writing hates me

6

Historical Fanfic No One Asked For: Blue Coat Red Coat

Steve found his mark in the barn.

He held his wounded belly, chest rising and falling. A wounded, wild animal. He looked up at Steve with all the defiance a dying man could muster. Steve held his bayonet at the ready. He should’ve shot. The man was a rebel, a traitor to the king. But that look in those steel eyes– they spoke of desperation, of a life suppressed and denied freedom. Steve wasn’t daft. In those eyes, Steve saw himself, clear and free of England’s patriotism. He wore the colors of oppression, the symbol of a king who let others die in his stead, he grew up reciting prayers altered to fit a king angered by the Catholic Church. He was a lie, and all it took was that flash, unfiltered, raw and so very clear in the blue coat’s gaze. So Steve lowered his bayonet, dropped to his knees and pulled out his bandages. 

The man flinched away, but his throat betrayed him with mangled whines of pain. He let Steve undo the buttons on his jacket and rip open his cotton shirt. The wound glistened in the barn. Orange flames from Steve’s lantern painted the man’s chest in wild flashes of color. Steve pulled out a flask of water, cleaning the wound. He’d need ale to prevent infection, but Steve couldn’t move him like this. 

“W-why? So you c-can take me prisoner? Torture me for information?” The man spit in Steve’s face. “Fuck you.” 

“No.” Steve wiped the saliva off his cheek. “Because fuck the king. That’s why.” 

The man’s eyes rounded, his sharp gaze was less wolf and more human. His skin even warmed as he relaxed against the hay. 

“Those’re traitor’s words,” he said before coughing. “You’re a captain.” He pointed to the gorget over Steve’s sternum. 

“Yeah well, maybe I’ve seen enough people die for a man who’s too scared to fight his own battles.” 

The man tried to laugh, but it came out garbled and wet. He rested his head back, adam’s apple bobbing. “Welcome to the rebellion, red coat.”

“What’s your name, blue coat?”

The man flashed a smile, his canines glinting in the lantern light. With a wince, he sat up more, holding the bandages where Steve packed the wound. “Get me outta here alive, and I’ll think about telling you.” 

­

dear anon who just put a paragraph of explicit sonic/ronald mcdonald slash fic in my inbox. i know i basically brought this on myself but it still made my eyeballs fall out of my head. thank you. also fuck you for making me read the words “pallid clown flesh”

I’m stuttering, stumbling (and spilling coffee)

It was a quiet morning, like many others, quiet, still, idle, peaceful, the town seemingly asleep, Trini’s favourite time of day. No one to talk or bother her, no expectations to fill, just a comfortable silence, which Trini relished in. 


anonymous asked:

Royai bread au for #6? :)

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Roy gave her a lazy smile and rubbed the spot on the bed beside him, inviting Riza to join. “I just figured since the weather’s so crumby, we might want to loaf around.”

Riza arched a brow. “You know what that’ll lead to,” she said as she hung her purse over her desk chair, silently confirming to herself that he was, indeed, naked beneath her bedsheets. “We’ve already discussed how dangerous this is, especially considering how closely we’re being watched. The chances of having a bun in the oven will completely crumble your chances of…-” She stopped mid-though, stunned by her odd choice of words. They had discussed the danger of it before, but never had she phrased it quite like that.

Roy weighed what she said, though it was clear that he was as disappointed as she. “You’re going to make me rye, Lieutenant,” he finally said teasingly. “Dough I agree. You’re right.”

Riza rolled her eyes and shook her head before making her way over to him and sat on the bed beside him. “You’ve been awfully kneady lately, sir,” she warned. “I know that it’s hard, but-” She stopped herself again and furrowed her brows. ‘Kneady?’ She had thought ‘needy’ but in her mind she visualized ‘kneady.’ And had she heard him say ‘rye’ instead of ‘cry?’

“Sir,” she started again. “Have you noticed that we’ve been speaking in bread buns -I mean, puns.” Just what was happening to them?

Roy’s brows knitted together and he sat up, the smirk on his face melting away as he ran over their conversation again in his mind. Finally, his eyes narrowed and he nodded. “You’re right, Lieutenant. Something is definitely… a rye.” 

oh my god i need someone to bribe me into writing

3

Hypothetical Handplates scenario in which Sans realizes he can teach himself Common.

(Ugh, tumblr is making them blurry for some reason so I guess full-view if you want the not-blurry version??)

Convoluted explanation incoming. Handplates is an Undertale fancomic by @zarla-s and if you like Papyrus and Sans, go read it, is good stuff. So I guess this is an AU fancomic of an AU fancomic? I dunno, the idea wouldn’t leave my brain until I did something with it. So. Zarla did a Christmas doodle where Gaster gave the boys a box of ginger cookies that had the word COOKIES on the side in big letters, and because my job gives me way too much time to think about random stuff, I realized something.

In Handplates, Gaster taught the bros to read and write Wingdings but deliberately did not teach them monster Common (ie: English) so they can’t read his nametag or anything. Thing is, Wingdings is a 1:1 substitution cipher for English. Every Wingdings symbol exactly equals an English letter; it’s not a different language, just a different set of pictures. As somebody who has taught herself a fair number of substitution ciphers, there are a few things you look for when you’re trying to translate a code and you don’t have a key in front of you. Most notably, single-letter words (in English they will usually be A or I) or double letters next to each other. Like the OO in “COOKIES”.

Sans is smart. Gaster has fed them junk food before and odds are good Sans knows how to spell “COOKIES”. The word is on the box in huge letters and Gaster just said it out loud, so it is fresh in Sans’ mind. That double-O is a huge tip-off. He would put it together that the word on the front of the box matches what’s inside. Once you figure out a few of the letters, it becomes steadily easier to decode the rest.

I feel like Gaster exposes the boys to enough Common (the nametag, food wrappers, computer monitors, the books Sans sits on) that Sans could pick it up with a proper starting point. Papyrus probably not, because he had a hard enough time with Wingdings, but Sans is eager for any opportunity to undermine Gaster and I’m sure he’d jump at the chance. In this comic he elects not to tell Papyrus, though. He doesn’t know Gaster has cameras in the cell (or even what a camera is) but he’s figured out that Gaster can spy on them somehow, and the last time Gaster caught them learning something he didn’t like, Papyrus got the ever-loving hell beat out of him. So Sans keeps quiet about it for now. And thus starts the long-standing tradition of keeping important secrets from his brother.

On the technical side, it took me a freakin’ week to sketch and outline this whole thing. Coloring and shading only took me like a day. In the meantime Zarla actually kinda addressed the cookie comic, but this was almost done by then so oh well. I’m finding my poses and proportions turn out a LOT better when I’m doodling skeletons, like what, drawing basic anatomy will make you better at anatomy, you don’t say?? A lot of this was a self-challenge to see if I could imitate Zarla’s art style, and I referenced previous Handplates comics a lot for the backgrounds and Sans’ face. Full disclosure: Gaster’s pose up there is basically copied from Zarla’s original comic because I was rushing through to get on to the actual meat of the story. He’s just here for setup. I had fun trying to figure out how to do his Lost Soul head though. Also, I hate Papyrus’ face from the front. Also also, it was tricky trying to convey “mentally translating an unknown alphabet into a known one” when pretty much everyone who sees this comic is already familiar with the “unknown” one and not the “known” one, but I think I pulled it off. 

TL;DR- I imitated somebody else’s style to do an AU of an AU; I am not Zarla; Zarla is the creator of Handplates and also Gaster’s pose in the first panel; I like ciphers too much and also I gave the cookies icing because that is the only kind of ginger cookie I know.

And next thing you know, you’re awake, crying, at 3 am with no one to talk to and that’s when you realize that you’re completely and utterly alone.
—  excerpt from a book I’ll never write #7 // D.P
He’s the sun, he’s warm and bright, but he’s repetitive and predictable. And he burns me. But you, you are a thunderous rain storm. You’re rare, and exciting, unpredictable and breath-taking. And I’d rather drown in you than get burned by him. You sweep me away, you appear unexpectedly and catch my breath. And I’d take getting blown off my feet than getting sun stroke any day.
—  You are the unforecasted storm.

anonymous asked:

More bachelor au pls

okay, so phichit is a producer on the bachelor and also good friends with katsuki yuuri, one of the top world male figure skaters, right?  and he knows that yuuri struggled a lot last season and is considering retirement, and he has this Grand Idea, which is to get yuuri to be The Bachelor for the show’s 867th season.  “being on a reality show will get your mind off of skating during the off season,” phichit promises. “there’ll be challenges, romance, it’ll be harmless fun.”

“i don’t know about romance,” yuuri says, but he says sure, and when he looks at the contract, he asks phichit, “so The Bachelor is like… twenty bachelors just living in a house together?”

“sure!” phichit says, because he really has yuuri’s best interests at heart, okay. 

yuuri doesn’t realize what he’s got himself into until he’s standing on the steps of this mansion in a tuxedo that the wardrobe department provided, and these guys keep stepping out of limos and introducing themselves to him with these double entendres, and half of them are dental hygienists and another quarter of them work in the stock market, and they are all very, very handsome.  “excuse me,” he hisses at executive producer victor nikiforov, “what is going on?” and then, “what do you mean they’re here for me, why would– oh my god, oh my god, this is the worst thing i’ve ever done,” and it takes victor nikiforov’s soothing hands and nice smelling broad chest against his face and strong arms around him and encouraging words to get back on those stairs because at the end of the day, yuuri signed a contract.

after meeting all of the “guests” (”suitors!” yuuri hisses at phichit upstairs in an empty bedroom used for the production staff, “you didn’t tell me all the other bachelors would be SUITORS. SUITING ME”), yuuri proceeds to go downstairs, wind his way through a series of men that he’s supposed to give a welcome speech to, and finds the bar in back and manages to get endearingly annihilated. even the men who wanted to get on the show for exposure and not to find true love are like, holy shit.  he’s not a ten.  he’s an eleven. he doesn’t register on any scale.  everyone is smitten, even executive producer victor nikiforov, who hasn’t been excited with being on The Bachelor project for the past half decade.  

Ten days ago I missed you.
I cried and cried and prayed you’d call me.
I told myself I’d never be happy without you.


Five days ago you called.
You got mad for no reason and reminded me of all of the reasons we didn’t work.
You stomped my broken heart into the dust and then told me we’re friends again.


Today I can’t stand you.
You’re on my mind so much for all the bad reasons.
I can’t stand anything you do, the things I use to think were cute and quirky are just plain annoying now.
Everytime I run into you I resist the urge to lash out at you and tell you how annoying you are and how i’m so much better without you.


But if I hate you so much,
Why are you still on my mind?

—  sunshxnequote-s
Rockabye (pt.6)

genre: fluff and just a little angst / stripper!au

pairing: you x jimin 

word count: 3.3k 

You still couldn’t believe Jae-Eun called Jimin dad. That was his first word. Yeah, he’s mumbled words here and there but never once called you mom. He normally just screamed to get your attention and that seemed to work pretty well.  The fact that Jae-Eun called Jimin dad shocked you. It was so unexpected and crazy because the two haven’t even been together much and even when they were, it was for only a couple of minutes.

Jimin felt so bad, not because Jae-Eun called him dad but because he still hasn’t called you mom. You understood, though. He was only around 7 months old and you figured his brain hasn’t quite figured everything out yet. As much as it hurt your feelings, you knew Jae-Eun would never understand, let alone do anything on purpose considering his age.

Your phone buzzed you out of your thoughts and you looked down to smile at who it was that was texting you.

Keep reading

And the sad, tragic truth is that people never change, no matter how much you want them to.
—  D.P