you are a wonderful writer my dear

Proposal, Or Something Like That

Thanks for the anonymous reminder, whoever you are ko-fi nonnie. I totally got swept up in my work and life and getting back into the swing of writing (and hopefully finishing my fic) that I kind of forgot about my wonderful ko-fi donators. You guys really helped me out sooooo much and I’m forever grateful.

This goes out to @ladydrace  for your 900-word donation that I extended to 
1292, considering I took so long to get to this. It may not be as fluffy as you expected (I tried, I did, but I’m a angst writer haha), but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks so much, again, dear.

The first time Stiles says it, Derek nearly chokes on a spoonful of ice cream. Which would be a shitty way to die, especially all they’d had to face in the last few years. Especially as the big bad of the week had slowly evolved into the big bad of the month, and the last few months had been completely quiet.

Derek should’ve known to be prepared at any moment. Except, how could anyone be prepared for this?

“God, why aren’t we married yet?” Stiles groans out after taking a giant bite of his ice cream. A little of it spills down Stiles’ arm and he chases it with his tongue, and Derek nearly chokes on his.

He realizes he’s staring at Stiles, his spoon still stuck in his mouth. He quickly rectifies the situation, removing said spoon and giving Stiles one of his best eye rolls.

“Seriously,” Stiles continues, pretty much shoveling the ice cream into his mouth at this point. “If I knew you could cook like this, I would’ve proposed ages ago.”

“It’s not cooking, Stiles,” Derek says. Because that is the easiest thing to focus on. Instead of the way Stiles is moaning around each spoonful, a little dribbling out of his mouth which should not be doing things to Derek.

“You know what I mean.”

He finally looks up, his bowl licked completely clean. And Derek can see the moment his senses come back to him as he blushes and gently places the bowl on the counter in front of him like he hadn’t just had his face shoved in there. He glances mournfully at the hand crank ice cream machine Derek had just purchased.

Derek sighs, pushing away from the counter to pick up Stiles’ bowl and refill it with the remainder of the ice cream. Apparently it was a worthwhile purchase.

“Seriously, marry me?”

****

The second time it happens, Derek is no more prepared for the words, or the images they bring to mind. Images he could never allow himself to dream of because it’s too painful to know it will never happen.

Derek had just been settling into bed with a book he was keen to finish tonight when his phone went off, a ringtone he’d never heard before but had no doubt Stiles had somehow hacked his phone just to add a ridiculous tone for himself. And a quick glance to the screen only proves his point.


With a sigh, Derek leans over and picks up the phone, half tempted to just send him to voicemail. Instead, he answers.

“What do you want, Stiles?” he says in a voice he hopes sounds firm and put out.

“Heeeeeeeeeeeey, Derek,” Stiles singsongs from the other end of the line, like he is just as surprised Derek answered the phone.

Derek sighs again, already pulling back the bedding and grabbing his jeans. “Where are you?”

“Thas not how yersposed to answer the phooooone,” Stiles slurs out, ending with a giggle like he were sharing a joke with himself.

Derek can hear a pounding bassline over the other end of the line and is already running through all the possible bars Stiles could’ve snuck into. He had two more years. Why couldn’t he just be reasonable and just wait.

“I’m coming to pick you up,” Derek says, already halfway down his spiral staircase. “Tell me where you are.”

“Oooooh. My hero.”

**

It’s easy to pick Stiles out over the crowd as he is currently on top of the bar, attempting to dance against one of the pillars. Two of the bartenders are attempting to get him down while another stands back and laughs like this is a regular occurrence, which all Derek knows, it could be.

Before Derek can even cross the room and somehow get Stiles down from his makeshift strip show, Stiles notices him.

“Derek!!!” He shouts, taking one step off the bar and before anyone can do anything, he lands flat on his face.

Somehow, Derek manages to get Stiles into the passenger seat of his car and before he rounds the car to his own seat, he takes Stiles’ hand in his and drains a bit of the pain that Stiles might not feel at the moment, but will most definitely feel in the morning. He’s almost done when Stiles’ other hand lifts and brushes across Derek’s cheek, making him freeze on the spot.

“Will you marry me yet?” Stiles says, his voice oddly clear. He’s staring at Derek with absolute concentration, as if he could will Derek into saying yes.

Derek swallows, his throat having to work extra hard over the lump that seems to have suddenly formed. There’s something in his chest, attempting to crawl out, but he shuts it down. This isn’t…Stiles doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just….Stiles being Stiles. Stiles being drunk, whatever.

Derek schools his expression before gently rearranging Stiles and placing the seatbelt around him.

“Let’s get you home,” he says before closing the door and rounding the car, too quick to notice the way Stiles’ face pinches in pain.

****

“What do I have to do to get you to say yes?”

Derek nearly brings the hammer down on his hand instead of the nail that was halfway through the fence board he was attempting to repair. He has only a moment to marvel at the fact that Stiles can sneak up on Derek without any of his senses picking up on him, before Stiles is yanking on his shoulder and spinning him around.

His eyebrows are furrowed together, his lips a thin line, and Derek can honestly say he hasn’t seen Stiles this pissed since…he can’t remember when.

“What are…” What was he even talking about? Say yes? To what?

Thankfully Derek doesn’t have to find his words as Stiles is already running over them. “I’ve asked you nicely. Twice now. But you have yet to answer. And maybe I haven’t been the but I haven’t been subtle.”

Derek blinks. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re out here fixing my dad’s fence without even being asked,” Stiles continues as if Derek hadn’t spoken. He’s waving his hands around in a way that makes Derek want to hold them down for everyone’s safety. “You made my absolute most favorite flavor of ice cream without me even asking. You drove twenty minutes out of your way to pick me up from a bar because I was too shitfaced to drive home. How the hell am I supposed to keep my emotions at bay with you doing everything in your power to test them?”

“I don’t…”

“Would you just marry me already?” Stiles says in a huff, full on glaring at Derek by now.

“Okay.”

Stiles looks about ready to go into another rant when the words finally process. He freezes. “O…okay?”

A small smile spreads across Derek’s face. Who knew he could ever actually make Stiles speechless.

“Yes, okay. I’ll marry you.” He takes advantage of Stiles’ stunned silence by pulling him in closer until they’re pressed together from thigh to chest. His smile grows as Stiles’ eyes widen and his breath catches. “But we might want to consider going on at least one date before we do.”

“You…you better not be playing around,” Stiles breathes out. He tries to make it sound teasing, but Derek can see the uncertainty in his eyes.

“I’m not if you’re not,” Derek says, leaning his down ever so slowly, giving Stiles time to pull away.

Stiles’ eyes drop to Derek’s mouth as his tongue unconsciously comes out to wet his lips. God, he’s wanted this for so long.

“It’s a date, then,” Stiles says on a breath, his eyes never leaving Derek’s lips.

When all is said and done, you’re supposed to move on. You’re supposed to close the chapter on him, and take your first step on your own feet. But that’s not how it works.
You can’t move on from one day to another.
It’s not possible.

Instead, you’ll cry in your bed for weeks, and you’ll feel so alone. And you’ll blame the timing and your differences and everything that makes it a little easier not to blame yourself. But you will.
You’ll wonder if it was something you said or something you did or whether you are pretty or skinny enough. And it’s a fucking tragedy,- not knowing.

And all you can do is just keep hurting, until one day, it may not hurt so bad anymore. Or maybe, maybe it’ll always burn, but you’ll just learn to live with the constant fire caused by the absence of him.
But you’ll always wonder why.
And that right there, my dear, that’s what’s gonna break you every single time.

—  F.F. // Thoughts after you left #5
3

Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas.

“Your sonnet is quite lovely, and it is a marvel that those red rose-leaf lips of yours should be made no less for the madness of music and song than for the madness of kissing. Your slim gilt soul walks between passion and poetry. I know Hyacinthus, whom Apollo loved so madly, was you in Greek days. “

“Besides, I want to see you. It is really absurd. I can’t live without you. You are so dear, so wonderful. I think of you all day long, and miss your grace, your boyish beauty, the bright sword-play of your wit, the delicate fancy of your genius, so surprising always in its sudden swallow-flights towards north and south, towards sun and moon — and, above all, yourself. “

“He has also ruined my life, so I can’t help loving him — it is the only thing to do.”

Lazy, Rainy Sunday

Summary: Lazy, rainy Sundays with Bucky are usually spent in bed, with lots of love.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,040

Note: 10000% fluff. This is dedicated to my dear friend @buckyywiththegoodhair who has been so kind and gracious and wonderful to me. She is a beautiful soul and an incredible writer and friend. I adore soft Bucky and I’ve been itching to write this, so enjoy !

Originally posted by theimpossibleg1rl

Sunday.

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. You loved Sundays in the fall–walks in the crisp open air, the colors of the changing leaves, the coolness of the air nipping at your skin.

But mostly, you loved rainy Sundays.

When it’s 11:32 in the morning and it feels like the day is just beginning, but has already passed you by in quiet bliss. The soft rain making little pit pat sounds against the window, each drop following a trail to nowhere in particular down the glass, making indiscreet patterns as they move. The grey clouds in the distance, peacefully looming over the world like how a mother gazes down at her newborn child. The rain seems to be heaven’s way of cleansing the world, of refreshing everything around and giving life back to the scenery after how harshly it has been treated by the beating sun of the summer. It makes the world feel smaller, softer somehow, like it knelt and cried and felt the pain of everything around it. It’s a perfect reminder that the grease and grime and tragedy from the previous nights could be washed away, that one could have a clean slate and a new day.

Rainy days had always calmed you. They were also a perfect excuse to stay in bed all day and curl up with your super soldier boyfriend.

Calloused fingers were making gentle patterns on the warm skin of your bare back, yet it was one of the softest sensations you’ve ever felt. Cracking open your eyes, you were met with Bucky’s peaceful face, eyes closed, a look of pure relaxation on his features. Seeing him so at peace and so at home with you made your heart swell in your chest, and you adored seeing him like this. Cozy. Comfortable. Safe.

You knew he was already awake–he usually was by the time you woke up–but he was enjoying the warmth of your bed and your soft figure in his arms. It was his favorite place to be.

You shifted closer to him and his arm automatically tightened around your back, bringing your chest flush against his. You placed a chaste kiss on the skin of his neck and pulled back, his blue-grey eyes gazing back at you lovingly. His flesh hand traced over the curve of your spine and stopped at the pool of hair at the back of your neck, where he entangled his fingers. He always enjoyed touching you with his flesh hand, happily infatuated with the skin to skin contact. It was like he was making sure that yes, you were here with him and that you wanted him–like you were real. It grounded him, made him feel human.

His thumb was caressing the space just behind your ear. You smiled softly at him, “Hi.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up in a tiny, lopsided grin. “Hi.” The flower string lights that hung above your headboard gave his face a soft, warm glow in the daylit room, making his eyes shine as they held your gaze. The rain continued to make the pit pat against your window, the only sound from the outside world.

He closed his eyes and kissed your forehead, heaving a great sigh as he leaned his own against it. His hand trailed all the way down to your waist before hooking it under your knee and placing your leg around his own, entangling your limbs together. His hand caressed your leg, grazing over the curve of your hip, down your thigh and back up in a tender cycle. He released another breath, his body curling into your own.

You stared at his face, openly admiring it and taking in every freckle and line on his skin. Bucky was so so beautiful on the outside, with a soul on the inside to match. There had been countless nights filled with nightmares, tears and doubt, and your heart ached with all the memories of his tortured and neglected soul; but here in your bed, eyes closed, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the lazy, content smile on his lips, all of the bad things were long and forgotten at the door. He was just another man, lying in bed with the love of his life.

You uncurled your hands from your chest and cupped his face, closing your eyes and placing your lips to his. You put everything you were feeling into it, and he responded eagerly and with just as much passion. His fingers tightened on your thigh and his metal arm moved slowly from underneath the pillow to wrap around your shoulders, bringing your bodies impossibly closer. Your lips moved in sync as you kissed each other, all of the love being exchanged between your movements. Skin to skin, it was a romantic gesture–kissing for the sake of kissing, for the sake of enjoying the moment and wanting it to last as long as physically possible. He kissed you like he was a drowning man and you were the air he needed to breathe, and he loved you like he was the desert and you were the sun.

It slowed down, turning into long kisses placed everywhere–your neck, your collarbones, your shoulders, your forehead, your cheeks, until a lasting kiss was placed on your lips.

You opened your eyes and met his blown pupils, his flushed cheeks and swollen lips. His eyes took their time as they took your face in, his flesh hand going back to rubbing up and down your thigh.

Your thumb went back and forth on his cheek. “Buck?” He hummed in response, letting you know that you had his full attention. Your voice was soft, just above a whisper, afraid to break this bubble that encompassed you. “I love you. So, so much.”

His eyes met yours, and the unabashed smile that cracked his lips made your heart soar. He leaned forward, giving you another chaste kiss and tucking you comfortably against him. Your arms went around his bare waist, a light chuckle escaping him as you nuzzled against each other.

“I love you, too. So, so much.”

The rain continued outside as you and Bucky settled in, all of the troubles of the world far, far away.

Laura’s goodbye

Hello petals, yesterday and today I talked with Laura about why she decided to delete her blog. 

I understood her reasons and I agreed (ofc, duh) to post this message on her behalf. Now I beg you, please read her words, for she really, really wanted to let you all know why she did such a thing. 

What you’ll read it’s extremely important and I hope you can find a bit of time to think about her reasons and the whole situation concerning our fandom and the relationship between writers and readers. 

I’m sure we all will miss Laura, because she was not only a great writer but also a lovely, beautiful person <3

So, without further ado, these are Laura‘s words for you.


Hello guys! It’s Laura (previously @pantaemonium-deactivated2017062).
First of all I want to thank my dear Conny for allowing me to post this on her blog. I really wanted to have a chance to say goodbye to you. 

Many of you will be wondering what happened, how did someone who had just posted that morning and gave no sign whatsoever that she was going to leave… actually left with no explanation at all. Truth be told, I had been thinking about deleting for the longest time. As time passed, I felt more burdened, more pressured to write Fallout, or create contents you would like instead of going for the stories I wanted to write and, at some point I could no longer write a word of the many stories I had started out of an impulse. For someone whose only way of expressing herself is writing, this was devastating and it was taking a great toll on my mental health I was not willing to face for the sake of my blog. 

Keep reading

you do not need to wait for someone to buy you flowers, you do not need acknowledgement — go out in your best uniform ; dilly dallying across the aisles as if they were farmlands; beige colored grasses playing hide and seek with your sole, wanting to swallow you greedily because no one thinks of them anymore. Enter the flower shop, ask for your favourite flowers or for a flower with no flowers — whichever describes you best— but buy. Go to the department store with that bunch clutched in your left; strangers throwing strange glances but none of them can enter your world— maybe they will even go back home and end up thinking about you and your flowers and the next thing they know is that they are in front of your flower shop, buying your flowers— a few petals fall off as you explore your pockets for some change in the counter, those petals are the dead sells of your worldly worries falling apart— i cannot say whether those gap will be replaced by a fresh new petal or not but I can surely say that the weight of your shoulders feels lighter— out through the store, flowers in your arms and a bag of processed food on the other— walking back home you are not just walking back home, you are walking back to a room that is going to be nauseated with fragrance within the next 20 minutes but at least you will be nauseated with the fragrance of your choice. There is no burden because from this point on your life is solely yours. You chose your burden and that just feels wonderful. Your life is your bubble. You choose what enters it and what stays outside. Within the next three month that room is going to be filled with you and all the things that characterise you, that describe you, that represent you — that is you—and that, my dear, is what wonderland is.
—  Mio
5

☆ For the story Constant as the Moon, my @voltronbang project with the amazing Aurum and Sylvyr! It’s a fantastic canon-divergent fic that explores what could have happened if Shiro were to climb the ranks in Galran society instead of being rescued by Ulaz. Please check it out, especially if you love dear sweet Shiro! ☆

This has been the most wonderful project to work on, as well as being my first Big Bang, first colored comic, and first time drawing most of these characters, and I’d love to do another one soon! And maybe doodle a few of Aurum’s other Voltron stories… Please check out the writers’ blogs as well!

 A bit rushed to finish in time for fanfic writer appreciation day! @mushi0131 is an amazing writer, and I follow all of her stories! I literally get so happy when I see an update on any of them! But, oh dear, the way she writes Natsu in her newest fic, Banging Beats…wow! Slay me. Hehe, so here’s my gift to you, and a token of my appreciation for your wonderful writing!!

Read Banging Beats here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12588095/1/Banging-Beats

every star is a clue, and one of might lead me to you
because trust earned in time gave way to all consuming longing
 without you I’m stuck halfway between wondering why and knowing


and our eyes stay locked, lending hope, lending strength 
and if I could, I’d take your scars, your suffering and make them mine
my beloved, I mouth your name and give you everything I hold dear


with the sun in my eyes, you were gone
but I knew even then, my heart spilled on the ground
that in a crowd of thousands, I’d find you again

—  Everything to Win by Abby S

anonymous asked:

You sound extremely annoying. No wonder why no one loves you lol

Dear hater,  

Everyone is a little annoying at times, It’s apart of being human. May I add that right now you are fucking annoying aswell.
But for the fun of it let’s compare our lifes. A hater and a writer.
I do what I love to do, writing. And I have amazing followers that seem to enjoy what I do!
Then we have you, hating on me. A person you have never talked to or know.
That is pretty darn sad when you look at it. Maybe reconsider some parts of your life? Also to add up, my family loves me and I have never been happier! I’m achieving my goals and I actually love my life, so I’ll have to say that the fact that no one loves me is infact,wrong. 
I must say I’m thankful I’m confident enough to be me, ulike you. Who seem to decide to try and bring others down because of your own insecurities. There is help for you out there. Take it before you get as annoying as you claim I am ;)

Have a great day my dude!

- R 

2

hi hello friends and fic writers alike!! as you know if you saw the interest post going around, my dear friend @rileysmatthews and i are officially organizing a rucas fanfic week for the month of may!! hopefully most of us will be heading towards the tail end of school or at least lightening up on work load. we know there were a couple of awesome fic weeks done for our wonderful kiddos in the past, and we wanted to try our hand at one of our own so here we are!!

the writing for the week (may 16 - 23)

much like the way i structured lucas appreciation week back in february, kate and i decided we wanted to do an 8-day extravaganza, leaving the last day as a free day for y’all to write whatever tickles your fancy! and as always, these prompts are just inspiration, feel free to take them as seriously or lightly as you wish!! for those of you who do like a little more guidance, however, we’ve also included three “hints” to go with each prompt if you’re feeling stuck and want a little more help.

  • day 1 // canon verse ; something that takes place in the canon universe as we know it (hints: date, second kiss, “this is all just one big misunderstanding”)
  • day 2 // hand-holding ; we know these kiddos are always holding hands, time to write about it even more (hints: reaching out, holding back, “your hands are cold”)
  • day 3 // one exception au ; “au where everything is the same except ______” you know you’ve heard it before, and even minor changes can have big impacts (no hints for this one as it’s really… really open-ended)
  • day 4 // argument ; even the best of couples have their bad days, but not all arguments are all that serious (hints: long distance, secrets, “you know what? i’m over it.”)
  • day 5 // future ; jump past the canon world we know and take a shot at where these losers will be down the road (hints: senior year, college, “can you believe we’ve been dating for ___ years?”)
  • day 6 // hugging ; just let the kids hug gosh dang it (hints: good news, long day, “how long does your ideal hug last?”)
  • day 7 // family OR fix-it fic ; two options here for the last official day of the week. you could go for the family angle, whether that means the matthews or the kids of our kids is up to you!! on the other hand, if there was something mj and co. did that really pushed your buttons, this is your chance to fix it!!
  • day 8 // au + free choice ; i’m not talking canon-compliant here. i want crazy, different circumstances, out of this world aus. send em to space. give em magical abilities. go absolutely nuts. or, write whatever you want. it’s free choice! (au hints: spies, wizarding world, “how the hell did we end up in this situation?”)

other important nonsense

  • make sure to tag your work with #rucasficweek2017 !!
  • READ EACH OTHER’S WORK !! we all know how hard it is to be a fic writer and hear nothing, let’s take this week to also comment on each other’s contributions !! show some love !!
  • feel free to come to me or kate if you have any questions, comments, or just wanna chat !!
  • HAVE FUN !! the show may be over but these kiddos live forever in our hearts (and our fics lmao. unless u kill em. then that’s on u.)
  • write on and read on, mad dogs

“…the baby was left safely cocooned in Jellal’s arms, wriggly as he might be, and the new father was free to feel the wonder of holding his son for the very first time.”

                    Stowaway an Epic Tale of Pigheadedness by @bellagill92


Tiny tiny welcome present for my most favorite JerZa writer and dear friend who underwent a surgery and now is finally recovering, may God bless you my dear. Your fics soothes my soul and I run to your page to read everytime i feel stressed or sad. Those fics are healing! i swear! <3 <3 

I hope someday you can write more, reading your stories are my favorite thing to do aside drawing ;)

There are more pics to come!

Aha! I have managed to finish something! Because I think I am busy on @viperbranium‘s actual birthday, I shall post this early - have some fluffy first-meeting Evanstan writer-of-kid’s-books Seb and reading show host Chris AU! And have a lovely birthday, my dear! I hope it is EVERY BIT AS WONDERFUL as you deserve. <3333

##

Chris shows up for his first day on set nervous. He knows what he’s here to do, he knows he wants to do it, he just can’t quite shake the sense that he’s going to flub a line or sit too stiffly or fail completely at reading.

He eyeballs the children’s book in question. He’s read it three times to get used to the rhythms, the pacing. Lots of good messages. Superheroes, compassion, accepting help.

The book eyeballs him right back, but somehow does so with kindness. It knows about encouraging nervous kids. Chris Evans, clumsy with enthusiasm, is pretty much a big kid at heart, and could use the reassurance, right?

Keep reading

THE RULE: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic/original/anything!) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

“Look, kitchen wench, look at it puffing! I wonder if it knows it’s dying. I wonder if it knows it has a fair chance to kill whatever was killing it after it dies… Do you think it takes comfort in it?” He smiles. “Funny little fella isn’t, this little fugu." 

Guess who said thaaattt hahahaha. Tagged by lovelies @nijigendiaries and @yoolee

Oh well, that’s technically a paragraph but hey, hahahaha. Let’s see if I can tag 50 people (probably not hahahahaha) @lomololita , @yoolee (lol, back at you two because I am thirsty for your writings) and my waifu @ficklemindswander and lovely talented writers whose words I have enjoyed @mannafrancis @zacroix @cynicalceladon @midorikaze @koudaiin @incorrect-slbp-quotes @jemchew  @han-bye @letting-them-take-liberties @suzunesays @tiggeryumyumm @stereobone  @incorrectslbp @diannascribes @reinasescape @thegrowingjoy @juniperotome @han-pan @tentoriwrites @kanarenee @kata-ru @dear-mrs-otome @lostcauses-noregrets

and those who have made my dash a wonderful place to escape @jane-runs-fast @daeva-agas @shokundayo @cottonballwithmustache @shioune @bulbaqueen @buddy-anon @manju-booty @rainbowatnight @manju-booty @belxsar @catchthespade @thedaydreamingotaku @shabbybabby @little-lady-mimi @namikala @foreverendevor @incubeebirb @viridian99 @ravenvelith @michibluyo @nekikasete @promiscuous-jalapeno  @chapokk@mellifluousmi @laurifakristalina @kindasouta @rose-of-yonezawa @brilcrist @wizardesslover

Hey, I’ve made it! Don’t feel obligated to do this, just really want to give a shoutout, really :) as I haven’t seen some of you for a long time ;)

annileonhart  asked:

Mom, I just wanna thank you for that one post about Ymir's death. I knew there was something making me uncomfortable about it but I didn't really know what, and your post summed that pretty well. I have to say I'm mad, tbh. Like, I don't think killing Ymir was just like the "dead lesbian" plot some stories (and some games~) use because Ymir's death wasn't simply related to her relationship w/ Historia and there was more to their stories as separeted characters, but I'm frustrated, cause I feel +

+ like it was simply illogical and useless to her character. I knew any of them could die at any moment because, well, we’re talking about SnK, but I’m sad that it happened this way. I started watching SnK when I was discovering myself as a lesbian, and Yumikuri was that one ship who helped me see myself as normal, because their relationship and their character arcs wasn’t only about them being girls who romantically liked each other, but people with their own issues trying to overcome those +

+ issues. So I guess that makes me extra sad, but at least I know that Ymir’s death doesn’t make them not canon anymore. This was mostly venting so I’m sorry omg (also you can publish this if you want, it’s ok)


I want to repeat something from a conversation I had with my friend @bossard right as the serum bowl was beginning.  She tossed it off as a quick aside but it summed up everything I was feeling. 

Something authors need to be aware of when they kill characters is that somewhere is someone for whom that character is deeply important. They see themselves there, the character helps them through their struggles, and is a touchstone of strength. It’s not just ‘I love this character’ but ‘this character is part of me’.

That was Erwin for me. It sounds like Ymir is that person for you.  And my heart breaks for you. I want to make my blanket fort bigger and invite you in! 

If my experience losing a beloved character is anything to go by, it’s going to hurt for a long time. He’s been out of the story for 8 months and I’m still not over it. But it’s like you said, a character’s death doesn’t make them matter less. It doesn’t make their relationships any less important. Or any less canon. 

We also have a wonderful fandom who will step in to help ease the hurt. I haven’t checked ao3, but I’m sure the talented yumikuri writers are firing up their reincarnation aus. If you find one that brings you comfort, please share it with me.

Much love to you, my dear!

Dear Secret Valentine,

Often, I return to your page,
Wondering if today’s the day,
That pyramid will change
To your bright face
And “untitled”
Will be given a name.
All is yet to be revealed,
But perhaps this deviously divine
Mystery is your design
(As your name might imply).

So, believe what you wish of Destiny.
Poetry’s brought you, somehow, to me.
Keep your shroud of mystery,
And I’ll wonder always:
What’s yet to be?

Secret Valentine Poem for @voxdeivoxnihili

To all the fanfic writers and fanartists out there

You all are amazing wonderful people who work hard and give us content that we appreciate!!!

And for all the sweat, blood and tears that go into making each and everyone of your works i would like to thank you all from the depths of my heart!

Dear Alex,

May 7, 2017

There’s been this girl on my mind.
I won’t tell you her name because it’s simply too much for me to handle.
I’ve been seeing her in my dreams and every dream hurts more and more.
We had a past.
A past filled with memories, laughter, broken hearts, insults to hide pain, and half meanings of “I love you.”
Alex…
This girl and I - we had a past that I simply can never forget because, quite frankly, I love her. 
In this moment, I can say that I’ll scoop up my heart and admit that I love her and I know I will never stop. 
I can’t let go of her, but I say I have because I want to see her happy and hear her laugh. 
But how can I when all that makes her happy is someone else who’s poisoned her mind into thinking I hurt her too?
My dreams are invaded by her.
With her voice cooing my name and the scent of her brown sugar and vanilla shampoo penetrating my sleep. 
I haven’t been this fucked up since we said goodbye.
It’s been over a year since she said she didn’t love me anymore.
I’m sitting here today, with tears in my eyes, brown sugar and vanilla shampoo in my hair, and her name stuck in my throat.
It’s calling her out.
Wondering if she’ll ever love me again.
Wondering if she’ll ever be mine again. 
I still love her

Love always,
Someone also named Alex

*FICTION*

It was your words indeed
The sweetest, that I fell for
And in the very end, my dear
It was your words, the cruelest
That broke me.
Broke everything.
This love was just a fiction,
Somethig I made up in my head.
We lived in a fantasy world,
Playing perfect match characters.
It is now harder to think,
Even harder to dream
About the flawlessness of love
While it brought tears and pain
To me.
Destroying everything.
This love was just a fiction,
The image of you was all made up
And no wonder I fell for
A perfeclty pictured heart.