The flaw in “Force Yourself To Write” and “Don’t Force Yourself To Write” Advice
Y’all these guides are becoming more and more frequent wth
Alright so many writing posts here on Tumblr usually have contradictions that can make anyone’s head spin honestly. So let me tell you about something I realized today.
I have a fic that I’ve been working on and off on the past year. Like July marks exactly a year since the idea came to life. Now for a fanfic, it’s really long. About 10k words a chapter (my choice so boohoo for me really).
Now then, with Tumblr, I read the “Don’t Force Yourself to Write or else it’ll be nasty and you won’t be able to unstuck yourself later and it won’t be good” advice. And I believed in that, because I was iffy about the “Never Stop Writing!! Even as you’re giving birth or performing heart surgery!!!!”
That was like kicking myself in the metaphorical balls (or elbowing anywho)
I conditioned my mind into thinking that that was a valid excuse not to write. I hid my laziness behind that “advice” and I barely touched that piece (which I hold dear to my heart) for an entire year.
Now today as I was filming some vlogs, I forced myself to write for “content”. I thought, eh I can write a few scenes, sort some things out and edit a bit.
And I realized that, even if I force myself to write, I’m still closer to finishing this than I was before? Like Chapter 2 remained barely touched until today, now I have 2 little scenes left to complete and it’s done. And honestly? Maybe tomorrow I’ll see that it’s terribly written, but I rather work with some foundations for a scene that starting from scratch.
And I’m pissed at myself that I followed that rule to the T.
Yes, don’t force yourself to write when you’re not feeling it, but don’t use it as an excuse just because you’re lazy or you’re trying to hide a mental block. Write a paragraph, or a sentence, and see where it goes from there. If you feel a flow, go ahead, if you don’t, don’t sweat it.
Stop making Tumblr advice make you feel guilty for doing things your way, and don’t let it control your life or transform your hobbies to hard labor.
VICTUURI “THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA” AU. (with a few changes.) BEAR WITH ME HERE.
Yuuri is a journalist major who wants to be a fashion journalist more than anything in the world
He looks up to Victor Nikiforov, editor of History Maker Magazine, a very very famous and prestigious company with millions of subscribers
Unexpectedly, he gets a job as Victor’s secretary, he’s super excited but he discovers that Victor ROASTS people when he doesn’t like their ideas
(and by roast i don’t mean he yells at them, i mean he smiles and tells them politely that it’s terrible and everyone is like??? is he nice??? is he evil??? omg i am horrified of him)
(He has a soft spot for his poodle, though, so after destroying several people’s hopes and dreams and telling them to come up with something else he’s like ‘MAKKACHIN!’ and happily jumps away to pet his dog)
Yurio is Victor’s little brother who he has a soft spot for and who loiters around the building and gives Yuuri a hard time by throwing spitballs at him
Anyway, Victor sees Yuuri as his new secretary and thinks he’s super cute but he has no idea how to express it so he tries to give him really hard jobs and Yuuri is like oh my god what the heck I am overwhelmed
He also gives him a lot of opportunities, though, and Yuuri does his best with them and keeps succeeding and Victor is internally super proud but externally like ‘hmm keep going. here’s another assignment.’
(But Victor keeps selecting him to go on different trips w/ him and Yuuri is like ???????? ok why am i getting all this special attention this is hype)
Somehow Victor works out how to express his feelings and tells Yuuri and they fall in love happily ever after
Harry Styles. In a private tropical paradise compound complete with recording studio on the beach in Jamaica. Going on runs in the morning on the sand. Going around barefoot everywhere. Curling his toes and feet underneath him while he works through a line giving him some trouble. Wearing his favorite sunglasses as sunglasses and his other favorite pair as a headband for the gentle breeze. And working working working in the studio. And taking the short walk back to the main house and eating some fresh caught fish and fruit. And picking up a guitar. And even after all that work still working to figure out that one line that’s been giving him trouble. Until he falls asleep with the doors open. And in his deepened sleep the trouble will work itself out.
okay so @tsoaandpatroclus and I were talking about maaron? aatt? boyard? and this is what we came up with
Matt is tall okay, but next to Aaron? he is a g i a n t
but that brings me to my next point
Aaron wearing Matt’s hoodies and they’re so big on him that they’re past his knees and twice the length of his arms
Matt lowkeyhighkey loves it,, so does Aaron
but,, one day it is freezing cold and Matt is layered up, like I mean two sweaters and a hoodie
Arron is only wearing his one sweater and is nearby death
Matt just smiles softly and his cold bf and takes off his hoodie and gives it to Aaron who then proceeds to hold Matt’s hand with the sleeve still covering his hand
speaking of hand holding,, Matt LOVES it
walking around campus? hold hands, going to get groceries? hold hands
but also sneaking up behind Aaron’s back and engulfing him in a huge bear hug
Aaron never pushes him away or says no
BACK to the height difference,, Aaron wont admit it, but he highkey wants to know what its like to be tall
Aaron standing on a chair and directly at eye level with Matt: is this what it’s like being tall?
Matt, trying not to scream about his tiny bf: If you want to be tall I could of just carried you
this leads to many shoulder rides and piggy backs Matt gives to him
but who am I to say that Matt doesn’t like the occasional piggy back ride from Aaron
so just picture our smol Aaron giving our gentle giant son Matt and piggy back ride
and if you can’t picture that I’ll give you help,, Aaron our 5 foot angry bean, giving Matt our 6′4 teddy bear and piggy back ride
But we all know Matt is a pro boxer,, this leads to him giving Aaron boxing lessons
they’re both backliners and they got them muscles, but Aaron is lighter on his feet
Aaron might be smaller but he’s quicker, and once he gets the hang of it he likes using Matt’s strength against him
Aaron is very good at dodging Matt’s punches and he can do a bunch of hard and fast punches right in all of Matt’s pressure points so his legs and arms go numb
Matt and the end of every session is just Conflict, like “I’m glad that I’m teaching yo this because we’re bonding but holy shit I can’t feel my fingers”
Aaron can definitely flip Matt over his shoulder, judo style
Matt is flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling like “how did this happen”
but Matt lets him do it every time
but this is not going without saying that Matt has thrown so many damn hard punches and straight after every punch he asks “you good?” cause he really doesn’t want to hurt his small bf
Aaron, slightly dazed and probably bleeding: “I have all my teeth so I think I’m fine” mad neil josten reference
they both have a big history with drugs,, so they know when the other is overwhelmed, they both love their mothers aaron grew up with tilda and she was the only motherly figure he had yes he still loves her and they will both fight for what they love eachother
in all honesty,, they know what they have both gone through and wont push one another boundaries
ok so a warning in advance i wrote this premise at three in the morning so its prob gross and unedited bc i dont feel like reading it over right now. also its a two shot so the next part will come another time
1. difficult to understand; obscure.
The first time you met him you were but a child.
Evening long gone, you stared through your curtains into the darkness, moonlight shining through the silky material and making a dreamlike bath of silver onto your bed.
You kicked your legs restlessly. Summer had begun to creep in and you were becoming agitated with the weather. With this in mind you wrestled off your blankets, no more a cool swaddle of comfort but hot and constricting.
The closet creaked.
You stiffened. You could only see through a sliver of the opening, but it was terrifying. Your foolish imagination pictured something staring at you from the darkness, some unknown monster ready to devour you.
A whimper forced itself from your throat as you pulled the covers back over you, drawing them up to your neck. You looked away but that only made it worse; the fear of what could be there intensified - and if you weren’t looking then what would stop it from devouring you?
So you switched to staring the closet down again, only to lose your wits and look away, the cycle repeating. At the end you were shivering, soaked in sweat as you shut your eyes tight.
I’m going to d-die, mommy, daddy, h-help-!
At the voice your thoughts came to a halting stop.
“Well if that’s not dramatic, I don’t know what is, kid.”
You were still tense, small hands grasping the sheets so tight you could rip them apart. A hot fear pressed itself into your stomach, but childish curiousity won out, and the world came back into vision as your eyes snapped open.
A wide eye stared back owlishly.
Your lips parted to let out a silent scream, frozen in shock. The eye blinked, an inky black pupil dilating as it examined you.
The horrifying thing was that you had sworn it had just been bright gold.
“W-Who-” Your bottom lip trembled. Another look proved that the creature didn’t have one eye, no the other was just covered in a weird cloth - you had seen the same thing in one of the pirate picture books in your living room.
Actually this may not even be a creature. The longer you stared it proved that while a stranger, the man in front of you looked every bit like, well, a man, and not the monster you were imagining.
The stranger adjusted his eyepatch, leaning back so that you were given an even better vantage point. He rocked on his heels and moved to the left in a motion so smooth it was like he was walking on air. Your stomach squeezed when you realized he was.
“Go away!” You said, voice shaking but defiant. The man only raised a single eyebrow.
You did what you were used to doing to escape the monsters. You closed your eyes so tight the skin burned and covered your face.
He was still there, impossibly. His gaze rested on your form and he snickered, leaning on his cane. You opened your eyes again in fright.
“Not gonna work, kid,” He tapped his finger to his head. “Can’t escape what’s in your mind.”
“M-My mind?” You mouthed uselessly, barely processing this, but easily distracted. The clockwork in your head ground slowly. “So you’re my im-ima-” What was that stupid adult word. “-imagination?”
“There’s a difference to being from your mind and in your mind, kid.”
You screwed up your face. “You make no sense mister.”
He giggled again, and it really was a giggle, one that stretched his lips too wide along snow white teeth and rose uneasy goosebumps to your arms. “I don’t make sense? You are awfully polite to someone you don’t know, who invaded your room in the middle of the night.”
You were dutifully reminded that yes, he was exactly that as soon as the words left his mouth. The fear that had left and been replaced with naive confusion and curiousity instantly came slamming back into you.
As if sensing your terror, his eye flashed gold again. You had no time to feel good that you hadn’t been crazy earlier as he invaded your personal space to get right in your face, a smooth, gloved hand pressing a finger into your temple.
This time, when you screamed, it wasn’t silent.
You were bawling by the time your parents burst through your bedroom door, snot bubbling in your nose and tears leaving salty trails down your cheeks.
Through the cooing questions of ‘what’s wrong honey’ and pats of comfort, you just managed to spot the man watching you with the same grin.
You pointed. “There! Mommy there!”
You could only look in disbelief when your parents turned back to you. The expression on their faces was one you were too accustomed with. The same look they had when you dropped a plate of cookies because they had been too hot and you were impatient. The same look they had when you got frightened of something in a movie and they had to remind you that it wasn’t real.
The same look they’d had countless times when you told them of monsters in your closet.
“Darling,” Your mom sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “There’s no one there. Do you want to sleep with us tonight?”
You held straight eye contact with the man as he winked, putting a finger to his lips before disappearing.
The second time you met him must have been at least four years later.
You’d been getting ready for school, adjusting yourself in the bathroom. You washed your face, looked up, and there he was in the mirror, looking back.
The heel of your foot hit the door as you lurched back, and you lost your balance, slamming your head into the wall with a pained grunt.
“Y/N?” The muffled voice of your dad came from somewhere in the house.
“I’m fine!” You yelled back unconsciously, far too occupied, still rubbing your head while your vision spotted.
The man sighed.
“Just as clumsy it seems,” He mused before phasing out of the mirror like it was nothing, looking around your bathroom. A flash of amusement passed through his eyes and you realized in horror a pair of underwear you possessed was hanging off the towel rails. You grabbed it, face burning.
He scrunched up his nose in mock disgust, before his expression went neutral as he rolled his eye. “Please kid. You’re like what, five? Calm down.”
“I am not five,” you bristled, defensive of your age. “I turn ten this year. Ten!” You held up all your fingers, proud of the achievement. Ha!
The man let loose a laugh, that odd one, the hollow scrape of pitch that echoed against the walls.
“I’m surprised you remember me,” He tilted his head, and the floating top hat followed the movement.
Of course you did.
That night had traumatized you as a kid. You couldn’t begin to remember all the nightmares dreams you’d had about him since then. Always grinning, always behind you, looping his cane around your body at the last moment to pull you into the void.
“I guess,” was all you said. It was a relief to see that you weren’t insane and imagined that as a kid, or at least that you were just forever crazy, even now.
He hummed, crossing his legs in the air as he invaded your personal space yet again. You tensed.
“I’m not scared o’ you,” You told him, stressing the words in case he didn’t hear you properly. He snorted.
“Says the one scared of make believe monsters in their closet.”
“I-you-” You sputtered. “All children were scared of that at point! I was only a kid!”
He seemed the most amused at this. “I’m pretty sure you’re still a kid, but whatever floats your boat, brat.”
The outright staring competition that took place after that was broken when he cupped his chin in his hand, his eyes lidding.
“Aren’t you late for something?”
You narrowed your eyes at him before jolting, wiping your hands on your skirt and running out of the bathroom. “School!”
He trailed behind you lazily, and you weren’t surprised when your parents didn’t notice the snickering man, flailing upside down in the air beside you in the car.
“Y/N, didn’t I tell you to stop messing with my hair?” Your mom stared at you in the rear view mirror.
“B-But!” You held out your innocent hands but she only sighed in disappointment and turned her eyes back to the road. You shot a glare at the man, who only let a Cheshire grin cross his expression.
He didn’t stop following you after that.
Whether it be at school, or at home, or wherever you went actually, it was like you had a persistent imaginary friend. That’s what you had convinced yourself he was - since no one could see him but you; however as you grew older you started to waver on that theory when the things he did would affect the real world.
(Like that one time he got mad at your fifth grade teacher and splashed her coffee mug all over her blouse with a monotone “oops”.)
You didn’t ask him why he was always around, and to be fair you didn’t want to know. At first he had been a pest, and you had been very adamant on getting him to leave you alone. But as the days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and then to years, you grew worried of the exact opposite.
When had he left such a permanent stamp on your life? Was it when he saved you from tripping into a ditch that one time in third grade? Or when he gave hell to the guy who had embarrassed you in seventh grade by pretending to like you only for it to be a prank? (The look on his face when an invisible gust of wind knocked him off balance and his bag into the mud, giving him a makeover from the splash will forever make you collapse into giggles.)
“Why did you do it?” You remember asking, mascara running down your face - why did you bother dressing up for him, for this “date”, he was just like the rest, you were an idiot - when you got home that day. The glove wearing psychopath that followed you around did not care the most about you, this you knew from experience and many embarrassing memories. So why, at times, did he make it seem like he did?
Your imaginary friend only stared at you blankly, making you shiver. He got like this sometimes - where his grinning persona would falter and you got a glimpse at the insanity beneath. There were occasions when it slipped, when he would hurt you and not worry about it - you were not mentioning that knife accident - or when he would just stare into space like a statue.
This was one of those moments. Your hand was frozen with a baby wipe, in the process of wiping your mascara off while he stared at you with something swirling in that bottomless, pitch black void of his eye. He called you kid all the time, but the look now on his face was unreadable, timeless, as if he had been around for such a long time it was incomprehensible for you, seen things you couldn’t imagine.
His head tilted, blonde tufts of his hair falling in front of his eye-patch. You blinked and then it was over, whatever had been there was gone and he was grinning like normal.
“Why not?” He rolled his eye, flicking your head so that it clonked painfully into the mirror. You yelped and whirled around to give him a piece of your mind but he was already gone. You rubbed at the spot on your temple that would have been bruising if any of that was real.
Yes, if it was real. You had learned long ago that while the bane of your life could mess with the outside world to a certain degree, he couldn’t actually touch you at all. It was only in your mind that he projected into when he did.
Still, pain he formed in your mind hurt just as much as in real life.
You stared at your reflection, dropping the dirty wipe into the garbage limply.
“What?” His voice was startled in a way that you had never heard before.
You blinked. You had gone to take a dip in the pool, and as you floated on the water’s surface, peering up, it had come to you.
“I said, Bill,” you repeated. “I can’t keep calling you ‘imaginary friend’ my whole life.”
He had never given you a name for him, and you in turn, like you always did, never asked. But he had been in your life for way too long, and you needed something to tie him down, something tangible you could finally latch his presence to.
Maybe that’s why he looked at you that way once the word left your lips. Maybe he didn’t want to be tied down.
“Why ‘Bill’?” He asked after a long silence, sitting on top the water’s surface as easily as you were floating.
When you didn’t answer he grew impatient and hooked your ankle with his cane, pulling you closer with a deadly tilt in his expression. “Why. Bill.”
While he didn’t actually pull you to him - again, he couldn’t touch you - the image in your mind of him doing so had distracted you enough that you lost your careful poise and floundered under the surface. You came up spluttering, hair sticking to your face and your mouth.
“What the hell,” You batted the water harshly with your palm, sending a splash at him with an annoyed tick of your eyebrow.
The water phased right through him. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Y/N.”
You stopped. It was never Y/N. It was always ‘kid’, or some other ridiculous nickname he gave you. Whenever he said your actual name you knew he wasn’t joking around.
“I don’t know,” You rolled your eyes, gesturing to the brick pattern of his shirt. The shirt accompanied with his bow-tie and dapper but messy look over-all somehow just…fit the name perfectly. “It suits you.”
The man eyed you before laughing into a gloved hand. It bordered on the brink that you wondered if he was really okay, but eventually he stopped, shaking his head with a smile that let you know he had some kind of inside joke you weren’t aware of.
“What?” You asked. “Making fun of the name?”
“Not at all,” He mused, snapping the end of his glove onto his wrist, and you pretended you weren’t fascinated by the way the soft material accentuated his skin. “Bill, I like it.”
“Really?” You said, mouth open before you cleared your throat. “I mean, uh, okay.”
“Really,” He clarified, that glint in his eye again showing there was something you were definitely missing before he stretched his arms above his head.
Just like that he was gone.
You absorbed his absence, going back to floating, the clouds looking to be pieces of taffy in the sky.
Wonder when he’s coming back this time, you wondered absentmindedly.
Bill - yes, we were sticking with this - was sporadic. Sometimes you went to bed, and he was still there in the morning. Sometimes he followed you around for weeks at a time before he disappeared. But he always did, fading into the air around you like he was never there.
He could leave and be back in five minutes, or you wouldn’t see him again till the next month. Once he didn’t return for almost a whole year and you wondered if you were finally regaining your sanity, but alas, you found him lounging on your bed when you arrived home from school.
You always wondered where he was going, but you didn’t bother to ask him. (You were scared, too scared, you never asked him anything) He had a life just like you did, so there was no point.
You made a finger gun with your hand and halfheartedly flicked it to the sky.
Would I be considered evil for asking angsty unrequited love headcanons for Ace and Law (as in they are the one experiencing it)?
honey the only evil here is that u just resurrected this blog
oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.
He’s so nervous, and excited. He’s never been so in love with someone as he is with you.
He’s ridden already with self hatred & doubt. But he feels like he’s climbed the highest mountain, maybe his love for you will be enough for you to put it aside.
He doesn’t tell anyone, it’s going to be a surprise. Ace got the most amazing girl in the world on his own. Everyone is going to be jealous, and he’s going gush about you forever
He had it all planned out, but for some reason he just spits it out
“(Y/N), you’re just so funn-, nice, and iloveyou”
He’s out of breath, but has never felt better.
But then you give him a look. The look.
“Um, Ace.. I”
This wasn’t supposed to happen. You’re going to love him back, you have too. He has so much planned for the two of you, you’re going to be happy, and in love. You’re going to sail around the world together with your family, and it’s all going to be a wonderful life.
He doesn’t know what to do, so he just starts talking. He doesn’t exactly know himself. He’s talking about fate, and destiny, love, and adventure. All he knows is he’s trying to prolong the world where you’ve told him you don’t love him.
His face is wet now, he doesn’t know if it’s tears or rain, does it really matter now.
All he knows, is that his love for you isn’t enough, for you to feel the same; and that he feels like he was pushed down the side of a conquered mountain. He’s at the beginning again
Surprisingly he takes it just as bad as Ace.
He put himself out there for you.
He set his pride aside for you.
He broke down his wall for you.
He trusted you.
He tucking adored you.
He set aside years of rage & hate with the tinge of hope that you’d let him love you, and you’d love him back.
He’d lay awake at night, thinking of the best possible way to tell you. You said you always loved a romance, maybe he should set it up like they did. It wasn’t ideal for him, but it wasn’t really about him wasn’t it?
He had it all planned out, he made a stupid list of what he liked about you. It was so hard, he liked everything about you. Why was it so hard to pull out specific things without being weird
When the time comes he’s not ready, but he is.
“(Y/N)… Uh, I like you”
He feels like a boulder was dropped on his shoulders, and he’s slowly sinking into the ground.
He’s flattened when you laugh.
“Law, I like you too? We’re friends, why wouldn’t we like each other?”
“(Y/N), you don’t understand. I like you”
“Oh, oh no- Law”
Oh, no indeed. He’s about to burst. This was bullshit. This is the part when you run over into his arms, and embrace. Then you’d confess back, and the two of you would kiss. Why the fuck does every story go like that if it doesn’t happen.
But, you start walking over to him, maybe- no.
You grab his arm, but he angrily jerks back.
You start talking, but it doesn’t matter. He can’t hear you, and he doesn’t want to. Nothing you’ll ever say can help this situation. He doesn’t want your help
He hates you. He doesn’t hate you, but he wants you gone more than anything in the world. Maybe besides-
He stares at the ground, then at you. You’re still talking, and he still can’t comprehend a single word you’re saying.
So I was thinking yesterday about that post about people being able to summon Danny (which is glorious- here’s a link because my tablet won’t let me add one to click: kikaiz.tumblr.com/tagged/summoning ) and I wanted to share an idea that came to me
Because this whole idea is great crossover material and it blends into the world of Supernatural so much, I would love to see a Superphantom crossover that includes Sam and Dean summoning Danny. Maybe they’re trying to summon the ‘Ghost King’ that they’ve heard so much about and then they’re surprised when it turns out to be a fifteen-year-old kid (who seems very /alive/). Or maybe they’ve already made friends with Danny and they summon him and he’s like:
Danny: What’s going on? Do you need help? Is the world ending again?
Dean: Nah man we just need you to settle a bet for us. Do ghosts sleep?
Danny: …And you couldn’t just call because…?
Sam: Dean’s phone got destroyed on a hunt and we lost your number. Sorry.
Danny: Really? You lost my number but you didn’t lose the three pages of Latin instructions on how to summon me? Gimme that.
And then Danny would write his phone number on the top of the page and they’d go out for burgers and pie or something. And also wouldn’t Danny be able to call Sam, Tucker, or Jazz to summon him back? Yeah idk but this thought amused me and I wanted to share
I really want to see something from Shiro’s POV where the team finds him and he’s okay!! And everything seems great but then Shiro realizes that great googly moogly
everything’s gone to shit while he was away. Namely, his teammate has gone to shit; Lance and Keith are my faves for this, but it could work with anyone really
Like, Pidge hasn’t been
eating or sleeping this whole damn time
Hunk’s anxiety is acting up a lot
completely isolated himself from the others and is training 25/8
Lance completely hates himself/blames himself for Shiro disappearing
ET CETERA. Something like that idk
they’ve been pushing aside their issues because we gotta find Shiro
No one else noticed, because of course they didn’t. Everyone was so focused on saving the universe and saving Shiro (maybe even dealing with some of their own issues/guilt, idk) that they didn’t see what was happening as their teammate was slowly falling apart; it’s so gradual that it’s hard to even see it happening at all, until Shiro comes back.
Immediately he says ‘woah wait wtf is up with [whoever] are you ok??? what happened??’
and everyone else is like ‘wait what? they’re fine’
‘uhm no? why are they [lists a bunch of traits that have been slowly developing for months now without anyone noticing]’
and then you CUE THE ANGST!! ~Doves fly from the rafters~
I honestly love (a bit too much—) Jason with his red hair. Hesprettyhotwiththislooktbh and my fuckin jayroy instincts kickin’ in n’ shit.
Like bitch fuckin imagine an au where Roy’s sent to prison for some bullshit and his cellmates Jason (in that look or however u like ur Jason) and yuh pretty sure y'all already know what’s about to happen. ;)))
There is a buzz that rings throughout the studio, following the strumming of his guitar. There is a trace of old takeout food that lingers in the room combined with the surrounding smell of burnt coffee. He sits in the center of a circle made of tousled, wrinkled music sheets and instruments.
The long sighs of frustrations are heard all the way from your seat. Days have past and there has been no development on the composition for the new soundtrack you both have been working hard on.
You glance from the corner of your eye as a result of his sounds of irritation. It was then that you see him wholeheartedly. His hair is disheveled, the exhaustion is seen from the bags under this eyes, and his body is hunched over. But like clockwork, the moment he feels your eyes linger on his body, he looks up to search where you are.
His eyes soften, and it was in that moment that the stress rolled off both your shoulders — because as long as you had each other, nothing seemed impossible or difficult. The song will come together eventually, and in the end it will probably be lovely. However, it will be incomparable to the best song you have written before. For the most finest and important song you have written together is yours.
Your beating hearts for each other are the notes to the soundtrack of your lives…
I started this back in FEBRUARy of this year, but got sidetracked as I am wont to do, and forgot about it. But lately all the Russingon feels have been slowly killing me inside, so I was like, CAN I PLEASE SEE MY BOYS HAPPY FOR FIVE SECONDS????
So Maedhros and Fingon talking shit. I dunno what about. Probably Doriath but feel free to speculate.
“You weren’t obligated to tell me anything.” “But you’re pissed.” Leorio pointed to the scowl curving
Kurapika’s mouth down in response. “Look! You’re completely pissed
off!” “But not at you,” Kurapika said, lifting his coffee and taking a slow drink. Leorio waited, his own mug still between his hands but fortunately
safely on the table, watching Kurapika’s eyes stare to the side without
meeting his. “You’re gonna have to elaborate.”
In which some discoveries are made.
Spring Haze, Chapter 11 Fandom: Hunter x Hunter Pairings: Leopika (feat. Trans!Leorio) + cute and platonic Killugon = Family, also some Amane/Canary on the side Word Count (current chapter): 5,566 (total): 76,366 Content warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, transgender issues and other gender issues, some mild fantasy violence and mild supernatural creepyness in later chapters, non-explicit smut in later chapters, mild language overall Summary: Leorio wakes up in the back of a pickup truck in an RV park in the middle of nowhere, with no memory of how he got there. He accidentally befriends a peculiar shut-in and a pair of runaways, but the more his attempts to get home are thwarted, the less all of this seems like a simple coincidence.
A strange modern fairy tale AU about the family you choose.
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The Mandalorian held the Jedi’s lightsaber. It was different to the blasters she’d gripped before - more elegant. Yet it still pulsed with power, she could tell… The Jedi’s weapon wasn’t as brutish as any other she’d handled. No, instead it seemed to rest easily in her hands, warm and inviting. Then, with the slight pressure of her hand, it sprang to life. The powerful tool immediately stood at attention in front of her, the blade growing longer and longer until it reached peak height and for the first time, she truly beheld the might of the Jedi. In girth, his weapon was pleasing too - she felt a powerful heat inside herself just looking at it. She needed to make this seemingly calm man show his true colours, she decided, and lightly squeezed the ammunition packs below his blade - reveling in the sound this made. She longed to see the power of “The Force”
And thus a grand battle began….
“Ezra, what are you reading?”
“Oh, uh, nothing! Just something one of your cousins gave me while we were on Krownest!”
Ok but but what if after Jungkooks’ graduation, after they all have a good time eating and taking pictures, after Jungkook blows that kiss to Jimin in the car, they go back to the dorms and everyone congratulates the maknae one last time bc job well done Kookie you did it, and they all go to their rooms. But JM doesn’t, he sits on the couch because he knows JK will leave his room and come to him and he does, he sits next to JM on the couch and it’s quiet and they don’t speak until JM says ‘congratulations’ again in the same soft voice from when JK blew him kisses earlier and JK smiles and JM looks at him with that fondness and adoration and he can’t help it, he has to kiss him, so he does. He leans up to JK, still halfheartedly resenting him for his height but still loving him nonetheless, and presses his lips to the youngers and like always the fireworks erupt in both their stomachs at the contact, and JK kisses back eagerly, begins licking at JMs’ bottom lip because more he needs more, but that’s when JM stops him with a chuckle and a loving smile ‘congratulations on graduating’ he says and JK rolls his eyes fondly 'you already said that’ and he just receives a peck to the cheek in return but he smiles, showing off those bunny teeth and JM just falls in love with him that much more