#Other people can like. Forget to capitalize the first word of their sentence and their followers are like

[virusinfected-memes]

TUMBLR TEXT POST SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. 2 ;

75 starters. CW: blood mention, cussing, death. Starters come from various text posts floating around Tumblr. The only thing changed for this post was adding capitalization and punctuation. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed! [PART 1]

“Academia is cool and sexy until I’m expected to work.”

“An anime with more than a hundred episodes is a bigger commitment than marriage.”

“Anyone who believes all water tastes the same is no acquaintance of mine.”

“Anyway, that’s every reported eyewitness account of Mothman through ‘68, and that’s just in West Virginia! Haha, but enough about me. Let’s hear about your top five cryptids!”

“Aside from being the worst person alive, I am literally perfect.”

“At the end of the day, I’m just a girl who loves her bed.”

“Being equally obsessed with each other sounds hot to me.”

“Being good doesn’t get you anything.”

“Be the worst you can be.”

“But do aliens believe in me?”

“Don’t let anyone dehumanize you. Dehumanize yourself. Be the creeping eldritch horror you’ve always longed to be. Rain furious vengeance down upon those who would unmake you.”

“Do something today that would’ve gotten you burnt at the stake four hundred years ago.”

“Do you ever just want someone to come over and sit on the floor with you for a few hours?”

“Do you ever wanna listen to music, but every song is just not the right song?

“Feeling safe around someone’s energy is a different kind of intimacy.”

“Flirting is childish. We’re grown. Just tell the person you like that you see God in their eyes.”

“Friendly reminder that the age of technology is coming to an end and a new age of blood magic and dark rituals will take its place.”

“Friendship is temporary. Blood pacts are forever.”

“Girls don’t want boys. Girls want to live in a Victorian estate and be the most feared widow in the village.”

“Half of me is a hopeless romantic and the other half of me is, well, an asshole.”

“Having a body causes me so much agony. I wish I was just a floating entity with no physical form.”

“How do I overthink so much and still make the wrong decision?”

““I can fix him!” You can’t even fix your sleep schedule, bestie.”

“I don’t care if your body is a temple. Call me when it’s been closed down and taken over by Spirit Halloween.”

“I don’t know about soulmates, but those people who eat parts of the food or candy that you don’t like and you do the same for them... We’ve lived a hundred lifetimes together, probably.”

“I don’t think we can romanticize our way out of this one, boys.”

“If you see me in the streets, just know that my mind is in the void. I’m physically alive, but mentally checked out.”

“I guess we all learned a valuable lesson. Except for me. I wasn’t paying attention and was asleep for most of the time.”

“I hate when people ask what I would do in their situation because nine times out of ten, I would literally never be in that situation in the first place.”

“I hope manners is the next cool trend.”

“I just love sleep so much. Like, you just close your eyes and you’re gone, bitch. Brain logged the fuck off. Powerful.”

“I just realized there’s, like, a hundred new Pokémon coming this year, give or take, and I have to decide what personal memories and details about friends to forget in order to make room for them all.”

“I like my women like I like my woods. Haunted and could kill me at any moment.”

“I like to fuck around and waste time at least six to ten hours a day, and let me tell you, that puts some pressure on your schedule. You have no idea how busy I am.”

“I love to learn. Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t like to remember.”

“I love when I ‘make a mental note’ of something. It’s gone within twenty seconds.”

“I’m not a religious person, but I do sometimes think God made you for me.”

“I’m not playing hard to get. I genuinely don’t know how to talk.”

“I’m wearing dark glasses today because I’m seeing the future, and the future is looking very bright.”

“I think it’s so neat that everyone develops their own unique handwriting even though we’re all taught to write our letters the same way. Really, it’s so cute.”

“I think making sense is optional. Sometimes I just be talking.”

“I think the meaning of life is eating good food in the company of people you love.”

“It’s because I’m pretty, that’s why I have problems.”

“It’s crazy how I’m just some person.”

"It seems you are in love with your computer.”

“It’s not rude to interrupt someone to point out a dog. It’s actually more polite because then they don’t miss out on the dog.”

“I will never elaborate because I have no idea what I just said.”

“Live, laugh, love? Nah. Languish, lament, lay down.”

“Michael Myers taught me a valuable life lesson. Don’t worry about how fast everyone around you is moving. If you’re determined, just move at your own pace and you’ll kill shit every time. Thanks, Mike.”

“Moving to the forest to eat leaves and lie in the dirt. Insurance companies can’t deny me this.”

“Okay, bored of being alone now. Ready to get married.”

“Okay, hear me out... What if—now bear with me—we held hands? Maybe even kiss a little? Hugs would be nice—”

“People keep posting ‘what’s REALLY in your food’ articles like I’m gonna stop eating whatever it’s about. Listen, death is coming. Death is coming. Pass me a hot dog.”

“People who fall asleep right away freak me out. Don’t you bitches have thoughts?”

“Really starting to understand old people these days. I love letters. Love packages. Terrified of my email inbox.”

“Someone take me out. Either in the assassination way or in the date way.”

“Sorry for being so sexy and having the best taste in literature. As if I asked for it.”

“Sorry I called you a fucking idiot. I was trying to flirt.”

“So what if I love you? Shut up.”

“The fact that I have to be in the ‘right headspace’ to do even the simplest tasks is absolutely humiliating.”

“The only difference between me and a medieval peasant is that I can make a Spotify playlist to express my feelings.”

“The only reason I haven’t gone insane is because I romanticize everything.”

“There should be a dating app where you talk to people who borrowed the same books from the library.”

“There’s something inherently holy about kitchens.”

“Tired of being a person. Would much rather be an unidentifiable and nebulous entity that lives in the woods and may or may not be an omen of misfortune to come.”

“Wanna haunt the neighborhood with me tonight?”

“Well, I used to be attracted to people, but now I’m exclusively attracted to abstract art and the concept of death.”

“What is the logic behind naps leaving you with a weird taste in your mouth? I wasn’t eating, I was sleeping. It’s the spiders, isn’t it?”

“Winnie the Pooh didn’t rock crop tops our whole childhood to watch us become unconfident about our bodies.”

“Yes, I’m dramatic! What did you expect? I read classic literature for fun.”

“You’d look prettier under six feet of dirt.”

“You don’t always need to talk. Like, it’s good to shut the fuck up sometimes. I love not talking.”

“You gotta walk into rooms like God sent you.”

“You’re beautiful, but you’re empty. No one could die for you.”

“You wanna know what’s annoying me right now? It’s me. I am annoying the goddamn shit out of myself.”

#ask meme #inbox meme #roleplay meme #rp meme #rp sentence starters #sentence starters #tumblr #* mine

[lavenderrain31]

Stand Up Against Scammers

In North America, specifically Canada, there are very few laws or legislations forbidding anyone from purchasing a ticket for a live entertainment event and then selling it online for two, three, TEN or more times the original price. On other continents, countries like France, England, Australia, Japan, and Brazil have criminalized the act, therefore, forcing Ticketmaster to follow the rules. Taylor Swift, Beyoncé, or even Ticketmaster can’t change the law. The only way to truly make a change is to start from the inside.

The damage done to our (fans’) bank accounts can be long term, our mental health suffers every day that we are unsure if we will be able to afford a ticket before the event is sold out or starts, and everyone around us suffers for hearing us vent & express our anger and frustration to them, with no hope of letting up any time soon. Ticketmaster tried to make sure fans in North America have a fair chance at reasonably priced tickets, and they have failed over and over again. The days of AI, bots, and selling/buying tickets online are already upon us, and so is the time for change. It is my proposal to introduce new laws that protect real people who are real fans, laws that prohibit the 3rd party sale of live entertainment tickets, & laws that incriminate anyone who breaks the new laws. I believe scalpers/scammers are criminals, and in my humble opinion, they commit not one but four crimes in the process of fulfilling their own end. The crimes detailed below should be punishable in a court of law:

— The first criminal offense committed in the act of scalping is stealing an affordable seat from anyone who cannot afford to pay any more than the original face value price. The offense on morality is rooted in classism, capitalism, and socialism. The outdated ideals of society, “The poor shall not enjoy themselves”, “Money is our true god”, and we can’t forget “Anything to get ahead” are overdue for retirement. Live entertainment should be affordable for all. — The second criminal offense is marking up the price more than twice the original, making the crime of scalping more than morally unacceptable, it makes it a tax crime. All money earned has to be claimed with the Canada Revenue Agency and the Internal Revenue service of the US. If it is not claimed, and you are found out, you will be charged with tax evasion. — The third criminal offense committed in the act of scalping live entertainment tickets is fraud in the very literal definition of the word in any english dictionary and the governments of Canada, Mexico, and the United States. Pretending to be something that you are not is itself a crime and should be punished to full extent of the law. Committing fraud for monetary gain should earn scalpers an extra hearty fine or hefty sentence. An additional example of fraudulent activity is when the scalper takes the money with no ticket exchange happening. These criminals should be fined a large sum, equal to or greater than the amount they stole. — The fourth and final crime that scalpers are presently, constantly, stubbornly, and deceptively committing is harassment. A scalper may use many different tactics together to offload their inventory as quick as possible. These methods include: 3rd party websites, in which no harassment of buyers is committed, therefore there is no connection the scammers can latch onto, and will then switch to using social media as their main pipeline to selling their stock. Some people create brand new profiles, under assumably a fake name & profile pic, and advertise that they are selling. Others will take it to another level and copy & paste, manually or with bots, their spiel under every single post/tweet mentioning the topic they are targeting, hoping for any response. If you respond, they will put their hook in you and pull until you give in and either block or buy. My colourful wordplay is only to properly illustrate the point at hand: they will not stop trying to sell to you. If you don’t respond to their second reply, they will DM you if they can. If you don’t answer, they will DM you again. Unfortunately, cyber bullying, stalking, and even sending threats online is a tough charge to pursue, even with mountains of evidence.

The effect of stress from ticket scalpers is only growing worse and worse for the real fans. If something is not done to change the ways things operate from the inside out, I fear they will never change at all. It might be a lot of paperwork, but you know what was also a lot of paperwork? The indictment of Donald J. Trump and he is being arrested and charged by the end of this month, proving that miracles Do happen, in the United States justice system. We need to perform another miracle, but I think we can do it. With Taylor Swift’s brilliant mind, lobbying abilities, and high power connections, we could do it. Unfortunately, I’m not Taylor Swift, and I cannot do this alone. The petition is only the beginning, but signing it lets them know that we see them and we will not relent until our miracle is performed.

Here are some helpful tips for navigating the choppy waters of buying a ticket to see Taylor Swift: 1. Do your best not buy tickets listed above face value, if you can avoid it. Any ticket listed for a single cent above face value is and should be labeled immediately as a scam. If you encounter anyone scamming fans out of more money, call them out to their faces. Tell them whether they are a bot or not, scalping should be illegal, it is morally reprehensible and they ARE fully complicit in taking away the once in a lifetime opportunity from someone else. Taking a reasonably priced seat out from under someone who desperately waits years and years for a chance to see their favorite performer with their own eyes, and marking the price up so that anyone who is desperate enough to go into debt, will pay anything to see the show they want, should already be a crime. Unfortunately, it takes a long time to change the laws and legislation, so we can still do our best to stay safe from scams & thieves. 2. 3rd party websites charge an extra huge amount of fees on top of/or included in the ticket price. Most of them, despite having a Canadian port of their site, still only list their prices in USD. The only guarantee is that you will get a ticket, albeit at an exorbitant amount higher than the price from the original source, IE. Seat Geek, Stub Hub, Vivid Seats, TickPick, VS Ticketmaster. 3. Social media scalpers are particularly persistent in their pursuit of victims. The easiest way to spot them is by looking directly at their profile, the timeline of their posts, and checking several specific areas for signs of a scammer. Their posts, replies on Twitter, also sometimes known as but rarely ever referred to as the boring & unoriginal “X”, in most circumstances will all be the exact same. Whether it’s a manual copy/paste with a person at their keyboard grinding away at ticket theft day & night or a person who programmed a bot to hunt for unsuspecting victims, they will learn and evolve with new tactics. Some of them have taken it so far as to make their account look similar to the accounts of the target’s IE Taylor Swift’s, audience. They have the bare bones of a new account: a profile pic, a similar display name, and liking and retweeting tweets by the aforementioned target’s audience. It is sicking to think someone would charge upwards of $1000-10,000 for one ticket, but to parade around as if you belong with the real fans is borderline fraud. More on that later… These accounts have few followers, they’re whole profile done over, and still be posting the same thing on any post mentioning Taylor and tickets.

3.5 A: Twitter Direct Messages: If you have someone direct message you for tickets, it can still and most likely will be a scam. Scrub their profile before accepting the message, and if you see any signs already listed, screenshot their account and block them. Post about it on any This ensure that even if they change their username, anyone who has already blocked them,

3.5 B: Facebook groups & Direct Messages: Groups for “Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour Tickets” are plentiful, and unfortunately from what I could see, there is no easy way to distinguish a scammer from any real person with tickets, who won’t ghost you or over charge you. It’s best to avoid these groups, as it seems to be scammers’ favorite social media platform. If you post in the group searching for tickets, they will reply and message you, as persistent and annoying as they do on Twitter, not really known as X. They’re more likely to take your money and leave you empty handed, than to actually have tickets to part with.

TAKE ACTION: Thanks to an anonymous Swiftie for creating this petition and including source & contact information. The petition is to show numbers & attract attention of people in power in the hopes of starting the process for real change. We need to get the attention of members of the government (who we know are Swifties too), Ticketmaster Fan Support on twitter @TMFanSupport, taylornation13 on any platform, Taylor Swift, and more specifically the department for consumer protection in Ontario, Canada

Contact Consumer Protection Ontario: https://www.ontario.ca/page/buying-tickets-events-ontario#section-4  Email: [email protected] Phone: (from Monday to Friday, 8:30 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.) 416-326-8800 (Toronto area) TTY:416-229-6086 (Toronto area) or 1-877-666-6545 (toll free)

Email template:

To whom it may concern, I am writing to you today to bring your attention to a topic dear to my heart as I am a fan of live entertainment, more specifically (insert your favorite artists who uses Ticketmaster).

Buying tickets for a live entertainment event these days should be quick & easy for fans to do online, in the comfort of their own home. Artists’ fans who attempt this impossible feat almost never walk away unscathed. Aside from the nagging anxiety about ever getting a ticket to begin with, next comes the debt & the stress of paying it off after caving and buying a ticket listed at an astronomical price, two to ten times more than face value, only to either get the ticket and end up in the nosebleeds or with an obstructed view, or they are left with no money, no tickets, and no hope for another chance at attending the event. Although the event in question, Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour in Toronto in November 2024, is next year, the urge to buy a ticket Now to secure a seat is strong. Many of Taylor’s real fans will do anything to see her, and the ticket scalpers know this.

Several polls were taken on Twitter over the last few weeks, and according to the votes of over 23k on one poll, 71.6% were placed on the waitlist with no clear indication we would ever receive a chance to buy tickets at face value. Although this is merely a fraction of the millions who registered, it is an upsetting percentage of real fans who missed out. The amount of tickets listed for resale, marked up, is alarming. The logical explanation is that those tickets are not in the hands of real fans, even though they registered with the Verified Fan system. That system is extremely flawed.

Proof of the aforementioned poll: https://twitter.com/ts13ontour/status/1689052078046326789?s=46&t=3tszXgCsADHRMjKsFKXEsQ

There is a petition that has received 17, 627 signatures. Many of us have been waitlisted multiple times, in our own cities and countries. The agony of not knowing if we will ever get a ticket, or going into debt and putting our precious dollars in the hands of scalpers instead of Ticketmaster, or Taylor herself, is completely avoidable. That is why today we urge you to reevaluate the regulations in place and ensure they do more to protect the people being preyed upon by those who seek to push others down in order to get ahead.

Thank you for your consideration, First & Last name Town, Country Postal/Zip Code

More information:

Ticket Sales Act 2017 https://www.ontario.ca/laws/statute/17t33#BK50

About e-laws: https://www.ontario.ca/laws/about-e-laws#ccl

#taylor swift #1989taylorsversion #reputation #midnights #grammys #grammy winner #ticketmaster #canada #canadians #canadian legislation #ticket sales #ticket resale #ticket reseller #1989 #1989 tv #1989 taylors version #lisasposts #lover #rep #reptv #rep tv #reputation tv #reputation taylors version #speak now taylors version #time magazine #person of the year #time person of the year #time

[seamandtcaskblog]

While I wait for asks, here are some incorrect quotes!

Seam: I never understood why people cared so much about their dumb friends until I got a dumb friend myself. Seam: *Picks up Tree-Cat* Seam: I’ve only befriended Tree-Cat for a day and a half, but if anything happened to them I would kill everyone in this room and then my self. Tree-Cat: What's this? Seam, hugging Tree-Cat: Affection! Tree-Cat: Disgusting. Tree-Cat: …Do it again. Tree-Cat: "Go hang a salami" backwards is "I'm a lasagna hog". Seam: How did either of those sentences occur naturally for you to discover this? Seam: Sorry it took so long to bail you out of jail. Tree-Cat: No, it was my fault. I shouldn't have used my phone call to prank call the police station. Seam: Ha! Don't you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper? Seam: I must be losing it, I'm quoting Tree. Tree-Cat: A banker? Me? Seam: Yes, Tree. Tree-Cat: But I don’t know anything about running a bank! Seam: Good. No preconceived ideas. Tree-Cat: I’ve robbed banks! Seam: Capital! Just reverse your thinking. The money should be on the inside. Tree-Cat: This is Seam, they’re… not my assistant, some other word. Seam: I’m their carer. Tree-Cat: Yeah, my carer. They care so I don’t have to. Tree-Cat: Why's it called an oven when you of in the cold food and you of out hot eat the food? Seam: …What??? Seam: Why would you think any of this was a good idea? Tree-Cat: Probably because I’m a dangerous sociopath with a long history of violence. Seam: Tree-Cat: I don’t know how you keep forgetting this. Tree-Cat: When I first got my ADHD diagnosis, my first thought was “woah… it’s canon” and I think that maybe thoughts like that is why Seam made me get tested. *Seam and Tree-Cat looking at a locked gate into a park* Seam: Aw. :( Tree-Cat: You know what they say. Seam: Please don’t- Tree-Cat: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate* Seam: Frick-Seam: *looks over Tree-Cat’s shoulder at their laptop* What the fuck? Tree-Cat: *slams screen shut* It’s just research! For something I’m writing about! I swear that’s it! Seam: Why the hell would that involve the breeding habits of frogs? Tree-Cat: It’s not just “frogs”, it’s the Surinam Toad. And it’s not “breeding habits”, it’s how they raise their young. This is important information my audience needs to know! Seam: That doesn’t change the fact this is for one line in a fanfiction. Tree-Cat, offendedly: You don’t know that! Seam: I hear no denial. Seam: You know what’s funny about Tree-Cat? They’re my best friend, and anyone who’d hurt them is someone I’d murder, probably. Tree-Cat: Surgery is basically just stabbing someone to life. Seam: Please never become a surgeon. Tree-Cat: Good morning. As you begin your day, remember that violence is always an option and often the answer. Seam: Tree-Cat: Seam: …Please, go back to bed.

Generator I used here

#incorrect quotes #deltarune #seam deltarune #seam #deltarune oc

[aftermathing]

.

#Not to rely on strangers to keep me alive #But why has no one ever asked me if I'm okay after all the vent posts I make??? #Other people can like. Forget to capitalize the first word of their sentence and their followers are like #'!!! ARE YOU OKAY YOU SOUND SAD WHAT'S WRONG I CAN DM YOU!!!!' #It just sucks so much that not even strangers care about me I don't have anyone else #And when I say like 'it sucks that no one likes my art. Please Like this art I feel like a failure.' no one does anything. #I shouldn't rely on the acceptance of strangers but #It SUCKS!!! 2 notes per art I spend days on????? I'm IN ACTUAL TEARS #Am I egotistical??? Am I just selfish and self-centered? Feel free to cancel me for being an asshole #Even negative attention is better than nothing at all

[serendipitous-magic]

What is your writing advice for young people who want to write fanfiction and original stories in the near future?

If this is just Way Too Much, skip to the end (#16). My most important piece of advice is there. I also happen to think #5 is pretty good.

-_-_-_-

1) Literally just write. Write whatever you want, and do a lot of it.

_-_

2) You don’t have to post everything. In fact you don’t have to post anything. You can, don’t get me wrong, but it can be intimidating to sit down and think “I will now write something that other people will see and read and judge with their eyeballs.” Because that’s probably gonna lead to nerves and writer's block. Just write down the ideas that you have, the things you want to write, whatever’s in your brain that you want to explore and expand upon and make into something. And then if you want to, share it. Or don’t share it. I have plenty of half-baked ideas and documents and random story chapters and shit hidden away on my Google Drive that will never see the light of day, for a whole number of reasons. I wanted to write it but it wasn’t ~Spicy~ enough to warrant posting, or it’s only like an eighth of a good idea, or it’s like one scene with no story around it, or it’s just something incredibly self-indulgent I just wanted to write for my own enjoyment.

Point being, don’t write for other people. Don’t write so that other people can read it; write what you want, write for yourself, and then if you want to share it, do.

_-_

3) You can pretty much ignore any and all of these for fanfiction. In fact, you can ignore pretty much any rules or guidelines you want for fanfiction. Fanfic is a sandbox. You don’t have to be a “professional writer” to post fic. No one expects you to be Stephen King or Margaret Atwood. Fanfic is just for playing in a fandom and having fun. If you wanna write a 50 chapter slow burn with very little plot aside from the OTP slowly getting to know each other, and no real stakes or central conflict, I guarantee people would read that. Really, fanfiction is the Old West of writing: lawless, wild, unpredictable, and free.

However, here are the rules you must follow:

-Separate your paragraphs. (I’m sure you know this already, but I’m gonna say it anyway just in case.) Do not post one big block of text. Make a paragraph break when someone new is talking, when the characters are in a new place, when a new event occurs that changes the scene, when a chunk of time has passed, and when there’s a major change in subject.

-I know it’s obvious, but... grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. They exist to make writing easy for readers to read, and more people will read your stuff if they don’t have to stop and try to figure out what you meant.

-Use tags and labels, as is possible with whatever site you’re using. Especially if you include possibly triggering content in your story. Again, I know it’s obvious, but it’s common courtesy. Bonus: tagging the themes and content of your story helps readers find it and read it :)

-If possible, limit the use of all-caps and exclamation marks / question marks. 99% of the time, one ! or one ? will do. If you overload the page with a lot of all-caps and long rows of exclamation marks or question marks, it hampers readability.

... That’s literally all I can think of. And, like I said, it’s all pretty basic stuff. You were probably rolling your eyes like, “Uh, yeah, Gwen, I know.” But that’s literally it. You can pretty much do whatever you want in fanfic.

That being said, here’s my advice for both fanfiction and original work...

_-_

4) A quick and dirty rule for coming up with a plot, starting a story, keeping up pacing, or maintaining tension: figure out what dreams, desires, and goals are nearest and dearest to your main character’s heart (see #16). Then set up the main conflict to be directly in opposition to that goal. It doesn’t have to be in a tangible way, though it could be. But, if your main character wants more than anything to reach the ships on the southern coast of your world and sail to a new life, make sure the main conflict immediately prevents them from doing that - in fact, make sure to send them north. If your main character just wants to keep their loved ones safe, kidnap the loved ones. If your main character just wants to date their best-friend-turned-crush, make sure they think they have no chance - or, make them cocky about it, and make sure it makes Person B determined not to ever like them. You get it. Figure out what your character most wants, and then keep them from having that. Boom - your conflict now ties in with your character's motivation. It's like instant yeast for plots.

_-_

5) If you’re anything like me, you want your first draft to be Good, despite all that advice about how the first draft doesn’t have to be good and it’s just to get words on the page, yadda yadda. And if you’re somewhat of a perfectionist (like myself), it’s easy to get stuck looking at a blank page because you don’t have The Perfect Words, and you want what you write to be Good the first time.

Here’s how I cheat that:

Instead of trying to write a Good First Draft from a blank page, hit the enter key a few times, skip a little down on the page, change your ink to red (or blue, or whatever - just something immediately identifiable as Not Black) and just thought vomit. Write whatever the hell you’re thinking, exactly as you think it. Don’t worry about it being readable, don’t worry about narrative flow for now, don’t worry about covering all the details, don’t worry about anything except either a) getting all the details of your idea out onto the page, whether that’s a lot or whether it’s just a sentence or two, or b) if you don’t have an idea yet, finding your way there.

Because this method is also very good for finding your way to ideas when you’re stuck in writer’s block.

Because of how human brains work, getting this stuff out onto the page - in all its messy, stream-of-consciousness glory - will likely spark more thoughts. As you write your original idea about the scene, it’ll likely spark more ideas. Creation begets creation. If you just start thought-vomiting your ideas onto the page, chances are you’ll think of more things as you go, and you’ll start filling out description or dialogue or tone or action or whatever, and pretty soon the scene starts writing itself.

Not sure where you’re going with the scene or which ideas you wanna use? Use a lot of ambivalent language in your “thought-vomit draft.” My pre-writing notes are chock-full of the words “maybe,” “perhaps,” and the phrases, “At some point...” and “...or something like that.” In this way, I don’t tie myself down to one idea; it’s just an idea, and I’m keeping it on the page in case I use it, but I might chuck it in the trash or change it or whatever.

And then, once your ideas for the scene (or story, or chapter, or whatever) are on the page, then go back to the top and start translating them into a “real” first draft. Use black ink, and start copy-pasting chunks of the thought-vomit up into the top part of the document and translating them into Draft 1. Separate out paragraphs where paragraph breaks should be. Add the correct punctuation and whatnot. Change “describe the lobby here - include potted plants, fancy carpet, blood stain, etc.” into an actual description of the lobby. Flesh it out, or condense, or whatever it needs. And if you’re still stuck, change back to red ink and ramble some more until you find a path that feels right, then plug that in. This keeps you from looking at a blank page, and it allows you to generate a kind of Draft 0.5, somewhere between a plan and a first draft.

You don’t have to use every idea. Like I said, jot down whatever comes to mind, put a “maybe” before or after it, and keep working. If the idea grabs you and you wanna keep expanding on it and exploring it, cool. If you just wanna jot it down so you don’t forget it and then move on, also cool. Red-ink draft / “thought-vomit draft” is your time to jump around in the timeline, add or finesse details at whatever point your brain moves to, etc. Don’t try to do it exactly in story order, because you will get tangential thoughts and ideas, and you will not remember to write them down five pages later when you finally get to taking notes on that scene. Trust me. On that note...

_-_

6) Write everything down the moment you think of it. Seriously.

“I’ll remember it when I get around to writing that scene in a couple days / weeks / months (/years).”

You won’t.

Write it down.

Phone, journal, google docs - hell, my family regularly laughs at me for grabbing a napkin during dinner and scribbling thoughts down alongside pasta sauce stains.

And then, once you have it written down somewhere...

_-_

7) Consolidate your writing ideas in one place.

Maybe this isn’t really your style, and that’s totally chill.

Buuuut, if you’re Type-A like me - or if you tend to be somewhat unorganized and you know you’ll lose track of your writing notes if they’re scattered across multiple notebooks, journals, napkins, phone notes, etc. - having one consolidated document of notes is a life saver. I keep mine on Google Docs so I can access it, add to it, and look through it for inspiration anywhere at any time. When I have one of those Shower Thoughts that I jot down on my phone or on a napkin during dinner, I set myself a reminder on my phone to type it up in my Story Ideas document later.

(Or, if the idea I had was for a story of mine that I’ve already started planning / drafting / whatever, I put it in the document for that story instead of the Big Random Story Ideas doc. You get it.)

_-_

8) Have other ways to collect and save writing ideas, besides just writing stuff down. If you like Pinterest, make pinterest boards of your characters or stories or settings or whatever. If you’re big into playlists, make a playlist for your character / setting / story / etc. Or both. Or something else. I’m not good at drawing, but maybe you are, and maybe you like to draw your ideas. Whatever form it takes, having another way to save ideas and think about your stories is invaluable.

_-_

9) Some writers can just start writing with no idea where the story is going, and they just kind of figure it out as they go. I envy those writers. And I do that sometimes for fanfiction, where the stakes are somewhat lower and the audience is reading more for scene-to-scene enjoyment (and to see their OTP kiss) than for a Driving And Compelling Narrative.

But here’s the thing: especially if you’re just kind of starting out, writing without some sort of plan is really, really hard, and will likely lead you into a slow, meandering narrative that will likely frustrate you.

Even if you think you’re someone that just can’t write with a plan (and again, I have the highest respect for pansters out there - I don’t know how you do it, you crazy bastards, but you keep doing you) - even if you think “I can’t work with plans, they’re too prescriptive, I just want to write and see what happens -”

Try at least making the most skeletal of plans.

Even if you have no clue what 90% of the story is, yet. That’s fine. But you need to have some idea of what you’re building to, even if that’s nothing more specific than a feeling, or a turning point for your character. Even if your entire plan for everything beyond Chapter 1 is, “At some point, Charlie needs to realize that Ed was lying to her.”

This is where those Draft 0.5 notes come in handy. Because, more than likely, working on your current scene that way will spark ideas for later scenes, which you can put down at the bottom of the document and save for when they become relevant. In my experience, the line between planning ahead and making a Draft 0.5 is exceptionally thin. One can quickly turn into the other.

If you’re really, really resistant to the idea of planning ahead, that’s okay. It’s not everybody’s style. But for the love of all that is holy, write down your ideas for future scenes, even if you’re a person that doesn’t like to plan and writes only in story order, because you will not remember that idea once you get to that scene.

_-_

10) You don’t have to write in order.

Here’s the thing: I’m a person that can only do my Draft 1 in story order (meaning, chronological order). I just have to be in that flow; I need to write in story order for me to best channel where the character is at from scene to scene, both narratively and emotionally.

But my Thought Vomit Draft is another thing entirely. By using the brain hack of putting my notes in red (or another color, it doesn’t matter) and going down to the bottom of the document / page and taking notes there, and then integrating them into whatever plan I have, and then translating them into Draft 1 once I get there in the story - by doing that, I can get my good ideas onto the page (and expound upon them and let my muse carry me and ride that momentum while I’m in the moment of inspiration) without writing out of order.

Maybe that’s just me. But if you’re a person who really prefers to write in story order, that could be hugely helpful to you. It is to me.

_-_

11) Emotion and motivation will do more for your story than technicalities of plot.

If your characters really care about something, and their journey through the (shaky or weak) plot is emotionally engaging, it will be a much more compelling story than a story with a “perfect” plot and unrelatable or unmotivated characters.

If your characters care about what they’re doing, and it means something to them, and their goals and actions are driven by dreams or fears or emotions that are integral to who they are, your audience will care too. If you have a perfectly crafted plot that hits all the right beats and has high stakes and fast pacing and drama - but your characters don’t connect with what’s happening in a way that’s deeply meaningful or emotional for them? You’re gonna have a hard time engaging readers.

When in doubt, prioritize character emotion and motivation over plot. Emotion is what drives story.

This power is highly exploitable. (Just look at pulp novels and shitty but entertaining movies.) You can even use it to glaze over plot holes or reinvigorate a limp narrative. Use it that way sparingly, though. It’s a band-aid, not a surgery. 

_-_

12) Evil villains are hard to write - mostly because there are very few truly evil people in the world. (There are a few. Billionaires and several big name politicians come to mind.) But by and large, there aren’t that many evil people. There are plenty of bad people, but bad people have some good in them, somewhere in there. Trying to write an evil villain is hard, because they often turn very cartoony.

Here’s a tip: it’s much easier to write antagonists who aren’t evil. Even if they’re bad people. Of course, there’s no reason you can’t write a villain that’s just truly evil - a serial killer, or an abuser, or a billionaire, or someone who legit just wants to hurt people or blow up the earth or stay in control of an oppressed population, or whatever. But chances are, it’s gonna be really hard to make them feel real, and even harder to create a plot around them that doesn’t feel forced or contrived.

Instead, try writing an antagonist / villain whose motivations and goals directly clash with your protagonist’s - but not because they want to take over the world or see people suffer. Write an antagonist who’s chaotic good, but whose perception of the situation is completely opposite from your hero’s. Write an antagonist whose only desire is to save people, and who will do anything to achieve that goal - anything. Write an antagonist who believes in the letter of the law, and will hinder and oppose the hero’s methods even if they agree with the hero’s motivation. Write an antagonist who got in way over their head and did some things they regret, and now they don’t know how to get out, and they’re doing their best but whatever they set in motion is too powerful for them to stop now.

Write villains who are human. Write a killer who thought they were doing the right thing by taking their victim out of the equation, who vomits at the sight of the body and sobs over the grave they dig. Write a government leader who truly believes she’s doing what’s best for her people in the long-term, even if it might hurt them in the short term, and is willing to endure the hatred and belligerence of the masses if it means securing what she thinks is a better future for her people. Write a teenage bully that thinks they’re the one being picked on by the world, and they’re just fighting back, standing their ground. Write a scientist who will break any code of ethics and hurt anyone he needs to - in order to bring back his baby sister from the grave, because he promised her he’d protect her and he failed. Write an antagonist who is selfish and self-centered and capricious - because in order to survive they had to look out for Number One, and that habit ain’t about to break anytime soon.

Write villains who aren’t even villains. Write antagonists who oppose the hero because of moral differences. Write antagonists who are trying to do the right thing. Write antagonists who treat the heroes with kindness and dignity and respect and gentleness.

They don’t have to be good. They don’t have to be Misunderstood Sweethearts who “deserve” a redemption arc. They can be cruel and nasty and dismissive and callous and violent and etc. etc.

Just hesitate before you make them Evil-with-a-capital-E. Because evil is hard to write, and honestly, boring to read. Flawed human beings with goals and motivations that directly oppose the main characters’ are much easier to write and much more interesting to read.

Ask why. Why is your villain trying to take over the world? What does that even mean? Are they trying to create a Star-Trek-like post-capitalism utopia, but they know that won’t happen in a million lifetimes, so they’re trying to do it by force? Are they actually super in favor of human rights, but they got very impatient waiting for the world to do anything about poverty and war, so they decided to take it into their own hands? Are they determined to fix the world - no matter the cost? Are they terrified and overwhelmed, but committed to see it through to the end? Or - maybe they’re just doing it on a dare. Maybe they don’t really give a shit about world domination, they were just a mediocre rich white guy who decided to fuck around and find out, and now he’s kind of curious how far he can take this thing. And now he’s kind of an internationally-wanted criminal, so he’s kind of stuck living on his hidden private island in his multi-billion dollar secret base, strapping lasers to sharks’ heads for the hell of it. Gross, selfish, uncaring, and dangerous? For sure. Evil? Depends on your definition. See, now we’re getting somewhere.

_-_

13) It’s tempting to let the plot control the characters. It’s easy to drop your characters into a situation and see how they react. But here’s the thing: that doesn’t drive plot. In fact, it bogs down pacing. Instead, try to build you plot off of your characters’ actions and decisions. Let your character build their own situation. Not to say it should go they way they wanted it to go; in fact, usually, their grand plans should go to hell very quickly. But having the characters take action and make decisions, and letting the plot develop based on that, is much easier to make compelling than making a rigid series of events and then trying to herd your characters into them.

_-_

14) Having trouble justifying a character’s actions? Consider having them make the opposite decision, or having them approach the situation in a different way. For example: you need your character to go meet the bad guy, for plot reasons, even though there’s no way it’s not a trap. If the character goes, readers are gonna be groaning with their head in their hands, because c’mon man, that was really fucking stupid. But he’s gotta go, because the plot needs that. Two ways you might handle this: a) He knows it’s probably a trap. He decides not to go. The plot conspires to get him near the villain anyway. Or, b) He knows it’s a trap. But he needs to go, for (insert reasons here). So, he approaches it in an unexpected way. He brings backup, recruiting a side character we met earlier in the story. Or he arrives on the back of a dragon, because ain’t nobody gonna fuck with a dude on a dragon. Or he goes - early, and ambushes the villain. It may work, it may not. He may get himself kidnapped anyway. But it moves the plot along without having Stupid Hero Syndrome.

_-_

15) This is a legit piece of advice: if all of this sounds overwhelming, literally just ignore it and write what you want. For real. Writing should be fun, and every single writer operates differently. If you’re sitting here like “I’m getting stressed just reading this,” just flip me a good-natured bird and get on with your life. I promise I won’t take it personally. Same goes for literally any other writing advice you see. Lots of rules and guidelines can very quickly make anything thoroughly un-fun. Just write. If you’re passionate about it and you do it for long enough, you’ll start figuring out the tips and tricks on your own.

_-_

16) Here’s the best piece of advice I can give you: know your characters. More importantly, know what’s important to them. Build their personality and decisions off of that, and build your plot off of their decisions.

I see a lot of character building sheets that ask a shit-ton of questions like “What’s their most prized possession?” “Do they like their family?” “What’s their favorite food?”

And while these are good questions, my problem with this type of character building is that if you start there, with the little stuff, you’re building on nothing. IMO, to make a truly strong character (not strong like Inner Strength, strong like effective), you need a strong foundation.

Here are the things you must know about your character:

a) What are their greatest fears / deepest insecurities? And I don’t mean “wasps” or “heights.” I mean the deep shit. I mean fears like “living a meaningless life,” or “turning out just like their parents,” or “that no one will ever love them,” or “being powerless.” You may say, “But they’re really scared of wasps! They fall into a wasp nest when they were little and got stung so much they almost died!” Great! That’s a fantastic bit of backstory. They should absolutely be afraid of wasps, and that should absolutely be an impediment later in the story. But dig deeper. What about that event actually scarred them? Was it the helplessness? Stumbling around, swatting at the air, not being able to do a single thing to stop what was happening to them? Was it that they were alone, and no matter how loud they screamed, no one was coming? Was it the bodily horror of feeling themself turn into an inhuman creature as they swelled up from the stings, unable to move their fingers or face normally anymore?

And don’t forget insecurities, because those factor in, too. Are they deeply insecure about their identity? Do they believe, deep down, that they’re ugly? Did they grow up poor and they’ve always been really touchy about that? Why? Dig deep. Figure out what really, really bothers them.

b) What are their hopes and dreams? What do they truly want out of life? What do they consider the most valuable to their experience here in this thing called life? Is it the freedom to forge their own path and be independent? Is it the approval of their family or peers? Is it a home? Is it knowledge, or understanding? Spiritual fulfillment? Is it deeply important to them that they contribute to their community, or protect those they love? What do they need in order to feel truly and deeply fulfilled in life?

Figure out those two things (each one encompasses several things, btw, you don’t have to stop at just one for each), and then use that to inform how they behave and the types of decisions they make within the story. 

It also informs character behavior and personality. 

Let’s say we have a character who’s afraid of helplessness. They’re probably gonna be the person that always wants to do something, try something, no matter how hopeless the situation seems. They’d despise just sitting and waiting, probably, because it makes them feel powerless. They might even be the person that makes rash decisions and acts impulsively and puts themself in danger unnecessarily, because in their mind it’s better than being at the mercy of fate. This is one way you could use a character’s personality to inform their decisions, which in turn helps to inform plot.

Or, let’s say we have a character whose greatest fear is being left behind or forgotten. We may have a chatterbox on our hands. They might be obnoxious. They might love the spotlight, constantly vying for attention no matter the situation, because deep down they’re so afraid that they’d be forgotten otherwise. Or, it may go the opposite way. They may be so afraid of people leaving them that they’re terrified of bothering people. They don’t want to do anything that could annoy people, anything that might give people a reason to leave them. They might be exceedingly polite, quiet, accommodating. A push-over, really.

These are two nearly opposite types of personalities, both stemming from the same core fear/insecurity. You can go a lot of different ways with it. But if you build on that strong foundation, you’ll have a strong character, and a stronger plot.

Likewise, the structure of your story can and should inform the design of these character traits. If you need your characters to team up near the end, it may be impactful if you give your main character a deep fear of commitment, an insecurity about being unwanted or left behind, and make them highly value independence and freedom. That could make their team-up for the final battle very meaningful. Conversely, you can use your character’s deepest fears and desires to help design the plot. Is your character deeply insecure about voicing their opinions or taking a stand, because of trauma they faced in the past? Make them face that. Build that into the climactic third act. Give them the big inspirational speech where they stand up and talk about what they believe to be important, what they think the group should do. And then design that character arc to run through the story, giving you more handholds and stepping stones, more pieces of foundation on which to design the plot.

In this way, character should inform story as much as story informs character. It’s a feedback loop.

Bonus: if you build your character and your plot off of each other in this way, it automatically starts to build in the foundations of that emotional investment I mentioned earlier. If your character’s decisions are based on what they most want and do not want in life, you basically have your character motivation and stakes pre-built.

Note: you need to know these things about your villain, too.

-_-_-

I’m genuinely sorry about the length of this, lmao. But you did ask.

Best of luck!

Edit: I forgot an important one:

17) Start when the scene starts and end when the scene ends.

What do I mean by that?

If your notes say “Danny asks Nicole out after school and majorly flubs it,” start the scene when Danny approaches Nicole after school. Better yet, cold-open the scene on “I was wondering if, you know, you’d wanna. You know. Hang out some time?”

Don’t start that morning when Danny goes to school, unless you’re gonna cover the school day in like one or two sentences. Don’t spend whole paragraphs going through the school day, unless it’s to cover other plot points first (in which case apply these same guidelines there), or if the paragraphs are there for a specific reason, like to illustrate how stressed he is and how it seems like every little thing is going wrong. Even then, trim the fat as much as possible. Expounding and describing everything Moment-to-moment is for the meat of the scenes, not the leading-up-to and coming-away-from.

Here’s my rule of thumb: study how and when movies cut from scene to scene. Movies have exceptionally strict, limited time for storytelling; they’re excellent examples of starting a scene when the plot point starts and ending when it’s over. If you can’t picture a movie showing everything you showed, start the scene later and end it earlier.

#asks #anon #writing advice #writing tips #writing #fanfic writing #fanfiction #character creation #plot development #character development #my advice #original writing

[mayfriend]

so. i am making a web. it is a last minute thing but thats me baby, no planning necessary, seat of my pants at 1am. so. i am making the web. the web is about the moon. i have many feelings about the moon. i am going through the ‘web weaving, moon’ tag because many people also have feelings about the moon and i can use their feelings to properly express my feelings. you follow? good.

i find a quote. it is an excellent quote. this is the quote:

now, i love this quote. its just MWAH. perfect. exactly what i want. who wrote it, i ask myself, and i read the caption. ‘franz kafka’, the caption tells me. the caption is confident. it’s from his diaries, which, duh, that motherfucker sure did keep diaries. i google it, without kafka’s name just to be doubly sure, and yep, everything says that’s a kafka quote baby, specificially from the diaries of franz kafka 1910 to 1923. easy peasy, i’ll just pop that in the internet archive and find it myself.

easy. peasy.

there isn’t a collection of his diaries from 1910 to 1923. there’s a collection of diaries from 1910 to 1913, and another that goes from 1914 to 1923. there is no combined collection. this is where i should’ve first become worried, but there are many editions of things, i tell myself. many editions. many many editions, and not all of them are uploaded to the internet archive. i don’t know which year of the diary this is from, so i open up the 1910-1913 one, and search the phrase “peaceful moon”. nothing. nada. okay, must be in the 1914-1923 one. sweet. i go to the 1914-1923 diaries, and yes, i get a hit! but... it’s just for peaceful moon. like just those two words. not the second sentence.

hm. hmmm. now, i am a moronlingual, english is my native and only language, so i cannot attest to the quality of translations like others who are significantly more accomplished than myself, especially those who undertake translating an entire book. however, i do not know in what world ‘i consist only of bones’ could be mistranslated as ‘the generals, in a distant semi-circle, look into the fire or at him’. it does not seem probable, or even possible.

i am now Concerned, with a capital C. i go back through the results of the original quote, and i cannot find a single image that comes from a book - it’s all been typed out, either on one of those shitty inspirational quotes backgrounds that makes me want to puke and/or die (example of said horror below):

OR it has just been typed out in a nice font and screenshotted. it’s not... actually printed. anywhere. now, i respect a typed out phrase. sometimes, it is necessary because either the pdf is illegible, the quote is divided between two pages and the light isn’t quite right to stitch them together without it being obvious as fuck, or the ink is blurred, etc etc. i type stuff out for webs CONSTANTLY. i have no problem with typing things out. however, if there is no evidence of a book page existing on the internet in the form it’s been typed up in.. that’s a concern. i am Concerned.

Concerned, i type “consist only” into the text search bar of 1914-1923. nothing. i shorten it to “consist”, as often the AI misreads things and longer phrases get lost. still nothing. it’s useless trying to search a word as common as ‘only’, as you’ll get a thousand hits and it’d be quicker to read the entire book. in a flash of inspiration, i return to 1910-1913, and see if it brings up anything. 1 result!! but before i can get excited, i find it’s not what i’m looking for.

how did this happen? where did the ‘consist only of bones’ come from?? why does this have kafka’s name on it? did somebody just grab the phrase ‘peaceful moon’ from kafka’s diaries, and run cackling into the night?? desperately, i search for an explanation. maybe the translation is off? it might show up a little different looking, but maybe i need to go smaller. forget consist, no matter how good and rare a word in the sentence it is, it can get interchanged with about ten different synonyms. bones, however, is kind of a cover-all. “bones”, i search.

nothing in 1910-1913. because of course not. heart heavy, i return to 1914-1923. “bones”, i try, despondent. three results. okay, not the first one, not the second- waait a fucking minute.

that is, tragically, one of the archive’s few failings - if you search “consist”, you will not find “consisted”. yes, to write consisted, you must first write consist, but the internet archive doesn’t care for your logic. you could search consist WITHOUT the ““, but that again would risk being shown fifty false-positives or, god forbid, it picking up every instance of the letter c, o, n, s, i and t, and present you with every page in the book. it varies, enough that i just use the speech marks. 

so, to recap. some maniac has taken two parts of franz kafka’s diaries, written in separate entries, hell, separate YEARS, and smushed them together. the internet, being the internet, then reproduces the smush over and over and over and over in pretty fronts and in front of mountains and sunrises and god knows what else. goodreads, that bastard hatechild of jeff bezos, has of course spread the false smush far and wide. 

i am left with the problem of theseus’ ship. i can either not use the quote, even though its perfect, because it was not actually written like that by kafka. kafka wrote the words, yes, but not together or in the same context. if i use this argument, i could say that i actually ‘wrote’ the hunger games, as i’ve certainly used all the words suzanne collins used while writing them at some point or another. i can’t use kafka’s actual words, because they do not separately evoke what they do put together. i can’t curse whoever has dropped me into this endless torment because, the internet being the internet, i cannot find where this lie first originated and track them down.

i am without answers, without a quote, and without peace. it is half 1 in the morning and i surrender to oblivion.

#emily speaks #this is a rant so feel free to ignore #will probably delete later

[boldlyvoid]

the guy at the rock show

she/they reader x Spencer Reid

request for @boba-king-iroh ♥︎

summary: Y/N lost their parents when they were 17, finding a new home and solace in Penelope Garcia and taking the Garcia name. They're the top forensic specialist in D.C, in a band and they drive a motorcycle... not to mention they are madly in love with the cute doctor who works with their sister.

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions, friends to lovers, idiots in love, PDA, secret relationships

word count: 5666

a/n: there will be a smutty part 2 eventually because I can't not do that

THE PLAYLIST THAT GOES WITH THEIR SETLIST IF YOU WANT TO LISTEN WHILE YOU READ

Read on Ao3 here!

Taking Garcia’s last name wasn’t something they had to think hard about, Penelope basically raised them; she was like a sister, a best friend and a mother, even a bit of a fairy godmother to Y/N.

They met when Y/N was 17, they were sitting at a support group for dead parents in D.C. Right beside the lovely, overly cheerful, always helpful, Penelope Garcia. At first, Y/N couldn’t stand her, wondering how a person like that could be running a group for mourning people, it made her sick.

It wasn’t until she heard Penelope’s story for the first time, knowing how similar it sounded to her own and how, actually, you can take your grief and turn it into something beautiful. After the meeting, they pulled Penelope aside and gave her a big hug and a thank you.

It was the start of a lovely friendship, one Y/N didn’t know they needed until they were smothered in all the love you could possibly imagine.

The age gap between them wasn’t too big, Penelope was 10 years older than them which meant she was always one step ahead of Y/N and full of advice. Be it fashion, boys, girls and everything in between. They bonded in a way that was unbreakable, they were each other's family.

Penelope even helped her get into med school before she eventually switched to forensic science. Taking on the FBI academy, unlike Penelope, and joining the bureau officially. Penelope was there for her every single step of the way, making her career possible. She loved her dearly and wanted Y/N to succeed more than anyone in the world.

Getting to introduce herself to people as Agent Y/N Garcia, not to be confused with technical analyst Garcia, was one of the best feelings in the world.

Not many people ever mistook them, however, for whatever Penelope was, Y/N was the exact opposite.

Y/N preferred all black everything, she didn’t enjoy partying or close contact or the in-your-face-ness of Penelope’s way of life, she loved her band and motorcycle and being alone. They were quote-unquote edgy, not just for effect, but because it was how they felt the most comfortable, it was who they were and they liked it that way.

They were possibly the best Forensic Specialist the FBI had, keeping her in DC for all the most important cases. Helping her avoid Penelope and the BAU team as much as possible. They were great people, she didn’t hate them at all, it was just a lot of energy that they didn’t have to give to 7 other people all day long.

Spencer was the only one she could tolerate. Rather, he was the one she wanted to spend the most time with, even more than Penelope. He understood Y/N in a way others didn’t.

He was also quiet, like them, he didn’t pick on them or call them mini Garcia, baby-baby girl, or infant as some of them started to call her more recently.

He called them Y/N, he talked to them about star trek whenever he was visiting Penny, and he respected their pronouns. Using both she and they interchangeably, when he spoke of them, unlike most people who only used she and her because it made more sense in their small brains.

However, she wasn’t the only one who got teased. Spencer did as well, almost more because he was around the BAU team constantly. She hated hearing them bully him, he didn’t even count it as bullying but it’s basically what it was sometimes.

They put him down, they didn’t clue him in on things, they called out his stims and didn’t let him finish his sentences, especially when it had to do with his hyper-fixations. He was the brightest light in the room and they just picked his brain till he wasn’t useful anymore, before trying to turn out the light. It made Y/N furious.

They got called Mr and misses genius when they were on a scene together, remembering the first time she ever had a case with the BAU which was also the first time she snapped at someone for being mean to Spencer.

Someone asked Spencer a serious question, to which he did his fucking job and answered. Giving as much detail as humanly possible, being the absolute genius he is and should be praised for, only to have Emily poke him in the cheek and say; “wow, he’s so life-like?”

“Well yeah, cause he’s a fucking human who deserves respect from the people who use his brain all day,” Y/N cursed under their breath from the crime scene, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Leaving the sweetest man on earth to find them later and give them a hug. Thanking them for all that they do, and appreciating what he has to offer. That’s when she realized she liked him, more than just the guy who sometimes sleeps on her couch because he’s friends with her sister.

It was difficult being surrounded by men unlike Spencer, specifically the older men in her field who didn’t understand anything outside of money, guns, and violence. The worst part of the job being the politics in the background; the hierarchy and ass-kissing all because she worked in the nation's capital.

They were sure it was probably better in a smaller facility, a local police station where no one knew her and they could finally have some peace and quiet.

But she’d miss Penelope, and Spencer too for that matter.

At first, they’d hide in their room when Penelope brought him over for movie nights or when he crashed on the couch after bringing her home drunk from the bar. In the early days, she worried that he was going to be her new boyfriend, taking all of Penelope’s free time and leaving Y/N with nothing.

But then he started coming over all the time just to hang out, sitting on the couch with nothing to say, being the third wheel while Y/N and Penelope spent time together. For the last 7 years.

Over that time they had many conversations alone, she learned that he was really smart, he was a lot younger than most of the team because he blew through high school by the time he was 13, and he was genuinely the sweetest man in the whole entire world.

One time, Penelope was running late when Spencer showed up at the door with chips and candy, ready to watch his weekly movie with his friend. Only she wasn’t going to make it home in time, and Y/N didn’t want him to have to go back to his apartment all alone.

“You can come in and watch it with me if you wanted to?” She offered, smiling softly. “What was it you picked for tonight?”

“It was Penelope’s night to choose, so you can pick instead if you want?” Spencer offered right back, walking in like he owned the place.

He was more confident now than he was in the beginning, but that was probably because he was 23 and she was 18.

Back then he’d barely look at her and sometimes he’d shake when they made eye contact or when she got drunk and hugged him goodbye after a long night with Penelope. He was like that with Penny in the early days of their friendship too, apparently, so she didn’t feel too bad about it.

He warmed up eventually, making her wait 7 years for him to do something about the growing feelings they both shared.

“You like Marvel movies right?” She bit the inside of her lip as she waited for his answer. Watching him walk around the kitchen for a bowl that he could put his snacks in.

“Yeah they’re great, I haven’t watched past the second Thor, I think the next one is another Captain America?” he’s all smiles as he joins her on the couch, closer than normal, as close as he’d sit with Penelope, but then again she was a cuddler and Y/N wasn’t.

Sometimes Y/N would come out of her room to find Spencer’s head on Penelope’s lap, resting on a pillow as she ran her fingers through his hair to soothe his perfect mind after a long day. A few times she’s walked in on him crying or even sound asleep in her arms. They had a friendship Y/N admired, they were each other's person.

They comforted each other in the exact way they needed it; Penelope giving him the physical touch he craved and he would often compliment her. He was always telling her she was the best and buying her gifts to show his appreciation, calling her the most beautiful and smartest person he knew. He knew that she needed to hear it, needed the reassurance that she was still a good person and he made her believe it.

It made Y/N love him more seeing how much he cared for her sister.

“The winter soldier is the best!” She gushed, sitting close so they could share the chips as she waited for the movie to load up.

He was very quiet when he watched movies, smiling and laughing at the right parts but typically he paid so much attention it was like he was a statue. Y/N spent more time glancing at him than the actual movie.

“Is there something on my face?” Spencer asked, nervous when he noticed her glance at him for the 100th time that night.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she panicked lightly, swallowing quickly before looking away.

“What?”

“I don’t know, I just think you’re fascinating,” she whispered because then she didn’t really say it, and it didn’t really count.

“Oh,” he smiled softly, leaving it at that and forcing his attention back on the movie.

After a while, Spencer started to get even closer. He put the bowl on the coffee table and sat back almost on top of her, reaching an arm behind the couch so that Y/N was right against his side. He had done it with Penelope before, confident in this little living room, almost forgetting it was Y/N beside him.

Y/N rested her hand on his knee, rubbing her thumb over his jeans in a soft little circle as she pretended to watch the movie. More concerned with Spencer’s breathing and the feeling of his hand inching towards their shoulder than anything else.

Then they heard keys at the front door. Pulling away from each other quickly to curl up on opposite sides of the couch and pretend they weren’t just cuddling.

“Hey, you still came!” Penelope cheered, a little drunk from whatever she was doing before.

“I’d never miss a night with the Garcia’s,” Spencer smiled at her, looking calm and collected as ever while Y/N turned bright pink.

“Oh, I love Bucky! Oh my god let me go change and I’ll come watch too!”

That was just the first time they ended up cuddling, certainly not the last.

—

It wasn’t often that Penelope was too busy to spend time with Y/N, rather the contrary. Sometimes Y/N had to beg her to leave her be at certain events. Like when their band was playing at any of the local bars and Penny started inviting everyone she knew to come and watch her sister play.

It was embarrassing, to say the least, but Y/N loved her support.

When Y/N peaked her head out to see the crowd before a show, normally Penelope was sitting in the front with a drink and at least 4 friends, cheering and chanting their name, ready to rock out to their covers.

Tonight she didn’t see Penelope at all, she knew she wouldn’t, Penelope was in London visiting Emily with Derek for the second time in the past year, leaving no one to come to the monthly show Y/N’s band put on, or so she thought.

Spencer came all by himself.

He was sitting in the front, at a table with a bowl of pretzels and a ginger ale, not interested in the drinking or the socializing, just there to support Y/N. It made her feel giddy, like a schoolchild seeing their crush at recess.

It was so nice of him that it gave her butterflies, and normally that didn’t happen. They could go on and play a show in front of ten thousand people and feel nothing, but the second Spencer Reid was there to cheer them on, they were a mess.

“What song are we doing first again?” Y/N asked Evie, their lead singer and best friend outside of work.

“Who are they?”

Y/N was taken aback, “What?”

“You’ve never been nervous, who came to see you?” Evie clarified her question.

“No one, for fuck sake, I thought we left all the profilers at home tonight?” she sighed, shaking the nerves out of their body as they jumped up and down lightly.

They paced back and forth for a few minutes to wear down the nerves but only managing to make herself sweat to death and discard the leather jacket she always wore on stage. She walked in a circle aimlessly, remembering the setlist in their mind and how the spotlights typically made it so they couldn’t see the crowd anyway so it’s not like she could fuck up by making eye contact with him.

And it’s not like it was the first time he had seen her play, Spencer comes every month with Penelope, he liked a lot of the music they covered from when he was an emo teen in university. They’ve bonded over it before sharing albums and records back and forth, but she was still scared shitless at the prospect of him caring about her enough to come alone.

Especially when he hated being in situations like this in the first place.

It was their turn to go on, the manager of the bar gathering them and telling them to go on and so Y/N started walking towards the stage door, only to be pulled back harshly by Evie’s cold hands.

“Don’t forget your sticks, god who do you wanna fuck so bad it makes you this stupid?” She placed the drumsticks in Y/N’s hands, “get it together.”

“Sorry, it’s the guy in the sweater vest, front row,” they whispered in response, putting their head down and heading to the stage before she could tease them about it.

“The Forensic Lyricists are here once again folks!” The Manager introduced them to the crown, “get ready for them to dig up some classics!” Always the same dumb joke before every show.

Opening with crushcrushcrush by Paramore, thank god she remembered, it was an easy song to play as they warmed up and pushed the nerves away. They could play it in their sleep, with their eyes closed, and so that's what they did.

Eyes closed, mouthing the words as the adrenaline of the night took over the anxiety and made them go insane, like most nights. They didn’t need drinks or drugs to feel hyped at most shows, all she needed was a smile from penny and a good luck text from Spencer.

Playing by memory until she felt more confident and then getting into it. “They taped over your mouth, Scribbled out the truth with their lies, your little spies…”

“Crush, crush, crush, crush crush two, three, four!!” Y/N sung backup for each chorus, finally getting into it.

“Nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone! Just the one, two! of us who's counting on! That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again.”

They tried their hardest to push the images of that night on the couch with Spencer out of their mind as they sang along, trying to harmonize and cover the backup for Evie as best as she could.

“Let’s be more than this now!”

She always took the bridge, as the drummer and the most passionate one, it only made sense. Y/N always got the crowd on their feet, roaring along as they jumped to the beat.

“Rock and roll, baby, Don't you know that we're all alone now? I need something to sing about. Rock and roll, hey! Don't you know, baby, we're all alone now? I need something to sing about! Rock and roll, hey! Don't you know, baby, we're all alone now? Give me something to sing about!”

“Nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone! Just the one, two! of us who's counting on! That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again, let’s be more than, noOoo!”

She had a crush on Spencer fucking Reid and one now noticed as they tried their hardest to focus on the words when all that came to mind right now was his body heat and how good he smelled and how nice it was that he came to support them.

“Nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone! Just the one, two! of us who's counting on! That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again, Let’s be more than this, more than thiiiiiis, oooooooh, mmmmmmhmmm,” she sang the ending of the song along with Evie, their harmony sounding more perfect than any performance before.

Critics always said the performance is better when you mean the words you’re singing. With that, they accepted their crush on Doctor Spencer Reid after 7 long years of knowing him. They pushed through nerves so that they could go and see him after and do something about it, now that Penelope wasn’t home to tease her for it.

Leading right into Dear Maria, Count Me In. Their bass player, Kat taking the lead for her favourite song. Being an all ‘girl’ punk band was her idea, and now they all enjoyed taking turns singing their favourite songs in front of mostly strangers, once a month.

Every single song made her think of Spencer in some way as she remembered the rest of the set, it had 5 songs in total and each one included at least one reference to something she knew about Spencer.

It was hard to not think about him while he stood at the edge of the stage with everyone and bopped his head along to the beat, a smile growing on his face as he also noticed the little references to them in the songs.

The Rock Show by Blink182 was going to hit a little too close to home as she sang the words all but to him, making eye contact with him as he moved to the best spot to see them play, much like Penelope would do every time.

She didn’t realize how much this song actually represented her life before tonight, starting to sing her song alone while Spencer watched. Deciding on the spot to dedicate it to him in the most fucking obvious way possible, taking her chances because he must have come for a reason.

“Hanging out behind the club on the weekends. Acting stupid, getting drunk with my best friends, I couldn't wait for the summer and the Warped Tour, I remember that it's the first time that I saw him there!”

Spencer was smiling then, noticing the lyric change as they made eye contact, nodding along as he watched. Genuinely enjoying himself and the show, it was lovely to see. She couldn’t help but smile against the mic as she sang and played. Wondering how his face will change with the next verse she watched him from the corner of her eye.

Her bandmates turning to see her as they played their guitars, nodding in agreement at the lyric change, they knew what she was up to. It wasn’t the first time they used the stage to bring someone home with them.

“He's getting kicked out of school cause he's failing. I’m kinda nervous, cause I’m sure all his friends hate me! He’s the one, he'll always be there, I took his hand and I’ll make it I swear,

“Because I fell in love with the guy at the rock show! He said what? and I told him that I didn't know. He's so cool, gonna sneak in through his window. Everything's better when he's around. Can’t wait until my parent goes out of town, I fell in love with the guy at the rock show!”

Spencer’s smile was priceless, it made them even more confident to sing all the words, wanting him with zero shame, it’s not like anyone who knew him would know about this.

“When we said we were gonna move to Vegas I remember the look your mother gave us 17 without a purpose or direction We don't owe anyone a fuckin’ explanation”

“Because I fell in love with the guy at the rock show! He said what? and I told him that I didn't know. He's so cool, gonna sneak in through his window. Everything's better when he's around. Can’t wait until my parent goes out of town, I fell in love with the guy at the rock show!” Making the softest eye contact with him, they moved their whole body to play to him.

“Black and white picture of him on my wall, I waited for his call, he always kept me waiting, and if I ever got another chance I'd still ask him to dance, because he kept me waiting!”

“I fell in love with the guy at the rock show! He said what? and I told him that I didn't know. He's so cool, gonna sneak in through his window. Everything's better when he's around. Can’t wait until my parent goes out of town,”

“I fell in love with the guy at the rock show!” She had never been this passionate while playing this song in all the years they had played it together.

Her bandmates taking the lead singing, “with the guy at the rock show!”

“I’ll never forget you,” she sang in the middle of their chants, “I’ll never forget you, I’ll never forget you, I’ll never forget tonight, I’ll never forget tonight…”

She shot a wink at him before turning back in her seat to face the drum set the best way. The last two songs were Evie’s and Kat’s, she covered the backup vocals, making the occasional glance towards Spence as she thought of him.

Counting down the minutes till she could go see him.

Come a little closer by cage the elephant, an obvious title with lyrics that would clearly bring every memory of brushed hands against lower backs as they slipped past each other in crowded rooms, lingering as long as possible before they were gone again. Goodnight hugs when Penelope was already asleep and he could hold her a big longer and tighter, resting his head on her shoulder while she rubbed his back and breathed him in. And that night on the couch, not to mention all the mornings she walked in on him sleeping peacefully, brushing the hair out of his face, softly, in the hopes he didn’t wake up.

“Come a little closer, then you'll see, Come on, come on, come on, Things aren't always what they seem to be… Do you understand the things you been seein' Come on, come on, come on! Do you understand the things that you've been dreaming… Come a little closer, then you'll see! Come a little closer, then you'll see!”

And even when he did she had a coffee ready for him when he sat up and smiled, giving them a few hours alone before Penelope would wake up. Talking all morning about star trek and dr. Who, smacking his knee as he made jokes that genuinely made them laugh while trying to keep her voice down so they didn’t wake Penelope.

Not many people made her feel like that in her life.

“Come a little closer, then you'll see! Come a little closer, then you'll see!” Staring at him, enticing him to do it the next time they had the chance.

The intro to I’d Do Anything by simple plan was one of her favourites to play, smiling wide as she began to drum as her best friends sang the words.

Waiting for the chorus to sing the words at Spencer, really sending the message, he wasn’t dumb, not in the slightest, he would get it. He had to, she had already been so obvious there was no turning back now.

“This could be the one last chance to make you understand,”

Her arms were starting to hurt as she played along with the most energy she has had in years, playing like a teenager whose parents just died and she needed to hit something, once again. It was freeing, playing with what she could only imagine was love in her chest instead of anger. It’s how she was supposed to play.

"I’d do anything Just to hold you in my arms To try to make you laugh Cuz somehow I can’t put you in the past I’d do anything Just to fall asleep with you Will you remember me? Cuz I know I won’t forget you,"

Focusing on the drumming and ignoring the lyrics as her bandmates covered the lyrics, letting her go hog fucking wild on the drum set, almost kicking the chair out from under herself as they kept going. Joining for the chorus again before beating the shit out of her drum set.

I close my eyes And all I see is you I close my eyes I try to sleep I can't forget you Na na na And I'd do anything for you Na na na Naaaaaaa

“I’d do anything!” She closed her eyes as she pushes the words past her vocal cords, again and again, passionately playing the drums as her hair flew all over the place, worried she might break the sticks as she played.

“Cause I know I won't forget yoooou!” She plays the end of the song, snapping the left drumstick in half before throwing the right one into the crowd, right into Spencer’s hand, sending him a wink before saying goodbye to the crowd.

Sweaty as hell from playing the drums, they brushed their long black hair back behind their ears and in a low ponytail so it would fit under her motorcycle helmet on the way home. Putting their leather jacket back on and heading into the main bar to find Spencer.

“Hey,” he smiled as she walked towards him, the drumstick now resting in his pocket as he approached her.

“I can’t believe you came here all by yourself?” Y/N laughed slightly before pulling him into a thank-you hug.

“I wouldn’t miss it, I’ve been coming for a year now, it’s always a great time,” his smile was perfect, his teeth were so white and straight and she wondered how they’d feel against her neck.

“It’s been that long?” She pretended that she didn’t notice, biting their lip as he ran the calculations in his mind.

He nodded with a soft, pressed-lipped smile, the Spencer classic. “Yep, it’s been exactly 14 months straight now.”

“I know you don’t like bars and loud noises and people you don’t know, or germs which makes this like a nightmare of yours I guess because of the close proximity of people and the germs being spread as everyone screams in a crowd,” she ranted before he was pulling her into another hug, “so this means a lot to me,” she finished her thought beside his ear for only him to hear.

“Anytime,” he whispered as he held her, his arm on her back and chin resting on her shoulder.

“Did you need a ride home?” She offered, thinking about how nice it would be for him to wrap his arms around their body as he sat behind her on Patsy, her motorcycle.

“Yeah, unless you wanted to go to your place and watch another movie? I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting,” he spoke just loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Yeah, I’d love that, it’s been lonely while Penny’s gone,” a smile erupting on her face as she got the reference, “come on then.”

She took his hand in hers, interlocking their fingers and dragging him backstage towards her locker. She had a space to keep her things for practice and other shows she did during the week, keeping an extra helmet and jacket in the locker for nights like this, however, normally it was a cute stranger. Not the man she’s been crushing on since she was a teenager.

“Oh, you brought Patsy,” Spencer’s face went white.

“Did you not want to ride her? Come on, everyone wants to ride her at least once,” Y/N teased him as she put the helmet in his free hand.

Her bandmates staring at her with proud smiles as she took the guy from the rock show home; the one in the sweater vest from the front, the one who was the most into the whole show, they both gave Y/N a wave and a smile as they slipped out the backstage door.

They walked out to the parking lot, still hand in hand with their helmets in the other. Stopping at her dark purple Suzuki GS650 GT, it was her most prized possession because it used to belong to her parents.

She put her hair in the right spot before putting the helmet on, sitting down and starting the engine, revving it for everyone in the lot to see as Spencer put his helmet on and threw a leg over the seat, nervous as ever.

He fit behind her perfectly, just enough room on the seat for his chest to press against her back as he placed his hands gingerly on her hips. It made her laugh.

“You’re going to want to hold on better than that pretty boy,” she teased him before revving the engine once more, kicking the kickstand up and speeding out of the parking lot.

Spencer gripped her tightly as she took off down the street, taking the longest route possible to her home. She didn’t hit a single red light for at least 5 blocks, zooming through traffic as Spencer squeezed the life out of her.

He felt amazing, his hands were so big as he fully wrapped around her, reaching around completely so his right hand was on her left hip and vice versa. He was so close she could feel his heartbeat against her back.

He was nervous, he flinched every time she turned and held on even tighter somehow.

So she did another lap of the block, around the park’s bend so she could lean the bike as far as possible as Spencer’s fingers dug into her hips fiercely. Breathing deep enough that she could hear him over the engine, but he wanted her to keep going. Not ready to let go of her yet, this is the closest they had ever been to each other.

When she finally pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex, they bumped over the curb and his hand grazed Y/N’s boob, he pulled back so fast it was barely there, she just shook her head and laughed. Parking the bike and putting the kickstand back down.

Spencer let out a sigh, relaxing against her as he rested his chin on her shoulder again.

“Have fun?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” he laughed, his voice deep and dry from breathing with his mouth open, it was cute.

He got off first when his legs were finally able to work again, still vibrating from the rev of the engine he walked like Ariel when she got her legs. It was priceless, no one has reacted like that after getting a ride from them, not even Penelope.

She took her helmet off while still on the bike, shaking her hair out of the ponytail as provocatively as possible before getting off. Spencer’s jaw fell open once more as he watched, breathlessly, just as she expected.

Either he liked them before and never told them, or he was going to start now.

Either way, it excited Y/N to their core, taking his hand once more and leading him inside, this time they could be as close as they wanted to and no one was going to walk in on it. She stopped at her locked apartment door, looking at Spencer as softly as possible so he’d know her feelings were real.

“I know this will cause the teasing we already get to skyrocket, so if you wanted to keep it between us, I fully understand,” she whispered.

“Is that what you want?”

He was so sweet it made her heartache, never before had anyone made her feel like this; like she wasn’t in control of her body or mind, like an override in the system her brain and heart chose Spencer and there was no stopping them.

“I just told a whole bar of people that I’m in love with the guy at the rock show before taking you home in front of everyone,” she laughed, “I don’t care if people know, I just hate when they tease us, they belittle everything we do like we’re 17 forever, it’s not fun for me.”

“I hate it too,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly once more, “I’d like to keep you to myself for a while.”

She cupped his face in her hands and pulled in, pressing her lips against his as they both tried to repress their tightlipped smiles. Finally, finally kissing after all those years staring at each other's lips while they explained something, passionately as ever with the most attentive ears.

“Exactly, me too,” she smiled wider as she pulled back from him, unlocking the front door and pulling him inside for that movie he mentioned.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 (dm me if you want me to remove you)

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

[trilliastra]

[*drops a sterek fic after two years and runs away to hide*]

-

It’s all Cora’s fault and Derek will remain of the opinion that his life only went downhill the moment his little sister was born.

It starts with Sara, his sister’s friend, whose boyfriend turned out to be a jerk and would not let her inside his apartment to collect her things unless she took him back. And Cora volunteered Derek to help.

Derek didn’t really mind it at first, Sara only needed a guy to look strong (which he is), angry (which he was) and able to carry her stuff from place a to place b (which he did). But some weeks later Sara met a friend with an equally stupid boyfriend and said friend had another friend and then Laura heard about it and it suddenly became a thing.

Georgia, Nelly, Carmen, Lola.

Isaac.

“I could help, you know?” Derek had said after the fifth time he noticed the blossoming purple bruises on the back of Isaac’s neck, his scrapped knuckles. “If you need to get rid of your –” he lowered his voice, “boyfriend.”

Isaac had looked at him, wide eyed, before he confessed he isn’t gay and the problem was actually his dad. “Oh,” Derek had said, thinking for a moment before adding, “I could help with that, too.”

Turns out Derek’s intimidation skills were lacking when compared to his own father’s.

-

“You’re doing a really nice thing, Derek.” Isaac says one night, helping him with his hand. Asshole boyfriend of the night thought he could bag a few punches before letting Phill grab his laptop back. Derek was faster, and stronger.

Isaac moved in with him and Boyd two weeks after his dad was sentenced. He didn’t want to, at first, was still incredibly shy and scared of everything, including Derek, but he opened up to Boyd pretty quickly. Despite his built (and the fact he can bench press three times his own weight), Boyd is the softest person Derek has ever met.

“Sure.” Derek sighs.

“But?” He asks and Derek sighs again, looks away when Boyd walks into the room.

“I had a date.” Derek confesses and Boyd whistles in sympathy.

“How many times has it been, again?”

“Three.” Derek winces when Isaac presses the antiseptic over the cut. “I’m – I really like him.”

“You could just tell him.” Isaac says. “He’s a cool guy, I guess.” He shrugs, smiling. “Sometimes he’s an asshole. But not in a bad way.”

Derek huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Stiles is an asshole, he likes teasing Derek when they are discussing ethics in the workplace and every way capitalism is stepping over immigrants, they banter and they quote books back and forth and while some people (his sisters) roll their eyes when Derek brings up some history fact, Stiles nods along, brings up another history fact that Derek didn’t know (or sometimes pretends not to know, just to hear Stiles talking about it), hands moving around as he explains his point or badmouths a historic figure that owned so much money ‘their great-great-grandkids are still swimming in the gold they stole from the natives’.

Derek is in love.

“What did you tell him this time?” Boyd asks, munching on his chips. He shakes the bag in front of them and while Derek takes a couple, Isaac shakes his head, still not used to being allowed good things.

Some memories are hard to forget.

“That my mom had stopped by to visit.” Derek says. He hates lying, he is not even good at it. The first time he tried to tell Stiles he looked like a wet cat after he got caught up in the rain, white shirt sticking to his chest, Derek’s cheeks had gotten so red, Stiles asked him if he was okay.

“Dude.” Isaac says, shaking his head in disappointment as he finishes bandaging Derek’s hand.

“I know.” Derek gives back, collapsing on his bed with a groan.

This is all Cora’s fault.

-

Okay. Stiles texts back when Derek has to postpone their date again. Derek can feel the disappointment through the message, mirroring his own feelings.

How about tomorrow night? Derek tries, stares at his phone for minutes until he realizes Stiles probably won’t text him back.

-

“Please.” Maria says, holding her cat with a bright smile as they talk in front of a coffee shop. She is trying to convince him to accept a coffee and Derek is trying to convince her he doesn’t need it. “How can I thank you?”

Derek sighs. “I didn’t do anything.” And it is true, her boyfriend wasn’t working when they arrived at the coffee shop and when they opened the door of the apartment upstairs, it was empty save for the cat that Maria is currently hugging.

“You were there for me.” She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear and Derek already knows what’s coming.

It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last. He has been invited for ‘thank you’ coffees, dinners, sex. It never felt right, though. Not with the guys, and especially not with the girls.

Sorry. He always says. Some of them are attractive, he supposes, but he was, and still is, very much gay.

“I’m—” he starts, but Maria’s eyes widen and when Derek turns around, a guy is stalking towards them, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“You bitch!” He shouts, startling most of the costumers inside and the shop and the people walking around the street. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my cat back!” She yells back and Derek steps closer, eyeing the guy’s fists as he starts to shake with anger.

The guy notices his move and turns his glare to him. “And who the fuck are you?”

Before Derek can answer, Maria chimes in. “My boyfriend.”

“What the fuck?” It takes Derek a second to realize the words didn’t come from him, but from someone in the crowd, one of the onlookers that gathered around them to watch the scene unfold.

Two seconds after that, Derek realizes the person talking was Stiles.

-

That explains a lot. It’s the last message Stiles sends him before blocking his number.

Derek tries to call, talk to him after class, but his friends keep him away, Lydia going as far as brandishing a can of pepper spray in front of him, eyes shining with an unspoken threat.

“You should follow him to his dorm.” Isaac offers, weakly.

“Creeps do that.” Derek says. “I don’t want to be more of an asshole than I already am.”

“You’re not an asshole.” Isaac says, clasping his shoulder in sympathy. “I could – talk to him? If you want?” The offer makes Derek smile, touched. Isaac is still extremely shy in front of strangers, but just the fact that he considered doing it for him is enough.

“It’s fine.” Derek says. It isn’t fine, and they both know it, but he will pull through. Eventually. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

-

It’s harder that Derek anticipated, seeing Stiles during classes and not being able to talk to him, to tease him when Mrs. Schilder glares at him for using a pun that makes the entire room burst out laughing from second-hand embarrassment.

He is beautiful, Derek thinks at least ten times a day, and smart and kind and funny and Derek could see them being together for a long time, falling deeper in love as the time passes.

He should be used to not having good things. He grew up as a middle child, as a gay teenager in a small town where some boys were so far deep in the closet, they couldn’t find their way out, he should be used to not keeping the things he likes.

So why does it hurt so much?

-

“Derek—”

“No.”

“She needs—”

“Call someone else.”

“You are really going to leave her—”

Derek slams his book shut, kicks his chair back as he stands up. Cora’s eyes widen when someone tells him to be quiet and Derek simply ignores them. “I need to study for a test. Call someone else.”

Helping someone should feel good, it should make him happy, not feel like a burden. He is more than an angry guy with a strong body. He doesn’t even like confrontation. He started working out to burn his energy, to let out some of this anger that he’s been constantly carrying inside and he kept working out because he enjoyed it and now – now even that is ruined.

“Why are you being so selfish?” She asks and Derek knows, deep inside, that she doesn’t mean it like that, that she’s just as angry as him, humiliated by the fact he’s calling her out in the middle of the library. Still, that doesn’t matter now. Now, Derek is angry and sad and done.

“Fuck you.” He says and walks away.

-

His initial plan was to make it to his apartment, bury himself under the covers and not leave his room until his mother comes to give him an earful. Because she will, undoubtedly, when Cora tells her about it.

But Derek doesn’t make it to his apartment, he doesn’t even make it outside the library, simply makes a u-turn and heads for the dark zone, a space under the stairs leading to the storeroom where couples usually go to make out. There, he collapses on the ground, taking deep breaths, and buries his face in his hands.

This has been a long time coming, he thinks. He’s been on the edge for a while. This entire experience has made him remember how awful it was to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, to be only liked for his body or for his ability to pass the answers to the test without the teacher seeing him.

Some memories are hard to forget.

“Are you okay?” Derek flinches, surprised to hear Stiles’ voice. “Oh,” Stiles whispers, noticing Derek’s red eyes, the tears streaming down his face, “bad day, huh?”

“She was not my girlfriend.” Derek blurts out, head a mess of emotions: fear, anger, loneliness, regret.

“Dude,” Stiles frowns, confused, “I know Cora is your sister.”

“No.” Derek shakes his head, frantic. “The other day, at the coffee shop. I was helping her with her ex-boyfriend, I do that sometimes. He— he was an asshole and she needed help getting her cat back and I look strong and I know how to –”

“Woah, woah, slow down.” Stiles raises his hands, alarmed, and Derek realizes his own hands are shaking and he can’t breathe. “In and out,” Stiles whispers, “can I—can I touch you?”

Derek shakes his head, focusing on his breath. Panic attack, he remembers, suffocating. No touching. “Okay,” Stiles agrees, easily, “should I keep talking?” Derek shakes his head again, keeps his eyes on his hands. Talking is too much, listening is too much, breathing is too much. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Derek manages to gasp. He doesn’t want to be alone.

Stiles nods, leans against the wall next to Derek and starts fiddling with his shoelaces, twirling them around wordlessly. Derek doesn’t know how much time it passes, but he keeps watching Stiles’ fingers moving distractedly, patiently waiting for him. With him.

“I’m sorry.” Derek manages to say, eventually.

Stiles sighs. “I know.” He closes his own eyes before turning to Derek. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I—” Derek swallows heavily, “have to.” He answers, before shaking his head. No, that doesn’t sound right, “no, I—I want to.”

-

They leave the library together, Stiles standing up first and offering his hand to help Derek up. Stiles doesn’t let go as they walk towards Derek’s apartment, squeezes his hand from time to time as Derek tells him about everything.

“You could have told me.” Stiles notes.

“I don’t know why I didn’t.” Derek confesses. “I guess I didn’t want you to see me as that guy too. Beefy Derek.” He laughs, humorless. “That’s the nickname my sister came up with a few months ago.”

Stiles groans, stops walking, forcing Derek to stop as well. “You are so much more than that.” He assures, touching Derek’s face softly though his eyes shine with certainty. “I love your brain, your cute jokes, the fact that you get my stupid history facts because you like history just as much as I do, and especially the way you care so much. College, people, the world.” He pulls him in for a quick, assertive kiss, and Derek immediately feels so light he could fly. But he won’t, because Stiles is keeping him grounded by the softest touch, the smallest smile.

“Cute jokes?” He manages to ask, arching an eyebrow. When Stiles laughs, he smiles.

“They are.” He insists.

“Okay.” Derek accepts the words easily, because everything seems easy when it comes to Stiles. “If I ask you out on a new date,” he says, “will Lydia pepper spray me?”

“I will stop her.” Stiles reassures, squeezing his hand again. “But before,” he adds and Derek feels his stomach turning with anticipation, “you have to know that I kind of hate your sister right now.”

“Oh.” Derek says. “Okay, I can—I can see that.”

“I’m sorry.” Stiles says, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Me too.” Derek agrees.

-

When Derek tells him about Cora’s apology and the earful his sister got from their mom, Stiles excuses himself to go laugh in the bathroom while Derek shrugs and goes back to eating his share of the pizza.

By the time they get married, Stiles and Cora have become best friends. Derek hates it (he doesn’t).

#sterek #eternalsterek #teen wolf #my fic #HELLO GUESS WHO'S BACK WITH A STEREK FIC #IT ME #surprised? me too

[weirdlypersonalrpmemes]

sentence starters:  text posts i have saved, part 1. tw: blood, death.        

❝ i do not want romance... i just want a big sword ❞

❝ me caring is a publicity stunt ❞

❝ im not a people pleaser anymore im a huge cunt now ❞

❝ an apple a day keeps anyone away if you throw it hard enough ❞

❝ some of you need to be told to shut the fuck up more. not me tho im super funny and my tits are fucking massive ❞

❝ do you ever eat popcorn out of the palm of your own hand with such ardent desperation that you feel like both a wild horse and the gentle schoolgirl feeding it treats to gain its affection ❞

❝ when i was in therapy i once expressed to my therapist that i really struggle with having pretty much zero idea of who i am as a person + she whipped out a piece of paper and suggested that we write down different aspects of myself. and i had no idea what to say bc ‘myself’ is a concept i’m not very familiar with so she started saying about my interests and how that’s a part of me + i was like okay!! that makes sense!! so she clicked her pen and was like “you said you like video games before” and i was like sure bud :) and watched her write down, in capital letters ‘GAMER’ and i’ve never had so much terror struck into my h ❞

❝ yeah this is my character cool josé. he’s like normal josé except he didn’t fail his driving test three Times ❞

❝ “what are you gonna do, cry about it?” yes . the fuck ❞

❝ a cute girl told me she has lots of plants in her house and i told her, for some fucking reason “damn the oxygen at your place must be mad crisp” and somehow still got her number so. chase your dreams. nothing is impossible apparently ❞

❝ *don’t stop me now by queen plays as i lay bleeding to death in walmart* ❞

❝ i love when men are scared to talk to me like yes dont fucking talk to me bitch!! ❞

❝ if you ever disrespected me and i was calm bout it.. don’t trust me ❞

❝ “first one always goes to blathers” i say as i hand my new born child to the owl ❞

❝ no your honor i absolutely can make my case like an adult. first things first, fuck the defendant and fuck his family too. secondly, ❞

❝ its just me and my gay little iced coffee against the fucking world ❞

❝ ‘gays cant cook’ then what the FUCK was remy fighting for in ratatouille ? ❞

❝ gender is a performance and im doing improv comedy ❞

❝ getting fake asked out in middle school is really a whole other form of trauma ❞

❝ do you ever associate the word “girlfriend” with wlw so much that you forget straight boys have girlfriends ❞

❝ *has video game open* hm i dont feel like playing this right now actually *closes it* man i wish i was playing video game right now *opens it again* hm i dont feel like like playing this right now actually *closes it ❞

❝ when i was young i used to think having interests was important. now as an adult i see there was no need for me to ever develop a personality. feeling a little betrayed, but not sure by whom. ❞

❝ he’s not baby he’s like 25 years old & doesn’t know how to clean the sink ❞

❝ this is all because i never experienced the triumphs and defeats the epic highs and lows of high school football ❞

❝ well well well. if it isn’t my old friend, the dawning realization that i fucked up real bad ❞

❝ idont have any talent. i like to look at grass and i dont have other hobbies. when people ask me how im doing i ignore the question ❞

❝ i only set you on fire a little bit. grow up. ❞

❝ i hate this place i want to go to build a bear ❞

❝ [wearing a fake leather jacket, eating ritz crackers out of the box, reclining in a casual position somewhere i shouldnt logically be able to access] im emotionally vulnerable as shit dude ill cry on any of you ❞

#sentence starters #rp meme #rp memes #ask meme #ask memes #inbox meme #inbox memes #mine #text posts i have saved

[lizbotw]

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #happy birthday to me 🎉 #<<< the way i typed that tag so long ago and now look what day it is #extras #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #hq imagines #i accidentally deleted part of this b4 i can’t believe #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!! scenarios #hq scenarios #why did this take me so long to write + it’s so dumb this is embarrassing #hq!! x reader #suna imagines #suna scenarios #haikyuu fluff #suna rintarou

[parvuls]

my texting headcanon for the smh gang, presented without explanations:

bitty uses proper grammar 90% of the time, and proper punctuation+capitalization 100% of the time. he does use basic internet slang (omg, lol, btw), but he capitzalizes that, too. boy takes the quality of his tweeting very seriously. he's also a huge fan of emojis and has a kamoji keyboard on his phone.

jack... could not care less for capitalizing. everything is lowercase. his perspective on texting is that it should take as little time as possible. he'd probably use proper grammar if he ever wrote more than five words in a row. he is a big fan of the ':-)' smiley, however.

holster is a reddit memer meets tumblr white girl. he texts like there's still a character limit to texts ("y u do this 2 me bro"), uses acronyms no one but ransom can translate (holster: "we're just a bogsat" dex: "???" rans: "bunch of guys sitting around talking"), and responds to things with 'KFVHH:+ASKJ!!'. he's never heard of a comma in his life.

ransom keeps everything in lowercase because he thinks it, like, looks better. he turned off autocorrect so his i's and first word in sentences won't be accidentally uppercase. he's an expert at using gifs to convey a message, and is one of those people who breaks every text into five different messages (jack's phone keeps buzzing and he wants to kill him).

shitty abuses capitals, and it always reads like he's screaming things that shouldn't be screamed. he can also text full sentences in emojis sometimes and expects to be understood (shitty: "🎀📝🏃➡️🏠🥧" bitty: "????" lardo: "tied up homework, on my way to the haus, leave me some pie").

lardo is the queen of using embarrassing pictures of the boys as stickers. she refuses to share, and also refuses to tell them how she got some of the pictures (lardo: "it's 2am" lardo: [sticker of nursey sleeping open-mouthed in his dorms, titled 'go the fuck to sleep'] nursey: "how"). she doesn't use exclamation points or question marks, at all. only full stops.

chowder on the other hand tends to use too many exclamation points and not enough full stops. he has the chronic problem of leaving the group chat on read without replying because he laughs at the texts and then forgets to answer, but he actually checks his phone the most other than bitty, and so is always the first to know things.

dex always has autocorrect on because he hates having to go back and correct typos, which makes his sentences the opposite of ransom's (i's and first letters always capitzalized). it also means he has autocorrect incidents a lot, and gets chirped for it, a lot. he's a firm opposer of emojis and cannot be convinced otherwise.

nursey is the only one who learned the bolding/italicizing system on whatsapp, and he uses it often (dex can't figure it out and it drives him insane). he also never checks if he's texting the right person, so the group chat gets an unprecedented amount of embarrassing texts that aren't meant for them. it also works the other way around, which makes several of his classmates even more wary of smh.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #smh #text #headcanon #decided to share this :) #someone feel free to add tadpoles or waffles i just almost never hc about them

[myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants]

Thank you to @doinmybesthere for inspiring this and making me h word with a capital "I'm writing this shit at my desk"

Warnings: v*yerism, c*ckwarming, praise, degradation, no condom, after care

"Hey guys! Don't mind Y/N she had a rough day, so she is gonna chill on my lap while we work!" You have no idea how your boyfriends voice can sound so nonchalant when he was currently balls deep in your aching pussy. Thankfully, you convinced him to let you sit with your back to the computer and a blanket wrapped around you. There was no way you could keep a straight face while doing this.

Honestly, you didn't know why you could win a gaming bet against Denki.... That man was always playing video games when he wasn't with you. He even worked at a graphic design company ffs. But stubborn you couldn't say no to a challenge and that is exactly why you are now in this situation.

"Well, she better not bug us while we are working. We gotta get this presentation done today and I won't except anything less than perfect." No doubt that was Bakugo, that douchebag always sounded pissy.

"You don't have to be so mean BakuBro!" Kirishima, the sweetheart thought he was defending you.

You could hear the smirk in Denki's voice. "No worries man! She just had a hard day; she won't disturb us. Right doll?" He ended his sentence with a shallow thrust that to anyone else, probably looked like he was shifting you to make your position more comfortable.

However, with the way he was holding your hips his cock hit the spot that always made you scream so when he moved you let out a sob. Your face bursts into flames and you cling onto him tighter, the guys on the computer not making a sound for a hot minute.

Someone clears their throat, and you can feel Denki laughing at you.

Kirishima finally breaks the awkward silence "See dude, she's even crying! Someone must have pushed her buttons too much."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding but miss the sound of someone coughing to cover a laugh.

As the guys start working you tune out their voices, more concerned with not making any more sounds. You can vaguely hear two other voices and assume its Sero and Mina.

I guess the whole group is working for this job.

Almost like he can tell you aren't thinking of his cock Denki shifts you again. This time thrusting harder, making you gasp and shudder in his hold.

"Just makin’ sure you aren't forgetting about me baby." He whispers in your ear, so close you can feel his lips brush against your skin.

"Oi! Pay attention dunce face! Don't get cocky just because you have Y/N on your lap." Bakugo’s voice sounds deep and breathy for some reason but Denki has started thrusting into you at a slow pace fucking all thoughts out of your brain.

You think you hear whining and can’t tell if the sound came from you or someone else. Denki’s pace picks up and your breathing gets heavy, your mouth open arms wrapping tightly around Denki’s shoulders.

“Y-yeah dude…. don’t wanna get caught in… in a tight spot.” Mina’s voice is wobbly, the sound distracting you from the cock pumping in and out of you for a moment. When your hearing focuses on the sounds from the computer you go very very still.

Heavy breaths, whimpers and moans, the unmistakable sound of skin rubbing against skin that you would know anywhere.

“OH, fuck doll…. you just got so tight. You like having people see what a good slut you are?” Your boyfriend gives up on being discreet and pulls the blanket off of you exposing what’s happening to the camera.

You moan, the sound echoed by the people on the other side of the screen. Your cunt only getting tighter as they say dirty things to you.

“What a dirty little slut, you like being fucked on camera Y/N?”

“Wow pebble, look at you takin that cock so well.”

“What I wouldn’t give to taste that pussy while I sit on your face.”

“Ay dios mío. You got a nice ass baby.”

Denki can feel your orgasm fast approaching as his friends talk to you so he turns you around so they can see your face and holds you up while fucking into you at a merciless pace.

“Oh god…. oh, fuck D-Denki m’gonna cum baby.” You forget about everything as your boyfriend thrusts into you, hitting your g spot and butting against your cervix. You look up at the computer screen and your moans get louder, your orgasm hurtling towards you.

All of Denki’s friends are getting off on watching you. Kirishima and Bakugo sitting in their computer chairs with their shirts in their mouths, stroking their cocks. Mina is laying on her bed with a vibrator pressed against her clit, her tongue lolling out of her mouth while she looks at you with half lidded eyes. Sero is standing up, you can only see from his neck down as he fucks a pocket pussy, timing the thrusts to match Denki’s as he fucks you.

“Why don’t you show them how good I make you feel baby yeah? Cum on my cock and tell me who’s pussy this is doll face.”

You look right into the camera as you come undone, screaming your boyfriends name and cumming hard. As your vision blacks out you can hear the others getting close to finishing, you think it’s over and slump against Denki.

You are surprised when Denki turns the chair back around and leans back, showing even more of your cunt to the group and somehow fucking you even harder. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he puts an arm around your waist holding you tight then shoving a hand in between you both to rub at your clit.

“Gonna fill this pussy up but you gotta cum for me again baby.”

You let out a sob and shake your head. “Nooo I c-can’t baby. It’s too much.”

“I know you can do it; be a good girl and I’ll give you what you want.”

Despite your protests you can feel your core tightening, the feeling different from your last orgasm.

“Fuck yes baby, I can feel it. Cum for me doll, milk my cock baby.” Denki’s thrusts get sloppy and after a few more swipes of his fingers on your clit you are gushing all over his cock the chair, and the computer.

Your whole body goes limp, but Denki moves his hand and grabs both of your ass cheeks, pulling them apart while he cums and fills your pussy up.

The sounds of his friends reaching their peaks echoing in the speakers, the feeling of Denki’s cum leaking from your abused hole. Everyone is silent for a few minutes catching their breath, minds reeling from the situation that just occurred.

“Alright folks.” Denki sits the chair back up and scoots closer to the computer, trying his best to not jostle you. “Gotta take care of my baby! See ya’ll later.”

Before anyone can protest, he shuts off the computer and gently pulls out of you with a hiss.

“Let’s get you cleaned up yeah?” Denki cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead then your nose. You hum in agreement and wrap your legs around his waist as he stands up.

You are both quiet as he sits you on the bathroom counter and turns on the shower. As you watch him get undressed a thought pops into your head.

“So… umm.” Denki turns to you, a quizzical look on his face. “Who do you think is gonna ask first?”

He tilts his head not catching your meaning then laughs. “Oh, Sero for sure! Mina will be there when he does probably.”

He walks over to you and helps you off the counter, opening the shower door and letting you in first.

“What about Kiri and Bakugou?”

“Oh, Kirishima will take a little bit since he wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings. Bakugou would pretend that Kiri dragged him along, but he would be hard the second he walked through the door and saw you.”

You chuckle, tilting your head into the warm spray and sighing. You both stand there in silence, basking in the post orgasmic bliss.

“So, should I take next weekend off?” You look into your boyfriend’s eyes and smile.

Denki laughs and pats your head. “I would take the whole week baby, there is no way you are walking out of this apartment after that.”

@patchworkpuzzle @eyebagsbutglam @wtf-vickyy @reinawritesbnha

#lillith writes #lilliths fic #lilliths masterlist #denki x reader #kaminari denki #denki kaminari #kaminari x reader #denki x y/n #kaminari x y/n #bhna x reader #mha x reader

[mydramaspace]

Part 3: "Are you really that oblivious?" In which everything floods out into the open.

If you're new here, you can read Part 1 here and Part 2 here! :')

Part 3. Posted on 7 May 2021.

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Sometimes, you feel like your entire life is going to be a series of duck-and-hides from people you know. Because that is what you have been doing ever since you ran out from the cafeteria a week ago when you saw Joo Hyuk looking at you. Min Hyuk has been trying to contact you everyday, but you've ignored every single one of his texts and calls, and have hardly left your room. Yes, it is unhealthy to eat only slices of bread for breakfast, lunch and dinner each day but desperate times call for desperate measures and you know for sure there has been no person more desperate than you for a while now. But today, you will have to step out. You will have to brave the world, and confront anything that needs confrontation. But that's okay, you've got a solution for that: headphones, loud music, and power walking. No one would dare approach you if they couldn't see you power walk your way past them. One can only catch you if they see you, haha!

Even as you step out into the street, you know your plan is the stupidest thing you've ever thought of, and you've done many stupid things, including but not limited to thinking fuck meant a variety of fish. You duck your head, put on the most fast-paced music you have and begin your walk of shame to the administrative office to drop off your test results. Walk of shame indeed, your answers on that test will be enough to give your examiner second-hand embarrassment for most of his life.

Your mind must be playing tricks on you because everywhere you look, you keep seeing Joo Hyuk. Or so you think, because it is never actually him. He wears a lot of the same fandom shirts for some game that a lot of boys at your university wear too. Capitalism has really made life difficult for everyone on the planet, and you finally agree with every anti-capitalist argument you've heard till date. Capitalism is making it difficult for you to walk a few meters without flinching every time you see a t-shirt that reminds you of Joo Hyuk. You're so busy keeping an eye out for him, you forget about the other annoying brat who's on your tail. Min Hyuk.

And Min Hyuk grabs your hoodie and drags you all the way to the classroom upstairs. You struggle, throw a tantrum, almost like you're crying for your life because who knows what sort of nonsensical things he's gonna feed into your mind at this point. You resist until he lets you go in front of the classroom, both of you breathing hard, and whack him on his head. Hard. "Ow! That almost makes me regret helping him." Min Hyuk glares at you. "Help? Help who?"

"Why don't you find out genius?" You shoot a dirty look at him and walk into the classroom, only to come to a dead halt. Joo Hyuk is standing there, his back to you, and on the board in front of him, is a graph and many many equations. A laugh strangles its way out of you, and then you're laughing loudly, clutching your stomach. For a moment there you thought, no, you hoped, he was going to confess that he likes you. Foolish foolish thought, Y/n. Min Hyuk must have snitched to him that you're struggling with your Statistics revision, and being the good best friend he is, Joo Hyuk has stepped forward to help.

You are so embarrassed, you want to fling yourself off the cliff that is a few kilometers away from your campus.

Joo Hyuk jumps, startled by your laugh. When his eyes land on you, his entire body relaxes, and you realize how painfully him that gesture is. Well that is what best friends are like around each other right? Completely at ease. That's what your mind is saying, the logical, rational way of thinking. The way that will not end up in you hoping for something more, then being disappointed and then crying yourself to sleep again. But your heart...you heart is saying something else entirely.

"You're here!" It's as if his entire being lights up on seeing your awkward wave and he excitedly grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you to stand in front of the board where all the equations begin. You know, I'm really not in the mood for stats now, of all times. Maybe you should say it out loud. Maybe you should tell him, for once, and safeguard yourself from the hurt you know is going to consume you the minute you realize it's not the confession that your heart is hoping for.

"Joo Hyuk I-" your sentence is cut off when you realize how close Joo Hyuk is standing to you. Your back is almost touching his chest, and you can feel the heat emanating from his gray sweatshirt, smell that ocean-scented detergent he always uses on his clothes, and feel the hairs rising on your hand, your ears going red, and the throbbing of your heart. You can see the smudges of chalk dust all over his face, and the lights overhead sparkle in his eyes like star dust. And his eyes are on you. "You what, Y/n?"

"I-" Words seem to have fled your mind.

"You can tell me later. First, take a look at the board."

"I'm not in the mood for a math lesson, y'know?"

"Okay, but it's not a math lesson."

You cut a quick glance to the board and scoff. There are plus and minus symbols all over the place, and similarity indexes scribbled hastily alongside a graph chart. "Okay fine, it's a stats lesson. But I'm not in the mood for that either."

"Really? Did you take a proper look at the first equation?" You roll your eyes but take a look, curiosity stemming through you. "The mode equation?" You wonder out loud, and Joo Hyuk voices an affirmation, and that's when you feel the warmth spreading all over your arm. You turn sharply, to see his hand over yours, a piece of chalk tucked into your fingers. You look at him, hardly breathing, hardly hoping because these things only happen in fiction. How can this be happening to you? No, he's just helping you out that's all. Nothing more. Nothing-

"Look at it properly, Y/n, please." He guides your hand to the equation, the feel of his rough calloused palm against the back of your hand sending shivers running through you. "See what it says?"

All sense, all coherency, all your English words have deserted you when you most need them. "The what now?" And he laughs looking at your expression, and its a laugh that rumbles through his chest into you like a physical hug of comfort and you want to wallow in it forever, you don't want this moment to ever end. "The formula for the mode of my thoughts."

That snaps you back. The mode of his...thoughts?

"Your thoughts?"

You've never been so grateful that he's taller than you. Because this, standing with him, feels like heaven. And even if he never confesses to you, you'll take the memory of this to your grave, relive it a hundred times in life and even more so in death. So much more that you're determined to be called the ghost of reliving in whichever place all people go to after they die.

Joo Hyuk's laughter gets happier, and you slap your free palm across your mouth, horrified that you said all that out loud. "But, Y/n, I am confessing. Or at least I'm trying to, but you're not cooperating." He grins at you like everything is alright in the world, like he hasn't just dropped a verbal atomic bomb on you just now.

"You're what?"

He pulls you gently to the graph, one hand still enclosed around your hand with the chalk pressing into your palm. You clutch it tighter, almost unable to believe that this is actually happening. "Take a look." he lets go and steps back, and you step back too, almost in reflex, to get a good look.

And your breath leaves you in one breath.

Because on the graph, you see your name multiple times. "Wait, you do know what mode is right?" Joo Hyuk sounds panicked, and you would have smacked him if you weren't so inexplicably happy right now.

"Yes. The element that is repeated the most number of times. So if this is a mode of your thoughts..."

"It means I think of you the most every day of the week, every hour of the day, most of the minutes of the hour, because I do spend some minutes thinking of when to do my laundry sometimes and then I need to think of feeding my dog and I-"

You don't let him finish the sentence and fling yourself at him, enveloping him a tight hug. "You're such a dork." Your voice is all wavy because of the emotions threatening to consume you. Happiness, surprise, happiness, surprise, love. "Is that in a good way or a bad way?"

"What do you think?" You demand, unable to believe how oblivious he's being.

"Well, about 50% of researches online say it's a negative connotation, and the remaining 50 are divided in their results and I don't know which one I believe frankly because most of their data is skewed and their data sets rarely match the published-"

"Oh my god, it's a good thing you dork!" You press your lips to his, effectively silencing him. It takes him a good moment to kiss you back, but when he does, it's enough to make the world slip beneath your feet.

But that's okay because he grabs onto you, and you're very sure you will not be letting go of him too. And in the corner of the board, in the teeniest letters ever possible are the words I see sparks fly, whenever you smile.

xxxxxxxx

A/n: I had the biggest grin on my face while I was writing, cause ahhhhh these two nerds <3

Hope you liked this haha!

#nam joo hyuk #korean actor #adorable dork #nam joo hyuk x reader #reader x nam joo hyuk #fanfic #reader romance #romance #friends to lovers #nam do san #start up #korean drama

[sineala]

I think I may be a little late, but if you're still taking these, can I ask for director's commentary on Leaping to Conclusions and Hide Your Love Away? They're two of my favourites of your fics <3

You certainly can! Most people do not seem to be asking for any specific details so I hope I'm being interesting just saying random things about my writing process.

Leaping To Conclusions is a fic I wrote for a BB where I wanted to capitalize on Batroc's obvious crush on Steve in 616 which I then proceeded to set in Marvel Adventures because I wanted a more lighthearted universe. Batroc exists in MA:A and runs a dating site so this isn't entirely unmotivated by canon. I just wanted a universe where everyone was nice to each other and everyone has always been nice to each other and also Batroc would be the first villain Steve has dated, because if this were in 616 Tony would probably be giving Steve shit about having dated Diamondback. It was much fluffier this way.

The thing I remember being most concerned about was depicting Batroc's accent. I wanted to make him sound like Batroc but i didn't think writing out his accent "phonetically" was a good look (since things like that, with non-standard English, are often used to imply things like lack of intelligence), even though that's what the comics do. I know the comics do it to be funny, but, like, I wanted to take him seriously. He's just a native French speaker! He's got a heavy accent! It's not really intrinsically humorous! I just like it when he kicks people in the head!

I kept the massive amount of codeswitching -- I attempted to only stick to words of French that I thought English speakers would know or could pick up from context. And there were a few places where I deliberately had him use more French-influenced syntax in ways that would read as marked in English -- starting a sentence with "me, I..." as an obvious carryover from something like "moi, je..." that still sounds comprehensible in English but not a thing a native speaker will produce.

Possibly no one else thought about this as much as I did.

Hide Your Love Away was a RBB that I snagged as a second RBB the last year I ever did RBB (so far), because Moony drew some beautiful art that was very, very canon-specific -- it was a soulmark AU, where Tony had a head wound and he was showing Steve his soulmark and Steve is very clearly Commander Rogers and this is absolutely meant to be early Avengers v4 so I figured that since I'd read v4 and liked v4 I could take a stab at it.

I'd done a bunch of soulmate AUs but I'd never done a soulmark AU, and in most of the soulmate AUs I've done it's Tony angsting about not being good enough for Steve but here I changed it up and gave Steve that angst.

I feel like fandom makes a big deal of Tony not remembering Civil War -- I mean, of course we do, it's significant -- but it's also the case that Steve actually remembers Civil War, and I feel like that doesn't come up much and I wanted it to come up.

Because Steve remembers the entire war, and Steve has an eidetic memory. Imagine never, ever being able to forget every detail of the worst thing you've ever done, a thing you deeply regret doing, and it's just there in your head in perfect detail. Do you think Steve wakes up dreaming about the precise sound his shield makes as it shears off the faceplate of Tony's armor? Do you think he's going about his day and all of a sudden he remembers that Tony's hands were stretched out above his head, the repulsors dim, while Steve was hitting him, and Tony wasn't even fighting back? Do you think he can stop thinking about the precise way Tony begged him to kill him?

I think Steve remembers all of that. And I can see how, with all of that filling his mind, that he might think he's the one who's not good enough for Tony. Because how can Tony want a soulmate who already tried to kill him?

So that's what that one's about. It's also the last BB/RBB I successfully managed; for the same RBB I also snagged Phoenix's art featuring Madame Masque making Tony drink at gunpoint, wrote 150,000 words, didn't post them, and wrote an alternate fic for the art with the bare minimum wordcount and still haven't posted the original fic. My brain doesn't really do deadlines anymore and it stopped doing them halfway through that RBB.

#ishipallthings #replies

[tenderlyrenjun]

[9:15 am]

(feat. Mark)

You barge into Renjun’s private study, pushing the classificatory Azure Dragon emblem on the push plate so violently that the doors clammor deafeningly against the walls they hit. The force, even quicker, drives the doors to shut before the head guard, Mark, can follow you in, even with his vampiric speed. Surprisingly, the doors remain intact, likely due to the fiberglass material. But Mark still enters, half a second after you, bowing apologetically to Renjun who reads a sales and revenue report.

“What the hell is this?” you demand, waving a letter with Jaemin’s government seal stamped prominently contrasted against the black-inked characters and tinted white parchment.

Renjun gives you a momentary look until returning to his deep red wine and business report. And neither of you spare a glance at Mark, who immediately assesses the entire room, looking underneath the desk, leaning against the wall to scan the garden outside through the curtains, taking out his ear piece to listen for the slightest of movements, etc. etc. 

“I don’t know,” Renjun answers, eyes glossing over the drop in profit, trying to figure out where it comes from.

Every couple of decades, the two of you obtain successive internships at your various companies, under the guise of nepotism, usually to oversee any errors or the general income. And with Renjun having suggested attending college a few months back, this internship with your tech company seemed to just fit the whole college students persona, particularly your A accompanying that computer class Renjun asked you to take. Plus, he wanted to review why the stocks have been going down, especially since your companies are privately owned and you two, the owners, are well-hidden from the public. The only people, prior to your new reemergence into the 21st century, who saw you were other ancient vampires and the members of your coven - Kun, Aurora, Mark, Jiu, Woosung, in addition to the security detail turned and operated by Mark.

“It’s Jaemin’s signature,” you state obviously, crinkling the parchment louder in the air before pulling it in front of you again to reread the message.

“Mhmm,” Renjun hums, already having gathered that, simultaneous with Mark’s reaction: a whispered Oh.

Both you and Renjun turn to Mark, who finished surveying the area. Your vampire hearings amplified the exclamation, so you two raise matching eyebrows. 

“Sorry,” Mark excuses himself formally, then resumes the composure of a head guard again: shoulders squared, head up, position alert. He stares blankly at the wall but receives challenging stares ordering a real answer. “I just,” he concedes to his founders, “thought it was something more zealous, or, even, outrageous, like an ex-lover or something.”

You eyebrow raises further, and Renjun closes his file, setting his feet firmly on the ground. It is ... entertaining when vampires make passing comments about your intense relationship - even Jaemin mentioned that he had not seen either of you separated in all 700 years that you three have been friends. Scarcely anyone knows about Renjun’s earlier indiscretion, and you would like to keep it this way, especially if the future unfolds as Doyoung’s right hand predicts it to. The thought paints an intense stare on your face that almost scares Mark.

“We’re both two and a half millennia old,” Renjun reveals, something he rarely admits to people and something that Mark largely underestimated, given by the way his eyes widen and body stiffens. Renjun turns to you, smirking. “Do people always assume that we are first loves?” You glare at him, not wanting to answer, especially after the incident Mark unintentionally brought up. Renjun drops the corners of his lips, right, then reclines in his chaise longue, resuming his casual position crossing his ankle over his knee. “Not that it matters, of course, because you are my only love.”

“And you are my last,” you respond equally. 

“What did Jaemin sign?” Mark interjects, not wanting to be caught in yet another lover’s ... to be honest, he cannot describe the intensity; he just knows that he does not want to be in the middle of it again.

“A declaration of war,” you announce, tossing the opened envelope into Renjun’s lap. 

Renjun slowly sits up again, then closes his file and chugs the last of his blood, in case of a surprise attack. Younger vampires ... they tend to be more dramatic, and he would not hold it against them if they waited for this exact moment to make a move and jump all three of you at once. So, he needs the last of the blood to have more than enough strength to fight them off.

“Against who though?” Mark asks, making sure to emphasize his presence. Sometimes, you and Renjun slip into that fabled telepathy supposedly shared by Mates (it is fake; you two just know each other well), and as head guard, he needs the information to make a protection plan for the entire coven.

But to his surprise, you answer, “I don’t know,” and rub your forehead. You walk toward Renjun, rereading the message over his shoulder. “Some faction in North America, I assume, based on all the tensions both politically and economically - what with one Lee clans slaughtering an entire town to occupy it.” You sigh, then realize how callous the sentence sounded and look up at Mark, who shared that surname in his mortal life. “Sorry, Mark.”

“Not a problem,” he amends, “Likely no relation.” He triangulates in front of Renjun to watch your back in case a vampire appears from the large mirror at your blind spot. “Was it one of the newer factions?”

Still standing, you exhale loudly through your entire chest (to give yourself a pause to think, to remember), then step a bit further from Renjun, mimicking Mark’s protocol: creating a triangle position amongst the three of you. You would honestly love to sit with Renjun, like all those nights lounging on a couch, studying or watching TV, but the both of you need to be as alert as Mark always is, if not more; the responsibility of protecting your newly rebuilt coven weighing heavily. It took centuries after the last war just to be able to trust other vampires into your hours, and even more decades to do extremely thorough background checks on those who live with you now. At the beginning of the war, assassins infiltrated your manor at your weakest point and Renjun had to rescue you from Yeon’s kidnapping and extortion attempt (possibly even murder, if Renjun had been too late). That was when you lost Xiaojun, Mark’s predecessor who was sire bonded to you. Then, more spies, from all sides, from all covens, absolutely decimated your numbers until only you and Renjun remained. Renjun, too, barely managed during the war, to keep you safe. Luckily, his special compulsion ability was able to order vampires away, undermining their sire bonds to defy their traitorous leaders. He currently keeps this gift secret, only using it when necessary (or as a party trick with his closest friends), though it does still come out subconsciously, hence why his first impressions are always so great.

You sigh again. “Newer vampires don’t know just how many of us there are, or how long we have been around. Aurora is barely 35, and prior to joining us, she was not aware of Jaemin or the Laws. So, of course they have to be a new faction. An arrogant new faction, likely affiliated with one of the Italian clans who want ultimate power again and for the capital to return to Volterra [Italy] again.”

“Rumor has it that Jaemin’s Mate even returned to Korea after drifting through North America,” Renjun gossips. You are always surprised to hear about Jaemin’s Mate, because while he has not been off the compound in 90 years, his Mate is scarcely ever with him. It reminds you how horrible that century without Renjun was; you cannot fathom wanting to be separated for more than a few days. “Perhaps there is some benefit to his Mate having been gone; Jaemin might have more to say than what he send.”

“What did Jaemin want?” Mark asks, as the only person in the room who has not read the letter.

“For us to pledge allegiance,” Renjun answers before you do, also recalling that darkest time when you perfected your poison techniques on treasonists. He deadpans and crumples the letter into a ball, feeling your anger rise with Jaemin’s words. You give Renjun a look, Jaemin cannnot be serious, right? But Renjun shakes his head, unsure; Jaemin is a fan of loyalty, even more than you, so neither of you know what this invitation means - you will have to schedule another meeting with him.

“Does he not remember our commitment to neutrality?” you seethe, balling your hands into fists like the ball, shaking your head with Renjun but in disbelief. 

“Does he want to absorb us as well?” Mark asks more realitistcally than you. “Our vampires are highly trained and over half possess special abilities, so -”

“Jaemin is not Doyoung,” you seethe again, interrupting Mark before he can accuse Jaemin of one of the highest crimes (passed into law by Jaemin himself): stalking vampires into a coven. It rose into law after one New Year in the early 19th century when too many newly turned 20-year olds emerged as vampires. Covens grew; entire high school classrooms slaughtered; police stations were at an all time high for corruption as leaders bribed them to turn the other way. The law had been coming for a long time, especially since this is how Doyoung acquired all of his member. Doyoung only recruited leaders with special abilities; hence his left hand atrium, a vampire with subjective precognition born under a chancellor following the Dark Ages, and his right hand (Jeno) atrium, a prince, a former East Palace in the years preceding the Dark Ages, with the ability to recognize any relationship and induce one, though only if he is present. But that holiday was the final deciding factor.

“No,” Renjun agrees, his voice rising to command the room. “But do not forget, love. We wanted Doyoung to rule as well.” You share a lot of qualities with Doyoung, hence why you are old friends, but Jaemin is the current leader and a good one at that too.

“Not at the cost of war.”

“So what do we do?” Mark asks, looking between the two of you for a direction before he creates a plan. “How do we avoid the war?”

Renjun glances at the letter. Jaemin was very firm and strict. So he sighs, resigning in doubt.

“We don’t.”

#renjun #huang renjun #nct #nct renjun #renjun timestamps #renjun imagines #renjun x reader #nct x reader #nct timestamps #nct blurbs #nct fluff #nct angst #renjun fluff #vampire au #nct mark

[marshunter06]

hi hsdfkh i saw the soulmate prompts late but can you do first word and duncney together? have a nice day!

Hi! Of course I can! I’m happy you asked, I love filling prompts! This one was kinda fun to do ngl. Thx and hope you have a nice day too Doll (:

For those who missed it, the inspo/list is linked below!

First Words- the first word/sentence they hear their soulmate say is written on their body

Soulmate this, soulmate that, honestly Courtney is tired of hearing about the stupid red strings of fate and finding the one. She doesn’t have time for any of it, sure she indulged a little when she was young and in her rebellious phase, but it quickly ended when she realized she should focus on her future. That and the fact that there’s no way to romanticize the first phase her soulmate is supposed to say to her… honestly who the hell does this person think they are? She was absolutely horrified to find out she has the words Fuck off appear on her forearm when she was just entering high school. Not only is it totally inappropriate, but also why would that be their first words to her?

Timid and shy is not the way to describe Duncan and anyone that dares calls him a wuss would be beating to a pulp. Still there are those that like to pretend they’re tough and tease him over the phase inked on his forearm that his supposed soulmate would say to him. Excuse Me! Odd that it has a punctuation mark when most people just have words, and the fact that both words were capitalized. Whoever his soulmate is, he already decides he doesn’t like them one bit for having these two stupid words ruin his image.

It’s one of those nights, after being suspended again, Duncan has to move schools. Of course instead of going to bed early before his first day, he decides to stay out late and cause more trouble. Though normally he stays away from venues without alcohol and shitty cover bands, he’s still new to town and hasn’t found the best spots yet. That being said, he is absolute ready to murder this nerd with glasses who keeps going on and on about how his rap skills are going to get him all the ladies even though Duncan never asked. He thought he finally got away from him when he found a hidden stash of whiskey under the bar in a cabinet; the sound of a loud gasp as the ginger begins to lecture him on the dangers of underage drinking before he’s dragged away by his bandmates to prepare for the stage, is enough to make Duncan snap. He doesn’t realize the dork is already gone and in his place is an unimpressed brunette who didn’t even want to be here in the first place. He turns around and with an annoyed expression tells who he thought would be the ginger to mind his business.

“Fuck off.”

“Excuse Me!”

Both their eyes widen in surprise as they feel a burn on their forearms changing the phases inked there into their soulmate’s name instead. The sensation didn’t hurt, but it was definitely an experience to watch the words disappear then reappear with the names Courtney and Duncan in their place. Already off on the wrong foot, they both glare at each other and cross their arms, mirroring each other’s expressions.

“You!”

“Me! I should be saying that. What kind of guy tells his soulmate to fuck of the first time they meet?”

“And what kind of girl yells Excuse Me with an exclamation point?”

“It’s a perfectly valid response given what you said.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself Princess.”

“I have a name.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s Courtney. It’s literally tattooed on my fucking skin.”

“Ugh. Why are you my soulmate!”

“I’m wondering the same thing myself.”

“I’ll have you know that I… no, you know what? Forget it. You’re not worth it, soulmate or not. We met, but there’s no requirement that we have to be together. Not everyone ends up with their soulmate. We'll just be part of that statistic.”

“Fine by me.”

With that she angrily struts off as he turns the other way back towards the whiskey bottle except it doesn’t last long. Almost immediately the names on their arms burn, the pain intensifying with every passing second. They both quickly realize there’s more to these marks than they thought. Courtney rubs at her tattoo as she reluctantly walks back to where her stupid soulmate is. He has a smug smile on almost as if he enjoys seeing her suffer, she rolls her eyes, this is even worse than she expected.

“Looks like we’re stuck together Princess.”

“I hate you.”

“But you won’t later on. Face it Sweetheart, we’re meant to be. No point in fighting it. We should get to know each other, you’re easy on the eyes, I’m sure I could learn to love you.”

“Duncan?”

“Yes Courtney?”

“Fuck off.”

She kicks him in the crotch wearing a satisfied smile as she watches him fall to the floor in pain. This time when she walks away, the burning sensation doesn’t appear. As he lays on the floor to recompose himself, he admits he deserves that, but at least now he knows he’s in for the ride of his life with his soulmate. He’s looking forward to it.

#duncney #prompt fill #I thought about making it cute for like .2 seconds but then my brain was like nope #FOEM!