“you are,” and he says it with a heft of a huff. “stop wiggling!”
even’s shoulders droop his body down, head drip-dropping back onto the nest of pillows isak has propped up behind him.
“it looks like it’s already bruising.”
he says again, carefully, with the corner of his lips twitching in the smile, “isak-”
“are we sure it’s not..? it looks bad,” and when he glances up, his eyebrows are worried furrows, cheeks a chalky pale. he sounds exasperated, but looks oh so concerned, and his fingertips are so gentle where they smooth the cloth-wrapped bag of frozen peas to even’s twisted ankle.
even just rolls his eyes. drama. “i’m fine. baby, i’m not gonna break.”
“you’re never dancing again.”
he flops a hand up, stabs the air in mock protest. “nei! i’ll never stop danc-”
“and especially not in socks on the wooden floors - what were you thinking?”
there’s a moment.
and then, he can’t help it. the laugh springs open in his lungs, bubbles up right out of him. and when it hits the air, fills the air, isak, oh, isak tries to narrow his eyes sharp and baleful at him, he really tries to, but. well.
they’re sitting lopsided on the bed holding frozen vegetables to even’s foot because he slipped and fell in his socks while dancing, and suddenly, that’s the funniest thing that’s happened all week and isak can hardly breathe through the hiccups of laughter his body is shivering loose from him.
shaking his head, he crawls up the bed. settles in even’s lap with one knee on either side of his hips snug.
“you’re so stupid,” but he’s grinning.
even slips his hands under the hem of his t-shirt to hold his waist gently, and he kisses the words to his lips: “i’m your stupid, though.”
and isak- he hugs him in, and he kisses him back, and he promises, “you are.”
When typing this title, my phone autocorrected it to “Tips for Whiners” which is hilarious given the circumstances surrounding this post. However, my conscience got the best of me and I decided to title it differently even though there was peer pressure for the original title. However, not all beginners are whiners (by far) and I figured it wasn’t fair to lump people into a group. Plus, this post is meant to be far more informative and encouraging than it is critical and teasing.
New writers are always looking for help and tools to use to get their writing “out there,” wherever that is. They want to build their audience, which means gaining followers and notes on posts. They seek out help, work on their blogs, and write a lot.
However, some new writers fall into a trap of jealousy and complaining. They become frustrated, then turn their frustration into jealousy. They whine about not getting notes and followers, they complain about blogging cliques and unfair treatment, and they adopt an attitude of “Woe is me. The blogosphere is against me.”
This post is meant to be helpful to each group by providing both useful tips and reality checks. At no point do I actually mean to be hateful. Am I sassy, though? Yes. You can stop reading this post at any time, too. You can also take what works for you and throw out the rest. Nothing here is a blanket statement.
But let’s just get on with it. ( And it is a long one)
Words: 13,500 Fandom: Moana Category: Gen Relationship: Moana & Maui
Look, normally Maui’s all for humans weeping over his injured body. Hey, he’s been demigod-ing for thousands of years, it’s nice to be appreciated every once in awhile, all right? But this one, this girl, acts like she knows him. He disregards it, because that’s just creepy, until he realizes that he has a tattoo of her - and no clue how he earned it.
Alternate title: “?????? ?? ???”
Main idea co-developed between myself and @paperjam-bipper, title credits entirely to her. For some reason, she has made it her mission to tear out my heart on a regular basis. Thanks, Paper.
A couple of quick notes, i.e. I’m putting the abridged glossary at the top this time: The ‘ava ceremony is a formal one used for a variety of occasions, included but not limited to: bestowing the title of Chief (matai) on a new Chief, welcoming visiting tribes to the island, honoring guests, etc. The siva tau is a traditional Samoan war dance, used in the modern-day before sporting events. The ailao afi is also known as the fire knife dance. Literally, you take a knife, wrap it and cloth and light it on fire. Performed to demonstrate battle prowess. As the daughter of the Chief, Moana would have had familiarity with it even before the movie. I have a headcanon that Moana and Maui, the two giant dorks that they are, looked at this incredibly dangerous dance and went “time to make a duet out of this!!” They would.
When Maui opens his eyes, there’s someone holding his hand.
Which makes waking up way more awkward than it needed to be. Sure, he’s a demigod of many talents, but he’s gotta say that hand-holding isn’t one too often requested.
Then the situation abruptly gets about a hundred times more uncomfortable, because as soon as he opens his eyes this girl decides that his pecs are a good pillow, wrapping her arms around his chest and wow, she’s got a surprisingly strong grip for a mortal. She’s pretty much squeezing his breath out of his lungs, which is impressive, since he’s got a pretty solid pair. Used for anything from hakas to grand story-reenacting. Not a pair like it this side of Lalotai.
“Hey,” he says jovially, trying to prise her off and failing. Good to know he was missed during his millennium off. “Look, kiddo, I know it’s not every day you meet your hero, but you wouldn’t want to make a bad first impression, now would’ya.”
this is dedicated to @forovnix‘s Kings in Couture which u should read bc if you haven’t read it you won’t understand this at all whatsoever
It’s cold, dark.
“Victor?” he breathes, feeling tears stinging at his eyes. Tears without a warrant to be there, tears of an origin unknown. As he swipes at them with his thumb, the dream comes back to him–the waiting, the void, swirling.
Victor stirs beside him. “Yuuri?” His voice is a low mumble, until he peeks open one of his eyes. Then he’s sitting up, an arm around his shoulders. “Yuuri, what happened?”
“I had… I had a nightmare,” Yuuri breathes, and he holds up a hand to realize that his fingers are trembling. Victor takes his hand, laces their fingers. The comforting gesture doesn’t calm him down completely, but it helps.
He says something in Russian before he pulls Yuuri to lay down beside him, keeping their hands joined. With his free hand, he begins to stroke Yuuri’s hair, slow, gentle. “Was it the same one?”
“I don’t know why it keeps happening,” he complains, frustrated. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”
“No, that’s okay,” Victor promises, kissing his upper cheek, where a stray tear had fallen during the dream. “You just need to remind yourself that it’s not real, that it’s all in your imagination.”
He buries his face in Victor’s shoulder, breathes him in. “You’re right.”
“We’re married,” Victor reminds him, touching Yuuri’s ring and spinning it around.
“But it feels so real. It feels like our story stopped when I officially got my job working for you. Isn’t that weird?”
“Weirdly specific,” Victor agrees. “But fake.”
“I love you,” he says quietly, knowing that Victor will hear him.
“I love you too.”
“Almost as much as you love Chanel?”
Victor chuckles, kissing him on his forehead. “Almost,” he agrees sarcastically.
(A/n): Lmao if I had something intelligent to say I’d put it here
Hey hey! Firstly, your writing is amazing! I love your fics so much and I’m jealous of your talent. Secondly, can i ask for a story involving jacksepticeye x reader? Where they have a lazy day after a hard week and not being able to see each other?
Warnings: I believe there is swearing???
Saying you didn’t love your job would be a complete lie. You do; you do love your job. Like, more than life. But at times, it was both physically and emotionally demanding.
Being a (genre) youtuber was ninety percent hilarity smudged with experience and ten percent taxing. Though, you would never complain. If you didn’t have your youtube career, you also wouldn’t have half your cronies, humour, or your beloved boyfriend.
At times like this, you felt yourself submerged in that ten percent.
It’s been exactly nine days, fourteen hours and thirty six minutes. You hated yourself for consciously keeping track of the technical numbers. It was a disruptive habit of yours; a habit that would bleed through every time you were nervous, compressed, or antsy.
Though, your inside voice was shot repeatedly, you could still manage a groan when reaching for your stray luggage being sauced around the conveyor belt.
Turning to release yourself from the sea of travelers, you sped your (size) frame away from the bag claim.
“I already hate life,” you whined aloud “where is Sean? Little Irish bastard has to be somewhere…”
It wasn’t long before you were charming the airport corridors with desperate footfalls. It’s been a week of complete shit and treachery and all you wanted to do was embrace your lovely boyfriend and get on with a lazy day.
“(Y/n)!” a lone voice called, though you didn’t hear it. Didn’t hear it until it was being chanted and drawing near to your current standings.
“(Y/nnnnn)!” Sean cheered, crashing into you “God, I missed you so fookin’ much.”
You laughed in surprise and tumbled your arms around him “Is that so?” you questioned. The mood you had previously been in had been wiped away thanks to Jack.
“Yes!” he whined “No one to cuddle, no one to have coffee with, no one to rage with.”
You giggle against his layered shoulder, waddling back and forth in his arms; struggling to regain balance.
“It was only a week, lover boy.” you taunted.
“Nine days,” Jack scoffed back “more like nine circles of hell.”
Once after you both laughed heartily, you released each other.
“So, while I was in L.A,” You began. The pair of you began to walk to the nearest exit, planning on hailing a cab.
“I bought the cutest pair of sweats, and frankly I don’t know about you but I’d love to use them real soon.”
Sean laughed again and tied a comforting arm around your waist.
“What does that mean? Don’t you want to start planning your trip back to collab with Mark this time?” he commented.
“God no.” you breathed.
“So let me get this straight,” Sean sorted. You both left the airport and you strung up a hand, forcing a near taxi to pull over.
“You want to lounge on the sofa, snacks a blaze, netflix ready, with me dozing off with my head in yer’ lap?”
“Exactly it.” you beamed up at him.
Jack was kind, and opened the cab door for you first “Well madam, you may have just proposed yourself a successful plan.”
(A/n): Do you know how lazy I am right now? Very.
But good news for you, I have a ten day break coming up soon and shit am I going to write a lot then so just hang in there guys
The countdown has begun! In a little over four months will be the kickoff for the second annual Kunikida Week!
Day 1 | Thursday 24 August ballast - [noun] anything that gives mental, moral, or political stability or steadiness specter - [noun] some object or source of fear or dread
| Friday 25 August Elysian - [adjective] beautiful or creative; divinely inspired; peaceful and perfect kalopsia - [noun] the delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are
| Saturday 26 August periphrasis - [noun] the use of an unnecessarily long or roundabout form of expression thantophobia - [noun] an abnormal fear of losing someone whom one loves
| Sunday 27 August idiosyncrasy - [noun] a characteristic, habit, mannerism, or the like that is peculiar to an individual asomatous - [adjective] having no material body; incorporeal
| Monday 28 August ibidem - [adverb] in the same book, chapter, page, etc.; literally, “in the aforementioned place” desiderium - [noun] (pl. desideria) an ardent longing, as for something lost
| Tuesday 29 August pragmatist - [noun] a person who is oriented toward the success or failure of a particular line of action, thought, etc.; a practical person enervate - [verb] to deprive of force or strength; to destroy the vigor of; to weaken
| Wednesday 30 August consanguinity - [noun] a close relationship or connection Free Prompt!
These prompts are meant only for inspiration; you may be as liberal with them as you wish, and you may combine prompts (including ones from different days) or use none at all if you so choose!
All art forms are accepted, be it drawings, fic, music, edits, or the like; however, we will not reblog plagiarism. (If ever we do, please inform us and we will take it down immediately.) If you make an edit or the like using someone else’s art, please make sure that you have obtained express and explicit permission to do so.
Creating for pairings is accepted, and, indeed, encouraged. This is a week to celebrate and explore Kunikida as a character, as well as his relationships - whether platonic, romantic, or otherwise - with the other characters.
Please include #kunikida week 2017 within the first five tags of your post to help ensure that we see it. But because tumblr is a jerk and likes not to show things in the tags despite this, if you believe that we have not seen one of your creations, please feel free to notify us and we’ll be sure to reblog it. You may also feel free to submit your work if you want it to remain anonymous or otherwise keep it off of your blog.
Out of consideration, please put all fics over a couple hundred words or so under a read more. Scrolling past those long posts can get awful tiring! Let’s save our thumbs/fingers, shall we?
Please tag triggering content, and tag all nsfw content as nsfw. Additionally, all nsfw text must be under a read more.
We understand that people are busy, especially with the end of August being the start of school for many, so it’s a-okay if you finish prompts late, and we will continue to reblog works even after the week has ended.
As always, the ask box is open if anyone has any questions, comments, concerns, etc.!
Okay rly tho people on ao3 need to stop tagging fics with both movie AND musical, like they are not at all the same and when you put your fic under both categories how am I supposed to know which characters you’re even writing about?? Stop please
Prompt by @smhshelby: I’m really excited to put a request in omg. I was hoping for a Jughead x reader && I’m honestly putting the rest in your heads, but basically a comfort fic that will make me feel warm fuzzies about the reader having way too much on their plate and kind of snapping at something small that jughead does? && they apologize and try to shove their own problems aside but he tries to cheer her up and help her relax and stuff? i feel like we all need a fic like this on our off days
This was the worst day of your life. You were pretty sure about that. It was one of those days where you woke up in a great mood and were excited to start the day. You had gotten dressed in your cutest outfit and had even walked to school because it was such a nice day. But when the doors of the school opened, hell was unleashed. First there was Cheryl who made fun of your clothes and made you feel insecure. Then there was that math pop quiz that you were sure you failed. Then your favorite teacher wasn’t in class today and you got the mean substitute who snapped at you multiple times for not doing your work (which you were doing and doing correctly you might add!) The worst part? Your boyfriend Jughead was nowhere to be seen. Usually the two of you would sit together at lunch and talk about the problems the both of you faced that day. But he wasn’t there. So you sat alone and kept your emotions bottled up. Reggie catcalling you from the next table didn’t help your mood either.
By the time the bell rang signaling the end of the day, you couldn’t wait to get out of there. You rushed home as fast as you could, ignoring your mom’s offers of a snack. You ran upstairs and slammed your bedroom door, trying to keep your tears at bay. Then your phone rang and you answered it without looking to see who it was.
“Hello?” you asked as you sat down on the edge of your bed.
“Hey, sorry I didn’t see you at school today.”
I was working on an article for the Blue & Gold. How was your day?” he asked.
You sighed and laid back on your bed.
“Fine, I guess.” you mumbled.
Despite not seeing him, you could tell that Jughead’s eyebrows rose at your statement.
“Really? Because you don’t sound so fine to me, Y/N.” he joked.
Rage boiled in you. Why couldn’t anyone leave you alone for just one day?
“I said I’m fine, Jughead!” you snapped.
There was silence on the other end of the receiver and the anger you had felt was now replaced with guilt.
“Oh God, I-I’m sorry, Juggie. It’s just been a really bad…” you trailed off when you felt the hot tears from behind your eyes.
What was the point?
“Never mind. I’ll just see you tomorrow, okay?” you said quietly, your voice cracking on the last word.
Before Jughead could say anything else, you hung up the phone and curled up into a ball, crying softly into your pillow. Soon enough, you cried yourself to sleep.
A small tapping at the window was what woke you up. You groaned and sat up groggily, rubbing your eyes. You felt a little bit better now that you had slept for an hour or two but the guilt from yelling at Jughead still remained. The tapping started again and you turned towards the source of the sound. Your eyes widened when you saw your beanie-clad boyfriend at your window.
“Jughead?” you asked as you walked over to the window.
He looked up at you as you pulled the window up.
“Hey there, Juliet.” he said.
You furrowed your eyebrows at him.
“Hey. What are you doing here?” you asked.
Jughead climbed into your room and it was only then that you noticed he had a small backpack on.
“Well, by the sound of your voice over the phone earlier, I figured you needed a little cheering up.” he said as he took his backpack off.
You sighed, remembering your tone at him.
“Juggie, I’m sorry,” you began. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know,” he said, cutting you off.
He smiled softly at you.
“I know, Y/N. Which is why I brought you these,”
The raven-haired teen unzipped his backpack, pulling out a handful of snacks and movies.
“Figured we could watch a couple of your favorite movies with your favorite snacks. Got my laptop and everything.” he said.
“I’d love to.” you said.
You snuggled into Jughead’s chest more as he began to play the third movie of the night, smiling widely.
A lot of people ask me why writers care so much about notes. It’s really difficult to explain it to someone who doesn’t write…but…this is the analogy I came up with after giving it some thought:
You know when you’ve studied really hard for an exam? Like, really, really, hard, and you walk out of the room thinking, yes, I’ve got this.
That’s how it feels when you originally post the fic.
But then, a week later, you find out that you didn’t ace the exam. That you were overconfident. That you didn’t do as well as you thought you did. In fact, you weren’t even close. You failed. Miserably.
That sinking feeling of hopelessness, the realisation that you weren’t good enough (even though that’s not true). That’s how it feels to put your heart and soul into a fic and get next to no response.