writing fanfiction can be hard

Imagine Tom talking about you in interviews after your child is born:

Pushy Interviewer: So were you there? Did you watch? With my kids I couldn’t watch so I just stayed up by my wife’s head.

Tom: Yeah, man. It definitely is a lot to take in, but I consider it an honor. You know, I grew up in a family of all boys, but my mum always made it very clear our whole childhood that having a baby was like– the most painful thing on this Earth and we needed to respect women for doing that.  

Interviewer: She raised you right, huh?

Tom: I’d like to think so. After we found out she was pregnant, one of the first things she decided was that she wanted to do it naturally. Which, you know, I really respect that. I can’t imagine what that must feel like, so I think it was important that I just be as supportive as I could. The whole process was insane. She did great.

Interviewer: Did you actually cut the cord? I did that with my son.

Tom: I actually didn’t. But I caught her. It was the craziest thing, man. The doctor was there and they said to give one more push and then the nurse literally like grabbed my hands and the doctor guided my daughter into my arms. It was the best moment of my life. I cried.

Interviewer: That’s amazing. Were your parents there?

Tom: Hers and mine both were out in the waiting room. We waited to find out the sex so I got to come out and say it was girl and everyone cheered and my dad cried. It was pretty great.

Interviewer: Now, you guys are both pretty young still, and you’re carrying a massive franchise on your back. How is that going to balance with parenting?

Tom: You know, that’s a good question. I think, for me, it feels really important to be present. I think in this industry, a lot of actors, men in particular, get to have a spouse and a family, but then their job is this separate life and they kind of go away and work and travel the world and leave their partners behind. And that isn’t to pass judgment– different things work for different people. But that was something we talked a lot about. I didn’t want my role as a father to be a side job. So I think for now, the girls will travel with me wherever I’m shooting. 

Interviewer: Wow.

Tom: Yeah, it’s a big sacrifice, on the girls’ part. I mean, the baby won’t remember it, and we haven’t decided what we’ll do when she’s school aged, but it’s a real privilege to be able to have a partner who believes in what I’m doing so much that she’s willing to come along for the ride of it. My hope is that I’ll be able to be a really involved father as a result of it because, you know, I’ll be able to go home to them at the end of every day. Try to be as normal as possible.

Interviewer: Do you have any pictures?

Tom: Do I ever. She’s the prettiest little girl in the world, mate.

anonymous asked:


I’d LOVE to read a fic of them just- satisfying their power and professionalism kinks because you know they both have it. Example:

Magnus: “Mr. Lightwood, Congratulations on being the Head of the Institute. How does it feel to be the man on top?”

Alec: “I love it. But not as much as I love having the High Warlock of Brooklyn under me and begging for it.”

Why else would he look this smug and aroused?

  • other writers: here's 200,000 words of an eloquent and perfectly crafted fanfiction
  • me: here's like 2k words of mostly smut and here's another 3k of plot (and also some smut)from another Verse and here's a random prompt I answered that will probably start a new Verse that I'll forget to finish or lose interest in...
First Meeting

alright, here’s my second rick x reader fic! i’m,, so sorry it’s so long oh my go s h

i considered breaking it up into maybe two or three chapters, but i wanted to get it all out there in one fell swoop

this fic contains the reader going through a heart-wrenching breakup, borderline alcohol abuse, the presence of a knife used in a threatening manner, and 1 (one) death happens (kinda eventful and admittedly dark for the stuff i normally write but wanted to go into a territory i normally don’t go into with my writing, so!!)

let me know what you guys think ;u; !


It finally happened. You just didn’t think it would happen as soon as it did. You always had suspicions that he was being unfaithful, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to believe it, even after all this time. He just made everything feel so believable.

You were more stunned than anything. You were still in that initial phase where everything felt surreal – like a soft veil had been placed over reality; everything sounded muffled. Lights had a soft bloom effect. People moved in slow motion. You weren’t actually there; you just… existed.

And then one day, out of nowhere, reality finally sunk in. It hit you harder than anything ever had before.

Keep reading

Nothing’s gonna harm you (not while i’m around)

Hey everyone! Remember when, two months ago, I said I was working on a Baby BatCat fanfiction? Well, I finally got around to finishing it!

I’m sorry it took me so long, but what was intended to be a small, fluffy OS turned into a behemoth of a fic, filled with angst and hurt/comfort. So I guess it’s a win? Please enjoy!

Baby BatCat. Post-Season 3 Winter Finale.

It’s been two days since the standoff between Bruce and Jerome. While Bruce is having trouble coming to terms with his ordeal, Selina has never been more worried about anything or anyone.

This missing moment is about the two of them taking care of each other, having important conversations, and realizing that protecting and trusting are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

Read it on AO3

“No one’s gonna hurt you,

No one’s gonna dare.

Others can desert you,

Not to worry, whistle, I’ll be there.”

— Not While I’m Around,

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Selina quietly observed him from behind the window as he sat on the couch opposite the fireplace, his lanky frame somewhat tense, shoulders sagged and head low. It had been a couple of days since Jerome wrecked havoc on Gotham and tried to murder Bruce, and Selina couldn’t remember a time when she had felt more terrified for him. The moment she’d learned about what had happened, she’d gone straight to Wayne manor, not even caring that she was supposed to be mad at Bruce—she just wanted, needed to make sure he was okay.

Keep reading

Where Tide Hits The Shore

Hey guys! You remember this little mermaid au scenario I wrote up? Well I did a little something something for it because yes, I can do that. Hope you guys enjoy it!

You know Lucy had to admit, he really does pull off the look.

There’s nothing really fancy about the pose, if she was being honest, lazily stretched out atop her surfboard in front of her. Natsu seemed the epitome of peace with arms tucked behind his head, being rocked near to sleep by the ocean’s soft rolls.

And while she wouldn’t exactly call it ‘flowing’ his hair was of a decent length, coming to a shaggy end just short of his shoulders. A few spikes stood up defiantly despite the salty ocean water that had the rest plastered to his scalp. 

Yup, he pulled the look off quite effortlessly unlike those peacocks she sees strutting their stuff up and down the beaches all day.

“You look like a mermaid.” Lucy blurts out. She leans over Natsu with a curious frown tugging at her lips. He snorts, popping an eye open to glance up at her.

“Kinda already am one Luce.” Natsu rumbles amused. “Or did you already forget?”

His tail lifts up out the water, pink iridescent scales glistening in the low sunlight and drops back with a heavy slap! on the water’s surface, soaking them both in its chilly spray. Not that either minded, him being a fish person and she a fish person in spirit.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi I'm sorry if this sounds rude but you mentioned your friends are giving up fic writing? And that you came close to.I notice writers get much fewer rebblogs than artists but I didn't know it's that bad. Who are you talking about and do you guys talk about this, like is there a chatroom for writers?

Hi anon! This isn’t rude at all, don’t worry! This is going to be a bit of a long answer, so bear with me :’)

I don’t know if I can mention names here, I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, so I can’t really give you more details than I already have: I am friends with this person and they probably won’t be writing fanfics anymore.
I can tell you though that I’ve also spent most of the last couple of weeks wondering if there was still a point in posting my writing at all.

The thing is, writers barely get any feedback. Especially ones that aren’t insanely popular. We pour so much of ourselves into our writing, so it’s incredibly discouraging to barely get any comments, kudos, likes or reblogs.

In my personal experience, tumblr is an awful place for writers. I’ve got a decent-sized following on ao3 I think (though I don’t have much to compare to) and even there, with more than 100 people subscribed to me, I only tend to get around… 5 or 6 comments max per fic that are actually reviews (as in, comments with more content than “please update soon” or “this was nice”) - which is already more than I know many of my writer friends get.
On tumblr, I’m lucky if two or three people reblog my work, and that’s exactly the problem: Who’s going to see it if no one reblogs it? Likes are fine and of course I appreciate those, too, but in the bigger picture they’re meaningless.
Once a fic is done, it’s done. It’s out there then, and I can’t keep reblogging my own posts again and again in the hopes that someone will pay attention to them. I get one shot, maybe two if I reblog my fic again for people in other timezones, but that’s pretty much it. I’m not surprised that it’s gotten so frustrating that it makes people want to quit.

…as for your other question - I don’t know if there’s any larger chatroom or space for writers. I know some people have group chats, but it’s mostly a private thing, as far as I know? I’m really not a big name in this fandom so there might be a lot of stuff going on that I don’t know about.

As for me - I just message people a lot, with the tumblr feature, or on skype or snapchat if I know them better. I’m open to any and all conversations (most of mine with other writers started by me yelling at them about how much I love their work ^^), so if you want to talk to me please don’t hesitate to shoot me a message. That’s what they’re for, after all? My ask’s always open, and I don’t mind private messages either.

In any case - there’s quite a few people in my immediate vicinity that I’ve talked to and I consider friends - many of them are writers, some are artists, some do both, some do neither. I talk about this problem (of wanting to write, but barely receiving any feedback, of feeling like we’re wasting our time) to pretty much anyone who will listen, but it’s frustrating because I don’t have the influence to change anything. Of course I’ll try to keep my fellow writers motivated and try to change their minds about giving up, but there’s only so much I can do, and in the end it’s their decision. Most writers I’ve talked to really enjoy writing fanfics, and it takes quite a bit of disappointment to get you to the point where you want to just… stop. So… yes, it’s a big problem.

I’m going to wrap this up now, but… again, I cannot emphasize enough how important comments are to writers. I’ve talked to some people who’ve said they’re not sure if their comments will even make a difference, because they feel they haven’t got anything interesting to say - picture it this way. As a writer, I’m standing on a stage and presenting a thing, and in response, about twenty people give me polite nods (kudos, likes) and four actually start clapping. But there’s like two hundred people (hits) standing in this room, and I kind of feel stupid now.
All comments matter. At this point, they might save you your writers. Because with less and less feedback, there’s less and less incentive to actually post things.

I can’t say much for other fandoms because it’s been a while since I’ve written substantially for anything but Haikyuu, which is still a relatively active fandom? But I get the feeling that’s starting to wear off, too.

Enthusiasm shifts, and I get that. But if you still enjoy an author’s work, please, please, by all means leave them a comment. Otherwise it might be the last work you read from them.

Zutara week Entry: Day One: Fire Lady

The morning of the wedding is one of the most beautiful Katara has ever seen.

Warm golden sun rays stream through the windows of her chambers, past the drapes that clothed them, heavy, a deep scarlet. The sun beams bounce off the walls, also red, soaking her room in a delicious, almost other worldly, incandescent glow. Beyond the heavy hues of the bedroom walls, she can hear the hustle and bustle of movement: the voices of servants, many of whom she’s come to know by name, hushed but hurried, the dull thump-thump, thump-thump, of frenzied footsteps and the sharp ringing of bells piercing the lazy morning air. The tell-tale sign of a nobleman or foreign dignitary in need of a servant’s assistance. In the several months that she’d been residing in the Fire Nation, Katara had almost gotten used to the sound: a crisp tinkling that went off at hourly intervals. It was perhaps one of the most outstanding features of the fire palace’s west wing, which traditionally housed a select few fire nation court nobles and more recently, the occasional international diplomat and personal guests of the Fire Lord himself.

And future fire ladies apparently, Katara reminds herself, an overwhelming and unnameable emotion suddenly coursing through her. She stands up, suddenly desperate and determined to take a stroll.  

The scene that greets her outside the room is everything she expected it to be, and yet she is every bit taken off guard by the sheer number of people running around the once nearly desolate hallways. People of all different backgrounds, although if she’s being more accurate, they are mostly from the fire nation and earth kingdom, clad in long, flowy emerald coloured robes and ruby red garments, pepper her vision. She hears the splash of liquid spray onto her attire before she feels it, at almost the same time she sees the young man carrying the now empty pitcher squeak like a cornered gerbil-mouse, his whole face blanching as he stutters out a panicked, barely coherent, apology.

“Master Katara…Ambassador…My Lady…” Each title is punctuated by the boy’s frantic genuflecting, and Katara immediately puts a stop to it with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“That’s quite all right, no need for all that, see…” she makes the slightest of gestures, the flick of a single wrist, really, and her drenched sapphire robes and dark hair are completely dry, the water re-occupying its rightful place in the pitcher once again. “There, no harm done…um”

“Jiro.” He supplies looking monumentally grateful and smiling shyly.

“Jiro.” She grins back, “Although, you might want to change that water.” She suggests kindly.

He nods enthusiastically and rushes off with a moderately loud, “Yes, my Lady. Excuse me, my Lady. Thank you, my Lady.”

And Katara resists the urge to cringe, I don’t think I could ever get used to that, she thinks. Just as she’s forced herself to think for the past few weeks…

Her feet propel her forward on her stroll of their own accord.  

On her aimless walk, she gazes out of the seemingly never ending rows of windows that line the corridors, stopping briefly to admire the view. The sky is a relentless blue, cloudless, the air cool and refreshing; a welcome reprieve from the infamous fire nation heat and humidity. It’s almost as if the weather itself was joining them in jubilation, a gift from even the spirits themselves to commemorate this historic, unprecedented union of cultures and nations; a triumph of love and forgiveness over hatred and war.

Subconsciously, Katara’s gaze leaves the manicured hedges of the central courtyard and lingers some distance beyond, attaching itself to the fire lord’s private gardens.

The waterbender smiles to herself, remembering late afternoon discussions about inconsequential things by the turtle-duck pond, watching the sunset by the fire-lily beds, sitting in comfortable silences, simply enjoying one another’s company; and, after dark, having bending battles to let off some steam. She grins smugly, the memory of vermillion flames flashing across her vision, the crackling of ozone as static burst around her, the feeling of being indescribably lost in her element, the flow of water, the flow of power thrumming through her veins. All the pressure and stress of politics and dealing with the minutia of their daily routines vaporising in the air between them, wafts of steam created by the clashing of their elements.

They never hold back. Not with each other.  

Katara gulps, blue eyes darting to the highest window of the east wing. The fire lord’s chambers. Images of their other, more… clandestine, more incandescent, rendezvous flash behind her eyelids unbidden. Memories of warm hands on her cool skin, of rough, marred skin beneath her fingertips, of soft lips: an impossible all-consuming heat, the taste of electricity…

She blinks, hard, and continues walking.

Finally, she stops, her legs stiff and trembling, like she’s been on a long journey, a trek on foot. Her brain catching up with her eyes at the sight of her destination. The young woman almost laughs. Of course, she thinks, the voice in her head an exasperated drawl, despite the thunderous pounding of her heart in her chest.

She enters the small space with only the slightest trepidation but immediately relaxes when her suspicions are confirmed.

She can’t help the fond smile that spreads across her face. In his five years of rule and reign, some, the hopeful and optimistic, have described him as the greatest fire lord to grace the country in a century. Others, his most vocal opponents, whom, despite the greatest of efforts, still carry lingering resentment at how they were denied their ‘glorious victory’ at the end of Sozin’s hundred year war, have called him a traitor, a treasonous failure unworthy of the title of Agni’s scion and the dragon throne.

But right now, in this tiny, storage closet hidden from view, he’s a grown man struggling to wear his pants. And Katara thinks she likes him best this way. He grunts in frustration under his breath, looking like he wouldn’t hesitate to incinerate every item of clothing on his person in righteous retribution. She clears her throat attracting his attention. He swears, a string of rather un-regal profanities leaving his lips as he whirls around in surprise. His whole body visibly relaxes once he sees that it’s her.

“Katara,” The unconcealed, unabashed joy in his voice makes her heart clutch. “What are you doing?”

“I think that’s my line, Zuko.” She says with a teasing, playfulness she doesn’t quite feel.  

He immediately looks at a point somewhere beyond her shoulder, like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world, while his fair skin, suddenly turns scarlet at the cheeks and she absently notes how he matches the rest of his attire now.

“Right, well,” He makes a vague gesture towards his clothing, a conglomeration of dark reds and bright yellows, of fabrics and metals. She would say he looks powerful, majestic even, if it hadn’t been for the complete state of disarray that his raven locks currently remained in, and the ridiculous angle his topknot rested in, loose and deflated, like it had been drained of all life and simply wanted to fade into oblivion. “I didn’t care much for the tailor’s ‘last minute additions’”, he jabs his thumb at his metal clad chest, ah, the armour “I just felt it wasn’t necessary…with the occasion and all that.” He says the word ‘occasion’, delicately, experimentally, as if she might spontaneously combust if he were to even utter the word wedding.

“Right, of course. Fire nation armour at the wedding of the century, plus foreign politicians making up a huge chunk of the guest list does not equal a good idea.” She hopes her tone is free of any inflections of bitterness, when she says the phrase ‘wedding of the century’. If the fire lord notices anything, he doesn’t say it.

“Math humour,” He chuckles, the sound a siren call. “You’ve been hanging around your brother too much.”

She shrugs, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “So what exactly is the problem?”

“I-can’t-seem-to-get-it-off.” The sentence is one short, tumbled rush.

“What?” She laughs softly. Incredulous.

“You heard me.” He mumbles, seemingly irritated, but clearly embarrassed.

“Yeah, I did. I just can’t believe it. Actually, yes I can.”

She closes the door behind her, ignoring the alarm bells going off in her mind.

“Turn around,” She mock sighs. “Let’s see what we can do.”

He grumbles yet again but obediently does as she requested. After a few minutes of teasing banter on both ends, a tug here and a pull here, the offending armour is down away with. And Katara’s hands find themselves in Zuko’s hair, repairing the damage his previous attempts at armour removal had left behind. She fights to keep her breathing steady and calm her traitorous pounding heart. It’s just hair, her voice growls within her mind. But her senses rebel and attack her with memories of the two of them in a similar situation, in this same room, actually, which they had often used for private…err… ‘discussions’, with her hands lost in his silky locks for very different reasons, then his hands in her hair, tugging at fistfuls to expose her neck to his mouth, hot and hungry and…and…

“Okay, all done.” She suddenly exclaims. Cracking the peaceful silence like a komodo-rhino egg.

“Thank you.” He says.

She’s about to respond when she realises how, at some point during her fixing of his hair, she wound up facing him yet again. They stand now, face to face, tantalisingly close in the limited space surrounding them. Zuko’s looking at her. Really looking at her. His golden gaze takes in her appearance, her traditional water tribe robes, delicate blues, and furs, white. Her hair, wild brown curls, barely tamed by braids and blue beads. Then, finally, amber eyes meet blue. She wonders what he’s thinking. She doesn’t have to wait long for an answer though.

“You look so…” He sounds awestruck, clearly struggling to put it into words, “Nice.”

“Whoa, ‘nice’? Let’s not go overboard with the praise, there.” But she’s blushing in spite of her teasing. “Thank you, Zuko. I think you look really nice t—”

“Are you okay?” He seems to blurt out. Katara has no doubt that if he could glare at his own mouth, he would.

The question hangs in the air for a beat too long. She knows what he means of course, when two people know each other inside and out the way they do, there’s no room for ambiguity. She contemplates lying, shrugging off his question and forcing a comforting smile onto her visage. But then she remembers who she’s talking to.

They never hold back. Not with each other.  

“You’re marrying someone else, Zuko.” She says. Her words are ice cold, meant to cut deep and visceral. Her ire isn’t necessarily directed at him, well, not completely. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel upset with him. Part of anger may even have been directed at fate or destiny or whatever was in charge of throwing obstacle after never ending obstacle, between herself and the one person in this life who made her feel so…complete. However most of it was at herself. She had been reckless, allowed herself to be vulnerable, spilled out all that she was, and wanted to be, into his waiting arms and did the same for him. And she thought, what? That loving him was going to be enough to fill in the gaps, nay, the chasms that stood between them and reality. Well, it wasn’t, she thinks bitterly. “How can I possibly be okay?”

He nods. He understands her disappointment and pain and frustration. Of course he does.

“I’m so sorry. I wish things could’ve been different.” There’s a pause. He seems to be choking back some kind of emotion. But in the limited lighting she isn’t too sure.  “But I want you to know that I don’t regret any of it. These past few months with you have been…” he pauses searching yet again for the right words, twirling his wrist around as if the simple act could conjure them out of thin air.

She doesn’t know exactly when it started. She can remember every detail and day of their first kiss and many other gradual intimacies they shared over time. But her feelings for Zuko, their feelings for each other, are another matter entirely. Perhaps they began to make themselves known after he and Mai broke up for the last time, a final clean break, an understanding that they had different goals in life. Zuko wanted to usher in a new era of peace into the world through his regency, and Mai couldn’t stand the politics of it all. “It just wasn’t her.” He’d told her one evening by the pond, after he had detailed how he and Mai had dissected their relationship, exposing the ugliness beneath it all, and ultimately deciding to go their separate ways. Last Katara had heard, Mai was being initiated into the order of the white lotus, as part of the first wave of the secret organisations first female members.

Zuko had poured himself into his work after their break up, trying to fill his former lover’s now empty space with knowledge and possibility. Katara, equally as eager to secure her position as the water tribe’s emissary to the fire nation, did likewise. Soon comparing notes, sharing studying techniques and anecdotes about their day turned into something more. But now, on the precipice of losing that something, Katara can’t help but wonder if there was possibly more even before that.

She stops him. Zuko was never particularly exceptional at talking about or even out right displaying his romantic feelings. So she spares him. One last time.

“Zuko. I may not be okay right now, and I probably won’t be for some time. But I will be.” She steels herself, not wanting to say the next words but knowing she has to. “She’s a good person, Zuko. The people love her.” The words ‘and I’m sure you will too’ remain unspoken. The next words feel like shards of ice on her tongue, but she manages to say them anyway.

“She’ll make a great fire lady.”

“And you’ll make an incredible fire lord, Zuko. I believe in you.” And she means it. She really does. She can honestly say she’s never met anyone who has his determination and drive and who only wants redemption, peace and prosperity for his nation. And for the world. The world couldn’t have asked for a better fire lord. She does know however, that he isn’t perfect. His recurring moments of self-doubt and blind devotion to his people’s redemption being examples. But she’s come to care about him even with his flaws. Just as he does with hers.  

At those last four words something flashes in Zuko’s eyes.

“And you’ll be okay too Katara. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. You helped your father and brother to rebuild the Southern Water Tribe, taught waterbending as a world renowned master and left your home to come here and represent them. You’re amazing. And being with you was amazing.”

“Zuko…” Katara breathes not sure how to respond to his praise. The irony of their role reversal is not lost on her.

“No, Katara. I need to say this and you need to hear this.” His tone is firm but his smile is gentle, if a little pained. “I love you.”

The waterbending master is speechless. Which, she is aware, isn’t the best time to be so. It’s not as if Zuko hasn’t told her so before. He has. Though his declarations were few and far between initially. There’s just something about him saying it now, the finality of it all. And for the first time in what feels like a long time, Katara is suddenly very aware that she is in a closed, dimly lit room with a soon-to-be-married man.

And she is struck by the very real, very sudden urge to kiss him with everything that she is. To leave her mark on his heart. To ensure that he’ll never forget their time together. Never forget her.

But her face has been made up with all sorts of heavy and expensive paints and powders. And she already knows his heart just as he knows hers. And she knows he will never forget her.

So she reaches for him instead, her hand a gentle touch across the marred skin of his scar, along his jaw, down the lines of his neck, before he draws her to him. They stay like that for some time. Foreheads touching, the sound of their joint breathing the only sound. Until finally she pulls away with a strangled, barely audible, “I love you too.”

It is enough.

It has to be.

Her name is Himiko.

A young woman born to a middle class family in the fire nation who migrated to the colonies in the earth kingdom when she was merely an infant. She like a few others of fire nation citizenship, were of airbender descent and had dormant airbending genes within them. She proved to be an excellent student under Aang’s tutelage, one of the best, actually. A master airbender born into the fire nation, who spent all her life living amongst the people of the Earth Kingdom. One couldn’t imagine a better candidate for the role of a queen consort, who is to rule by the side of a progressive monarch in a post-war economy and atmosphere, if they tried. The fire nation nobles, who would’ve greatly preferred someone of a ‘higher station’ begrudgingly support the union. The Earth Kingdom aristocracy has mixed feelings about a ‘product of fire nation imperialism with knowledge of the their land’ on the throne of their former century long enemy and the newly formed air nomad council of elders is not completely on board with the arrangement either, as it doesn’t really keep in with their slowly reviving traditions, as marriage isn’t an institution recognised by airnomad customs. But the message of their marriage is one that’s so profound, no one can really stand against the poetry of it all: the fire nation nearly wiped out the entire airbending race, if these two people could find love, unite their two peoples, and rule together towards a better world, then the world really is a changed place. A place where anything could be possible…

Katara smiles. She smiles at her friends and takes the time to interact with every single one of them. Suki wants to know if she’s okay, Sokka and her father tell her it’s okay if she ever wants to come home, Toph probably can tell she’s lying but to her credit doesn’t say so. Aang seems to blame himself somehow for how things turned out. She is his student, and one of his people. He wishes he could do something, says he should have fought against it harder. And for second she is reminded of when they were children, and how he had had a crush on her, long gone now, it was a simpler time, she thinks. She smiles at him. At all of them. She dances and drinks, moderately, and claps at the end of every speech.

Until even she almost believes it’s genuine.

She even gives her congratulations to the fire lord and his lovely, new bride.


Jealousy Does The Trick - Shadowhunters (Alec Lightwood)

Pairing: Alec x Female!Reader 

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: Can you make a Alec Lightwoof smut where the reader and Alec are training. But Alec doesn’t like that she keeps talking about Magnus (there not together) so he punishes her. Just to show her who she belongs to and at the end Fluffy???????? Love your BLOG❤️💯🔥

Warnings: SMUT, minor fluff ish? 

A/N: I’m glad you love my blog, darling<3 means a lot~ Aaand I hope you like the one shot^^ENJOY!

PS! Remember to check out THIS post everyone to participate in me celebrating 2000 followers! 

Originally posted by madyvh91

*gif not mine* 

«How come Magnus has a lot swifter movements than us shadowhunters?» You asked Alec as you ducked away from the swing of Alec’s fighting stick. 

 «I don’t know and I don’t care.» He answered courtly. 

 «I mean, he is a downworlder, not in a negative way, so aren’t we supposed to be swifter? Because damn he looks good when he moves.» 

For a moment you got more distracted by your own thoughts than actually paying attention to the fight, and in no time Alec had your back pinned to his front and his wooden stick pressed against your throat. 

 «You’re thinking too much.» Alec whispered into your ear as you became painfully aware of how close you were. 

 Gracefully Alec let go of the stick with one arm, holding it just as steady with just one. His free hand sneaked itself around your waist, resting on your lower stomach. 

 «You’re thinking too much about someone you don’t want, both you and me know that.» He whispered again, this time moving his hand lower and as he came to the waistband of your training tights, he slipped his hands into them. 

Your breath caught in your throat and you stood as still as you could, your breathing coming out in ragged huffs when you remembered how to breathe again. 

Your heartbeat sped up more and more by the minute, all thoughts of training and Magnus Bane gone from your head. Without any warning Alec’s hand dipped into your panties, going straight for your entrance, his thumb lowering over your clit. 

 «Maybe this will remind you who you usually think of.» Alec kissed the base of your neck before he started to move, two fingers penetrating you while his thumb brushed over your clit gently, sometimes going in circles when his movements allowed it . 

 The pleasure practically shot down into your knees making them weak, but even so you managed to stay upright as Alec lowered the stick and let it fall to the ground as he used his other hand to support your body from falling. In the back of your mind, the part which still had some sense to it, you thought of where you were standing and how easy it would be for someone to just walk into the training room to see you two. 

 «Alec, s-stop.» You stuttered, grabbing the wrist on the hand he was penetrating you with.   

«And why would that be, darling?» He asked as he curled his fingers inside of you, making a throaty moan escape your lips. 

 «What if someone comes in?» You managed to breath out while his fingers worked faster and faster, pressing his thumb just a little harder against your clit making the pleasure almost unbearable as the knot in your stomach tightened. 

«Babe, it’s in the middle of the night, I think it will be okay.» He said back as he bit playfully on your earlobe, making you rest your head against his shoulder. 

You felt the pleasure riding your body, ready to take it over completely as the knot in your stomach became unbearably tight. 

With another curl from Alec’s fingers inside of you you went over the edge, letting your orgasm rip through your body, slumping against Alec who carefully removed his hand from your tights and lowered you both to the ground. 

 «Next time, warn me a little before you do something like that.» You grinned over at Alec who reluctantly let you go as you sat up properly. 

 «Next time, huh?» He teased, that excited smile on his face. 

 «I’m not letting you off the hook so easy, love.» you said back as you placed your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him. «Because I have dreamt of you making a move so long, who knew jealousy would be the thing that would make you do it.» You added, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned in close. 

 Alec blushed, but even so he placed his hands on your hips. 

 «So does that mean we can continue this in your room?» He hinted, your lips barely brushing each other. 

 «With pleasure.» You whispered, just as you pressed your lips against his, feeling him pulling you even closer to himself, not planning on letting you go any time soon.

Word Count: 1345

Triggers: female coded reader, abuse mention, a little nsfw?

Requested by @ssabea

“I hate grifting,” Eliot grumbled as you led him into the club.

Keep reading

turningleafposts  asked:

50 pretty please if you are still taking them because i can't get enough of this prompt list

“People are staring.” Illya’s voice was gruff, disgruntled but Gaby ignored it.

“No one is staring,” she assured him, “No one knows us here.” She put on of his hands on her waist and took the other in her palm. “We are just two random people dancing in the park. A couple just like the others.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose as she started to make them sway to the music that filled the air.

“I don’t trust you when it comes to dancing,” he said, looking around casually as if taking in the scenery.

She chuckled at his reference, looking up as his gaze returned to her face. Pleased with himself for his humor. “I won’t slap you,” she said with a shrug, “It would draw too much attention.”

He huffed a laugh from his chest and continued to let her lead him in their little dance. Eventually, his voice rumbled down to her again. “A couple?”

“There is two of us.”

“Like the others?”

She took a long look at the people around them. All of them smiling, laughing, holding each other close. Her heart sped up, making her pull in a breath.

“Well, we are here to kill someone,” she offered. “But after that… when all the craziness and paperwork is over…”

He exhaled, taking their clasped hands and folding them against his chest as he pulled her closer. She let her cheek press to his chest and he leaned down, his warm breath rustling her hair. “I want that,” he said. So quiet. A secret.

“So do I.”


“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?”

Hi everyone! I have some important exams currently, so I didn’t write a lot but here is a new fic! I hope you’ll like it! Enjoy your reading!

Warning: English’s not my mother tongue so, if you see any mistakes, feel free to avert me, I’ll be glad to correct it!

Summary: Baz came back late to the dorm, as usual. Simon is already asleep but seems to have a rude nightmare. I’m not sure Baz can stand with it…

Ratings: /

Pairings: SnowBaz (Baz Grimm-Pitch/Simon Snow)


I usually come back late from my hunts. I prefer it that way, I don’t have to face Simon’s gaze. I already feel guilty to suck out all the blood of poor animals.

 Anyway, this night was like the other, when I came back Simon was already sleeping, twisted in his sheet, the window opened. Of course. He cannot fall asleep when the window’s closed. I don’t care much, I bear better the cold than most humans. But, Simon’s sleep seemed agitated tonight.

I went to the bathroom to have a wash and put on my jogpants. When I put back my clothes in the wardrobe, I heard Simon moving a lot. I felt a bit worried but I didn’t take notice.

Once in my bed, when I was about to fall in Morpheus’ arms, I heard Simon talking. I turned to face him and, thank to my vampire’s seeing which saved me from talking alone, I noticed he was asleep still. Quickly, Simon’s voice became louder. 

First, I didn’t understand what he was saying, but the next scream appeared clear to my ear. 

“No, please, no!” 

I froze. He seemed so hurt. 

“Don’t kill him, PLEASE” Simon’s screams rent the quiet night. 

He choked a sob before running on in a softer voice. “Not Baz, please” 

Simon’s saying my name made me react. I was hit by his pain, without knowing what to do but, now, I didn’t even think about it. I crossed the gap between our beds and took Simon in my arms. His gold skin was moist by sweat. I tried to calm his distress. 

He opened the eyes but stayed drowsy. Simon cuddled against my chest and grabbed one of my arms. He wrapped his own arms around mine. I took his wet hair away from his face and whispered “it’s okay, Simon” 

“shhh, I’m here, okay love?”

“Don’t worry, everything’s okay, just sleep”

“we’re both safe, Si” until he dropped into the sandman’s arms once more.


When I woke up in the morning, I had a strange memory from the night. I couldn’t say if it’s a dream. I stretched and sat up in my bed. That’s when I noticed Baz’s pillow next to mine. A grin blossomed on my face. 

Baz got out of the bathroom, his wet long dark hair dripped on his naked chest. I stared at it hungrily. I wasn’t even trying to hide it. When my gaze, slowly, came back to his face I noticed Baz’s scarlet cheeks.


I didn’t know what to think about Simon’s gaze. I’d like to walk toward him and kiss him but, of course, I’ll never do that. 

Therefore, I asked, unsure, “hm, Snow?”

The smile on his face became bigger when he replied “Yeah? Do you want to talk about you calling me ‘love’?”  

I blushed harder.

I was lost in my mind, I didn’t know how to read Simon. I couldn’t say what he was thinking. 

When I was in my thoughts, Simon stood up and closed the gap between us. He was so close. We were staring at each other when I saw his eyes went down, staring at my lips. He leaned in but stopped, he seemed to ask “May I?”. I didn’t pronounce a word and put my lips against Simon’s soft ones.

Smile: Sometimes, it’s hard to believe the truth. (A fun little Miraculous Ladybug snippet featuring Juleka and Adrien.)

You have a beautiful smile. The world is brighter when you wear it.

Juleka blinked, staring at the note that had fallen out of her notebook. The handwriting looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She glanced sideways at Rose and noticed that her friend was smiling at a slip of paper, this one pink instead of purple. Rose started to laugh, and she looked up at Juleka. “That’s so sweet of you. Thanks.”

“It wasn’t me.” Juleka didn’t need to ask to know that Rose’s paper had contained a similar note. “I got one, too.”

Juleka turned to look at the others. Nathanaël must have something; he wasn’t drawing, and the look on his face was one of confusion, not concentration. Ivan hadn’t opened his books yet and instead looked to be half asleep. In front of her, Kim was having an animated discussion with Alix, but Max…. Max was reading something, too. And so was Mylène.

No one else seemed to have noticed anything; Sabrina was listening to whatever Chloé was saying, just as Adrien was with Nino, and Alya was showing Marinette something on her phone.

Either they didn’t have anything or they hadn’t seen it yet.

She had a feeling it was the latter.

Mme Bustier would arrive at any moment, and Juleka almost wished class would start so she could be distracted. The notes were nice and all, but…but she wasn’t sure if they were sincere. She wasn’t sure if this was just a joke. She hated to even contemplate that, but she rarely felt like she had something to smile about, and to get something like this…. It almost felt like someone was making fun of her.

She knew it shouldn’t. She wanted to take it at face value. She didn’t want to read more into it. The writer surely didn’t intend for her to think about how ugly and invisible she was when she didn’t smile. Someone like Chloé would find a way to put a hidden meaning like that into a supposed compliment, though Juleka doubted she would deign to write something like this in the first place. Anonymity wasn’t Chloé’s style. Subtlety wasn’t really Chloé’s style, either. Straight up insults were, and this wasn’t that.

This was probably meant to make her smile.

Instead, she felt like crying, and she wasn’t really sure why.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

That was Alix, and when Juleka looked up again, trying to blink back tears, she realized that everyone was either looking at her or digging through their books to find similar notes. Juleka folded her note and shoved it into her pocket, away from prying eyes. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

No one believed that. They didn’t need to see Rose’s skeptical face to doubt her. Juleka stood. “I just need a drink,” she said as she eased by Rose, and she kept her head down and fled. She heard Rose get up to follow her, but she didn’t look back.

She ended up taking a long drink at the fountain, savouring the cool water, and finally looked up to see Adrien standing behind her instead of Rose. She pretended she didn’t know why he was there and simply stepped aside, but he didn’t take her place. Instead, he repeated a variation of Alix’s question, and she repeated her lie.

And then he asked, “Is it because of the note?” She didn’t answer, but he didn’t seem to need one. “It’s…it’s just a compliment, you know.”

“Maybe yours is,” she heard herself murmur, “but mine feels like a judgement.” That earned her a frown, so she forced herself to elaborate. “It says to smile more.”

“Are you sure it’s not just saying you have a pretty smile? Your whole face lights up, Juleka. It’s amazing. You don’t smile lightly, so when you do….” He shrugged, looking at a loss for words. “It’s like a rare treasure. Not everyone gets to see it, but those who do remember it and will smile themselves, so they’re richer for it.”

She could hear the sincerity in his voice and wasn’t sure she would have believed it coming from anyone else, except perhaps Rose. But his conviction convinced her of something, too. “You wrote the notes. One for everyone?” She had no idea how he could have gotten them into everyone’s books, but she wasn’t really surprised that Adrien apparently had a secret skill.

He smiled sheepishly. “I thought it was a good idea. I thought it would cheer people up. Everyone always seems to be on edge these days or doubting themselves for one reason or another, so I thought, maybe, this would brighten people’s day. I…I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I’m sorry, Juleka.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” That only made him try to apologize again, so she overrode him, adding, “I guess I’m just not used to getting compliments.” She felt like crying for an entirely different reason now. She was touched by Adrien’s words; he was so sweet, thinking of them all like that, and it made her feel even more embarrassed about her overreaction than she already did. “It was a nice idea.”

“Do you think I should just confess, then?”

Juleka shook her head. “Rose believed it, and I think more people are like her than me. I just…. I don’t know. I find it hard to take compliments from strangers, I guess. I never know whether or not to believe them.” She could still feel the sting of tears in her eyes, so she fished a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes be rid of them.

The smile Adrien offered her was gentle rather than condescending, but a quick quirk of the lips turned it into something more playful. “Then maybe next time, I should sign them from Chat Noir.”

Juleka couldn’t help it. She snorted.

Adrien’s smile grew. “You know it’s one of Alya’s theories, right? Nino told me. I don’t know how she thinks I would find the time to be Chat Noir, but….”

This time, Juleka could return Adrien’s smile, albeit with a small one of her own. “You wouldn’t want to misrepresent one of Paris’s heroes.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t mind,” Adrien said. “Not for something like this. Especially not when it’s the truth.”

“Thanks, Adrien.” She meant it, and she knew he could tell. “That means a lot.” It felt strange to admit it, to acknowledge the compliment—all his compliments—so casually. “You know, you’re as much a hero as Chat Noir in your own right.”

He looked genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“You’re kind,” she whispered, “and you’re not afraid to spread that kindness, even though you know how broken this world can be. That makes you a sort of everyday hero, at least to me.”

His smile returned, and she muttered about needing to get back to class, but her hand kept drifting to her pocket for the rest of the day, feeling the physical reminder of Adrien’s note. When she got home, it was going to get a place of honour with their class photo, and she was going to smile every time she thought about it.

You have a beautiful smile. The world is brighter when you wear it.

And maybe, just maybe, the world would feel a little brighter for her, too.

The Chosen Path | Chapter 3

Chapter title: Doubt and Trust
Fandom: D.Gray-Man
Pairings: Lavi/Allen + Neah/Lavi [slow burn]
Rating + warnings: T / no warnings apply
Summary: After months of running and hiding, Allen and Neah find themselves travelling with Lavi, who after narrowly escaping death at the hands of the Noah Family struggles to find purpose. They soon find themselves running from a lot more than fate, and soon they will have to decide whether they will accept the roles they’ve been forced into, or make their own path in a world that’s hellbent on taking it from them. [Canon divergent from chapter 218]


The woods were giving their last attempt to persist in the wake of the approaching winter, leaves of flame and fire falling to fade into the mud beneath. Bare branches adorned with dwindling leaves, wisps of fog and the smell of wet earth; it was peaceful here, surrounded by nature in its dying days. Since his time on the run had begun, Allen had found himself taking moments like this often, as if seeing the world around him for the first time. No, not the first; it was as if it was his last. The bitter chill seeping into his bones, the array of colour amongst the darkened bark of dying trees; it was a stark reminder that he was still here, still living and breathing. It left him feeling sombre, a strange combination of both bitterness and reverence. This world would exist whether he was in it or not, and though that caused him pain, it was also comforting. For now, there was a world to live within, places to observe, things to see and smell and taste.

Until the day the world ended, or he ceased to exist, there was a place for him under these endless skies.

[Read on ff.net or AO3]

I dunno what happened to reviewing? I was having a little look in story stats and I realised that there was a pattern. Stories tend to start off getting a pretty decent number of reviews, and then it dwindles off as it goes along. For example, AYAOTD got 12 reviews for the first chapter, and it’s been going down every chapter since, to the extent where the most recent chapter got 2 reviews. Some fandoms do better than others, to be fair - I have some stories where reviews are pretty consistent.

I’m honestly curious about this. Do people just get bored of fics as they go along and don’t bother reviewing? Do they count on authors updating anyway and so they figure it doesn’t matter if they review or not? 

As someone who cherishes every review on every story I get, it’s pretty disheartening to realise that only 2 people can be bothered to comment on a 4500 word chapter. I was thinking of doing another story cull and this has really just reinforced my decision. I adore writing, and I love most of my stories. But if readers can’t be bothered typing in a few words, I can’t be bothered taking the time out between full-time work and other commitments to write a story no one cares about. I’d rather put the effort into a story people do feel strongly about.

You see it all over Tumblr. You see it everywhere. Writers thrive on reviews. I don’t know why this is such a difficult concept to grasp. I’m sure my fellow writers understand my irritation here. You get constant messages asking you to update something and when you do, there’s radio silence. Readers criticise writers for taking too long to update. How about instead, you actually bother to give something back to the author? 

I know that it can be really hard writing fanfiction. Especially when your fic isn’t getting a lot of attention, but don’t stop writing! The amount of kudos you have doesn’t always equal the quality of your writing.

If you want help with writing advice, or you want a little publicity on your fanfic, asks and submissions are open! All mods and I are very nice and are willing to help anyone!

Thank you!

We start answering submissions tomorrow, so please submit! Fic submissions must be under 150 kudos.

Some thoughts on being a fanfiction writer

1) Never let anyone tell you that being a fanfiction writer is bad. The Bronte sisters wrote fanfiction about the Duke of Wellington and they just happened to also release beautiful books like Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights - it’s not a new art form, and it’s not a bad quality one either. 

2) Fanfiction is a great way to write when you don’t have your own characters yet. Simply being able to say ‘what if this happened’ and then write it gives you a real understanding of plot, and more flexibility when it eventually comes to the world you will create. 

3) Fanfiction allows you to write lots and lots of words without even realising what you’re doing. Did you know the first Harry Potter book was 76, 944 words? If you can write near that amount, imagine what you could do if you created your own universe. 

4) You have been practising your craft all along. Even if you started recently, you’ve been practising and improving your writing. Read the first thing you ever put up and read what you’ve most recently written - I bet you’ve improved. 

5) However, you are not limited to writing fanfiction, no matter how hard it can seem to break free from the limits you have put on yourself. You want your own world to play with, but you feel like you don’t have the creativity to do so. Sound familiar? Well you’re wrong when you say you don’t have the creativity to create your own world. 

6) You’re comfortable with characters you are familiar with, right? Well, become familiar with your own characters. Start simple - what do they look like? What’s their name, what age are they, what’s their job? Imagine what they’d do in situations you’re in. With a little bit of work, you’ll be as familiar with them as you are with your fanfiction characters. 

7) Maybe making a world is harder, but you don’t need to begin with your own Hogwarts or Middle Earth. Set it where you live, and if you get bored of that, then set your sights higher. The only limit you have is your confidence. 

8) Let other people read it. The chances are, with your fanfiction, you’ve posted it somewhere and people have read it and given you feedback. There’s no reason to stop that now - show a friend, put it on a blog, send it in here, or you can even send it in to literary magazines and journals. But spread your work so you can get feedback. 

9) You don’t need to write a novel. Start with a bit of flash fiction, a short story, or in fanfiction terms, a one-shot. But if you want to write some original fiction, starting with a novel can be daunting, so start small and increase to that. 

10) You can still write fanfiction. Writing isn’t black and white between fanfiction and original work, and it hasn’t been for years. Did anyone else watch Death Comes to Pemberley or Dickensian? Just because it’s on tv doesn’t mean it’s not fanfiction, and just because you have the capability to write your own stuff doesn’t mean you can’t write about other worlds any more. As they say, the only limit is your imagination.