such a good night for my otps

When after a long time searching you finally find a long, well written and interesting fanfic

  • Jason: How come you were in the bathroom this morning?
  • Piper: I heard you singing.
  • Jason: Are you sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I was naked in the shower?
  • Piper: I didn't know you were naked

the worst thing about trying to decide to read a fic:

-horrible writing.

-the summary is good but the story is written in a different language or is badly written.

-opening it to find no spaces between the paragraphs.

-both your otp and notp is tagged and you have no clue if you want to take a risk or not.

-tagged major character death and you start sweating.

-hasn’t been updated in 80 years but the summary is on point and their the best fucking writer ever.

-you start reading only to find that the person updates every ten years and you just happened to catch them on a day they finally updated.

-you find a writer and check them out, only to find out they mostly write about your notp - and of course they always update, have perfect writing and have stories that are epic.

-stories with so many fucking tags, you just shake your head and move on.

-the “i suck at summaries please check it out still” and you just, pause because it has your otp and you debate whether or not to take the risk.

-you find a pairing you never considered before and think holy shit, that could be hot and spend all day hunting through the tag.

-you ship a pairing so fucking hard, only to find like two fics and you start weeping.

-when you find a perfect story only to check the tags and see some weird shit that disgusts you and you scream why.

-a fic with good writing and summary but it’s so short or is only fan-art.

-a crossover fic where you have both of your fandoms but don’t have both of otps, just one.

-one shots that are so good you wish they were longer.

-when your notp is tagged but it’s labeled as a past relationship or says your otp is endgame, and you have to go through the notp’s awkward breakup in order for your otp to happen.

-when someone doesn’t tag properly and a plot twist hits you and you want to cry.

-you finally find a great fic that has been updated and the last update says writes block, personal issues- can’t do this, asks for co-writer, discontinues it or says lol i hate how this is turning out, deleting.

-when a writer as twenty stories to update and you cry because you like all of them and you have to wait.

-when you remember a story from like five years ago and you search for it, only to find it’s been deleted or can’t seem to find it anywhere.

-when a writer gives you an update schedule and you’re excited because they follow it but then they start missing it and you just…

-when a writer deletes a story and rewrites the same story but you like the original better.

-when your reading a story about a rare pairing that interests and your otp hate each other or just friends and it’s just so weird to read.

-when one half of your otp is in another relationship and the other half shows up with someone else and then you remember, right i’m not reading a story about my otp so i can’t get mad.

-when your otp is popular but it’s not as popular as another ship in the fandom and you hate how the other ship as so much more stories than your ship.

-when you try to read an ot3 relationship because it has two characters you love but the other character is usually from your notp and you hate when your notp share moments.

-when you beg an author (usually one where they aren’t in the fandom really) to write more stories about your otp and they say maybe and it never happens.

-when the writer literally shits on your favorite character and you can’t go through it anymore.

-when your otp isn’t the main pairing and you don’t really care about the other pairings in the story and skip to your otp parts.

-when a story has a million words and it’s so good and you know that you will spend all day and night reading it until your eyes hurt.

-when a story have 200 parts to it and you lose all hope after a while because the story is dragging.

-when your otp is going through something and so many stories are filled with angst, fluff and hurt that it makes you cry because yup, i need to read about my pain for my otp.

-when the writer refuses to write the smut you been waiting for and your otp is stuck in unresolved tension mode forever.

-when the writer unexpected changes the story’s events and you are disappointed by the direction.

-when you find a great au and the characters are so out of character… it makes you sad.

-when you open a fic only to find you hate the point of view and you scream.

-when you request a prompt and the author writes it but you are disappointed and just smile through the pain.

-when you have such a good idea in your head and you try to write it but it’s so bad that you delete it and cry, hoping someone else writes the brilliant idea that you had.

-when you don’t ship something anymore but see a great plot and you click the story and take a deep breath - because shit is about to go down.

-when you reading a great story but get distracted and skip some parts, shit goes down in between and then you think fuck, and have to start over.

-when it’s tagged “slow burn” and you say i can do this and it’s chapter 30 and my ship still hate each other like what.

-when the author says this is their first time writing smut and you think on god they better do this right - only to find out they writing eight pages on your otp making love. like yes.

-when the smut is so rushed or improper you feel cheated and log off because done. like so done.

-when it’s tagged “everyone lives” and your eyes water because that’s all you ever wanted in life.

-when the author leaves a cliffhanger and says in the author’s note “lol sorry about the cliffhanger, i’ll update soon”. you ain’t sorry, stop lying.

-when you see that the story is complete and do a happy dance, only to realize that it ended badly or the sequel/series hasn’t been updated.

No need to hide your thoughts, boi.

Your face says it all.

Theatre Kid AUs

-that stage kiss WAS NOT SCRIPTED WTF
- I’m the stage manager and you’re the cocky lead who won’t SHUT UP backstage PEOPLE CAN HEAR YOU
-for closing night bets you slipped me tongue during our stage kiss what the fuck do I do
-we’re not playing the romantic leads but everyone ships our characters and they keep making us take pictures together in costume (I kind of love it)
-we’re in the chorus together and you never know what the notes are so you have to stand impossibly close to me to listen and it just makes me mess up and I SWEAR TO GOD ARE YOU DOING THAT ON PURPOSE
-everyone in the show has to wear makeup I swear I will wrestle you into this chair if I have to
-oh my god you’re doing my makeup and you’re so close and I can’t breathe
-I may have learned your romantic lead’s part and then attempted to take them out the night of the show
-we made out in the light booth
-this is the first time I’ve seen you in costume and holy fuck how do you look so good in that

6

Good night,” I whisper to the bow in my hand and feel it go still. I raise my left arm and twist my neck down to rip off the pill on my sleeve. Instead my teeth sink into flesh. I yank my head back in confusion to find myself looking into Peeta’s eyes, only now they hold my gaze. Blood runs from the teeth marks on the hand he clamped over my nightlock. “Let me go!” I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp.

I can’t,” he says.

be warned… these boyfriends will stand outside the school gate and gossip about you……

day 1: holding hands

30 day otp challenge with Nick and Charlie (from @heartstoppercomic)

4

So…Roman’s anger is my absolute FAVORITE characterization that WWE has given him. Like, he’s been so distorted by his desire to make sure that his family never goes hungry again (he was poor and living off food stamps before his wrestling career), that he doesn’t realize his choices aren’t just. And are actually pretty damn evil. From hurting both of his bosses and threatening Hunter’s wife, to retiring a legend that people held dear. In Roman’s mind, he’s doing the right thing. But to an outsider, he’s far from a hero. 

And it’s so. damn. good.

Making Sense

A SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Countdown

There was flour fucking everywhere.

“Did any of the flour get into the bowl?” Baz mused as Simon dumped another cup of the powder on the countertop, dropping a ball of dough on top and sending a cloud of flour drifting across the kitchen.

“Shut up,” Simon grinned, gingerly biting the leftover dough off of his fingers.  “Do you think we put in enough cherries?”

“We already did double what the recipe called for.”

“I know, but I want there to be cherries -”

“In every bite,” Baz finished, smiling fondly at Simon concentrating on the dough, his brow furrowing involuntarily.  Baz loved that furrow.  That furrow was only one of countless things Baz loved about Simon.

Simon turned to meet his eye, and Baz quickly dropped his gaze to the flour-covered counter.  Baz loved Simon’s eyes too much to even be able to look at them.  It was like trying to stare at the sun; he had to look away after a second, but the image was still there, stuck behind his own eyes, burnt onto his retinas.

Oblivious little fuck.

“Should I roll it thinner?” Simon asked, snapping Baz out of his thoughts.  Not that it mattered, the thoughts would carry on, like subtitles in his brain, impossible to ignore.

“It looks fine,” Baz shook his head.  “I wonder though, should we add something to them?  Like peppermint extract or something?”

“Why would we do that?”

“They are meant to be for a Christmas party…”

“So we’ll make Christmas cookies next,” Simon shrugged, “I’m not going to change the scones, they’re perfect as they are.”

Baz got an idea.  “How about we cut them with Christmas cutters?”

Simon laughed.  “The scones?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.”

They dipped their cookie cutters in the inch-thick layer of flour that covered the counter and cut their scones into Christmas trees and gingerbread men.  They worked in silence, side by side, Baz trying to hide the bristling that occurred whenever he was close to Simon.  He still found it hard to believe that after all these years of being friends and spending time together, Simon had still never seemed to notice the effect he had on Baz.

They both reached into the flour bowl at the same time, their hands brushing.  It shouldn’t have made Baz blush, it wasn’t like they never touched each other, but Baz couldn’t help the fact that every touch felt like an electric shock, like it made his neck crawl.

The second their hands brushed, Baz fought the urge to snatch his back.  He wasn’t expecting Simon to do the snatching.

Baz peeked at Simon’s face.  The boy was staring down at the dough, but his eyes were wide and his cheeks were…

Don’t overthink it, he told himself. You mean nothing to him, not like that.

But there was that tiny voice inside somewhere that kept him hoping.  What if you do?

“Ready for the oven then?” Simon broke the silence, a little loudly for such a simple question, especially with Baz right beside him.

“Sure,” Baz replied, trying to sound light, and they transferred the dough onto the pan, sliding it into the oven and setting the timer. Baz brushed the flour dust off his hands and turned back to Simon.  “Now we wait.”

Simon had an odd expression on his face.  He stared sort of… past Baz, like he was so lost in thought that he was seeing the things he was thinking, and they were happening right behind Baz.  “What shall we do in the meantime?” Simon murmured.

“Well,” Baz watched Simon’s face, puzzled.  “We could start to clean up, I guess.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed.  “We could, yeah.”

“Did you have something else in mind?”

Suddenly Simon’s eyes met Baz’s, too quickly for Baz to look away.  He returned the gaze as coolly as he could, feeling more and more exposed with every second that dragged by.  “Something wrong?” he managed, his mouth dry.

“No,” Simon murmured, not looking away.  “Nothing’s wrong.  In fact, something’s right.  Everything’s right.”  He took a deep breath.  “Everything is… making sense.”

“R-really?”

Simon took a step towards Baz, then another.  His gaze was so intense that Baz instinctively backed up, finding that he had nowhere to go, he was already backed against the counter. “Simon,” he stammered, “what are you doing?”

“There’s…” Simon cocked his head up at Baz, now only inches away.  “There’s flour on your face.”  He reached a hand up to brush his thumb across Baz’s cheek, so softly that it felt like a butterfly’s touch.  Baz could hear his heart pounding in his ears, louder and louder and…

And then Simon reached up…

And Baz’s heart went silent.

Because Simon was kissing him.  Shyly.  On the mouth.

Baz’s eyes scrunched shut, and he went so tense that his stomach almost felt sick.

Simon dropped away from Baz’s mouth.  When Baz opened his eyes, Simon’s face was red, and his brow was furrowed again.  “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Baz had to take a couple of breaths before he found his voice. “W-what for?”

Simon’s eyes were blurring up.  “I thought I’d figured it out,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I thought that you wanted… that. I guess not.”

“Did… did you want that?”

Simon squeezed his eyes shut, and a tear dripped from one of them.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“Simon,” Baz rushed to dry the tear from Simon’s cheek, not even thinking about the gesture.  “I need to know.”

For once, it was Simon who couldn’t meet Baz’s eyes.  “Yes, alright?  I wanted it, but clearly you didn’t, so let’s just forget it happened and carry on.”  His voice was hitching as he fought back tears, his breath becoming ragged.

Baz didn’t know it was possible for a heart to be broken and mended at the exact same time, but while Simon’s tears tore him apart, he felt light as air, practically giddy.  Without letting himself think about it, he leaned down and kissed the tear off of Simon’s face, letting his lips linger a second longer than they needed to.  He felt Simon’s shuddering stop in surprise.  When he met Simon’s eyes, neither of them looked away.  “Wait,” Simon breathed, “did you want that?”

Baz could barely whisper the words “God, yes” before he was crashing into Simon’s mouth again.  This time there was no hesitation, no stiffness, just a lifetime of wanting coming to a head.  

Simon’s mouth tasted of cherries and the salty sweetness of the dough he’d been sneaking the entire time.  Baz’s hands went from Simon’s face to his hair, one hand exploring the back of Simon’s neck.  Simon gave Baz’s chest a push, and before either of them knew what was happening, Baz was sitting on the countertop, Simon straddling his lap and kissing him so deeply that Baz thought he might faint.  Simon’s hands cupped Baz’s face, still pushing him back until Baz was leaning his head against the cupboards, the cold wood the only thing giving him any sense of direction.  His world was nothing but Simon, and he couldn’t hold back a moan as Simon angled his head and opened Baz’s mouth with his own.  

It wasn’t until much later, when they finally broke apart, dizzy and gasping for breath, that they realized they’d sat in the flour.