader

summary: Lin and reader both have Crohn’s Disease and receive Remicade infusions for treatment. With nothing to do for 3+ hours, they chat with each other and quickly become closely acquainted. 

warnings: IVs (like hospital ones), swearing, chronic illness? idk man

words: 2430

a/n: So, this is the first part to a fairly slow burn series I’m starting. It’s the most personal thing I’ve ever written and I’m sure it’ll keep getting more so. That being said, I’m absolutely terrified to put this out for people to see; I’ve never shared something this deeply personal to me and I’m just worried what the reactions will be. I really, really hope you guys like this. I cried a lot of tears writing it, but I think it’ll be a very healing experience for me. 

Thank you to @alexanderhamllton @secretschuylersister and @tempfixeliza who all read over it for me and helped calm my nerves about it. I love you all. 

tags: @bluesnowyangel @hamrevolution


There comes a moment in everyone’s life where something colossal happens, something changes in their lives, and they’re suddenly never the same person. Some people will change for the better, others for the worse, but it’s an inevitable fact of life.

Maybe it’ll happen when you’re seventy, you might just be seventeen, but regardless of age, it won’t be easy.  Life doesn’t discriminate between the old and the young; pain is pain and it demands to be felt, whether emotional, physical, or other.

For some time after said life changing event, the sun seems to stay hidden behind dark clouds and as far as the eye can see, there are storms. The storms will seem to never end and odds are, you’ll find yourself wondering how other people do it, how they get through it.

The truth is, it isn’t easy. You do it because you have to, because you have no other choice. Life will push you down countless times before you can get back up, and that might take years. But when you look up at that cloudy sky, you’ll see that every cloud has a silver lining. The sun will come back out, sometimes one ray at a time, and life will be beautiful again.

Keep reading

Besotted [j.j]

Jughead Jones x reader where he is completely smitten by a River Vixen who has the tendency to sit all alone at Pop’s.
~~~

Betty and Veronica sat in their usual booth at Pop’s, discussing the events that had happened that week. Betty and Veronica had just become friends again, being closer now more than ever after the whole Chuck incident.

Veronica straightened up as both Archie and another boy walked into the diner. She recognized him from the student lounge the other day, when Reggie had tried to pin Jason’s murder on him, but she couldn’t quite pair a name to his face.

Betty noticed that Veronica’s attention was no longer on her and turned, mustering a small smile at Archie and Jughead before asking if they wanted to join. Jughead stared at them before smirking. “Yes. But only if you’re treating,” he said, jumping over the booth and sitting next to Veronica as Archie slid in next to Betty.

“Jughead Jones. The third,” he introduced himself.

“Veronica Lodge,” the raven-haired girl replied.

And it was in that moment when everything seemed to be back to normal.

~~~

The group of friends had been chatting for a while when Kevin Keller walked in. Veronica looked at him and waved, pouting when he didn’t acknowledge her and walked straight to a girl sitting all alone in a booth near the back.

“What’s wrong Ronnie?” Betty asked, noticing the girl’s frown.

“I thought you had introduced me to everybody already Betty,” Veronica said.

“I did,” the blonde girl replied.

“Then who…is that?” Veronica asked, pointing to the girl who was now chatting with Kevin. They were both smiling and laughing as they talked. “I was pretty sure he’s gay.”

Archie leaned forwards, “That, new girl, is (Y/N) (L/N). Riverdale’s Sweetheart.”

Veronica shot a shocked glance at her friends. “And here I was, thinking that Riverdale’s Sweetheart was our very own Betty Cooper.”

Betty laughed before speaking. “(Y/N) over there is not a total sweetheart. She can be a downright manipulative, sarcastic bitch, and she knows it. It’s the reason Cheryl likes her so much.” Betty’s tone was not mean, she was just stating a commonly known fact.

Veronica observed the girl. (H/L), (H/C) hair that gently swayed when she laughed, cuffed jeans, some sneakers, and an oversized sweater.

“Her?” Veronica asked, “A bitch? She’s the most adorable person I’ve ever seen!”

“And,” continued Betty, “She’s also been the object of Jughead’s affections since we were 5.”

Betty, Archie, and Veronica all turned to face Jughead, who remained stoic even though there was a bright red blush crawling up his neck and heating up his cheeks.

“It’s been 10 years,” Archie said, “And he still hasn’t confessed.”

“Well why don’t you?” Asked Veronica.

Jughead sighed before replying, “She’s a River Vixen guys. She’s friends with Cheryl and has Reggie chasing after her. I’m not gonna waste my time on a hopeless cause.”

And with those words, Jughead Jones the Third jumped over the booth they were sitting at, and left Pop’s.

~~~
(Y/N) had been sitting peacefully at her booth until her best friend joined her. She looked up to meet a familiar pair of brown eyes that belonged to the person who had just ripped her pen from her hand and snapped her journal shut.

“Kevin,” she greeted, “How nice to know that you got my invitation to come over and snatch my pen and join me as I eat these onion rings.”

Kevin gave her a sharp look before glancing at the booth where the rest of his friends were sitting. “I don’t want to alarm you (Y/N), but loverboy is currently looking over here.”

(Y/N) felt her cheeks flush at the mention of Jughead, whom she had liked since elementary. She casually glanced over Kevin’s shoulder and made eye contact…with Veronica Lodge. She gave a polite smile and looked back at Kevin

“When are you going to tell him you like him?” Kevin asked exasperatedly.

“Never Kev,” (Y/N) replied. “I am not going to make fool out of myself in front of Jughead.”
~~~

After talking for a little while more, (Y/N) decided that it was time to leave and gathered up her journal and said goodbye to Kevin. Betty, Veronica, and Archie immediately came and joined him, a mischievous look on Veronica’s face.

“Alright Kev,” she spoke, “Spill. Does your adorable little friend have feelings for Jughead or not?”

Kevin smirked. “I dunno. Maybe…maybe not.”

Betty rolled her eyes,“ Don’t torture the poor girl Kev. Everyone knows that (Y/N) is just as besotted with Jughead as he is with her.”

Veronica’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Perfect.”

~~~

“Where are you taking me Betty?” (Y/N) asked. “I promised Cheryl I would meet her to show her the new routine I came up with for Friday’s game.”

“I just really need your help (Y/N),” Betty replied.

(Y/N) followed Betty, who was holding onto her wrist, until they reached the news room. As they stepped inside, (Y/N) froze, realizing they were not alone as Jughead turned to them.

“I’m restarting the Blue and Gold,” Betty stated, “And I need both of your guy’s help.”

~~~

It took some time to convince both Jughead and (Y/N) to join the paper but in the end, Betty sent them to go talk to Dilton Doiley.

The whole time, both Jughead and (Y/N) couldn’t contain their nervousness, as they hadn’t had much contact since entering high school. Questioning Doiley turned out to be pointless, but (Y/N) did notice the uneasy scout that kept shooting glances at them as they talked to Doiley.

“Alright,” (Y/N) said, getting Jughead’s attention, “So Doiley was a flop. But, either that scout is checking you out, I mean who doesn’t, or he’s hiding something.”

Both Jughead and (Y/N) flushed, realizing that she had basically admitted to checking him out at one point or another.

Smirking, Jughead asked, “Are you included with those who check me out? Because I wouldn’t exactly mind.”

(Y/N) tried to reply, but became a stuttering mess.

“C'mon,” Jughead chuckled, “Let’s go question that scout.”

~~~

(Y/N) couldn’t concentrate. She knew she was supposed to be helping Jug interrogate the scout, but she couldn’t help but admire the way he so casually took the scout’s dessert and began eating it. She only realized that she had been staring when Jughead got up and began to walk away, grabbing her hand and pulling her along with him.

“Let’s go,” he said, not letting go of her hand, “We’re meeting Betty in the news room.”

It took them ten minutes to get from Pop’s to the school. In those 10 minutes, Jughead couldn’t stop mentally thanking Betty as he stole glances at (Y/N) who was lost in thought as they walked.

Arriving at the news room, they carefully set down their stuff and proceeded to wait for Betty, a comfortable silence enveloping them. (Y/N) suddenly realizing that she really had to pee, got up abruptly, muttering a small ‘I’ll be right back’ as she walked past Jughead. Not looking at where she was going, the young girl suddenly tripped and went flying. At least, she would have if Jughead had not been quick enough to catch her.

She look up into his eyes. Big mistake. They stayed there, frozen, his arms around her waist as her hands were flat against his chest. Then, as if they were two magnets being drawn together, they began to lean in, slowly getting closer and closer until finally, their lips met.

The kiss was a soft one. Hesitant and just the slightest bit awkward, but neither (Y/N) nor Jughead would’ve had it any other way.

“I guess this is the time to say that I like you,” Jughead muttered as they pulled away. (Y/N) chuckled.

“I’ve like you since we were 7 and you helped me when I fell off the swings Jug,” the girl quietly replied.

“I’ve liked you since we were five and you told me you liked my hat,” Jughead said, looking down.

The two teenagers sprung apart as the door slammed open and Kevin and Veronica barged in, dancing. Betty and Archie soon followed.

“Our plan worked!” Exclaimed the raven haired girl and the brunette boy.

“What plan?” Asked (Y/N).

“You see dear,” Kevin started, “We couldn’t take you and Jughead shooting longing glances at each other from afar anymore.”

“So we convinced Betty to get you two to join the paper and work together, hoping that you would admit your feelings if you had to work together,” Veronica continued.

“And it worked,” chimed Betty.

(Y/N) and Jughead exchanged glances before looking at their friends, who were too busy celebrating to say anything else.

“Pop’s?” Jughead asked.

“Pop’s,” (Y/N) confirmed as they linked hand and walked off.

After ten years of hopeful wishing, Jughead Jones had finally gotten his girl.

~~~~~~~~~~

This my first ever fic written here on tumblr and also, this is a new Riverdale blog. I hope it’s good enough for Jughead. :)

Updates Thru 9 Months on Testosterone

Month 1:

  • Hot flashes and sweating increased
  • Fuzzier knees
  • Acne increase
  • Increased libido
  • Voice cracking
  • Hungry literally all the time
  • Mood swings
  • Oiler skin (especially my chest/back)
  • Clitorus growth (this was actually the first thing I noticed)

Month 2:

  • Leg mass/shape changing
  • Increase body hair (happy trail, side burns, eyebrows and chin) and coarser feel–week 8 was when I noticed my first chin hair!
  • Weight gain (approx. 8-10 pounds)
  • Arms getting bigger
  • Breasts getting smaller
  • Voice cracking more noticeably
  • Mood seemed to start leveling out around week 9
  • Face shape noticeably different

Month 3:

  • Voice became noticeably deeper but still cracked occasionally
  • Fuzzy facial hair increasing
  • Increased acne on back/arms/chest
  • Curves around hips lessening
  • Hair on thighs and knees getting thicker

Month 4:

  • Hair creeping onto hands and thicker on arms
  • Smell changing (body odor worse)
  • Finally seem to be settling into my voice
  • Shoulders broader (some shirts that used to fit became too small)
  • First month with no menstruation
  • Many of the same changes as the first 3 months continue to develop

Month 5:

  • Sideburns more noticeable
  • My eyebrows are absurd
  • Jaw line changing (a little soreness)
  • Shoulders and legs are sore
  • Facial hair coming in a little better, but still very patchy and blonde
  • Many of my shirts no longer fit my shoulders

Month 6:

  • Acne seems to be getting better
  • Voice started cracking again
  • First time I cut myself shaving!
  • Hair increasing everywhere, especially happy trail
  • My hands and feet grew, but not noticeably probably to anyone other than myself (I only noticed because I put on shoes I hadn’t worn for 6 months)

Month 7:

  • Need to shave more frequently
  • So much hair–upper thighs/butt and leg hair is now very thick and visible; arm hair is darker and thicker; hair on feet and hands filling in; eyebrows are out of control; nipple and pubic hair is thicker/denser and has spread
  • Somewhere around month 7 was also when I noticed that the hair on my head had a different texture/was thicker
  • Overall, around month 6/7 is when the changes started leveling off and were only noticeable in pictures

Month 8:

  • Veins in hands/feet more pronounced
  • Jaw line/face shape is VERY different
  • Facial hair still patchy, but growing back faster
  • I think my voice is finally okay

Month 9:

  • Thicker hair in general
  • Adam’s apple pretty noticeable (this actually started happening around month 6)
  • Acne on back/chest coming back?
  • Black hairs developing on upper back/shoulders

These are the updates in my journal from my first 9 months on testosterone. These things are different for everyone, but I thought a timeline might be a nice reference. I have some pictures/voice comparison videos on my transition tag as well. Overall, these first 9 months have been outstanding and I’m looking forward to doing my one year reflection post. Stay tuned and, as always, feel free to drop by my ask box if you have any questions!

APWOA: Chapter One

The first chapter of A Penny’s Worth of Affections, my Claire / Jamie AU that takes place during WWI!

Read the prologue here! Enjoy! ✨


I. The Red Man

Edinburgh, Scotland

21st April 1914

Scotland had always been one of Claire Beauchamp’s favorite destinations. Despite her many travels with her Uncle Lamb, at the ripe age of twenty-two, she never found anything that didn’t fascinate her in the green, majestic mountains of the Highlands. Whenever they traveled past the many lochs and moors that called Scotland home, she made it a point to keep her window propped open, to allow the many delectable smells of the countryside to flow continuously into the cabin. Scents of lavender, heather, and mist filled her nose as she inhaled deeply, letting out a sigh of contentment. She leaned her elbow on the window, her hand – long-fingered and ivory in color – resting on her cheek serenely. Her gaze moved from the rolling hills to her Uncle Lamb, of whom was sitting across from her in his seat.

   Quentin Lambert Beauchamp – “Q” to his friends, “Dr. Beauchamp” to students and fellow scholars, and “Uncle Lamb” only to his niece – was a man of many tastes. An archeologist, he was fascinated by things long forgotten. His latest research revolved around the Vikings of the early 9th century, of which he had journeyed across the Scandinavian Peninsula and the British Isles in order to research more in-depth. And, of course, he dragged his sweet niece happily along with him. As if she had any complaints.

   Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, orphaned after her parents’ deaths following a house fire near the turn of the century, had been raised by her uncle since the ripe young age of five. She had been in the company of her uncle for quite some time, so Claire had become accustomed to the life of a nomad: traveling from place to place without an anchor. For many women her age, this lifestyle would seem most unattractive, but Claire felt the opposite. I feel free, she had confided in a friend once. Like I’m a bird let out of its cage, wings floating on the wind.

   Noticing her eyes on him, Lamb peered up over his journal (of which he was scribbling in most diligently), his light, wispy eyebrows raised over the rims of his spectacles. He glanced over at the window to his left, the rolling plains of green passing by at lightning speed, before glancing back to his niece.

   “Content to be back, my dear?” He inquired nonchalantly, turning his face back down into his notes.

   Claire grinned, her teeth shone white over the pink of her full lips. “Of course I am, Uncle. You know my fondness for Scotland.”

   Her uncle nodded, reaching into his coat pocket for his tobacco pipe. “There’s a Red Cross in Edinburgh, you know. Maybe you could stop by one of these days, see if they need a fresh set of hands?”

   “I was thinking about that, too,” She confided in him after a moment, pulling her hand from her face and resting it in her lap. She fiddled with the penny in her pocket. “Would you mind terribly if I went later this week?”

   Lamb shook his head, “Of course not, my dear. I will be in lectures the majority of it, anyhow. Although I do implore you to take someone along with you, just in case something were to happen. Have you still been in correspondence with that friend of yours?”

   Claire’s ears perked up. She had completely forgotten about Gillian Edgars. A close friend of Claire’s that she had become acquainted with when they had first visited Scotland, she knew that Gillian would most enthusiastically join her on her escapade. Like herself, Gillian had a fascination with medicine and nursing, although her interests were a bit more medieval than her own.

   “I will write to her once we arrive. Hopefully, she won’t be out of town.”

    The statement was more to herself than her uncle, of whom had already begun to puff gray bits of smoke out of his pipe. He looked almost cartoonish across from her, gray puffs of smoke trailing out of his mouth like that of a dragon. With the combined smell of the tobacco and the rolling Scottish wilderness, Claire was in complete and utter bliss.




The pair arrived in Edinburgh not more than a half hour later. Stepping out of the car and onto the train platform, Claire took in another lungful of air. She smiled to herself, taking in the busy sights around her. People bustled to and fro, with luggage and boxes slung in their arms as they hurried on their way. Women flocked in groups, handling pastel parasols to match the colors of their frilly dresses. Children rushed around them, as free as the countryside surrounding them. For the first time in a long time, Claire felt at home.

   Her uncle pulled her out of her daze as he approached her, their bags in his hands as he held out his elbow for her to take. She took it exuberantly, leaning into the warmness of her uncle’s side as they made their way towards the city streets.

   People bustled to and fro, hurriedly bustling from place to place on their own set agendas. The Beauchamps themselves had their destination set: the Baird Inn, their home for the next twelve weeks as Uncle Lamb lectured at the University of Edinburgh. In his agreement with the university, Lamb would be lecturing to the history classes weekly, each week focusing on a different aspect of Scottish history. Starting way back as 1000 AD and making their way upwards, Uncle Lamb, along with some other professors and scholars from the area, would teach the students about their nation’s history, with artifacts dug up from right below their feet.

   “How very interesting!” Claire chimed when Lamb introduced her to his topic.

   Lamb smiled wryly, “I haven’t a clue how interested the Scots will be when they find an Englishman standing at the head of the room, lecturing them on their own history.”

   When Lamb had first brought the proposition to Claire’s attention, he had mentioned it with some reserve; this, Claire had assumed, was because they had just settled in Oxford not but three weeks prior. But seeing as she had lived the life of a vagabond for more than a decade, she figured settling into a temporary home in Scotland seemed worth it. After all, it was one of her favorite places.

   They rounded the corner towards the Inn, and Claire noticed Edinburgh Castle in the distance. From where it stood, a good few miles away, the weathered stone was darkened, like it had been burnt around the edges.

   “A fascinating building, that,” Uncle Lamb chimed as they crossed the threshold of the Inn. “What a beautiful piece of weathered stone…”

   Claire smiled but said nothing as they made their way to the innkeeper’s desk. Behind it sat a plump woman, aged around fifty or so, with graying brown hair, pulled back elegantly away from her face. She smiled widely at the pair as they approached her, the lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes deepening with her excitement.

   “Good e’en to ye! How may I be of service?”

   As Uncle Lamb signed the guestbook and gathered their room key, Claire wandered around the lobby. A few odd ornaments were scattered across the room, like an ancient grandfather clock that stood in the far left corner, ticking loudly amongst all the hustle and bustle around it. A brightly colored painting of what she had only assumed to be Bonnie Prince Charlie hung victoriously over the innkeeper’s desk, his eyes looming over the back of the woman’s head. Claire was studying the beast-like eyes of a stuffed fox that sat near the doorway when Uncle Lamb called her name, and together they strode up the staircase to their rooms.




While Uncle Lamb visited the university – in order to announce his arrival and get the schedule for the next few weeks consolidated, Claire voyaged through the lovely city of Edinburgh. She noticed all the vendors in the streets, selling an array of different articles. Among the tables of fans, gloves, parasols and pocket watches, she noticed a table of artifacts sitting across the walkway. Striding towards it, she met the eyes of its keeper.

    The man looked familiar to her, but she could not place him. The familiarity seemed to strike the man as well, for his own eyes widened for a brief moment before settling back into their regular state. He smiled at her kindly, and she realized that he reminded her of a frog. His face, although amiable, was flat and oval-shaped, with a wide mouth. When she smiled back, he nodded his head in acknowledgment.

  “Bonsoir, Madonna,” He murmured to her, bowing respectfully. She bowed her head in answer, smiling kindly back but not answering. Her eyebrow quirked a bit at the name he called her – Madonna? – but didn’t bother to mention it. Her attentions, instead, were focused more on the zebra skin that lay on the table, a cup resting in the top left corner.

  “Do you know how it works?” The man questioned, eyebrows raised. The movement caused his leathery face to wrinkle, making him look significantly older.

  Claire shook her head timidly, “No, I don’t believe so, monsieur.”

  “Oh, my apologies, I should have introduced myself. I am Raymond.”

  “Claire,” She replied shortly. “Enchanté.”

  When Raymond smiled again, she continued, “What’s inside that cup?”

  He lifted the leather cup, examining it carefully. He checked inside once before turning it to her. “Look for yourself, Madonna.”

  She did as he bid, peeking over the rim. Inside the cup, however, she only saw the dark, circular bottom. Shaking her head in confusion, she murmured, “There’s nothing there.”

  Raymond, a look of confusion crossing his face, grabbed the cup lightly out of her hand and looked inside again. He pressed the cup back into her hand. “Look again,” he pressed.

  Eyeing the little man dubiously, she glanced back inside the cup. Instead of the dark brown emptiness she had seen before, she saw the whites of what appeared to be small bones staring up at her.

  “Sheep knuckles,” He murmured. His eyes jumped from the cup to her face, staring intently.

  Claire was rendered speechless for a brief moment, but gained her composure and asked, “How did you manage to do that?”

  He chuckled, eyes shining brightly with mirth. “A little sleight of hand,” he gestured with his hands, wiggling the fingertips. “I use it to entertain the customers.”

  “I daresay that you do a fine job of that,” Claire smiled, staring back into the cup for a moment. Then it dawned on her. “Oh, I know what this is! The Zulu do this in Africa as well, but they use different bones. Chicken, I believe.”

  “So you do know how it works, then?”

  She nodded, “Yes. My uncle is an archeologist; we travel a lot, and I remember when we were in South Africa we did something similar to this. Don’t you throw them onto the hide?”

  He hummed his affirmation. “Yes, but, you have to think of a question. You cast the bones onto the hide and they will tell the answer.”

  Claire closed her eyes fleetingly before casting the bones out onto the zebra hide. She watched as they fluttered across the table, landing on the dark surface in successive clattering sounds. Raymond stared at the bones, interpreting the data.

  For a few moments, his eyes stayed focused on the hide; then, he shut them forcefully. His fingers felt about the table, as if searching for knicks in the fabric. Eyebrows furrowed together, his eyes snapped open, wide as an owl’s. “I do not know his fate, but you needn’t worry. You will see him again. The Red Man.”


  The smooth area between her eyebrows creased as she looked down at the froggy man. “‘The Red Man’?”


  “Yes,” He replied shortly, repeating, “You will see him again.”



continued here

Silent Craving of Affection

Request: “more jealous/angry newt???? i live for angst”

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader

Word Count: 1474

Warnings: ANGST DANG MAN I’M CRYN (might have a smutty part 2?!?!?!!?)

Originally posted by rpvisualosities


Again she was drifting further away, her lazy gaze switching between the cars that travelled through the street. Her elbow leant against the window sill, the thin fabric of her dressing gown flying as the warm breeze sifted through the orifice, erupting in a quiet sneeze as the pollen from the flowers beyond her smaller hands tickled her nose and fell onto her eyelashes.

She is perfect in every way imaginable Newt thought, his hand mindlessly sketching the curves of your figure as you dozed across the sill. He thought he might be ensnared by your ethereal beauty, and only in the coming days after realizing his love for you did he understand that he already was. Although you thought of yourself as plain on better days, Newt could barely view you as anything less than flawless, your skin glistening under the sinking sun as you began to hum a tune.

“I think I might go out dancing tonight.” You spoke softly, as if to yourself. Even so, the combined notes of your voice to make such a simple sentence made his heart race.

“Dancing?” Newt replied with a slight smirk. “You told me you hated dancing.”

You turned your face from the street, looking back to the man who lounged with his journal in hand and a rosy tint to his cheeks. It was on days such as these, so effortless and calm, that your true beauty shone. Every deep breath you took, your chest rising beneath the white silk you wore, allured Newt until he had to shake the wandering thoughts from his mind.

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First Best Friend

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 1743

Warnings: Little Angst, nice fluffy ending.

A/N – this is for @jared-padaloveme ‘s Fluffy Birthday Challenge. Happy Birthday Juju! With the prompt/trope → “You’re afraid that you’ll lose me in big crowds so you always hold my hand but now you just hold my hand when there’s only, like, five people around and I’m getting vry suspicious.”

The first time you met Sam Winchester, you were only a little munchkin. You barely remember but your mom had taken pictures. They were kept in your memory box, stored deep inside your closet, hidden under a few old sweaters that don’t fit you anymore but you refuse to throw away.

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Friendly Advice

This is for my Drabble Game and is written for a lovely anon.

Prompts: “Trust me, I’m dying inside. You just can’t tell.” and “Tell me a secret. Your deepest darkest secret.”

+

Imagine Bilbo trying to get you to admit your feelings for Fili.

The writing in your journal seemed to blur together as you wrote and you lifted your head. The sky was dimming, the horizon a faded pink and the sun a melting orange against the pale sky. You did not know why you still wrote. Perhaps the habit of it kept your thoughts from dwelling on what you could not change.

“[Y/N],” A soft voice broke your trance and you looked over to Bilbo as he stood to your side, “Are you alright?”

“Perfect,” You lied as you snapped your journal shut, “Just writing.”

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