maybe hartbig

in the moment we’re lost and found

A/N: Here, beautifuls, is the fourth part to the tattoo au, or the adventures of vintage!Grace and punk!Hannah. It involves love and painting and kind of a dump of my own feelings into it, and I hope it is enchanting to you all. Thank you to Nicole for reading, as always, you are a fantastic support and a fantastic human.

2k words, just settling over the boundary of SFW, and much too poetic for my own good. part i, part ii, part iii, here on AO3

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Hannah is an artist.

She’s known this since she first felt paint stain the soft palms of her hands, bold and bright and real; she’s known this since she first felt grief turn her veins to ice and made color run from her fingers into flowers and moons and broken feathers. She is an artist in the margins of day and night, making paintings of her soft muttered nonsense into the ear of the girl she loves.

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Heartbeats - Chapter 9

Hello! It’s still morning here and I’m hungover so if some typos slips… well. As usual beta’ed by excellent hartfic. I sure hope you’ll enjoy this chapter a bit more than the last two ;) 

((N))SFW, (N)SFF, 2990 words


“We’re close” Mamrie whispers into Tyler ear, and points towards Beanz, desperately pulling on her leash.

“How do you even have one of Matt’s t-shirts?” Tyler asks while finishing up with his bow tie.

“It’s not Matt’s. It’s Greg’s.”

“Greg? Like ‘best man’ Greg?”

“That’d be correct.”

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Ok but can I just say how proud I am (as I’m sure we all are) of Grace and Hannah? I’m so excited that they got to make something they enjoy and share it with us. EWDG is so great in every way and I’m just SO HAPPY FOR THEM. Look at them go they’re doing it!!!! They’re living their dreams and I AM FEELING SO MANY THINGS ABOUT IT!! CONGRATULATIONS HANNAH AND GRACE AND THANK YOU FOR SHARING THIS WITH US!

I consider myself lucky to have found a small corner of trinity tumblr where shipping wars and privacy invasions are far-off, myhtical conspiracies that very rarely settle upon my dash. That being said, I understand a lot of people trying to protect the girls by telling people to stop shipping so hard and what not, but they are also grown women who have brought millions of us together and can handle their own shit. Have some faith in the trinity you guys, be respectful but perhaps less invested in the shipping preferences of others.
Unexpected

Previous part can be found here.  Hartbigguyz and tvfreakinabox continue to be kind enough to beta my story. 

Part 6 - SFW

Grace puts it down to a miracle that she manages to shrug and mumble her way out of her swift exit last night, something which she didn’t think possible. Not after she had basically ignored all of Hannah’s questions. Not after she had lost her cool when Hannah didn’t remember, and certainly not when she saw that Mamrie and Sarah had heard close to everything. There were bound to be questions. Questions she didn’t feel like answering just yet; not when she didn’t even know what this all meant for herself.

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Weird Thoughts - part four

Mace. Lies. SFW. Previous parts can be found on my fanfic page.

VidCon with her two best friends is exactly as it should be; stressful party time with her two best friends.

Hannah is pretty glad that she has a quieter than normal summer planned. There is an ache in her bones which she associates with a really long term kind of tiredness, and recharging the batteries would probably be a good idea. Resting doesn’t come naturally to Hannah, but Sarah had insisted.

“Hannah… last summer was Camp Takota. The summer before that was your tour. The summer before that you had just finished getting settled in LA. Just… take a bit of time, after VidCon, huh? You can still do videos, just less of everything else.”

Hannah had been all ready to protest, but they’d died on her lips when Sarah had given her that look, and Hannah had remembered that compromise was the recipe to a successful everything.

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Click [Christmas Fic #4]

A/N: So, this is a gift for one of my favorite people. writeinmadness is many things. My beta. My fanfiction wife. But most importantly, my writing soulmate. This is for you, B. And thanks for continuing to be so awesome. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have an amazing friend like you.

And one day, we’ll meet in New York and eat sushi and drink tequila. I promise.

And I know you sent me a prompt, but I decided to do something even better for you. It’s sort of my spin on a poem, I read way too much poetry the night I wrote this out for you. But I hope you like it regardless. 

Click.

A short sharp sound.

Click.

An instant connection.

Click.

A click is such a simple sound, an almost everyday sound that is not even noticed or given much attention to. It happens so often, so frequently. When was the last time you heard a click? Probably this morning, when you heard that click that the door makes when the lock is turned, its pieces fitting snugly against the tumbler. It was metal scratching against metal, but you still heard that resounding click that resonated ever so briefly throughout the room as pieces fell right where they were molded to be.

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