someone was bound to do it eventually

anonymous asked:

(so I sent this before, but I don't think it send correctly.) I'm writing an IronPanther one shot, and I'm trying to describe T'Challa in a way that isn't fetishizing. Do you have any tips for ways I can describe him that is very appreciative of the way he looks without being hella creepy? What are some dos and don'ts?

Hi!  Thanks for your question :)  It’s very responsible of you to be mindful of this issue.  I’ll try to cover the bases, but I’m not a person of color, so this is only based on reading and research…


Writing Characters of Color: Dos and Don’ts

First things first: I would suggest to anyone writing characters of color that you should follow @writingwithcolor.  It’s my absolute favorite blog on the topic of diverse writing, and includes plenty of resources for most races and cultures.  I’ll probably link you to a couple of their posts in this guide, so keep an eye out!  So here we go…

Do: Make their race clear.

In fact, clearly designate the race of all characters!  Even if a majority of your characters are white, you should state this in their description – otherwise, you’re painting the image that white is Baseline and Normal, while black/brown/beige are Divergent and Strange.  Understand that many readers will assume White Until Proven Otherwise.  This means that if you shy away from stating a character’s color in the fear of offending PoC readers, you’re actually just erasing the character’s race altogether.  (Personal note: obviously your readers will know what color T’Challa is, so this is a point for the future.)

Don’t: Use descriptors that make me hungry.

“Chocolate,” “caramel,” “coffee,” “brown sugar,” “cinnamon,” “honey” – you get the idea.  Anything that could also be used to describe my dessert is probably a terrible idea.  Not only is this not at all how white characters are described, which is unfair, but the reduction of adult, three-dimensional people to grocery items has racially-aggressive roots.  This is where I’m gonna link you to Writing With Color’s guide on how (and how not) to describe characters of color.

Do: Familiarize yourself with the harmful stereotypes.

This means a little research, no matter what race you’re writing.  A lot of the racist mistakes made in literature/fanfiction come from a place of ignorance, sometimes willfully.  People avoid learning the dirty past of racial representation in media, because they’re afraid they’ll subconsciously absorb them.  It’s a weird complex and I advise you, and all writers, to take the time to glance over the most offensive stereotypes for people of color, women, LGBT, trans/nonbinary, autistic, mentally ill, and disabled people.  This will not only keep you from hurting anyone, but it also makes your writing more unpredictable and interesting!  Plus, it makes you not-one-of-those-douchebags-who-write-two-dimensional-exotic-chocolate-brown-mistresses and all that 👍

Don’t: Desexualize your characters.

This is a common mistake that can come from good intentions.  You’re try so hard not to fetishize a character of color and then it reduces them to a non-sexual, non-attractive broom in the corner.  Characters of color – all characters really – god, especially women – should be three-dimensional and fully developed people, who are not sold to readers on their looks and sexual appeal.  BUT this doesn’t mean you should exclude all sexuality in writing.  T’Challa, for example, is a damn handsome man – you can’t possibly write him and ignore how nice he looks!  So don’t be afraid to describe him physically.  You can describe his eyes and his lips and his muscles and we will read happily.  Go ahead and talk about how smooth and warm and rich his skin is.  As long as sexuality is described through a lens of admiration, rather than objectification – and as long as their sexuality exists in accompaniment to their full, developed personality, and not instead of it – then there’s nothing wrong with making a character bangin’ hot.  So do it.  And lastly…

Do: Consider collaborating with a beta-reader.

You said in your previous ask that this was one of your first attempts at writing characters of color, so I’d suggest that if you feel nervous about it, partner up with a beta-reader who has enough experience to keep you in check.  It’s our responsibility as writers (especially for white, privileged writers such as myself) to learn to look at ourselves and assess whether or not we’ve crossed the line.  Having someone beta-read for you will show you the critical thinking process to go through, so eventually, you’ll be able to do it without thinking about it!  Maybe a few people here would be interested in a betaship.


Those are my top Dos and Don’ts, but as always, this is limited to my experience.  Be sure to check out @writingwithcolor and do your research – and remember that no matter how much research you do, you’re bound to make a mistake or two.  If it happens and a reader points it out to you, don’t beat yourself up about it or get defensive.  Just apologize, correct the mistake, and move on.

Thanks again, and good luck :)  Happy writing!


If you need advice on general writing or NaNoWriMo, you should maybe ask me!

Imagine this

We all know Batsy’s flair for dramatics. Imagine Danny picking up on them subtlety and being so Very Extra with his powers every now and then. Villian who figures out his secret identity? Eventually ends up trying to kill Danny somehow, maybe bound him to a chair, giving the typical Villian Monolouge before shooting. Danny plays along for a second, acts like someone who just got shot in a normally fatal spot. Then his head kinda rolls up to look at Villian, eyes glowing. Phasing through the chair and shifting into Phantom before saying, “You cant kill whats already dead, bub.” And scaring the absolute shit outta the Villian who passes out cause holy shit the abandoned church by the lake at midnight was the Wroong place to do this, that was freaky. Danny makes sure he’s still alive and leaves a small note telling them to forget about him (They Do.) and goes back to the watchtower to tease Hal abt how good his muffins are -Nyx

Mass Effect Relationships Week - Fanfiction Promps

As part of the Mass Effect Relationships Week, or #MERweek, being held by @cactuarkitty to celebrate all relationships within the original Mass Effect trilogy (all kinds of relationships - romantic, platonic, friendships, bromances, familial, enemies, frenemies, working relationships etc.) I was asked to put together a fun set of prompts for fanfic writers to sink their teeth into for the week! 

The week runs from  June 5th to June 11th and is for the original Mass Effect trilogy only. I’m posting these prompts a few days early since I know we fic writers like to plan! Remember to use the #MERweek tag for your fics!


Day 1: The Day We Met
The first day seems like a fitting place to focus on beginnings, so here you have a chance to tell us how a particular relationship started.

Day 2: Pictures Of You
Write a drabble or fic revolving around a photograph or hologram that your character has, or that another character has of them. Perhaps it’s of someone they love like a family member or lover, perhaps it’s from a file of someone they work with, or perhaps it’s of their enemy and they throw knives at it every night? The choice is yours!

Day 3: Late Night Confessions
Write a late night story involving your characters sharing a secret or confessing something to do with a relationship.

Day 4: In the Heat of Battle
Battles come in all sorts of shapes and sizes - sometimes they’re physical with biotics and guns, but sometimes they’re emotional, sometimes they’re internal, sometimes they’re inside our own minds. Write a scene about a battle your character is having to do with a relationship.

Day 5: Fun With Food
Okay, it was bound to happen eventually! It’s time for your character to have some fun in the kitchen, or perhaps take someone out for a meal, or maybe organise a dinner party. The choice is yours! Whatever happens, they need to have some fun with food!

Day 6: Break My Heart
Life isn’t all smiles and laughter. Time to write a little something about a time that a relationship broke your character’s heart. And no, this doesn’t mean in a romantic sense - I think we all know that friends, family and the people we trust, can cut just as deep. Yes, embrace the angst.

Day 7: Alternate Universe
Let’s have some fun for our final day! Time to drop your character into an alternate universe story for the final relationship tale. Maybe you want to write a coffee ship AU, a Highschool AU, a Modern Day AU, or an evil Mirror Universe AU? Whatever it is, have fun! :)


Please make sure to tag your MERweek writing with the tag #MERweek so we can reblog and share it. Have fun!

Don’t Be Stupid

genre: angst

summary: you’re best friends, but then sehun gets a girlfriend and things change

a/n: i added some things to the original request…i’m also excited that i got a request for sehun cause i haven’t written for him yet i don’t think…I also didn’t include the fluff ending cause I didn’t think it really worked with the original idea I had when thinking about the request

Originally posted by wooyoung

It wasn’t surprising for your plans to get cancelled and for you to come in second next to Sehun’s girlfriend. You understood that sometimes she would come first, she was his girlfriend after all. But you were his best friend, you had been for years. Sehun used to always drop whatever he was doing, when he was able, to hang out with you. If you were sad, all it took was a phone call or text and he was at your side. And if he was out of town touring, you could still reach him by skype or facetime.

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Black

Originally posted by lycheepeaches

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, wanting to die, and coffins.

  • Lee Taemin was a prince in the late 1600s.
  • His parents ruled their small country and were generally well-liked by most of their people. Obviously, you can’t please everyone, but they came pretty damn close.
  • And Taemin was a favorite of the people, as well. He was gorgeous, he was quiet and polite (in public), he never caused any real trouble, he respected his family and loved them, he loved the town; he was the perfect heir to the throne.
  • Except, Taemin wasn’t exactly keen on taking the throne. He was worried about having the lives of so many people in his hands. He didn’t mind responsibilities that he took on as prince but taking over the whole kingdom? He couldn’t do it.
  • Now, Taemin’s parents were getting on in years. Taemin was their youngest child (out of many) and his sisters had all gone off and gotten married to princes from other kingdoms and his two brothers had both gone off to fight for their small kingdom and never returned.

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CS FF: Missed Connections

Summary:  Emma Swan doesn’t think she’ll ever see the handsome stranger she spilled coffee all over again.  Killian Jones doesn’t believe he’ll ever see the beautiful blonde who ruined his shirt.  So they couldn’t be more surprised when their paths keep crossing, only to find that something keeps standing in the way of them making a lasting connection.  But when you keep meeting the same person over and over again in a city of 8 million people, is it mere coincidence or fate?  

Rating: G

Note: Thank you for your responses to Dare to Love.  This is just a fun AU I wanted to write.   Hope you enjoy it!  ~Steph

…Missed Connections: Part 1/1…

Emma Swan sipped her coffee and rolled her eyes at her best friend and roommate. “For the last time, I am not signing up for online dating,” she said.

“Why not?” Mary Margaret asked.  "I can’t even tell you how many people I know who have found their significant other online, myself included.  David is amazing.“

"I’ll admit you got lucky, but I’ve told you why not a thousand times.  With my luck, I’ll end up matched with an ax murderer.”

“And who’s to say you won’t meet an ax murderer randomly?  This is New York City, after all.  You never know who you’ll bump into.  At least these dating sites do background checks on their guys.”

“And if I randomly meet a guy, I can run a background check too.  I’m a bounty hunter.  I have my ways.”

“Suit yourself.  Take your chances out in the world then,” Mary Margaret said, shrugging her shoulders and taking a sip of her coffee.

“I will,” Emma said, standing up.  “I’ve gotta run.  I have a lead on a jumper.  See you later.”

Emma picked up her coffee and rushed towards the door.  In her hurry, she didn’t see the man walking in at the same time.  They collided and the top of her coffee came flying off.  The contents spilled all over his blue button down shirt.  

Emma’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she said, looking up at the man.

Her gaze met the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen on the most handsome face she had ever encountered.  A grin spread across Killian Jones’ face as he looked at the gorgeous woman before him.

“It’s okay, love.  No harm done.”

Emma shook her head and awkwardly tried to swipe at his shirt with the napkin she held in her other hand.  She tried to ignore the feel of the hard muscles of his chest under her fingertips.  

“Definite harm done.  Your shirt is ruined and this coffee is really hot.  You might have suffered burns.”

Killian smiled at her and touched her hand, stopping her movements.  Emma felt goosebumps appear on her skin at his touch.  Killian felt like a wave of electricity swept through him at the same moment.

“I assure you I’m fine, love.”

Emma dug into her purse. “At least let me pay for your dry cleaning.”

“That’s really not necessary.  I have at minimum five other blue shirts exactly like this at home.  I can simply discard this one and I’ll never even notice.”

“Let me pay for a new shirt then.  Maybe one in a different color,” she offered, chuckling nervously.

Killian looked down at her coffee cup where the barista had scribbled her name.  

“Emma, is it?” She nodded. “Please don’t give it a second thought.  I’m fairly certain bumping into you is going to be the best part of my day.”

Emma’s mouth hung open for a long moment, as she got lost in the ocean that was his eyes.  She finally dropped her gaze to the ground.

“Okay, if you insist.  Sorry again.  Have a good day,” she mumbled.

She brushed past him, as he watched her go.  Killian sighed as he stared at the door long after she had left.  He had never felt such an instant connection with anyone before.  If only he had gotten more than her first name.

It wasn’t until Emma was a block away that she realized she didn’t even know his name.  And despite feeling an instant attraction and connection to him, she now had no way of contacting him.  

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From Pampered Princess to Sold Sex-Slave

When she first felt, the sickening sweet cloth pressed over her mouth and nose she was shocked, and a little scared, but she didn’t really panic

Her father told her that with a parent as rich as he was, she would be targeted for kidnapping and ransom. It was the sad state of the world today. 

Of course, that’s why he had a security detail for her, but the security detail interfered with her fun. So, she took great delight and escaping them whenever possible. It was such a game to her. She was so naïve and she didn’t really think there was any danger.

She’d been sheltered her whole life and protected by her father. Nothing could touch her. 

Even if she was taken she still wouldn’t worry, after all, she knew her father would pay the ransom and that would be that.

He’d probably be really angry with her, and yell at her; especially when he found out how often she slipped away from her security detail, but he’d get over it. 

Daddy was like that. 

When she next woke up though, things weren’t as expected. She had been stripped naked, her breasts have been painfully tied, and her wrists were tied to her ankles.

She soon noticed that there were several other women in the room with her, all naked and bound in similar ways that she was. Even someone as sheltered as her was smart enough to realize the most likely reason of why she and the others were bound as they were and naked.

She tried to cry out but somebody had stuffed a large stick in her mouth, making it impossible for her to talk. 

Her efforts to speak came out as garbled nonsense. Worse, when she did wake up and try to speak someone came into the room and ordered her to be quiet. When she didn’t obey immediately, they beat her. 

They actually beat her. 

She didn’t understand what they were doing, didn’t they know who she was? 

Eventually, she and the other women were untied so they could stand. They were dragged out of the building and tied in a line so they could be led somewhere.

She was still trying desperately to talk, tell them who she was. Her efforts were rewarded with her tongue being pulled from her mouth and two sticks tied around it, using her own tongue piercing to hold her tongue out of her mouth. The men laughed at the way she drooled.

They then, as extra punishment tied her wrists to her tits behind her back. They pointed out that with tits like hers, they were made to be abused. She was blushing in shame and humiliation the entire time she was dragged by her tits behind the truck that was taking them to their destination. 

If only they would let her speak if only they would let her tell them who she was. 

Eventually, they stopped at a building deep in the woods, she knew there was not a soul around for miles. She shuddered at what this could mean.

Soon after their arrival, the men began her intense sexual services and slave training. 

Every day she was woken up beaten, molested, and abused. She was exposed and whipped on her most intimate areas, all in an effort to break her spirit, subjugate her will, and shatter her soul. Sadly, she could feel it working as every day she slipped further and further into what they wanted her to be.

Every one of holes was fucked at least 10 times a day. 

The only time she wasn’t gagged was so someone could stuff a cock down her throat. 

She quickly learned that trying to speak in those moments just got her beat and more. 

Now, six weeks later, she was being punished once again. She had mostly accepted her fate at this point but still had hope she’d be rescued. This led to occasional bouts of frustration and willfulness that needed to be removed.

Her master had bound her squatting, with her arms bound over her head, her legs tied to her tits. In her ass, was an expanded dildo that was electrified and had a mercury switch that was all attached to the ropes binding her wrists. To an observer, it would look like she was obediently holding this position, especially as she was ungagged, but still silent. 

In reality, she had quickly learned that if she remained in this position, she would be fine, but if she spoke, moved too much, or worse fell over, she would be subjected to intense, painful electrical shocks in her ass until she got back into her position. 

She was shaking and terrified, although she wasn’t crying anymore. She’s been beaten for that enough times as well. 

She was watching as her old Master discussed her price with a perspective client that was very interested in buying her. 

She didn’t know how, but she knew, instinctively, that once the sale was completed, her chances of ever going home would be zero

She watched, sadly, as the deal was completed.

Her new Master came over and picked her up, ignoring the fact that he was causing her to be shocked as he threw her over her shoulder and carried her out. 

As he was carrying her away to her fate she heard him say, “I know who you are, cunt, and I’m going to take great delight in sending pictures to your daddy. That’ll teach him to fuck me over in business." 

With those words, she knew she was lost, and she screamed in terrified anguish and she knew that her life, incredibly, was just going to get worse.

A few hours later, that prediction was proven correct.

Neverland

AN: Chapter 1 and 2 were posted separately, but this is the WHOLE fic (chapter 3 included). I don’t know why, but it feels like it belongs all together. Don’t ask me to explain it, because I totally can’t. It just does.

Summary: Neverland is more than a place of adventure and eternal youth. To Lucy, Neverland is home. [NaLu] [Rated T] [Peter Pan AU]

Read it of ff.net

I am a lost boy from Neverland

Usually hanging out with Peter Pan

And when we’re bored we play in the woods

Always on the run from Captain Hook

“Run, run, lost boy, ” they say to me

Away from all of reality

Neverland is home to lost boys like me

And lost boys like me are free

Neverland is home to lost boys like me

And lost boys like me are free”

–“Lost Boy”, Ruth B.


The first time she sees him she thinks she is dreaming. He is a mere shadow dancing on the moon, his silhouette growing bigger and bigger until he is framed by her bedroom window with a back drop of inky night and bright stars. She blinks, slow and with eyes still heavy with sleep, and he is gone. 

In the morning she thinks that the vision of a pink haired boy must be derived from her loneliness.

The house she grew up in is no longer the home she once knew. It hasn’t been since her mother died. The bustling household has turned stale, the rooms quiet. Mrs. Spetto, her governess, has been fired - the cook as well. The maid only comes once a week now, to dust and do her father’s laundry. Lucy looks forward to her visits, even though she is ignored in favor of getting chores done. It breaks up the monotony of her days. 

At night, usually after dark, her father comes home. He doesn’t say hello, doesn’t ask about her day, instead he walks up the stairs and to his study. He shuts the door behind him. He goes to bed after she has fallen asleep, and leaves for work - or wherever else he goes - before she wakes. She can’t remember the last time they had a conversation. The most she ever hears from him is the sound of his pen scratching against parchment that leaks through the cracks in the copper keyhole.

Still, she is lucky. She is not blind to the children begging outside her front door. She sees them, filthy and dressed in rags, through her bedroom window. She knows that while she is housed by a roof and ornately decorated walls, their home consists of alleyways and makeshift boxes. Many of their lungs are blackened by soot and coal from working at the factories, she can hear it in the way some of the older children cough. As lonely as she is, she knows things can be far, far worse. 

Still - she knows that things can be far better as well. 

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You Are The Winter Soldier (Part 15/15)

Summary: you, Bucky and Steve are best friends before the war. After Bucky and Steve die during a plane crash, Dr Zola and his team come for you in order to initiate the Winter Soldier programme. It’s a matter of life and death to try and remember the man you once loved.

Warnings: angst, swearing, self-hatred, depression, breakdowns. BUT A HAPPY ENDING!

Word count: 1632

A/N: the last chapter! Thank you all so much! (A little thank you note at the bottom, not gonna lie I got a bit emotional lol)

Catch up here.

Keep reading

hurricane (sebstan)

summary:

after so much time apart, sebastian and you meet up for drinks. things don’t quite go as planned. 

word count: 1.3K

pairing: seb stan x reader

warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), bad writing, cheating 

Originally posted by bovaria

pt 2 | pt 3 | end

masterlist

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archiveofourown.org
A Light & His Soul Snatcher

Story summary: Phil was the most powerful magic wielding human of the decade, even when he was just a child. He was what his people called a light - someone that was a pure source of magic. He’d been forbidden to leave his house because his parents were terrified that he’d attract soul snatchers, which was horrible creatures that consumed innocent souls. But Phil was a curious little one and he was bound to step outside eventually.

Dan had been a stupid young boy, who’d gotten too obsessed with the magical culture and peer pressured into doing something really dumb, just because all his friends had done it. His soul had been broken and locked away, never to be seen or felt again, as his body was doomed to roam the world as a soul snatcher. But Dan would be granted a second chance.

When the two meet, the impossible happens. Lights have always fallen prey to soul snatchers before and Phil should really be dead and Dan should really be fed. It doesn’t quite go like that.

Word count: 8.5k

Warnings: Threats (nothing explicit), struggling against your nature

Extra tags: Magic AU, Soul Snatcher AU, witches/magicians, strangers, natural enemies

Two out of five chapters posted. Updates on AO3 every Wednesday.

A day late and a dollar short, but here it is folks, Part Thirteen of 1 Night (+9 Months) - which is likely to only have a couple more parts after this one, so we’re really getting close now! 

((Did I ever mention that there would be mutual pining? Because yeah, there’s some mutual pining oops))

(Ao3)

-

“I still just can’t believe it.”

Jemma indulged in a little roll of her eyes at Daisy’s exaggeratedly-shocked tone, hidden as she was rifling through her closet for something to wear on her date with Fitz that night. Once Bobbi and Daisy had found out about the event (Jemma suspected that Fitz had let it slip to Hunter, who in turn had spilled the beans to Bobbi, who then passed the information along to Daisy, but she didn’t have any solid proof), the two had showed up at her doorstep and barged into her flat, demanding details.

Fortunately, Fitz had left earlier that day to head back to his own flat in order to find some nicer clothes to wear and get ready as well, so he hadn’t accidentally overheard any of Daisy’s loud and embarrassing comments and questions.

“I mean, I never thought Fitz would work up the courage – I was so sure that it would have to be you who made a move for anything to happen, Jem, and you’ve been insisting for months now that nothing could happen between you guys,” Daisy continued, gesturing widely with her hands as she went on, her eyes rounded with continued shock.

Leaning further out of her closet to make their conversation easier, Jemma reminded her, “I still have to be careful, you know, even though I’m sure now that Fitz feels something for me in return. And, besides, I still can’t be guaranteed that it’s the same as how I feel for him.” Ignoring the eye-roll Daisy gave and the low scoff that issued from Bobbi, she continued, “We have to take things slowly and cautiously, because well…we aren’t just two people going on a date – we’re Evelyn’s parents first.” She nodded then to where Evelyn was happily perched on Bobbi’s lap, playing with a set of plastic tools that Fitz had delightedly purchased for her recently.

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archiveofourown.org
All That Comes to Pass - malevolentmango - Overwatch (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Title: All That Comes to Pass
Rating: T
Pairing: Symbra
Summary: Satya just wants a quiet day at the beach, away from the collection of oddities that she’s slowly learning to call friends back at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. But there’s someone even stranger waiting for her at the water’s edge.

For Shipwatch Week 2017, Day 1: Fairy Tale/Mythical AU. I was bound to do a siren au eventually.

Don’t Let Me Down (Yooran)

because I was listening to this and decided to hop on the yooran angst train

On AO3
On FFN


No new messages.

Saeran tossed his phone onto his bed and pushed both hands into his bright hair. He stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath trying to calm the jittery feeling that was growing in his chest. Glancing at the phone, he grabbed it up and checked his texts again. Maybe he’d forgotten to hit send.

No such luck. The message had been sent but hadn’t been read yet.

He threw the phone back onto the bed (with a little more force than before). That was fine. It was fine. Not a big deal, right? Yoosung was still a student, after all. He had classes and tests and needed to study. Even outside of the RFA, he was busy. Saeran couldn’t reasonably expect him to respond to every text, right?

Except…

He glanced over to his phone again but squeezed his eyes shut to keep himself from reaching over and snatching it up.

‘This is ridiculous,’ Saeran thought. Sure, they’d had a fight, but Yoosung wouldn’t leave him over one stupid fight, right? Only…it hadn’t been a fight. Not really. 


He had too much energy. Everything under his skin was vibrating. It was going to come out. He was going to explode.

‘Just breathe,’ he reminded himself. Saeran sucked in breath after breath like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. 

Everything was still too close. Why did his clothes have to rub against his skin like that? It just made the vibrating worse.

“Saeran,” Yoosung spoke to him, voice calm and even. “Everything’s okay. You’re okay. You can handle this.”

“I know,” Saeran snapped. How often did this happen? Of course he knew that everything was okay, but that still didn’t make it better. It was only more frustrating! Why did this happen when everything was fine? Why did he have to be like this?

“Try to focus on your breathing,” Yoosung tried talking to him again, but it only set Saeran further on edge.

“I know!” He snapped again. Rounding on Yoosung, he shouted, “Why are you always like this? How are you so calm all the damn time? You have no idea what I’m going through! What the hell do you think you can do to help?”

Yoosung was quiet for a few seconds before he said, “You’re right, I don’t know how you feel right now. Maybe if you told me I could help?”

His breaths were coming faster now, each one burning in his chest. Saeran wasn’t even thinking about his words and continued to shout, “What is wrong with you? Why are you so nice? Are you stupid? Do you like it? Why do you stay?” 

Turning away, he didn’t even look at Yoosung’s reaction. Everything was falling apart. He was falling apart. Lifting his hands, Saeran gripped his head. He had to hold himself together any way he could. Frustrated tears burned his eyes. He didn’t want Yoosung to see this. Not this ugly side of him. Why wouldn’t he just leave?

“Saeran,” Yoosung’s voice was gentle and it pulled at the tight knot in Saeran’s chest. But when a hand touched his arm, everything he was trying to keep together unraveled.

Lashing out, physically shoving Yoosung away from him, Saeran screamed, “Go away!”

Breathing still harsh, eyes wide and frantic, Saeran caught Yoosung’s reaction this time. That moment was what brought him back to his senses, focus narrowing down to only the hurt look on Yoosung’s face. All the excess energy suddenly flooded out of him, leaving him cold and exhausted.

The shock on Yoosung’s face only lasted for a second before he was smiling again, forced as it was for his sake, and saying, “Sorry, I guess you just need some time to yourself. I’ll head home for today. Feel better, Saeran! Take care of yourself, okay?”

Saeran wanted to say something, wanted to stop him from leaving, but he could barely stand, barely breathe. When Yoosung was gone, the door shut behind him, Saeran finally collapsed in on himself to cry and scream until he was spent and hoarse lying on the floor.


Saeran thought back to that awful moment after he pushed Yoosung away. The look that had been on his face had haunted his memory for three quiet, lonely days. But what hurt the worst was remembering how quickly Yoosung had tried to smile and brush it off. That tight smile, the redness that took over his cheeks and nose while he tried not to cry at Saeran’s rejection, how tight his laugh was when he said he’d go home for the day.

Saeran pressed a hand over his heart. His chest hurt. It was tight and suffocating and made his eyes burn. He grit his teeth, refusing to cry, refusing to give into this feeling. It was just in his head. It wasn’t real.

Yoosung had always been there for him. From all the way back when Saeyoung had first brought him home, Yoosung had slowly tried to be his friend. He didn’t talk to him like he was fragile or damaged. He always came back, even when Saeran pushed him away. He told him he would be there for him if he ever needed someone to talk to.

But maybe he had pushed too hard this time. It hadn’t just been harsh words or looks, it had been physical.

There was a voice in his head, ‘He’s never coming back.’

“Stop it,” Saeran said to no one. He knew what this was. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. “He’s just busy. He needs time. He’ll come back. I said I’m sorry.”

‘Did you really though? It was a text. Pretty pathetic.’

“Shut up,” Saeran said through clenched teeth. “He promised. He knows. He knows how I am sometimes. I don’t mean it. I don’t. He promised he’d stay, that he’d be here.”

‘Yeah, but you never hit him before.’

“I didn’t–!” Taking another deep breath, Saeran clenched his hands in his hair. “I didn’t hit him. I didn’t.” Even as he said it, guilt twisted his gut and made the tears he’d been fighting back spill down his cheeks.

‘You might as well have,’ the little voice in his head told him. ‘Who would want to stay around someone like that? Who knows what you might do next time you get upset with him?’

Sniffling, Saeran croaked, “But he promised…”


Well, this was it. He’d tried so hard not to have one of his episodes in front of Yoosung. He didn’t want him to know about that part of him, the scary part that he lost control of every so often. But it was bound to happen eventually, right?

Lying on his bed, trying to get some of his energy back, Saeran kept his eyes closed. He waited, listening for the front door to open and shut, signalling Yoosung’s departure from the house and from him. But instead the door to his room opened.

Saeran opened his eyes and watched Yoosung walk towards the bed to sit on the edge and place a cool cloth across his forehead. “How are you feeling now?” He asked. “Better than earlier?”

“Why’d you stay?” Saeran asked in return. He was genuinely confused. He couldn’t understand why Yoosung would still be here after seeing what he’s like during one of his meltdowns.

Yoosung didn’t answer right away, taking a moment to think about it. “Well,” he started, “I care about you. That looked like it was hard on you and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why?” Saeran still didn’t understand.

“I need a reason?” Yoosung laughed. He reached towards him, pulled his hand back for a second, but eventually decided to reach out and pet Saeran’s hair in a calming gesture. “I just…do,” he shrugged, cheeks a little pinker than before.

Saeran debated with himself before finally admitting, “This probably won’t be the last time it happens.” Yoosung continued to gently stroke his hair as he continued, “Things build up and all come out at once sometimes.”

“That’s okay,” Yoosung reassured him with an understanding smile. “You’ve…well, you’ve been through a lot, right? It’s okay if things get to be too much sometimes. I’ll be here to help however you need.”

Saeran had a hard time believing it, that someone would stay with him through moments like that not because they had to but because they wanted to. He wanted to ask ‘why?’ again but settled on “Really?”

Yoosung nodded. “I promise. It might be easier to share it with someone that deal with it on your own. I have other things I have to do, like school and my volunteer work, but you can always text me. I’ll come over as soon as I can.”

He was tired and could feel himself starting to doze off. “Yeah,” he agreed as his eyes slipped shut. “Okay.”


“Please,” Saeran begged, still sitting on the bed and staring down at his feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

‘Too little too late,’ his inner voice prodded. ‘Can you really blame him?’

“No,” Saeran whispered, throat clenching around the word. Honestly, he would’ve left himself a long time ago. It was crazy to expect someone else to put up with something he even hated about himself. “But I…” He was starting to crack under the weight of his guilt and anxiety. “I need him.”

He felt horrible for saying it, for admitting that if Yoosung would come back, he’d be willing to selfishly accept his help and attention again. But it was the truth. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on Yoosung as a grounding presence in his life until this incident. 

Turning to reach behind him, he grabbed his phone again before turning back to rest his elbows on his knees and stare down at the screen. Still no new notifications.

“Please,” he begged again, willing the phone to buzz in his hands. “Please come back so I can apologize properly. You promised. I need you and you promised. I’m so sorry.”

He was crying again, grip tight on his phone, when it answered his prayers and buzzed in a few short bursts. It was so unexpected that it startled him into almost dropping the phone. When he recovered, he rubbed his sleeve across his eyes to help clear them and looked down at the screen.

1 New Message from Yoosung Kim

secretlywritingstories.tumblr.com
A Light & His Soul Snatcher - Epilogue

Story summary: Phil was the most powerful magic wielding human of the decade, even when he was just a child. He was what his people called a light - someone that was a pure source of magic. He’d been forbidden to leave his house because his parents were terrified that he’d attract soul snatchers, which was horrible creatures that consumed innocent souls. But Phil was a curious little one and he was bound to step outside eventually.

Dan had been a stupid young boy, who’d gotten too obsessed with the magical culture and peer pressured into doing something really dumb, just because all his friends had done it. His soul had been broken and locked away, never to be seen or felt again, as his body was doomed to roam the world as a soul snatcher. But Dan would be granted a second chance.

When the two meet, the impossible happens. Lights have always fallen prey to soul snatchers before and Phil should really be dead and Dan should really be fed. It doesn’t quite go like that.

Epilogue summary: The accomplishments of light no. 2,009 - So many lights before Phil were powerful, influential and history makers but Phil’s actions were unprecedented and his story unique because of the soul snatcher he embraced. This is their accomplishments.

Epilogue word count: 2k

No warnings apply

Extra tags: magic, roommates, sacrifices, protective of each other

This is a chaptered story, which is now completed!

anonymous asked:

do you sell your art anywhere? (btw your art is so beautiful like wtf did you sell your soul or something. people dont just achieve that level of artness your art is sO GOOD IM AAAAAA HOW WTF I LOVE YOUR ART SO MUCH *SCREAMS*)

not at the moment, but im currently working on setting up commissions and possibly a redbubble and drawing sth to sell there !! ill probs let u guys know if or when i do ✌️️✨

(also thank u so much for ur kind words!!! 💖 have a nice day bud!)

  • Scene: Altair as the Beast, Malik is Beauty (very fetching in a gown...not really). Kadar as the plot device that brings Malik to Altair's castle to be prisoner forever.
  • Malik: I honestly expected you to be so much scarier what with your frighteningly bad manners.
  • Kadar: how about we not make him angry.
  • Malik: let my brother go.
  • Altair: if you take his place.
  • Malik: ...how about I kill you and then just take my brother?
  • Altair: ...
  • Kadar: ...Malik don't make him angry he has razor sharp teeth and claws like knives. I mean, you're good in a fight and all but he could take you. He's seven foot tall.
  • Malik: fine. I'll stay if you let Kadar go.
  • Altair: Fine.
  • Malik: Fine. SO I'LL JUST BE HERE IN THIS COLD, DREARY PRISON CELL BY MYSELF THEN.
  • Altair: no, you have to go to the fabulous room in my castle
  • Malik: fuck you no i don't.
  • Altair: I WILL MAKE YOU
  • Malik: I cannot believe that bastard is holding me prisoner in this lap of luxury.
  • Altair: I CANNOT BELIEVE HOW UNREASONABLE YOU ARE AT ALL TIMES
  • Malik: I can't believe you won't feed me just because I find your company literally repulsive. Why the hell do you even need me here to begin with? Were you getting lonely with nothing but the furniture to watch you throw your temper tantrums?
  • Altair: STARVE FOREVER YOU ASSHOLE
  • Malik: Bitch, whatever, your furniture already likes me best.
  • (Furniture: Dude we are never, ever getting this curse broken, ever.
  • Furniture 2: I miss my arms and legs. Do you think if we drug them and lock them in a room together and they have sex it'll break the spell?
  • Furniture: ...I think if we tried they'd kill one another.)
  • Altair: Since you are OBVIOUSLY TOO BORING TO LIVE, PLEASE CHECK OUT MY LIBRARY.
  • Malik: PERHAPS I CAN READ YOU A BOOK YOU ILLITERATE ASSHOLE. OH LOOK HERE'S ONE ABOUT MANNERS THAT MIGHT BE RELEVANT TO YOUR LIFE.
  • Altair: I don't need books I can climb walls with my CLAWS.
  • Malik: I can feel myself growing stupider every day in you company.
  • Altair: SO TOMORROW YOU'LL HAVE THE IQ OF A ROCK?
  • Malik: ...I think you just insulted yourself.
  • Altair: No I didn't.
  • (Furniture: how about a song? we can just sing them into falling in love.
  • Furniture 2: no we have to put one of them in mortal danger so the other one realizes they secretly have feelings for the one in danger.
  • Furniture: ...you just want an excuse to light something on fire.)
  • Malik: HOW THE FUCK DID YOU LIGHT YOURSELF ON FIRE?
  • Altair: I'm covered in fur, dickwad
  • Malik: I cannot believe my life right now. I am literally rubbing snow on your giant naked body while your fur blows smoke up my nose.
  • Altair: Well, if you'd done something besides stand there and LAUGH we wouldn't be in this situation, would we?
  • (Furniture: oh my god.
  • Furniture 2: song or drugs. these are our choices now.)
  • Malik: did you put something in my food?
  • Altair: What is happening to my penis? Why is this happening?
  • Malik: ...are you kidding me right now?
  • Altair: I GOT CURSED AT LIKE AGE 11 OKAY. IT'S NOT LIKE SOMEONE TOOK THE TIME TO EXPLAIN A THING. Seriously though, it like wants to get closer to you.
  • Malik: you are a seven foot tall creature with three inch knives at the end of his fingers I don't think your mammoth dick will be getting anywhere near me.
  • Altair: but it wants you!
  • Malik: ...no.
  • (Furniture: SONG. OUR ONLY WEAPON IS SONG.
  • Furniture 2: *hums a tune*)
  • Altair: So, uh, when I got cursed the lady told me that I had to find someone to love me or I'd die at age twenty one.
  • Malik: When do you turn twenty one?
  • Altair: like tomorrow.
  • Malik: ..............................................
  • Altair: I'm only telling you because the lamps have been following me around aggressively singing about it all night.
  • Malik: at least it wasn't a feather duster with a lonely solo. What kind of love are we talking about here? Like forever or I'd do you for a night kind of love?
  • Altair: I'm not really sure. It happened pretty fast, I opened the door there was this hag and I was like ew no but she got all offended, killed my parents, took my kingdom, turned my servants into objects and abandoned me here as an eleven year old beast-child.
  • Malik: ...I did not think it was possible to feel sympathy for you but I think that's what's happening.
  • Altair: yeah, you'd think she'd be all like: look here child, there's more to life than how things look, or something. I mean I was a child. Also you're really good looking so I'm not sure what the ultimate moral of the story is.
  • Malik: *shrugs*
  • (Furniture: ok, new plan. We're going to storm the village, kidnap the brother and hold him as ransom until Malik declares his true and undying love for Altair.
  • Furniture 2: *takes all the knives* I'm ready.)
  • Altair: I...am not responsible for this.
  • Malik: I cannot believe I'm being forced into a shotgun wedding by a candelabra and a clock. OH ALTAIR THE LOVE THAT I FEEL FOR YOU IN MY HEART KNOWS NO MORTAL BOUNDS.
  • Altair: You could at least try to sound sincere.
  • Malik: whatever. get down here so I can kiss you.
  • Altair: at least I won't die without this final indignity.
  • Malik: ...*smooches Altair*
  • Altair: ...what's happening? *explodes into light, dramatically, entire castle is suddenly sparkling and pretty again, everything is awesome*
  • Malik: ...
  • Kadar: dude! kiss me!
  • Malik: what? No.
  • Kadar: you kissed him and he turned into a handsome prince with a house full of servants and an entire kingdom to obey him. Kiss me, I just want a horse and a girlfriend.
  • Malik: you are ridiculous and stupid.
  • Altair: ha! you liar. You said you didn't love me.
  • Malik: that is not what I said. I said the love that I feel for you in my heart knows no mortal bounds.
  • Altair: Yes but you were just being an asshole.
  • Malik: was I?
  • Altair: I thought?
  • Malik: maybe you shouldn't do that anymore. Now that you're man-sized and non-lethal how about we go to your room and I'll explain the whole sex thing to you.
  • Kadar: could someone untie me tho?
  • Kadar: no?
  • Kadar: that's fine.
  • Kadar: you'll come back eventually.
  • Kadar: ...won't you?
  • Kadar: MALIK!
Not Dead Yet (Part 5)

*Not that much interaction between our lovely “couple” this chapter but some good bonding with the Lost Boys and some potential foes. Things are cooking!*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: mild language, allusion to sexual assault (very minor)


After a few wrong turns and almost running headlong into a ginormous spider web I made it back to camp. The boys were still partying the night away. Do none of them know what sleep is? Speaking of…

“Hey, Devin.” I pulled him away from the others, “Where exactly does one find a place to sleep around here?”

“Turning in already?”

“I’ve had a busy day, I think some sleep is just what I need.”

“Okay, well, thankfully we already took care of that for you.” Devin led her to the near outskirt of the camp where a lone tent stood. “Nick and some of the others built this while you were out swimming. It has a cot, some blankets and a change of clothes we thought might fit you. Nothing major but it’s yours.”

“Thank you, you guys didn’t need to do that.”

“We do it for all the new recruits.” Devin shrugged, “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you.” I crawled into my little tent and took it in. It was a very simple living station. Aside from the mentioned blankets and clothes there was also a lantern fashioned from a coconut half and a cracked handheld mirror. The mirror was really unnecessary but a nice, if not slightly sexist, contribution to the tent.

I kicked off my shoes and stripped off my clothes until I was left in my undershirt and knickers. I hadn’t realized until after I was in a confined space just how hot it was on this island. I laid down on the cot using the unused blankets as a pillow and fell asleep to the muffled sound of the drums playing back in the center of camp.

~~~

When I woke up the next morning I had to take a moment and remember where I was. I wonder how long it’s going to take me to get used to waking up in a tent. I grabbed the set of clothes the boys left for me and pulled them on. A little loose but that wasn’t a problem.

I stepped out of my tent to grab some breakfast and was not in the least surprised to see no one else was up. After that late night I would be genuinely shocked if any of them were awake this early.

Taking advantage of the quiet I found where they kept the stores of food, grabbed a couple apples and wandered off into the jungle for a morning walk. What am I even supposed to do here? They say it’s a fantasy realm where you can have fun all day everyday but I can genuinely say that as of this moment I am bored out of my mind.

What am I supposed to do with all this free time? All I’ve ever done is work. Without any work to do or books to read I am at a complete loss.

I eventually made it to a different beach and sat down in the sand. I pulled my dagger from its sheath and studied it in the morning light. It was as simple as daggers come. Sharpened stone with a leather bound grip. There was something carved at the bottom.

R. Just R.

Was this someone else’s before they gave it to me? If so then what happened to its last owner? Did I even want to know?

What was it Pan said when I met him? That I should be lucky to see this place and live? I sheathed the small blade once more. This island had already instilled a sense of unease but with every passing interaction with its leader and the questions it raises the more danger I feel I’m in. A part of me is screaming to get off this island. Run back to the Enchanted Forest and never look back!

Then again, there is a part that does kind of like this place. The boys, at least the ones I’ve met so far, are friendly. It’s like a big family unit that I get to be a part of. There are no adults to boss me around or harsh chores that needed tending to. I should give it a few more days before deciding if I truly want to find a way to leave.

I went back to the camp and was pleased to see that some of the boys had finally woken up. I looked for Devin but didn’t see him amongst the multiple faces. I did see Nick though and stuck by him for the morning. I thanked him and the other boys for making my tent. Again they told me it wasn’t a problem and quickly drew me into a story about a one legged pirate and the legend of his golden treasure chest. I was getting into the tale too before the rest of the camp woke up and suddenly story time was over.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“Training.” Nick shrugged. “We do it every morning before it gets too hot.”

“Oh right,” I remembered what they had told me yesterday about the combat practices they did, “Why do you guys train like this anyway? Neverland really that dangerous?”

“More dangerous than you’d think girly.” Another boy brushed past me. He was about my height with long mousy brown hair tied back with a string of leather.

“Who you calling girly?” I snapped at him and he glanced back to glare at me with only one dark brown eye.

“I’m calling you girly, girly. You may have the others fooled into thinking you’re one of us but you’re really just a weakling that’s only good for digging a ditch.”

“Excuse you? I’ll show you who’s a weakling!” I grabbed a tree limb off the ground and swung it hard at the boy’s head. He caught it and spun it around so fast that I tumbled to the ground. The other boys stopped their conversations as they watched the confrontation going down.

“Like I said, weakling.” the boy broke the branch over his knee, “Try to stay out of my way.”

“You little–” I bolted up but was restrained by Nick.

“Don’t let Slightly get to you. He’s been like that for as long as anyone can remember.”

“Slightly? What kind of a name is Slightly?

“What kind of a name is Y/N? You don’t have to be what you were named. A lot of the boys have different names than from when they were first brought here. You could change yours too if you wanted.”

“No thanks, I’ll stick with Y/N.”

We came to a clearing and the boys broke off into groups. Archers, spear-wielders, swordsman, and so forth. “Wondering where to go?” Pan was suddenly at my side.

“Kind of…” I fiddled with my dagger, “The closest I’ve gotten to weaponry and combat was my shovel and an incident with a wolf.”

“You fought off a wolf with a shovel?”

“What else was I supposed to do? Offer it a belly rub?”

“You’re really aggressive in the mornings aren’t you?”

“Only when you’re around.”

“Well,” he whirled me around, “Knowing your past experience I’d say you should join them.”

“The boys with the clubs?”

“Well it’s the closest we have to a shovel without actually using shovels. So, off you go.” he pushed me forward, “Also, if you have trouble or the others give you a hard time don’t go complaining or I will give them permission to beat the living hell out of you.”

“Aren’t you just the definition of charming.”

“I don’t tolerate pansies on my island.”

I had a biting remark on my tongue but held it back. Telling the leader of a pack of lethally trained boys that: if he didn’t tolerate pansies then he shouldn’t be there, didn’t seem like the smartest idea.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I learned not to complain a long time ago.” I muttered and walked over towards the boys that were practicing with the clubs. It was only a small group, Felix and some others I had only seen in passing but hadn’t talked to.

“Look who decided to stop by.” Felix grinned, “You wanna try this, really?”

“Yes.”

“It takes a lot of muscle power.”

“I think I can handle it.”

“If you say so. Then let’s get you started.” he whistled and one of the boys handed me a club. It was a couple inches shorter than what I was used to holding and a lot more top heavy.

“Trick to using a club correctly is shifting your weight.” Felix explained to me, “If you don’t have a strong stance when you’re fighting then someone can use your weight against you and you’re down.”

He stepped back and spread his arms out. “Go on, show me your best swing.”

“Okay,” I tried to dig myself into what I thought was a strong stance like he said and swung. Without as much as a bat of his eyes he shifted out of the way, slammed my club back with his and for the second time that day the momentum of the hit sent me spiraling to the ground.

“A strong swing but also very clumsy, slow and blaringly obvious.” Felix leaned over me, “You have the power but you do not possess the technique. Not yet anyway. Get up.”

I stood up and and recollected my club. “What do I do?”

“Put your weight into it. That way all the power will be on the other end of the club. Go again.” I went again and again and everytime I swung he blocked it and every other time I ended up on the ground.

The entire morning went on like this. Steadily trying to get better and turning black and blue in the process. No matter how much I improved it was just never quite enough. I was still too predictable, too slow. Eventually Felix got tired of trying to teach me and handed it off to a large boy with a thick gut named Curly. Curly was a lot more patient than Felix but didn’t hold back any either.

When the sun was almost directly overhead we were finally done. In a word I felt miserable. I was used to long work don’t get me wrong but there’s something about getting constantly pummeled with a wooden club that adds to the exhaustion. I would be lying if I said the experience didn’t stir up some bad memories.

I pushed them away as the boys and I headed back to camp for lunch and rest. Now that practice was out of the way we had the entire rest of the day to do whatever we wanted. Seeing as how I was drenched in sweat I decided that my downtime was going to include a cool dip.

Coming back to the pond I had bathed in the day before I stripped down and hopped in once more letting the water wash away the grime I had built up during training. I was up to my neck just soaking it in when I heard voices behind me. I turned my head and saw Devin, Nick and some of the other boys walking my way. They stopped upon seeing me.

“Problem boys? Can’t handle a naked girl?” I smirked at them. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, right Devin?”

“We didn’t know you were back here. We’ll just–”

“Just what? You really think I care if you dopes see me nude? Besides what’s between your legs there’s not a whole lot of difference. Or are you so hormonal that the sight of my bare chest will turn you into raving beasts?”

They became quiet and I rolled my eyes. “Stay. Leave. Jump in. I don’t care.” I relaxed back against the pond wall.

“I’ll take up that offer.” one of the boys shrugged, “Could use a soak.”

“Ben!” Devin held him back, “You’re not seriously going to jump in, are you?”

“Why not? She said it was okay.”

“Yeah. I’m fine with it.”

“So you’d be fine if say the entire camp decided to come and hop in while you are in there without a strip of clothes on?”

“As long as none of them try to assault me then I don’t see any harm.”

“I’m heading in.” the boy, Ben, jumped in. After a few tense seconds the other boys looked at each other and hopped in as well. They were awkward about it for the first couple minutes but relaxed after we started cracking some jokes.

Maybe an hour went by and my fingers and toes were looking awfully wrinkly. “I think I’m done for today.” I hopped out and the boys made some cheeky comments.

A loud whistle sounded from across the pond and my head snapped to the source. Pan was standing there watching our group with an amused smile. What was more unsettling though was his gaze on me. I know I didn’t care about the boys seeing me naked but Pan…it felt wrong. I didn’t want that creep seeing me like this, not that I’d let him know that.

“Get a good look?” I called across to him as I started to put on my clothes.

“Not much to look at.” he called back and the simmering anger below my skin started to bubble once more.

“Stop commenting on your reflection, I’m over here.” I said and even from this distance I could see the annoyance flash across his features. Devin and the others were failing at hiding their amusement as I pulled on the rest of my clothes and sauntered back to camp.

Leaving Pan alone with his sniggering Lost Boys and the knowledge I had soundly irked him I began to smile. I’m starting to think I can really like it here. So long as Pan continues to be so easy to mess with that is.


(Part 1) (Previous) (Next)

anonymous asked:

So once again only Even's feelings matter right? Him hiding stuff is perfectly fine because Even always get's special treatment huh? Yeah no. How Isak is feeling matters to and put it how ever you want but Even is not telling him everything and he keeps manipulating Isak. But nobody cares about that unless poor pathetic Even is feeling uncomfortable.

Okay, I knew I was bound to get one of these eventually, and I will handle it how I’ve been told I handle most situations. Personally.

As someone who has done something in their past, I completely understand what he is going through. I have done something I am so ashamed to admit, that the idea of doing so makes me feel ill. Have people asked me about it? Yes. Have my best friends asked me about it? Yes. Do my best friends love me? Yes. Do they deserve to know? Eventually. I’m not ready to tell them.

I’m not saying that because I take medication and because I go to therapy that my feelings are more important than anyone else’s. But to me, my feelings are really damn important. If I don’t want to share, then I damn well won’t share. And if they love me, and respect me, they will wait until I am ready to say something myself.

Now, getting to the possibility of the secret leaking without Evens control. If he feels that this will happen, I can see him speeding up his process. Just like if there were a rumor forming about the thing I have done, I would pick up the pace to tell them myself. Am I saying Even will do that? No. That’s what I would do. We are all different people. We are all flawed individuals.

And just because Isak and Even are dating, it doesn’t mean Isak is entitled to every bit of information from his past. Just like how we can assume Isak hasn’t told Even anything about his snake tendencies in season one.

Whatever happened to Even in Bakka must have been pretty freaking traumatic if even Sana is keeping it quiet for him. Sana sees that Even cares about Isak, and she knows he wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.

As far as manipulating goes. How is Even not saying something about his past manipulative? Have you seen anything from Even that wasn’t pure love in season four? This boy cares so much for Isak you wouldn’t believe. And telling someone you care about difficult things is SO HARD. So freaking hard.

I’m not saying that Even shouldn’t tell Isak, I think he should. Because Isak is going to find out, we can guess that. But it’s going to take Even some time to work up to it. These Bakka boys came out of NOWHERE. Even was living in his happy apartment with his beautiful boyfriend, and then he was bombarded with this. Give him his dang time.

Now, in the terms of the mental illness thing. My brain doesn’t work like everyone else’s. I have difficulties telling people anything. And I mean anything. To me, everything makes me uncomfortable. It took me four years to tell my mom that I have anxiety. And that is the least of my problems. I really don’t appreciate the demeaning tone in your voice. It makes me feel like shit, and frankly, I feel shitty enough on my own without this in my life.

Skam is my escape place. My happy place. Please don’t ruin it for me. And if you have any negative feelings, do what my therapist tells me to do and write them down. Just not in my inbox next time. Thanks.