nothing good will come from her doing this

prongswhatthefuck2  asked:

What are some good tips for getting started with writing a book? I have a concept but i can't put it into place.

Getting Started with Your Story

There’s no one way to start writing a book. For some people, it’s enough to just jump in and start writing to see where the story takes them. If you’re not too keen on that idea, then here is one process (as in, not the only process) that might help you move beyond your concept. 

  • Concept ≠ Plot

Many writers mistake concept for plot, but they’re actually two very different things. A world where everyone grows up with superpowers is a concept; the plot is what you decide to write about within that concept - the specific characters and what happens to those characters; who your antagonist is and what conflict arises when that antagonist goes after what they want. All of these things contribute to your plot. 

So first, define what it is you actually have at this particular point. Do you just have a concept? If so, you’ll need to take the necessary steps to develop that concept into a plot. 

  • Concept >>> Plot

If you’ve decided that all you really have is a concept, then how do you take it and turn it into a plot? You brainstorm. All brainstorming really amounts to is expanding your ideas. All you’re doing is asking questions about the concept and delving deep into the answers. 

The most simplistic way to start this process, especially if you’re struggling, is to ask one of two questions (or both, if applicable). These two questions: What could go wrong? What could go right?

Going back to my example about a world where everyone grows up with superpowers. If I were to ask the question “what could go wrong,” I’d end up with a whole list of possibilities. 

  • The powers suddenly disappear
  • People start abusing their powers
  • Someone figures out how to steal powers
  • A hierarchy of strong vs. weak powers develops, creating superiority/inferiority dynamics
  • Someone is born without a superpower

There are many more possibilities I didn’t even think of here, but any one (or more) of these could become a plot. Choose one that sounds interesting, and then ask yourself “and then what?” 

Say I choose: Someone figures out how to steal powers. Then what does that person do? Do they recruit people to do the dirty work for them? Do they work alone? Do they hoard these powers and barter them for other goods? Do they attempt to enslave people? Do they attempt to take control of institutions? What do they do?

Your goal is to take your ideas and turn them into actions taken by characters. People doing things. And each piece you add will usually lead into another. If you went with the idea that this character is stealing powers and essentially selling them for other goods, you’d have to ask yourself follow-up questions. First, who are they selling to? Why would anyone buy a new superpower if they already have one? What uses would they have for additional ones? What is the key demographic that this person is trying to reach? Secondly, what are they selling them in exchange for? Money? Favors? Souls? What is this character getting in return?

Now that you’ve examined potential actions that the character takes, you’ve also exposed potential new characters. 

  • People they’re stealing from
  • People they’re bargaining with
  • People that try to police these crimes
  • People that try to copy this character’s process

At the beginning of this section, I talked about using “what could go right” as another optional jumping off point. This is a good path to follow if your concept is already really negative. For a concept where someone is killing people for some pointed reason, you might ask “what could go right” and explore ideas where the killer is caught and brought to justice. 

The point of all this is to think about change as a means of taking your idea from concept to plot. A concept is static - it doesn’t move, evolve, or change. By developing a plot, you’re forcing the concept to be challenged in some way. If you think about it that way, you’ll be able to formulate conflicts, and the people that orchestrate and fight against those conflicts. 

On that note, I think we’re ready to move onto the third piece of my graphic above. 

  • Plot = Character Actions and Consequences

At this point, you have sketches for characters. You’ve got this nameless, faceless person that is stealing the powers, and all these other nameless, faceless people that I listed above. In essence, we have character concepts. And just like we turned our initial concept into a plot, we have to turn these character concepts into actual characters. 

The basics are the easiest way to start. You figure out their name, their gender identity, their age, their appearance, some brief backstory and personality traits. I personally prefer the simplest questionnaire that I put together back in the early days because it hits on the poignant pieces of a character without overwhelming you with 100s of questions. 

Now that you’ve given your character concepts names and faces and potential behaviors, you start to consider how one character’s view of the world inspires them to take certain actions, and you then think about how those actions affect your entire story. 

We already kind of talked about the motives of the power thief in our example, but definitely delve deep here. On the surface, this character seems bad - stealing from people and then selling what they steal. But depending on what it is they’re getting in return, could we not argue that this character is a supernatural Robin Hood? Maybe instead of selling, they’re giving, and maybe the characters they’re stealing powers from are people that abuse and misuse their powers. Character motives can take a plot and turn it on its head, forcing you to reconceptualize everything. And that’s okay! That’s part of the process.

But separate from that idea, if we have a character concept of someone whose powers were stolen, and after developing their basic backstory, we discover that person’s name is Rose, and she has an especially close relationship with her brother. So when her powers are stolen, how does this affect her life? Was she using her powers to keep her brother alive and protected? What she using them to keep a roof over their heads? Was she using them as part of her job, as a means of providing? What happens to her life when her powers are stolen? And what will Rose do about it? Whatever Rose does will impact the story. If she does nothing to get her powers back, how does she solve her problems and does that make for a good story? If she does decide to act, then you’ve moved onto a new plot point to dive deeper into.

My point is, character concepts come from plots, but characters themselves often create plot, as their decisions and mistakes and successes create new outcomes. So if I could modify my original flow chart:

Before you develop something, you conceptualize it. You have a concept, then you make it a plot. You have concepts for characters, then you make them characters. And those characters end up driving your plot, to the point that this happens:

Plot inspires character. Character inspires plot. And it just keeps going around and around and around. Breaking it down into these pieces helps organize the process, but developing a story is rarely this neat and tidy. You’ll get ideas that don’t make sense, ideas that aren’t cohesive, characters you don’t need, characters that piss you off, problems you can’t solve, or plot points you’ve committed to that you no longer like…it will be messy. But it’s your mess, and the more you work on developing your own process, the more it’ll make sense to you. And it’ll become easier to know how to go about fixing it when something’s not right. 

Have fun with this process! It’s supposed to be fun. When the pieces start to become clearer, you’re able to put them together in a rough outline. And once you have a rough outline, you can start writing, and really see it take shape. 

-Rebekah

Beanies and Negotiations (Part 3)

Originally posted by stydiaislove

Part one here    Part two here

Anon requests: BEANIES AND NEGOTIATIONS KILLED ME OKFG. PART THREE PLEAAAAASE ITS SO GOOD

okay please continue writing more for beanies and negotiations i’m in love

part 3 of beanies and negotiations pleaseee??? i love it!!!

Can we please get a part three to Beanies and Negotiations? One where the reader is wearing something else of Juggies and he just kisses her or something cute?

Could you do a part three to beanies and negotiations where the reader and Jughead get together finally

BEANIES AND NEGOTIATIONS IS LIKE MY CURRENT FAV STORY PART THREEE I NEED IT IN MY LIFE

PART 3?? PLEASE

Please do a part 3 the of the negotiations!! (I cant remember what its called sorry!)

Just discovered Beanies and Negotiations and OH MY GOD. I need some resolution/closure hahaha But really you’re the best x

we all need a 3th part

Heya, could you do a part 3 to beanies and negotiations, and Jughead like finally picks up the courage to ask the reader out?

Could you a third part for “Beanies and Negotiations”? I love it sooooo much!

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: The widely anticipated part 3 of the Beanies and Negotiations series, in which Jughead and (Y/N) observe their own relationship and come to a realization

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,181

A/N: hmm I wonder if you guys wanted a part 3? haha I had a lot of fun writing this, I’m so glad you guys have liked the Beanies and Negotiations series (which I hadn’t even intended to be a series).  Hopefully this will give you all enough closure.  Enjoy!


Jughead liked to consider himself a very clever and perceptive person.  So when all of his friends were insisting that (Y/N) returned his feelings for her, he didn’t believe it.  After all, he was perceptive enough to notice that.  He noticed Betty’s feelings for Archie, why couldn’t he see (Y/N)’s feelings?  But because of what his friends told him, Jughead took extra care to pay attention to all of his and (Y/N)’s interactions.  He overanalyzed everything she said to him (which was a lot, he realized). He asked himself, Do all friends talk to each other this much?  Later, he came to the conclusion that no, not everyone talked to each other that much, but he and (Y/N) were best friends.  It had always been like that.  Then he started to observe her body language.  He noticed that they touched a lot, maybe more than most friends do.  She always had her hands brushing up against his, her chin resting on his shoulder, her thigh right next to his.  He wondered if maybe this body language meant something a bit more flirty than friendly, but then he reminded himself that he and (Y/N) were always like that, seeing as they were best friends.  While he tried to form a conclusion about (Y/N)’s feelings, Jughead realized that all this overanalyzing was making him fall harder.  He noticed his eyes lingering longer on her sparkling eyes, her radiant smile, and the lines that formed on her face when she laughed.  How can someone be so beautiful? he thought.


“How do you know she likes me?” Jughead stood on Archie’s porch at nine in the evening.  Archie sent him a questioning look, stepping outside to talk to his friend.

“What?” he asked.  “Jughead, what are you doing?  It’s nine o’clock.”

“I know what time it is,” Jughead rolled his eyes.  “But I need to know.  I’ve spent the past week analyzing every interaction I’ve had with (Y/N), but I don’t see it.”  He sighed in frustration and rubbed his face.  Archie sent him a knowing smile.

“Jughead, I’ve known since the day you proposed to her,” he explained, taking a step towards his friend. Jughead’s head snapped up at the mention of the childhood memory.

“We were six,” he reminded Archie, but Archie shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied.  “What matters is she said yes.”

“No she didn’t,” Jughead countered.  “She turned me down.”

“She did,” Archie said calmly.  “But she also accepted, remember?  She promised she’d say yes when you’re both eighteen.  Only three more years, buddy.”  Jughead rolled his eyes but smiled, and Archie laughed.  “I promise you, Jughead, she will say yes.  Ask her out.”  Without a reply, Jughead nodded, turned on his heel, and left.


(Y/N) noticed Jughead’s shift in attitude for the past week.  Deciding not to comment on it, she figured it was something he had to take care of on his own.  Otherwise, she told herself, he would’ve come to her.  Although she repeated this to herself over and over again, she couldn’t help but worry for the boy she had fallen for.  On a Tuesday night, she found herself sitting in a booth that wasn’t her usual booth, and the person sitting across her was not Jughead. Instead, it was Betty that occupied the seat.

“So you wanted to talk, (Y/N)?” Betty asked, interrupting (Y/N) from her thoughts.  She perked up and nodded.

“Yeah,” she replied, trailing off.  “So we’ve been best friends since, like, as long as I can remember, and I tell you everything.”  Betty slowly nodded.  

“Before you continue,” she stopped (Y/N), “is this about Jughead?”  (Y/N) bit her lip.

“Yes,” she responded. “I know you know I like him, and you and Veronica and everyone else always say that he likes me but…” she paused for a moment, “how?”

“How do I know?” Betty repeated.  “Because, (Y/N), he proposed to you!”  (Y/N) laughed at the memory.  “He lets you wear his clothes and, hell, his beanie! That boy is as smitten as you are.” She took a sip of her strawberry milkshake.  “Trust me when I say this, (Y/N).  Jughead is head over heels for you.”


Two days later, (Y/N) sat in a different booth.  Her normal booth.  Jughead had yet to arrive, and she was anxiously twiddling her fingers in anticipation.  The bell on the door jingled, causing her to snap her head to face the entrance.  It was not Jughead who entered, but rather Archie, Veronica, Betty, and Kevin.  They all smiled and waved at her, occupying a table that was within earshot of (Y/N)’s booth.  She groaned at her friends’ eagerness to eavesdrop.  When the bell jingled again, (Y/N) didn’t look up.  Jughead sat down in the seat across from her, watching as she slowly lifted her head to meet his eyes.

“Hey, Juggie,” she smiled shyly.  He smiled back, equally as timid.

“Hey.”  The two sat in silence, both contemplating how to phrase their newly found revelations.  How do you tell your best friend that you’re in love with them?

“How’s your book coming along?” (Y/N) attempted to make small talk.

“It’s good,” Jughead answered.  “Kinda slow right now since nothing has happened, but I figure it’s only a matter of time.”  They both laughed, and just like that, the tension in the atmosphere cleared.

“This is weird,” (Y/N) commented, referring to their seating arrangement.

“It is,” Jughead laughed. “Come over here.”  (Y/N) smiled and stood up, moving onto the same side of the booth as Jughead.   She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Something’s different, Juggie,” she whispered.  Jughead looked down at her and smiled softly.

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “Things are changing.”

“You know, I…” (Y/N) struggled to find the words to explain how she felt.  She swallowed, then looked up at Jughead and smiled.  “I liked wearing your beanie.”  He threw his head back with laughter.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed him, “because I was humiliated.”

“You were not.”  (Y/N) lightly shoved him, and he laughed again before they both fell quiet.  They sat there like that for a few minutes, Jughead’s arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, her head leaning on his shoulder, his head on top of hers.  Each of them were caught up in their own whirlwind of thoughts.

“(Y/N),” Jughead interrupted the silence, causing her to look up at him.  His voice caught in his throat.  “I-” he didn’t finished his sentence, but instead cupped her face and pressed his lips against hers.  She sat there in shock for a moment, and then placed her hand on his chest as she kissed back.  A few tables away, Archie, Kevin, Veronica, and Betty stood up and cheered.  Jughead and (Y/N) pulled apart, laughing as their foreheads rested against each other.  Jughead took his beanie off and placed it on (Y/N)’s head.  She smiled.

“Endgame!” Kevin yelled, pumping his fist up.  Everyone laughed.

“(Y/N), I-”Jughead started, but (Y/N) cut him off with a smile.

“I know, Juggie.  I know.”

Part four here

Teenage Elia Martell Steals a Baby: a Very Short ASOIAF Fic
  • Doran: So, how did you guys like Casterly Rock?
  • Oberyn: *elaborate jerk-off motions*
  • Doran: ...okay, so probably not great. How about you, Elia?
  • Elia: *unwrapping cloak to reveal infant* I stole a baby, his name is Tyrion and I Love him.
  • Doran: ...Elia...you can't...you can't steal babies. Probably not from anyone, and definitely not from the Lannisters.
  • Oberyn: Fuckin' watch her.
  • Elia: YEAH.
  • Doran: Why are you both like this. Does Mom know?
  • Princess of Dorne: *shouting from next room* Yes, I do, and Elia better not come crying to me if the Lannisters start pestering her to marry that baby!
  • Doran: What the hell is going on in the Westerlands?
  • Elia: *cooing at Baby Tyrion* Nothing that a GOOD SMALL BABY should have to deal with.
  • Oberyn: *even more elaborate jerk-off motions*
hamilton + marriage proposal headcanons

masterlist

you had to know this one was coming next.

alexander

  • he does it in a public place of course
  • literally in the middle of the food court
  • it really wasnt safe to carry it in his pocket in the mall but. he did it anyway
  • he gets down on one knee
  • in the f o od court
  • and because of that you genuinely think hes just tying his shoe
  • who the fuck proposes in a food court surrounded by teenagers who might get wrong ideas and french fries
  • apparently alexander hamilton
  • so you’re looking around and waiting for him to finish 
  • and when you look back theres a box in his hand
  • and he… takes out a… folded up piece of paper…
  • ITS A POEM…….
  • and he READS IT OUT LOUD and its so CUTE but youre also SO EMBARRASSED because theres a part about how much he LOVES YOU IN BED
  • and after what felt like six hours he finally just says… “will you marry me?”
  • you hug him and pull him very close
  • (you mainly want him to shut up and for him to not talk about you in the nude in public anymore)
  • (he will ask you if it took too long. say yes. it was. he will then say “you know what else is long”)

john

  • this boy…
  • is so romantic…
  • he puts his heart into everything he does!!!
  • so he takes you to a little hillside in a park or in the countryside
  • and takes you for a picnic and everything is really nice
  • he packed all of your favourite foods and drinks and desserts and hes wearing a really nice white dress shirt and black pants
  • theres a little letter at the bottom of the basket he wants you to read
  • the dedication is really cute (”to the love of my life”)
  • but when you finish reading the letter… he is gone?
  • you are clearly very worried and you stand up and start looking around frantically 
  • and he is behind you and behind him is laf, alex, and herc
  • they’re all wearing…. matching outfits….
  • he starts s i n g ing and da nc ing
  • and when the song is finished he rushes over to you and gives you a big hug
  • and he keeps going
  • he gets down on one knee and has the BIGGEST, HAPPIEST GRIN ON HIS FRECKLED FACE 
  • and when he asks you to marry him
  • you’re probably blubbering and maybe crying because its so goddamn cute and hes so goddamn cute and hes like ”oh god did i do something wrong”
  • and you just shake your head and say yes, you do want to marry him
  • and the boys are in the background smiling, and sweating after all of the choreo they did
  • seriously. they’d been practicing for weeks.
  • (they said john even yelled at them once because he wanted it to be perfect)

lafayette

  • if there’s. ANYONE who is going to ask you to marry him in a restaurant
  • it’s lafayette.
  • he takes you out to a really fancy dinner
  • and you both dress up really nice
  • and you get what you swear to god is the nicest food you’ve ever eaten
  • and you laugh and smile and talk throughout dinner
  • but he seems… somewhat…. nervous and awkward
  • and he’s normally this smooth talking guy
  • and its… very suspicious
  • and its even MORE suspicious when he says he forgot his wallet and that you have to pay
  • and you’re like “…. alright???? …. i geuss?????”
  • he apologizes a lot, more than he ever has before
  • and when the bill comes in the lil wallet holder folder thing made of leather
  • and you start rummaging through your wallet for the money
  • he looks very panicked that you actually are going to pay
  • and he’s like “no no y/n please look in the folder thing please”
  • and you open it and tHERES A RING SITTING THERE ON TOP OF THE BILL
  • and he snatches it before you can do anything and proposes in front of everyone!!!
  • (you see a few waitresses cry)
  • (he repeats over and over that he doesn’t actually want you to pay)
  • (kiss him. he deserves it. he was so scared.)

hercules

  • you are completely alone when he proposes.
  • he just… does it in your living room?
  • he steps out of the bedroom and he has a shirt in his hands
  • and he’s quietly like “y/n i made this for you can you try it on?”
  • and you take it and somehow wrestle it onto your body
  • you don’t even know whats on it. you just look at him and tell him it fits
  • and he’s like “go look in the mirror and tell me if you like it”
  • and when you go to the bathroom and look in the mirror it says “will you marry me?” in big sparkly pink font
  • when you go back out hes wearing… a MATCHING SHIRT…
  • and he’s already down on one knee and you approach him
  • and he hits you with the pick up line he said when you first met
  • and you BURST into laughter
  • once you’ve calmed down he’s like “in all seriousness y/n… will you marry me?”
  • and when you say yes, he j u mp s up and tackles you onto the couch
  • (like it actually slightly hurt a little bit) 
  • and he’s very apologetic
  • and to make it up to you he starts kissing you everywhere he can reach
  • (he made the shirt very revealing… for a reason)

angelica

  • its going to be big.
  • its going to be very big because she has to live up to her own high standards that she and everyone else has set for herself
  • so she takes you to a really busy tourist destination
  • that you’ve probably been to a million times
  • and you’re like “ok nice can we go now angelica”
  • and she’s like hang on… i’m waiting for something
  • and when you’re probably starting to get really annoyed because you’ve been there for the longest time
  • music starts playing that wasn’t playing before
  • and its your favourite love song
  • (whatever genre, whatever artist, your favourite song is playing)
  • and you’re like wow angelica this is really funny huh? its my favourite song
  • and she gulps, really loudly, and takes you by the hands
  • and sits you down in a chair in the MIDDLE OF THE BUSY PART OF THE TOURIST DESTINATION THAT WASN’T THERE BEFORE
  • and peggy and eliza emerge from the crowd
  • and, for you, they sing the rest of your favourite love song with beautiful harmony and really cute and simple dance moves
  • and by the end everyone around you is clapping and you’re clapping but still you’re…. probably confused because… why did she serenade you in public
  • and angelica gets down on one knee
  • and she asks you to marry her in the most simple phrase
  • just straight up. “Will you marry me”
  • you stand up and nod
  • and when you say yes everyone EXPLODES
  • and everyone is cheering and clapping and she kisses you and you’re both laughing
  • (”was it good y/n” “yes angelica” “are you sure cuz if it wasn’t good then i can redo it” “angelica it was great” “are you satisfied” “ye s”)

eliza

  • the two of you are out for coffee and you both are having a good time
  • laughing and typing away at your laptops or doing work
  • and eliza excuses herself to go to the bathroom
  • and so you’re texting on your phone waiting for her to come back
  • when one of the baristas calls your name even though you didnt order another drink
  • but you go over and retrieve the cup that is apparently yours
  • and try to take a sip from it because like… free drink hell yeah
  • but theres…. nothing inside but this little hollow noise???
  • so with an eyebrow raised, you take off the lid, and there’s this… beautiful ring at the very bottom.
  • like, it probably shouldn’t be there because if someone got the wrong cup, they would not return it
  • you know the ring is for you and that it’s from eliza but you… can’t see her? 
  • even the barista seems confused?
  • and then she shyly emerges from the bathroom and is like “DO YOU LIKE IT Y/N” across the entire cafe
  • and you’re like… “yes eliza i love it”
  • and so she runs on over and takes the cup from your hands and pulls the ring out
  • and she doesnt get down on one knee but she does help you sit up on the counter top
  • and she’s like “you know what i love? you”
  • and then she proposes. and she’s blushy and really flushed and has the goofiest, sweetest smile suspended on her face and she talks about how helpless you make her feel 
  • and when you say yes, she does this lil dance and picks you up by the waist and spins you around
  • and then she realizes she can’t carry you because she is smol!!! so you climb down
  • and she slips the ring onto your finger and kisses you and she tastes like hot chocolate
  • and its… amazing

thomas

  • he just got back from a really long business trip
  • and hes been away for weeks
  • and when you go to pick him up at the airport
  • hes sweaty, and his hair is kind of flat, and he looks more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him
  • but he still looks so happy to see you
  • and when you guys are hugging, he whispers “what’d i miss” into your ear
  • (which is an ongoing joke between the two of you)
  • and you whisper “you missed me” in return
  • and you feel his smirk grow against your cheek
  • but when you finally pull away after about ten years of hugging
  • hes not smiling and he says, very seriously, “i never want to have to miss you that much ever again”
  • and he gets down on one knee and opens a small pocket of his suitcase
  • and pulls out a ring.
  • and he says this big long speech about how much he loves you
  • and how much he missed you
  • and every little thing about you he loves
  • (and backs it up with evidence)
  • eventually, he’s almost fallen asleep when he says, “will you marry me?”
  • and you get down so you’re level with him and you say “yes, thomas, i’ll marry you. now let’s go home”
  • (when he wakes up the next morning he double-checks to make sure you said yes)
  • (you say yes, you did say yes. “did you miss that thomas?”)

madison

  • lets face it.
  • this man probably wouldn’t go out of his way to propose
  • he loves you, of course, but you know that
  • and he knows that very much
  • and he doesnt feel the need to prove it to you with some big declaration?
  • (”i bet hamilton would do something lame like serenade you or read a poem, pssh”)
  • so you’re most likely in your bed just cuddling
  • and when you begin to pull away to get water or get changed, he looks over and just goes
  • “marry me?”
  • and you fall back into bed and tell him that you’d love to.
  • (he doesnt have the ring yet)
  • (he promises he will take you shopping when he’s not working)
  • (he works a lot)
  • (it will take a very long time to get your ring)
  • (he also doesnt want to go out when hes sick cuz he doesnt wanna cough all over really expensive rings)
  • (he apologizes profusely)
  • (tell him you love him anyway)
  • (and kiss him)

aaron

  • he is very shy
  • and has been carrying around the ring for months.
  • literally. months.
  • (he’s afraid you’re going to say no)
  • (like, very afraid you’re going to say no)
  • (he doesn’t put himself out like this a lot)
  • and hes also been waiting for the perfect moment!!
  • so one day you’re in a bookstore you both like
  • and amidst the stacks of books and paper
  • he gets down one on knee and is biting his lip because hes so nervous…
  • but he does it anyway!!! because he loves you!!! and really wants to marry you!!!
  • he wants it more than anything in his life!!!
  • he has a really!!! really cute and cliche speech about how much he loves you
  • talks about how beautiful you are every ten words
  • explains to you that you are the best thing in his life and never wants to lose you!!! but stutters his way through it
  • wants to put the ring on your finger while hes kneeling and… kisses your ring finger oh gosh…
  • he may… stay on the ground……. ???
  • (he wants you to either meet him on the ground or pull him up)
  • (pull him up by the collar and kiss him. he will smile so wide after)
  • (he might ask you later if it was romantic enough. tell him yes.)
2

#when you’re doing your makeup in the midst of battle because you wanna look good af for a cute girl #but then the girl you are trying to impress comes at you in a rage because you tried to get one of her friends killed #mood deminished #got glammed up for nothing #what a shame #i’ll add this to my list of notes of “how to not impress girls from the sky” #anyways #onto more important things #do you like my makeup Klark?

anonymous asked:

Can you please do the dai companions reactions to finding out the Inquisitor is actually royalty (prince/princess etc) and now their home is reaching out to them to get them back. But the inquisitor never really talked about it? Thank you!

Cassandra: She’s actually not as angry as they thought she would be. She’s miffed, of course, that they didn’t tell her, but she’s a bit more understanding– being noble isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. “Regardless of title, they now have a responsibility to the Inquisition.” she says sternly to whoever tries to bring them home. “They can decide for themselves whether or not they want to come home once our mission is complete.” She relates to them, and they often spend time talking about the follies of aristocracy and the horseshit that comes along with it. If Romanced: Her relatives in Nevarra could not approve more of their relationship, and as long as the Inquisitor himself is not up for an arranged marriage, the other side feels likewise. Both gag and ignore their families– they love each other for each other, not because it’s politically convenient. 

Blackwall: He’s stunned. He stumbles over his words when he speaks to them after finding out, not sure at all how to refer to them. They sigh and tell him to treat them like he always has, and he tries, though finds it a bit difficult to do so sometimes. He tries to ask why they left, but they don’t talk about it for awhile. If Romanced: He is extremely worried about going into romance with her. He doesn’t want the truth to come out– it will scandalize her, and he doesn’t want to do that to her. If she persists, he warns her that nothing good will come of loving him, but she still does. After he’s revealed, she shocks him by still loving him, still wanting to be with him. “Even though your family…” He’s cut off as she kisses him and reassures him that she loves him. He decides he’ll do good by her.

Iron Bull: He had information passed on from the Ben-Hassrath about who they actually were and why they left. He acts normally and doesn’t reveal that he knew until after their identity is revealed. When questioned as to why, he shrugs. “You left for a reason, Boss. If you don’t want that life, I was never going to tell anyone. That’s your right.” He knows they don’t like being treated differently, so he doesn’t. If Romanced: “You sure about this, Kadan?” he asks tentatively as they give him the dragon tooth necklace. “Your family isn’t going to like you fucking and loving a qunari mercenary…” As they consent and confirm with a kiss, he grins and pulls them back into bed. So long as they had each other, the rest of the world could fuck off, titles be damned.

Sera: She approves– not of their title, of course, but of the fact that they left all the royal nonsense behind. “Oh, piss right off!” she yells at whoever was sent to bring them back. “They’re sick of you and your noble shite! They know you’re all arseholes!” She’s not angry they didn’t tell her. “Why would I care?” she huffs. “I’m glad you don’t want the stupid title. You’re one of us lowlies, now, hah! Come on, now, let’s go stuff lizards in their drawers!” If Romanced: The same reaction as before, but she also scandalizes her girlfriend’s entire family by kissing her, repeatedly, or even having sex with her on the roof– with extra sex and kisses if her girlfriend left her home over an arranged marriage. “I love her for her, and she loves me for me– not because of any stupid titles or whatever!” she declares. She thinks it’s a hoot to constantly horrify the royal family. 

Varric: He thinks it’s a beautiful plot twist is what it is. He tries to press for more information as to why they left, several times, with varying levels of success and failure. Still, if they just want a friend who will treat them like a person, he’ll oblige. 

Cole: They feel the same to him as any other person, and he doesn’t really understand why it matters. He just feels their pain and stress like anyone else, so he’ll do his best to help them, as he already has been. “They don’t want to be called Prince(ss) (Inquisitor Name),” he says, “so we shouldn’t.”

Dorian: Oh. Oh, this is beautiful. He relates to them, a lot, and he’s not angry in the slightest they didn’t tell him. “A runaway prince(ss), I see? My, my! How interesting! Join the ‘nobles scandalizing our families’ club.” he teases, but he’s understanding if they vent to him about why they left– he knows how they feel. So they bond ever further, as friends, and he only gently teases them about their title from time-to-time. If Romanced: He’s worried. He tries to laugh it off, of course– “My, my, amatus, falling in love with a mage from Tevinter? Courting controversy and scandal, I see!” His lover persists, and he states that he loves him, titles and origins be damned. Romance takes slightly longer to proceed, because Dorian is a bit nervous about it, but he decides eventually fuck it– if they’re scandalizing their families, they’re scandalizing their families together.

Vivienne: She’s befuddled as to why they hid it at all. It could be a great asset to the Inquisition, and to themselves. “You shouldn’t hide your deserved title, Darling,” she scolds, “not now, and not ever. One day, you could be the Queen/King of your people, and you need to remember that. You are someone to be looked up to, and a leader worthy of respect. Your title only helps to reflect that.” She insists on, from then on, referring to them by their proper title, be it Prince or Princess, much to their chagrin.

Solas: He’s surprised, for once, but he thinks little of current nobility, so he leaves it be. He hopes that perhaps his lessons to them about magic and the Fade will be carried forward to their people, but otherwise respects their wishes to be not be addressed by their title and treated with respect, but none more than any person would deserve. If Romanced (I don’t know where the Elvhen princess came from, use your imagination): He seriously starts considering what will happen if he tells her the truth about who he is. He spends many nights laying awake pondering every possible scenario. Often, she asks what is wrong, to which he only forces a smile. “Nothing, Vhenan. Nothing other than wishing to take in your radiance.”

Cullen: He’s frustrated, not with them, but with the people constantly trying to take them home. “Oh, for Andraste’s sake, I’m well aware they’re royalty! It doesn’t change the fact that they have a responsibility to the Inquisition now. If they want to come home, they’ll decide that on their own terms, once everything is handled.” He has no patience at all for any of this noble horseshit. If Romanced: He gives pause, not fully realizing the fact that he’s dating a princess until after they kiss on the battlements, and it comes up when she teases him and remarks she’s happy that her title didn’t scare him away. He’s nervous, suddenly, because he has no titles outside of the Inquisition– she reassures him that as long as he loves her, that’s all she cares about, and while still nervous, he’s happy with that.

Leliana: She knew. Of course she knew– her agents would sniff out who they really were before their family got to them. She confronts them and asks why they left. They explain themselves and beg her not to tell anyone– so she doesn’t. “Keep in mind, though, that it does not matter if I keep your secret,” she warns, “your family is seeking you out, and they will find you. Everyone will know the truth, regardless of whether or not I tell them.” She still respects their wishes and treats them professionally as their spymaster, not fawning in the least over the fact they’re a prince/ss. 

Josephine: She’s startled and suddenly scrambles to correct all of her letters to reflect the Herald’s actual title. She also pulls them aside and scolds them for not telling her, and like Vivienne, says they should never hide it– it is a boon to themselves and the Inquisition. There’s no telling her otherwise. If Romanced: Her family highly approves of her relationship with the Inquisitor, and again, like Cassandra, if the Herald did not leave over an arranged marriage, their family is alright with it. Josephine falls in love with them like she would in any romance, and is a bit more understanding about why they don’t want to be treated like royalty.

Positive Vibes (ALiL Deleted Scene)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you do something for Bucky that brightens his bad day. 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,923

A/N: An anon requested “reader does something spontaneous and romantic for Bucky that she doesn’t even think of as romantic! And he is just floored by her thoughtfulness.“ This takes place between “The Little Things (Part Two)” and “The Get Together”. Here’s a track list for the CD mentioned in this part. 

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist

@avengerstories - thank you for existing and being my very best friend/editor

Originally posted by veronikaphoenix

You’re stuck in the middle of a heated debate between Bruce and Helen Cho about gamma radiation when Steve walks by. He scans the dining hall, letting his gaze fall from one table to the next, before balancing his tray in one hand so he can rub his forehead. As he does, he discreetly scans the room for a second time, reminding you of a lost child desperately seeking out his mother.

"Steve!” You call out, making sure your voice is loud enough to be heard over all the chatter. He turns around immediately, a relieved grin overtaking his features as he walks towards you.  

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Cookies or Pie: Part 2

AN: This is the demanded part two of I love You! There will actually be a part 3 then I’m wrapping this thing up.

Part 1

I highly recommend playing THIS while you read … . Sorry in advance


    “You certainly left a mess behind Ms. Y/N. Everyone is so very quiet, it’s almost as though we’ve returned to the days right after your grandparents died. It’s much too familiar for my taste. We haven’t seen Master Dick in weeks, but Ms. Gordon assures me he’s fine.

Master Jason has been around quite a bit. He likes to sit outside the door to your room, listening to something on his phone.

Master Tim hasn’t had one cup of coffee since everything happened. He muttered something about a promise, but his caffeine withdrawals have been terrible for us all.

Master Damian was very quiet. Even young Mr. Kent wasn’t able to get him to speak. He’s spending time at their farm now. I’m hoping that being around all the animals would help him.

And your father, your father is a mess quite frankly. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. He’s gone out to see you every day since the funeral. Spends at least an hour out there with you. He hasn’t been on patrol since it happened.Members of the league keep stopping by, but he refuses to see them. I’m quite worried, Ms. Y/N.”

Alfred pauses to take a sip of tea, considering his words carefully, “We should have told them. We should have given them the option. This isn’t like the other times. You can’t fight back against a disease, you can’t arrest it or find out it’s plot. They’re quite lost without something to physically fight.

And I …I’m quite lost myself. There’s nothing I can say to make them feel better. Nothing I can to do to help them process or bring them back together. That was always you. You were able to stop the bickering, and you were able to make them laugh.

You joked quite a bit about not being a part of the family business but I believe you were an integral part. You were the part that kept us grounded, kept us smiling. You kept us a family, and I don’t think that can be replicated.”

Alfred stares at the picture of you. It was taken only a few months before your diagnosis. He still finds it hard to believe that it had taken you so quickly. He takes another staggering breath before saying, “I will be sure to keep you updated. Same time tomorrow then.” He nods once to himself, before moving out of his rooms.

He’s a bit surprised to find the lights on and all of his boys sitting around the table. They give him a sad look as he takes his seat at the table. Jason is the first to speak, “Where you talking to her again?”

He nods, “It helps, strange as it sounds.”

Jason gives him a grim smile, “Nah, I understand. I keep listening to this song she talked about in those last days. ‘If I die young?’ Only thing I could think about during the funeral. “

Dick wipes a hand over his face, “Better off than me. I keep listening to these old voice mails she left. They’re silly and short, but they’re her.”

Bruce’s voice is rough, “She never complained. About the late nights or the crime fighting. None of it. She’d just wait up, and when we came up she’d just smile and ask, “Good night or bad night?”

Tim let’s out a little laugh, “Good night we had cookies, bad nights we had pie. And she always tried to switch out my coffee for decaf. Said it was going to kill me before Gotham could.”

Bruce smiles, “Weird she said the same thing about her mom and me.”

Dick’s the one who asks, “You heard anything from Selina?”

Bruce shakes his head, “Not since I had to tell her. I should probably start looking.”

Jason nods, “There haven’t been any major heists, I’ve been checking.”

Dick’s voice comes out in a whisper, “She can’t really be gone, can she? She’s going to walk through the doors in her favorite pajamas any minute right? And she’ll ask, good night or bad night?”

“No.” Damian’s voice is sad, more wracked with grief than any of them had ever heard it. “She’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do about that. What we can do is remember her, and live the way she would want us to.”

“Protect Gotham.” Tim says.

“Protect the innocent.” Jason adds.

“Protect our family and stick together.”

Bruce smiles, as a tear falls down his face, “And remember that there is always time for cookies or pie.”

Smiling, Alfred asks, “So is it a good night or a bad night?”

They exchange looks before saying all together, “Both.”

Mor & Az

I know that a lot of people don’t ship these two or even see them as a ship (or didn’t when they first read ACOMAF) and I just… didn’t understand at first? But I think I’m starting to get it.

Mor & Az are not a typical “love at first sight, let’s get over some challenges and have tons of sex and then be together 5ever” kind of couple. They are much more subtle than that, but because of this, they are also much more realistic.

Mor & Az are glances at each other to make sure the other is ok. They are putting each other first, before anyone else. They are deep, steady devotion that lasts over time.

They have the potential for grand gestures (e.g. him saving her from the Autumn Court), but that is not required for them to love each other, or to show each other that they are in love.

They are not public - they are private. They don’t need to show everyone around them how they feel. It’s already apparent in the way they treat each other, look at each other. They don’t need to prove it to anyone else.

They are subtle gestures and daily acts of kindness that add up to a lifetime (or lifetimes, as it were) of caring, which is much more important than a flash in the pan of heat and sex marathons.

This is what a sustained, long-term relationship looks like. This is also why I said that I wouldn’t mind them having children at the end of ACOWAR. They are already familiar and comfortable and still devoted, after all these years.

Whether or not they have consummated their relationship or not is sort-of… beside the point. Because that is only one aspect, and (as Feyre found out with Tamlin), that can’t be the only thing holding a couple together. There is a lot more to relationships than sex, and that’s exactly what Mor & Az have, is all those other parts - a strong, devoted, loving relationship.

And (assuming nothing has happened between them before, which I sorta doubt) neither of them would let the other suffer from fruitless hope for a romantic relationship, given how much they care for each other. Mor wouldn’t let Az suffer if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings, and vice versa. So don’t come around here saying they are just very good friends bc he obviously loves her, and if there was no hope then she would have told him so. Because they hate seeing each other suffer.

BUT… I do think that there is a very good chance they have something going on, or have in the past. But that’s maybe another post.

What’s Bred in the Bone: Part I

Mass Effect: Andromeda

Jaal x Sara Ryder

A 600 year nap and a 2.5 million light-year journey to find out the answer: are humans and angara genetically compatible?

Rated M for strong language, some sexuality and violence. Alien-human pregnancy fic.

Spoilers for Jaal’s romance and loyalty mission, and end of game.

Part I of ??? - Part II - Part III - Part IV

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she-is-made-of-outer-space  asked:

We live next door to each other and I can see you through the window while you’re dancing to your iPod in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and God you’re a dork” AU. Please! Your bellarke fics are positively wonderful!

Thanks for the prompt! Hope you like it! AO3

Living in college apartments is… not glamorous. Walls are thin, pipes are thinner, and working air conditioning is a luxury. But it’s not terrible, Clarke finds, as long as you have excellent roommates to share in how much it objectively sucks. Raven and Anya fit that bill, so she considers herself lucky.

Plus, their windows open into an alleyway between their apartment building and the next. Which might not sound like a plus, but when the alternative is street facing windows that do nothing to stop the sounds of drunk college students when you’re trying to sleep the night before a midterm—the difference is staggering.

So, suffice it to say, Clarke largely likes her apartment. It’s great, for what it is.

Until it betrays her.

The first thing Bellamy Blake says when he comes in for his shift at the bookstore—the Monday morning shift, that, unfortunately, she shares—is, “Nice moves last night, Princess.”

Most of the time, Bellamy is full of shit, but as he shucks off his jacket the smirk on his face says he’s getting away with something, so she quickly runs through the events of the previous night, searching for any instances of embarrassment he might have been privy to.

…and comes up with nothing. She didn’t go out after she’d come back from class, and she and Raven didn’t get drunk, precluding any chance that she’d sent out some drunken snapchats he might have seen. (She has him on snapchat for bookstore-related emergencies, alright?) In fact, she spent most of the night working on her chem lab assignment, finally finishing around midnight, so really, there’s nothing for him to have seen.

So she scoffs, dismissive, and keeps working, only mildly interested in what kind of scheme he’s running.

“What are you talking about?” she asks, clicking through their schedule to see if they have any deliveries scheduled today.

He grins at her, wide, just when she spares him a glance, and she has to physically force it to not affect her. Because Bellamy Blake might be a snarky asshole, but that doesn’t make him any less… well, hot. Which is a whole other level of unfair.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone needs to jam to Taylor Swift once in a while. It’s a good de-stressor. I’m not judging.”

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Fanfiction - Happier

I wrote this short thing for the needle wizard, pencil sorceress and all around magnificent friend, the lovely @outlanderedandoverhere. Master Seamstress shares with me the love for Ed Sheeran and I couldn’t resist the urge to have her doing a happy dance over this. Enjoy! X

Happier

I entered the small coffee shop, unfolding my scarf as soon as I felt the merciful warmth of the heating system, aiming towards a quiet table at the corner, as I shook off snowflakes from my curls.

As I waited for the small waitress to bring me my cranberry scone and a large cup of steaming tea, I opened my notebook and started reading the notes I had taken. It was a very hard case, a young patient with a rare tumor compressing his bile duct – presenting with jaundice, looking like the most recent character of The Simpsons. The previous surgeon in charge of the case had announced it to be unresectable, which gave him about three months of life expectancy. At the age of thirty, you are seldom ready for your life to end – least of all without throwing a good fight.

And that was what I was planning to offer him – a risky procedure, only done in the past by a handful of surgeons in the country. If it worked, he would be cancer free – and it was my job to guarantee it worked. I had barely slept the last couple of nights, immersed in planning the surgery to the finest detail.

I loved my job, fiercely – even in the moments I hated it. I never lost the tingling on my palms when I held the scalpel or the sudden feel of a jump inside my belly, like I had missed a step, whenever I finished a hazardous procedure. Besides, it was a very welcome distraction from the wreckage of my personal life.

I sipped my tea, delighted with the smoky taste of the Highland blend, strong and homely on the back of my tongue. It reminded me of the taste of his skin against my lips and I swallowed hard, slightly shaking my head to disperse unwelcome memories.

The bell above the door rang, a small tornado of snow allowed in as new customers entered the cosy place. I bit the back of my pencil, tilting my head to better discern an approach, as I mobilized the invisible pancreas before me. I smiled, seeing the vessels and ducts so well exposed in the eye of my mind, ready to be conquered, and raised my eyes to ask for a second congratulatory scone.

I saw his back but recognized him immediately – I had kissed that spot just behind his ear, where his hair curled at the nape, countless times.

He was wearing his pilot uniform underneath his overcoat, the flight captain’s hat placed next to his elbow on the table. I had a sudden flash of his hands placing that hat on my head, a playful smile on his full lips, his slightly callused hands roaming my otherwise naked body. No.

Without thinking, I was already making myself small on my table, shrinking to the point where I could almost hide under the tasteful tablecloth – wishing I had gone to another place, in another time, in another world.

Only then I noticed he had company - a cute blonde girl wearing stewardess clothes, her lips painted red to match the satin scarf prettily tied around her neck in a bow. She sat in front of him on the table, a complicit smile plastered on her face, as he talked – probably sharing something about a recent trip.

He was always coming and going, flying around the world – I remembered all too well setting my alarm to the middle of the night, just so I could listen to his voice in Tokyo. Kissing him goodbye – there had been so many goodbyes, not enough hellos – before he left to New York. Texting him, unsure where in the world he was exactly – but painfully aware it wasn’t by my side.

The nights became so long, always craving, always wondering. I felt split in two, half of myself scattered in the wind, travelling on the air - while the other half was forced to anchor it, bearing down, struggling with heaviness. There weren’t enough kisses to ease the constant ache, as much as he tried – and he had tried.

“Do ye not want me anymore?” He had asked me on the final night, broken – Oh, so broken.

I hadn’t answered him and in my silence he took his leave, shoulders hunched in pain. In truth, I couldn’t fathom a time when I wouldn’t want him – and that was the problem, wasn’t it? I kept wanting and wanting and wanting, wanting so much everything hurt, wanting so much I feared I would physically break.

The flight attendant touched his hand – to my horror he didn’t shy away from it. It lingered there, natural and possessive, and I felt the scone doing cartwheels inside my stomach like a flour acrobat.

She leaned over and told him something, slightly sticking her tongue out in mischief and he laughed. Throat and lungs and vocal chords, clapping and singing, an orchestra on a perfect rendition of amusement. Standing ovation from the crowd. Claire Beauchamp dead in the audience.

He used to laugh like that with me. Jamie always laughed with his entire body. He was that kind of man – whole in everything he did. I recalled the sensation of his laugh as I laid my cheek on his chest, a scientist studying the mechanisms of happiness. For a moment I closed my eyes and covered them with my hand, foolishly disturbed by the realization I didn’t hold his laughter in exclusiveness.

Jamie looked happy. I could see the outline of his smile, the corners of his mouth turned up in contentment. Had he been that happy with me, once? Before I filled our lives with insecurities, demands and frailties?

She squeezed his hand – fingers touching, skin meeting, hearts melting? - and got up, putting on her elegant coat. With a swish of blonde hair, she kissed his cheek – clearly no amiable kiss demanded such duration, in my opinion – and with a light caress on his forehead, left him finally alone.

He looked around, searching for the waitress to ask for a refill and – of course – spotted me. It was like standing on stage, two spotlights beaming on us, everything else left in darkness. Jamie glanced at me and I proudly endured his gaze, asserting that I saw his happiness and wasn’t shaken at all by it. Liar.

Slowly I made my way to his table, a slug crawling on a lettuce leaf, ugly but brave. I seemed to be ken on eating every crumb of my cake of sorrow and then smile, pretending it was sweet.

“Hello, Jamie.” I greeted him, bracing myself on the notebook I carried. His hair was somewhat shorter than the last time I had seen him, a couple of months ago, his uniform impeccable, the tie on his neck just a bit loose. I used to make his knots and suddenly panicked, fearing that the blonde girl was a master of turns and twists, able of fixing his heart as well as his tie.

“Hello, Claire.” Jamie replied, his voice cautious. “How are ye?”

“Good.” I smiled nervously. “Are you back from work?”

“Aye.” He fidgeted with the mug in front of him, a soft hesitant smile on his lips. “Just got back from Brazil. It was a wee furnace there.”

“Ah.” I swallowed hard, struggling to come up with other pleasantries I could share with him. Do you smile in your sleep when she touches you? “You look good. Happy.”

“What are ye asking me, Claire?” He avoided my gaze, his face abruptly serious.

“Nothing.” I replied in a hoarse voice, well aware that he could spot the tears forming on the corners of my eyes, in the fountains of my soul. “Just that. You looked happy with her.”

“She’s a good lass.” He glared at me, his eyes outrageously blue and intent. “She understands what life is for me. I feel that I can talk to her.”

“As you couldn’t talk to me?” I tried to smile again and failed miserably, the glass of my face polished and glistening, reflecting the thousands of small sorrows hidden in the corners of my eyes.

“I told ye all my soul and heart.” Jamie lowered his eyes, grabbing his hat. “In the end it wasna enough. That is my utmost regret, Claire - that it wasna enough.”

I stood there, speechless, as he gathered his things and left. I thought of the bleeders that elude the most capable surgeon, the cardiac arrest that lasts forever, the hands inside where we are most private, touching the core of what we are, unable to reach what had been lost. I slammed my heart at him as he closed the door behind him – “Jamie!” – knowing all too well I had no one to blame but myself. I had traded all for nothing, convinced it was a worthy bargain – blind, blind, fool.

I crawled home, shaken to the very marrow of my bones, oozing love and loss – sticky and queasy with it. In medical school they had told me how the brain works to protect itself – the clever barrier surrounding it, the plasticity, the temperature regulation – and yet my brain seemed decided to finish me, incessantly playing memories of Jamie, smacking me with my own recklessness. I had no self-preservation left, for I loved him to the atoms of me.

I had seen him happy without me – there was joy there to be sure, in knowing him well. But the pain was almost unbearable, no last redoubt of magical thinking left, where I could hide and pretend we would find our way back to each other. He was gone. Pushed away by my own two hands.

I collapsed on the couch, curling into fetal position, making myself small and smaller. My ears were filled with the sounds of my own heart and I willed him to stop, to let go of beating, to be still and let me be.

He kissed my cheek on our first date. I kissed his lips on the second. Loved all of himself by the tenth. My heart leapt when I saw him, tall and gallant in his uniform, almost running to hold me in his arms at the hospital. When he told me flying was his second favourite thing. When he told me I was first. Red Jamie, my Jamie.

A knock on the door, fast and rhythmed. A secret code for the lover coming.

I padded to the door, afraid and wanting. Hopeful.

I opened the door and he was standing there, snowflakes turning into rivers on the brim of his hat. He reached out with his hand and I took it, already knowing I’d never let go again.

“I was happier with ye.” He whispered in a husky voice. And I remembered it all, the happiness and love I’d known, waiting in him as kisses on his lips.

anonymous asked:

can you write a small fic about clarke moving in to bellamy's room in arkadia? love your writing <3

a teensy little soft fic with my good friends bed sharing and cuddling

read on ao3!

They come to the realisation a mere ten minutes after breaching Arkadia’s gates.

Or, that is, Clarke comes to the realisation first, and alerts him to it when she mutters a soft, “Fuck,” under her breath.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asks, hand going straight to his rifle as his eyes immediately scan their surroundings.

She presses a hand to his shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong,” she says in an easy voice that soothes away his worries, “It’s just that I realised I no longer have a room here.”

He blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she says, flashing him a wry smile. “I used to room with my mom but that was before… everything. And I would have asked Raven, but, well…”

Raven threatened them with bodily harm before they even set foot in the lab, saying that if anyone distracted her from her work, she’d do more than just string them to a tree.

Bellamy shifts his rifle again, scruffing his toe at the dirt. They’d stopped underneath one of awnings outside on their way to the apartments.

“Well, you can always stay with me,” he says, staring hard at the line he made in the ground. He can feel her eyes on him, and it makes his ears pink.

The silence draws on long enough that he’s just about to tell her to forget about it, when Clarke says, “Actually, that doesn’t seem like a bad idea.”

“Yeah?” he asks, glancing up at her from beneath his lashes to find her gnawing on her bottom lip.

She gently nudges him with her hip. “Yeah.”

“Alright then,” he says, trying to bite a back a pleased smile.

There’s the barest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips as he leads them to his quarters, so he glances sidelong at her and says, “It’s a good thing we sorted that out quickly. You’re in dire need of a bath.”

It gets the desired result when she shoves him into the wall, and he laughs. “Fuck off, Bellamy,” she says succinctly, but she’s doing a poor job of hiding her laughter too.

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If I exist entirely as a
performance of my heart,
my spine meets its god
in the spaces between your
teeth. When you do not
like what comes from me,
when her eyes crystallize
in tandem with the skin of
my smile, it becomes messy
and tangles itself upside down
like bad fruit. I am
bad fruit, when I know there
is nothing good in falling.
I talk and talk when I know my
tongue is beginning to fall out.
I am rotted and holding on
so I do not become
compost inside you, or inside
the roadside graveyard of the last
small animal who did not
bite. So I
do not become the presentation
of a false enamoring.
I do not tell the crows to go.
I do not say I feel like
leaving my skin alone again,
and letting what is in me
untie, promising to never be
a sickness of imitation.
Though, we know.
—  “If Your Friends Don’t Like Me” by Emma Bleker

It’s the night before Shepard’s birthday, and Shepard’s asleep. Her hospital bed warm as her monitors beep. For weeks she’s been here, stuck in this bed, with scars and burns from her toes to her head.

But Garrus is not sleeping, nor in his chair, but as always, he’s giving her the utmost care. He’s been up all night changing the look of the room, illuminated by just the light of the moon.

With business’ just starting to get back on their feet, it’s hard to shop around, online or in the street. After weeks of planning, it was finally here, as were his deliveries - decorations and beer.

She’s had it rough since the war ended; memories and scars that’ll never be mended. Sometimes it’s almost too much to bare - too much pain, whimpering in despair.

Garrus wants nothing more than to see her get through this, to see her smile again; one of pure bliss. This day was meant to help more than any other, to be surrounded by friends, comrades and her lover.

The room was too small to gather them for a surprise, so later they would come, long after she’s opened her eyes. Until that time, this set up would have to do. His back was aching and it was half-past two.

As he quietly crept back into his chair, he gazed at her eyes, her mouth, her hair. There wasn’t much left and burns covered her skin, but no matter what she said, she was still beautiful to him.

To the warmth of the sun, she finally woke, and the sight in front of her almost made her choke. Banners, balloons and lanterns were everywhere, all with bright colours - it was too much to bare.

Garrus shot his head up when he heard her sob. Watching her look around – had he done a bad job? Was it making her feel worse, reminding her of better days? Did she think she was dreaming, all of this a haze?

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, a gesture that usually puts her mind at ease. She turned to look at him, tears running done her face. Had all of this been one big mistake?

But these tears were something he hadn’t seen before, not like the tears when he first came through the door. A moment later and her smile let him know, that he’d done the right thing - look at her glow!

“You did this?” She asked, her voice broken and small. “Yes,” he replied, “it was no trouble at all.” From lack of sleep, his words came out with a slur. But it really was nothing, he’d do anything for her.

All the guests had come and gone, and despite her objections, they sung the birthday song. She wasn’t mad, she was far too pleased. Her mind, her body and spirit had eased.

The company was nice and the food was good. She smiled and talked for as long as she could. Her eyes grew tired, her stomach and heart full. The suns warmth had faded, now jusy a breeze, nice and cool.

But before she succumbed to the comfort of her bed, she turned to Garrus, smiled and said, “Thank you for everything. I love you.” And his response would never change, saying “I love you, too.”

Her peaceful face said words she would yet admit, but the message was clear - it was all worth it. As she drifted, he bent forward to kiss her forehead, whispering the words,

“Happy Birthday, Shepard.”

The Things She Carried

Part 3. Fraternization Attempt

Dean x Reader

Masterpost with all the parts

Summary: Dean meets a huntress. Well, he would define her a robot. At least until he gets to know her…

Word Count: 1300+

Tags: @mrswhozeewhatsis @daydreamingintheimpala @mysoul4dean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @amoreagron @spnfangirl1965 @aristtewinchesterholmes @thisisthelilith @chelsea072498 @skymoonandstardust @apeshit7x @aiaranradnay @anokhi07 @tatortot2701 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt  @mangasia @sharkeeshark @maui137 @electricbluecas @squirrellover1967 @kazchester-fanfiction @gabavaldman @riversong-sam @lavieenlex @mogaruke @zanthiasplace @holywaterbucketchallenge @soullessbabee @loricwizardbluetoastedcake @barneybrigade @extreme-supernatural-lover @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @iliketowrite02  

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The Last Thing I Want For You Is A Happy Ending

Title: The Last Thing I Want For You Is A Happy Ending

Summary: Tyler realizes he still has feelings for you after being broken up for almost a year, but is heartbroken when he discovers you are engaged.

Characters: Tyler Joseph x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: 600 followers! Thank you guys so much!

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i wanna know (what your love feels like)

[ao3]

Trini’s known she likes girls for a long time, and she’s known that she’s an outcast for even longer.

Each year brings with it a new school, and each new school brings with it new challenges.

And new girls.

Every school has its own group of cheerleaders, always sneering, always laughing, always mocking.

Always far too pretty for their own good.

Always one in particular, who catches Trini’s eye, who makes her breath catch in her throat and her stomach burn with something familiar, yet unexplored.

And every time, she tingles with the urge to touch, to kiss, to be around the very girl who’s kind make her life hell.

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some angsty pupcake modern au headcanons bc me and @sapphicdelias enjoy making each other cry late at night, apparently 


 - protective patsy. all the protective patsy. someone so much as looks at delia or their kid wrong? she’s ready to smack a bitch 

 - patsy being almost ridiculously affectionate with their kid because she knows what it’s like to grow up without that 

 - their child is injured and needs hospital treatment and patsy just stares at the wall blankly in fear, delia sits quietly next to her until they’re given the all clear and finally patsy can breathe again 

 - teenage pupcake child asking why she cares so much about being so involved and patsy cracks and tells them everything. delia spends the majority of that night comforting her 

 - they spend full hours with pregnant delia lying on the couch with patsy tucked behind her, mainly because patsy has her arms around her stomach whenever and wherever possible 

 - patsy insists on foot rubs and back massages whenever delia shows even the slightest twinge of discomfort 

 - pregnant delia complaining about how she feels ugly/overweight, leading to patsy dedicating time every day to painting her toenails or her or braiding her hair, anything she can do that delia is just too tired for 

 - delia getting annoyed at patsy sometimes but lets her continue as she knows where the protectiveness stems from and knows that it’s all coming from a place of love and a desire to help 

 - patsy being initially terrified of parenthood (”i’m not exactly an emotional person, delia. what if that’s too closed off and i can’t access it enough to be a good mother?”) and delia just holding her and listing hundreds upon hundreds of reasons and examples of why patsy has nothing to worry about 

 - phyllis delivers the baby. don’t even try us on this one 

 - delia first telling patsy she successfully conceived and patsy just hugging her and crying because she can’t remotely find the words to express how happy she is 

 - patsy just sitting there in shock when she first hears her baby because, finally, she has everything she’s ever dreamed of and things feel like they’re all going to be okay 

 - patsy seeing the ultrasound and feeling so emotionally exhilarated that she spends the rest of the scan on the bed with delia 

 - patsy wanting to tell her family how happy she is but knowing she can’t - delia often waking up in the middle of the night to find patsy not in bed, going downstairs, and finding her curled up on the couch with a picture of her and her family from when she was younger 

 - on these occasions delia just silently sits/lies next to her until she can coax her back to bed 

 - delia convincing patsy to consider therapy for her ptsd and supporting her throughout the entire process, thankful that she’s beginning to learn how to deal with her emotions in a healthy way 

 - one day their kid offhandedly mentions that they can’t imagine life without their parents and patsy initially responding with her usual smile but later delia spends the whole night holding her while she cries, though whether out of sadness for herself or relief that their child has both of them, she isn’t quite sure

Oh, For God’s Sake

Masterlist

Pairing: Kol x Reader

Summary: Marcel makes it no secret that he dislikes your relationship with Kol


It was clear as day that the relationship between Marcel and The Originals was on rocky ground, or becoming increasingly damaged. You, being the newest addition to join the family have nothing but been in the middle between this bitter feud.

Marcel and you were old friends who have a long standing history. But it was only recently that your relationship with Kol flourished to romantic, and you knew that didn’t sit well with Marcel.

The passing of Cami still could be felt around the city, for the people who knew her that is. But the one place for you where it could be felt the most was Rousseau’s, and it made working there difficult some days.

Today was any standard day in the bar, not much customers came through and you particularly had to push Josh out the door, so he wouldn’t be late for his hot date. So it was just you, getting ready to close up.

The door opened and rattled the bell indicating someone had walked in.

“Sorry were actually about to close”, you announced walking out of the kitchen only to find Kol standing near the bar, smirking.

He strided over and planted a deep kiss on your lips. “Even better, I’m not too fond of interruptions”.

Not that you minded, but for the past three days Kol and you were joined at the hip. Each night he’d show up at Rousseau’s to walk you home, more often then not he’ll stay the night and whenever you told him that Josh or Marcel wanted to speak to you, he tried to find an excuse to come along.

Kol was too busy paying attention to your neck, which provided a real distraction from your closing up duties. Suppressing a moan as best you could, you breathless whispered. “I still have to close up and count the money in the till”.

Within a flash Kol ran around the bar, opened the till and then proceeded to lock up. “There is $240 in the till and the bar is securely locked”. He licked his lips and vamped over, “Now where were we?”.

He was just about to reconnect his lips to your neck, jaw, anything he could touch but the presences of Marcel ruined the moment Kol was trying to set.

“Do you know that this is a bar, right?”, he coldly reminded Kol.

Kol protective wrapped an arm around you, “And I’m pretty sure I don’t care”. He replied just as coldly.

“Okay you two, that’s enough. I’m going to go collect my things, so please play nice”. You sternly pointed to both to show how serious you were.

Once you were out of view, Marcel made a jab towards Kol. “Why is it that wherever Y/N is, your right there beside her. If you knew anything about her, you’d know she likes her independence and space”.

Kol rolled his eyes and sighed. Oh, for god’s sake! Y/N is with me now, so how about you do yourself a favor and just accept it”

Marcel stepped in real close, showing no sign of backing down or that he was imitated by Kol. “She deserves better than you. The only thing you’re good at is causing destruction and pain”.

Kol snarled, “The tough guy act doesn’t suit you Marcel, nor does this jealously act you’ve got going on. Consider this a warning, stay away from Y/N and you and I won’t have any problems. However if I hear so much as a whisper about you trying to turn her against me, well then you and I will have problems”.

Marcel looked ready to attack, but paused and eyed Kol from head to toe. “The beauty about you Mikaelson’s is that eventually you destroy everything you touch. See I won’t have to do anything, you’ll do it for me. And when you screw things up, like I know you will. I’ll be waiting right here for Y/N to come running into my arms, telling me how wrong she was about you and your good for nothing family”.

Kol was about to retaliate when he noticed you re-entering the room. Observing both men.“Everything okay in here?”, you slowly asked even though you could hear the entire conversation from the back room, thanks to the thin walls.

Kol broke eye contact with Marcel and walked over to you with a smile, “Never better darling. Marcel and I were just coming to understanding, isn’t that right?”. He kissed the top of your forehead and then turned to smirk towards Marcel, who had a sour expression.

“As long as you know your place, then yeah, we have an understanding”. Marcel snapped.

You heard a low growl come from Kol and decided that this was the best time to end this conversation. Placing a hand on his chest, you nudged him towards the door. “I think it’s best we get going, you know, it being late and all”.

Kol happily exited the bar, you took your time in closing the door to mouth “I’m sorry” back to Marcel. He simply nodded and gave a warm smile in return.

Back at your home, Kol had been in a foul mood since leaving. He hadn’t uttered a word and kept mumbling something under his breath. Watching him roughly open the fridge and then close it again, you placed the coat that you were holding onto the rack beside the door and went over to grab his hand to lead him to sit down.

Softly playing with his hair, because you knew the calming affect it had. He closed his eyes and pulled you down onto his lap.

“I know it’s hard, but you and Marcel need to find a way to be civil”, whispering to Kol who’s arms tensed at the mention of Marcel.

“Darling, that’s never going to happen. I can’t be civil with a guy who’s plotting to destroy my family and steal my girl”. He frustratingly responded.

Getting up from his lap, you spoke while walking into the bedroom. “Well you’re going to have to find a way, because I’m not going to be in the middle of this mini feud you two have going on any longer”.

Undressing out of your work clothes into an oversized t-shirt, Kol was now occupying the bed suggesting he was going to stay the night. As you were settling in, Kol turned to you. “Promise you’ll be careful, love”.

Looking at him confused. “Marcel would never hurt me, Kol”. You told him, quite offended that he’d even assume such a thing.

He pushed the covers from his body and reached for his jeans, “What are you doing?”. Asking him while trying to ignore the pit that was forming in your stomach.

“I need to clear my head”, he threw his top on and started to aim for the door.

You knew better than anyone what clearing his head actually meant, racing to block his way. Kol exhaled sharply. “If you want to feed Kol, then-”.

“Darling, the only thing I want to do right now is punch Marcel. But I know that’ll make you upset, so I won’t. I’ll be back shortly, just going to go get some fresh air”. Kol, lovingly kissed you before leaving.

The last thing you wanted was for Kol to do something stupid, so you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and sent Elijah a message. Hoping and praying that if anything were to happen, Elijah would be fast enough to stop it.