niffala
Haunted by too many wips
Barely functioning mess - 18+ blog - 30s - Masterlist & Reader Masterlist
6133 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
professorscribbler
Professor of Literature
librayellow-blog
Untitled
alwaysgolds-blog
I Am Raising Hell as Far as I Can Tell.
2tsukishima-blog
[tsukki voice] pathetic
tommyhardyx
By Order Of The Peaky Blinders
Photo
You just drew me a picture. You only do that for someone you love. I only drew that because I am an artist and I want to share my gift with the world.
Resident Alien
2x16 I Believe in Aliens
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
I Quit (Pt. 3)
Warnings: Ransom being Ransom
A/N: Reader insert version found here. The Thrombeys’ opinions are NOT my own. Thoughts in italics. 18+ only due to smut and dubcon situations. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.
Chapter 2 Series Masterlist Main Masterlist
Chapter 3
It had been a few days since the Thrombey family dinner. Elizabeth welcomed the return to her mostly quiet routine. Grateful that those nights didn't usually happen more than once a month. The whole family seemed to have a flair for the dramatic and only interested in their own image. Hiding their misery behind luxury and fake smiles. How Harlan spawned such a bunch, she'd never know.
Elizabeth was sitting at the kitchen island, enjoying her drive-thru lunch. Because let's face it, she cooked for a living, and sometimes the greasy fast food hit the spot. An added bonus that it involved no work on her part. It's like they say, food tastes better when prepared by someone else. She found that all the more true on days she felt exhausted or moody.
She nearly choked on her cheeseburger when an unknown figure appeared in her peripheral vision. The man strode past her without a glance, straight into the pantry. The sound of drawers opening and slamming shut seemed extra loud as the stranger rummaged around. An angry voice rang out, “Who moved the damn cookies?”
Who does this guy think he is destroying my kitchen?
Elizabeth firmly answered, “I did.”
The kitchen invader stepped out, seemingly surprised to see an unfamiliar face staring daggers at him. Although the apron clued him into her position here. “Where's the old broad?”
“I assume you mean my predecessor, she's retired. I'm Elizabeth. I’ve been working here for a few weeks now.” She pointed her chin behind the man, “The cookies are on the bottom left.”
Instead of returning to the pantry, he moved closer to her, “Elizabeth, that's a lovely name.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “I'll be sure to tell my mom you approve.” She recognized him now from the family portrait hanging in the parlor. “I assume you're Hugh.”
His face lit up, “Smart girl.” His eyes scanned her from head to foot, openly ogling her. “A pretty girl like you can call me Ransom, though.”
This time her eyes rolled without her permission. “Is that supposed to make me feel special?”
Ransom didn't answer. Instead he leaned over the island, snatching a french fry. He made a show of slowly bringing it to his mouth and eating it, daring her to say something. She wanted to slap it out of his greedy hand. Or maybe shove the whole lot down his throat. She wasn’t sure.
“Well, it's been fun, but I have to see my grandfather. I have an important matter to discuss with him.” He sucked the salt from his fingers. “Maybe I'll swing back after so we can chat. Get to know one another better.” He winked at her, walking out with a swagger and a smile.
What an ass.
Was he cute, absolutely. But Elizabeth was all too familiar with narcissistic jerkwads like him. Her school was full of them. She refused to let him get to her.
Fran had told her Ransom liked to show up whenever he felt like it, stir the pot, then slink off into the darkness after he had his fun. His family took the bait every time, so he delighted in causing them any amount of misery or aggravation he could. She also mentioned how he and his grandfather seemed to thrive in having a go at one another. Pissing the other off was their favorite pastime, but they loved each other dearly. The relationships in this family were beyond dysfunctional.
---------------
A few hours later, Ransom made his way back into the kitchen, intent on seducing Harlan's new chef. The old man put up a fight, but eventually caved in to his demands. He always did eventually. Too kind to let his first grandkid suffer through life and legal battles alone and without a new car. A few choice words, a few rounds of Go and he was putty in his hands.
Now it was time to get something else he wanted. He paused, leaning against the doorframe, quietly observing the young chef while she chopped vegetables. She looked so innocent, so unbothered. Poor thing didn't know what she was in for.
It was quite sexy watching her work. Smiling to himself, Ransom closed in on her, wanting a better look. The shk shk shk of the blade hitting the cutting board didn't falter. It was a bit hypnotic, her expert hands made it look so easy. He wondered what else she could do with those hands. Promising himself he’d find out.
“You'd look better with your hair down.”
Elizabeth didn't bother looking up at the attractive nuisance. He was so close that whatever expensive cologne he wore filled her nostrils, distracting her. “That's not a good idea while I'm cooking.”
“So grouchy,” Ransom pouted. “You should be nice, smile more. I'm sure you have a beautiful smile.” She turned her head to glare at him. That was not the reaction he wanted. What would it take to get her to play? “You realize one word from me and my grandfather will fire you?”
“Do YOU realize I'm holding a big ass knife?” She waved the blade for emphasis.
Ransom held his hands up in surrender, backing away dramatically. “Take it easy there, Killer. I was just being friendly. It wouldn't hurt ya to do the same. You might actually enjoy it.” The shit eating grin remained plastered on his face as he exited.
No, but it very well might kill you, asshole. Not wanting to lose her position, Elizabeth smartly chose to not speak that part out loud. Just in case.
A breath she didn’t realize she was holding released upon hearing the front door slam. He was gone. She got back to the task at hand, but would be lying if she said her mind didn’t start to wander.
Damn he smelled good.
Chapter 4 (Coming Soon)
1 note
·
View note
Text
|| I still love you - I promise ||
I told you we would fix it for you. This should have been.
362 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Quit (Pt. 2)
Warnings: The Thrombeys being themselves
A/N: Reader insert version found here. The Thrombeys’ opinions are NOT my own. 18+ only due to smut and dubcon situations. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.
Chapter 1 Series Masterlist Main Masterlist
Chapter 2
The first two weeks of Elizabeth's employment went smoothly. Harlan did indeed have a taste for sweets. The rest of his palate she worked at learning, but he seemed happy with her efforts. When he didn't care for a dish, he would let her know and she gladly made him something else. Funny enough, the man would ask for tomato and mayo sandwiches, with just a touch of salt and pepper. Such simple requests from such an interesting man.
It was finally the day she was dreading, her first Sunday family dinner with the Thrombey clan. Fran had gossiped about the family with her while she began preparations. She explained who everyone was, their quirks, and entitlements. She had an asshole rating system that Elizabeth found amusing.
Fran found most of the family intolerable, except Harlan of course. “The top asshole, a number 10, has to be Harlan's grandson, Ransom. But don't call him that, ever. He makes the help call him by his first name, Hugh. He's handsome, for sure, but don't let his face fool you. He is a massive jerk and will charm you, use you up and spit you out like that.” She snapped her fingers and huffed.
“Luckily, he doesn't come to many of these dinners. Not that the rest of them are any easier to deal with. Seriously, they should have their own reality show so the world can see them snarl at each other like a pack of rabid hyenas. I suggest you steer clear of them when you can. These nights can get ROUGH.”
“Duly noted.”
Fran smiled before leaving to set the table. “Good luck tonight. And if you need a little mood stabilizer at the end of the insanity, just let me know. I got you girl.”
---------------
Elizabeth's anxiety increased with every new voice that echoed through the large home. She couldn't hear much of the conversations, but was confident Fran would fill her in if she missed anything juicy. So she continued cooking in peace.
Speak of the devil, the brunette rushed into the kitchen, “Top asshole and Harlan’s mother are m.i.a., but the rest are seated. Tell me the app is ready?” Fran already looked so done with the night.
”Right over there. Description card included.”
“Thank youuuu.” She took the appetizers to deliver to the table.
The family was just as she left them. Sitting proper with fake smiles plastered on their faces, while practically seething at one another. Fran served the table with an equally forced grin.
Richard scoffed at the bowl. “What the hell is this?”
“Richard!” Linda chastised her husband.
Fran swiftly read from the card, “A roasted butternut and apple soup with ginger and coconut milk.”
Linda took a tentative sip and her eyebrows rose. “I see Rosalee has improved.”
Donna followed her lead, also approving of the soup and the improved quality.
Harlan spoke up, “I'm afraid Rosalee has retired. I've hired someone new.” He sent Fran to ask his new chef to come out, greet his family and serve dinner.
Elizabeth pushed the cart out to the dining area. Feeling like she was walking into shark infested waters wearing a wounded seal suit. All eyes were on her as she entered. Harlan introduced her and asked what she had for them.
“I have for you a herb crusted crown roast of pork with a side of carrots and parsnips in citrus butter.”
“Um, excuse me, hi.” Joni raised her hand, pointing to the offending entrée. “We can't eat that. My Meg and I are vegan. Do you expect me and my daughter to just munch on carrots all night?”
Elizabeth nodded, "I have been informed of your dietary restrictions and made you both something separate.“ She placed the extra meal in front of them. ”Quinoa cakes with a tomato-zucchini and chickpea relish, drizzled with a balsamic glaze. But if you would like the citrus carrots on the side I can get that for you as well."
“Dietary restrictions, my ass. It's not a restriction, it's a mental illness.” Walt began to rant, “You know how you can spot a vegan? Don't worry, they'll tell you. They'll never shut up about it. Those douchebags think they're better than everyone else. They look down on us meat eaters, keep trying to convert us. Well let me tell you, eating meat is my God given right. My right! Don't you realize you can't live without meat. Your brain will die. That's why you are all so miserable, you're slowly dying.”
Donna rubbed her husband's shoulder in approval. While Richard raised his glass in salute to Walt's bullshit. Linda pursed her lips, ignoring them and trying to have a chat with her father.
Joni was on the defense, “We are the healthiest we've ever been. It's good for the planet, the environment, which benefits everyone, need I remind you.” She ignored her brother-in-law's snickering. “Let's be real, veganism is the answer to this world's problems. It is. It's the only moral choice. It clears up your skin and makes you feel good inside and out. And we don't have to feel guilty about contributing to the exploitation and slaughter of innocent lives. Animals are just like us.”
“Just like us?” Walt interjected. “Oh really, should we have dad's dogs sitting at the table with us? I tell ya, if Meg was a boy, I'd be calling DCF because you'd be depriving him of nutrients he needs to grow strong and polluting his male DNA with soy.”
“You're the one with blood on your hands, Walt. All those poor cute animals you've killed….”
Richard scoffed, “You've only been,” he raised his fingers in air quotes, “vegan for a damn month.”
“Ya well, I saw the truth and I'm changing. You'll see it too or die with all those animal products clogging your arteries... Plus it's been two months. Thank you very much.”
“I will happily eat my steak and drink my milkshakes all the way to my grave.”
Joni rolled her eyes, “Uck, you are completely hopeless.”
Walt raised his hand to silence any reply from Richard. “Don't bother. It's not worth fueling her delusions.”
That seemed to put an end to that argument. The rest of the meal went well. Although out of the whole family, only Harlan and Meg said 'thank you.' Not even the young boy spoke up. For being so rich and fancy, they certainly lacked manners.
Dessert was served without incident. Tiramisu and a mini vegan version for Joni and Meg. Harlan seemed to be in heaven, commenting on how rich and decadent it was.
After dinner was over, Elizabeth and Fran began clearing the table. Linda poked her head in, “Elizabeth, may I have a word with you?”
“Was there something wrong with your meal?”
“Oh no, no, dinner was lovely. However, I wanted to make sure you weren't making desserts like that for my dad all the time. He's getting up there in years and has to watch his cholesterol, his sugar intake, blood pressure, things of that nature. He can't be consuming food like you made tonight. He needs to eat healthier. I'd like to keep him around for a long time. I'm sure you can understand.”
“I fully understand, ma'am, but there is no need for concern. The food was chosen because this was a special occasion. It doesn't reflect his daily meals.” Elizabeth noticed Harlan a few feet behind his daughter. He winked at her before alerting her of his presence.
Linda clapped her hands, “Delightful. I'm so glad we have an understanding. I will make you a list of approved meals.” She smiled at her father before walking away.
Once Linda was out of earshot, Harlan leaned close to Elizabeth, “I'm not eating that pigeon food. You put her little list up on the message board in the kitchen and ignore it.”
Elizabeth thought she was safe. The family was dispersing out into the night. She turned on some music and began washing the dishes. Her hips swaying to the beat.
Joni snuck up behind her. “Oh I love this song.” She attempted to dance alongside Elizabeth, bumping their hips together. “Don't be shy. I could tell you recognize me. I get it allll the time now. You're correct, it's me. Owner, CEO, COO and CFO of FLAM.” She continued boasting about being a top influencer and her skin care products while Elizabeth stood there like a deer in the headlights.
An unwelcomed hand reached out to stroke her cheek, “Your skin looks so parched. You could really use a hydrating serum. My company offers the perfect product to help. It's an all organic algae blend that feels like the ocean on your face. So refreshing. And there's a vitamin C serum that will bring some life back to your overworked face.”
“Well let me tell you, FLAM is trending right now, it's going to be huge. You go ahead and follow me on twitter or instagram. I'm offering my first 100 followers a 15% off coupon. That will be available once I find the right graphic designer for my website. Those I interviewed so far just couldn't grasp my vision. This is a lifestyle I'm promoting. I have to trust they get my brand, ya know. But hold onto that coupon, it will be honored. So lovely to meet you, Evelyn.”
“Elizabeth,” she corrected.
“Sure.” Joni made her exit, blowing a kiss.
Fran entered and passed over the joint in her fingers. “It's like the fucking twilight zone isn't it.”
“You weren't kidding.”
The Thrombeys were the most insincere backstabbing piece of crap family she had the displeasure of meeting thus far. She wondered if any of them loved or were loyal to anything but money. Doubtful. Thank goodness she didn’t have to encounter them often.
Chapter 3
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
"So, the toxicology report came back on Lance."
↳ 8.11 - LARP AND THE REAL GIRL
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
I Quit Masterlist
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale & OFC (Elizabeth)
Summary: Ransom takes a special interest in Harlan’s new private chef
Warnings: some smut, noncon touching, dubcon, harassment, Ransom is his usual asshole self.
A/N: Reader insert version found here. Takes place mid-November 2013. About five years before the movie. The Thrombeys’ opinions are NOT my own. Thoughts are in Italics. 18+ only due to smut and dubcon situations. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.
Main Masterlist
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Quit (Pt. 1)
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale & OFC (Elizabeth)
Summary: Ransom takes a special interest in Harlan's new private chef
Warnings: some smut, noncon touching, dubcon, harassment, Ransom is his usual asshole self.
A/N: Reader insert version found here. Takes place mid-November 2013. About five years before the movie. The Thrombeys’ opinions are NOT my own. Thoughts in italics. 18+ only due to smut and dubcon situations. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.
Series Masterlist Main Masterlist
Chapter 1
Okay, second interview of your career. You bombed the first, but that’s expected. Don’t be nervous, you can do this...
Maybe…
Hopefully.
The passing November foliage helped calm her nerves as the GPS led Elizabeth toward Two Dearborn Drive. The oranges, yellows and reds were mesmerizing.
Driving slowly down the long private road leading to the address, a large manor revealed itself. Menacing in its appearance as it loomed over the surrounding area. Slightly intimidated, a shiver ran up her spine.
“Of course it’s a creepy country mansion. I don’t feel like I'm going to be murdered here at all.” Elizabeth exited her car, sample meal in her arms.
“One sign of a ghost and I'm gone.” She took a deep breath and raised her fist to knock, but the door cracked open before she had the chance to.
She half expected Lurch to answer, but instead it was a brunette woman. Barely visible through the few inches between the door and frame, her suspicious gaze laser focused on Elizabeth. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, I’m Elizabeth Meyers. I'm here to interview for the private chef position.”
The woman glanced down at the dishes in her hands then back up to her face, looking unimpressed. “Do you have proof of that claim? ID, resume?”
She blinked a few times trying to gauge if that was a serious request. Judging by the woman’s face, it was. Elizabeth struggled to pull out her license without dropping the food. She handed the documents over.
“Very good.” The woman welcomed her in. After closing the door, her demeanor changed. She turned to Elizabeth, a friendly smile on her face. “Welcome to the home of Harlan Thrombey. Renowned author and owner of Blood Like Wine publishing company,” she beamed with pride. “My name is Fran. Let me give you a quick tour before I show you to his office.”
Fran talked her ear off as she led her around the house of nightmares. Nearly every inch of space was filled with statues, odd figurines, and all manner of curiosities and surely cursed objects. Every room seemed to have its own library. Too many books to count, and not just his own. Elizabeth spotted many first editions from equally famous writers. She wondered if they were signed.
In the back of the house were a couple of german shepherds. Fran explained they were eight months old and still in training. “Lovable to us, but will tear the throat out of our enemies on command,” she reached her hand out, snatching at an imaginary foe.
The woman had quite the imagination. Or at least, Elizabeth hoped that's all it was. They circled around until they arrived at what she assumed was Mr. Thrombey's office.
Fran knocked twice, before opening the door. A kindly looking old man sat behind a cluttered desk. Elizabeth recognized him from the photo on the back of his novels.
Harlan rose and shook her hand, introducing himself.
“It's an honor to meet you, sir. My name is Elizabeth Meyers.”
He gestured to a set of chairs on the other side of his desk, “Lovely to meet you, as well. Please take a seat.”
Her resume and license were handed to him. He dismissed his housekeeper and handed Elizabeth back her identification. “I believe this belongs to you, dear.” His eyes zeroed in on the containers in her hands. “Are those for me?”
“Yes, sir.” She placed them on his desk and prayed he didn't notice how her hand shook. “I have for you a mini beef wellington and a slice of hazelnut and raspberry roulade.”
Harlan eagerly opened the containers. “I missed lunch, so this is perfect timing on your part.” He took a small bite of the appetizer, nodding appreciatively. He began to ask her about herself.
“Well I completed the professional chefs program at The Cambridge School of Culinary Arts in January. I went on to a six month externship at Cedar Valley Resort in Bretton Woods. After that, I had a temp job as a private chef for the Van Doren family. They're usual chef was on maternity leave. And now I am looking for long term employment.”
“That’s all here on your resume. I want to know about the real Elizabeth. What are your dreams? What are your hobbies? Do you read? Are you a fan of my work?”
“I am, actually. I love an intriguing whodunit.” She noticed he didn't finish the wellington, which worried her. Did he not like it?
His inquisitive eyes studied her, “What is your favorite?”
Coming from the author, himself, this seemed like a loaded question. “I equally love Vulcan’s Den and Nick of Time. I still own copies of both that belonged to my mother.”
“Is this the reason you applied for the position?”
Elizabeth swallowed, but decided to be straight with him. “Yes and no. You see, competition in my field is fierce. It's an uphill battle just to get an interview at a halfway decent restaurant and...”
“And my glowing recommendation will get you through the door,” he finished for her.
She doesn't deny it, “Precisely.”
To her surprise, he grinned at her. “Well I certainly appreciate your honesty. I've had numerous fans posing as chefs, and chefs posing as fans and everything in between.” He takes a bite of the dessert, closing his eyes in bliss. He takes two more large bites, finishing it.
“Normally I would hire someone with more experience, but these,” points to the food, “definitely amped up your resume. My taste buds are simply waltzing. I'd have to be a fool to not hire you.”
“So, I have the job? Truly?”
He laughed, “How can I say no after you found my weakness; rich, absolutely sinful desserts.” He licked his fingers, before wiping them on his handkerchief. “You can start on Monday.” His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, “Desserts, hmm.” He paused to scribble something down.
Elizabeth couldn't see what he wrote. Was it a grade, a note about her, was it for a story? Was her dessert going to end up in his next book? What if he wrote it down as poisoned. The Poisoned Pastry. A story of sweet betrayal. No, no, don't assume. Let the master do his thing.
”Sorry about that. At my age, I have to write things down while they are still fresh or they're pfft gone. I became an octogenarian a week prior.”
“Happy birthday.”
“Thank you. Now, back to the job. It will be Monday through Saturday, breakfast, lunch and dinner for just me. Plus the occasional Sunday night meal with my family. Five to ten people, depending. As well as occasional group holiday meals. Of which, you will be notified ahead of time.”
Harlan pointed to the empty containers. “I most definitely want more of what you’ve already made me. However, if my family asks, lie. Got that? My dearest, Linda in particular will be grilling you, so to speak. She worries about my diet, but I’m an old man, just let me enjoy things.”
“Understood, sir.”
He waved his hand, “No need for the formalities unless there is company. Call me Harlan.”
“Thank you, Harlan. I normally go by Liz.”
“I think we are going to get along just fine, Liz.” He stood, walking the few steps to open the door. The brunette woman crouched in the doorway, straightened herself, looking guilty for having been caught eavesdropping.
He chuckled, “Fran here will show you the kitchen. Feel free to make it your own. She will be doing the grocery shopping, so give her your daily list of required items. We have a variety of fridge and pantry staples to start you off.”
“She will also be helping with serving and cleaning up, as needed. For larger events, I will have a catering team come in, but I still would like you to run point.”
“Fran brings me my breakfast and lunch to wherever I happen to be, but dinner is always served at the family table. Speaking of family. I look forward to you meeting them all… Be prepared.”
Elizabeth looked at Harlan, a bit concerned at his tone, “You are making it sound like I'll need to come to work in a suit of armor.”
He shrugged, “Couldn't hurt.”
What the hell did I just sign up for?
Chapter 2
1 note
·
View note
Text
Can't recommend this author enough. Brilliant work.
A Scoonsalicious Masterlist
All fics are 18+ Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here. I exclusively write for Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader at this point in time, for maladaptive self-indulgent purposes.
Individual fics will contain individual warnings.
Bucky Barnes
(Fluff 💖) (Smut ❤️🔥) (Angst 💔) (Horror 🖤) (Violence ❤️🩹)
(Series ‼️) (One-Shot ❗️) (AU 💞) (1k+ Notes 🏆)
⚜️ Unwanted: ❤️🔥💔‼️ 🏆When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn't be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust. 153k words (Updated 4/10/24) COMPLETED, POSTING IN PROGRESS
⚜️ Like A Fairy Tale: 💔💖❗️🏆 Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true. 3.4k words (Posted 3/4/24) COMPLETED
⚜️ Your Choice: ❤️🔥💖💞❗️You're minding your own business at home one evening when local police Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes comes knocking on your door. Someone's reported a crime being committed on your property, and the sergeant can either bring you down to the station, or get you off with a warning... it's your choice. 4.3k words (Posted 3/5/24) COMPLETED
🔜 With Friends Like These...: ❤️🔥💔‼️ Lily McIntire, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You. WRITING
Hunted: ❤️🔥🖤❤️🩹‼️ A plane crash leaves you stranded in the Canadian wilderness with the one person who can't seem to stand you: Your mission partner, Bucky Barnes. You'll have to work together and put your differences aside in order to survive and get rescued. Only, the two of you aren't alone; someone, or something, is watching you from the woods. OUTLINING
Boys of Summer: ❤️🔥💔💞‼️ Every summer, the wealthy Barnes family escapes the heat of the city to their beach house on the New England coast, and every year for as long as you can remember, your father has been the caretaker of their property. Now your father's gone and you haven't seen Bucky Barnes since you two spent a summer night together when you were eighteen. Four years later, Bucky's returned with a slew of college friends in tow for the ultimate beach summer to celebrate his college graduation, and his recent engagement. PLANNING
Untitled Unwanted Sequel: ❤️🔥💔💖‼️ I will literally tell you nothing. BRAINSTORMING
225 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Bucky that isn’t how u play D:<<
78K notes
·
View notes
Text
THIS THIS THIS THIS!!!
When you finally won the battle of opening up your WIP to edit but your brain is fighting you on touching the document so you’re in paralysis like
#this is my problem#writer problems#i have a 1st draft#the story is there#but to edit and make it good enough to post#i freeze#brain turns off#fear takes over
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Being a writer your brain is either
A) STUFFED TO BURSTING with ideas you have no clue what to do with or how to make them make sense
or
B) It's a black hole that devours every inkling of creativity in your cells and you are just hoping it'll consume you too
THERE IS NO IN BETWEEN
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
I miss them ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Jack Black did more of Hit Me Baby One More Time, and I am living for this.
What an ad for Kung Fu Panda 4
17K notes
·
View notes